#i was going to tag this 'amazing art!!' on instinct

[twig-gy]

okay how are we feeling. unsure about this one but hey it's better than the soul one so

did Not handletter this one bc i'm on my computer rn

wow this took. 20 minutes. Cool

[nagaytoe]

ULLAGONE

Solivan Brugmansia X Reader

TWs/tags: Sol x reader, Crowe dies, murder, drugging, grief, mentions of guilt

@5herryx here it is! :D

Disclaimer: This is my first oneshot fully written in english (english isn't my native language) and published, if you guys have any advice feel free to tell me :D

This oneshot was inspired by @kierandayern post ( https://www.tumblr.com/kierandayern/762316734455791616/bad-end-pt1-you-cannot-decide-whether-or-not?source=share / check out their art, its amazing! :3)

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Word count: 1,869

Ullagone

(Noun) [irish] 'a cry of sorrow'

This was not how you expected your evening to go.

Just an hour ago you were eating dinner with your boyfriend, Jericho Ichabod. It was your first date as an official couple and you two decided to do something fancy.

Now his lifeless body is laying at your feet.

As you stare down at it in shock, you remain frozen in fear, not knowing whether running would help you in this situation or not, considering someone with a knife in his hand is blocking your way.

“I can finally have you all to myself…”

You recognize that voice but fail to place it due to the stressful situation you're currently in and the mask he is wearing, covering the lower half of his face. The figure in front of you is tall and clad in all black. The darkness of the alley certainly is no help in distinguishing his features.

The figure steps closer to you and over Crowe's body, like he wasn't a living and breathing human being mere minutes ago, but rather a pile of trash, blocking the attackers' way to you.

You instinctively back away, with each step he takes forward you take one back, leading to you being backed into a corner.

“[____], please, don't be afraid.” He's careful in his approach, almost as if you're a scared bunny he's trying to pick up and comfort. His right hand extends forward in a calming gesture as he keeps it low, his palm facing downwards.

“Stay away!” you croak out and up until now, you didn't even notice the tears streaming down your face. Since when were you crying?

“[____]...” he stops in his tracks, looking at you. What was he thinking about? The easiest way to knock you out? The most gruesome way to kill you? The best way to kidnap you? Now that you think about it, how did he even know your name?

“Why can't you see that I did it for you? That lowly scum… if you knew who his father is…” his voice turns from comforting to aggressive in the blink of an eye. He takes a deep breath before he continues, this time in a softer voice “I'm just trying to protect you…is that so wrong?”

You look up at him, a mix of emotions evident on your face: Sadness, Fear, Anger and now confusion as well. He can't be serious, can he? There's no way he truly thinks that there is nothing wrong with killing innocent people just for the sake of 'protection’ , not that you needed any protection from Crowe to begin with.

“I know you're confused, maybe even scared, but I have my reasons, you know?” he says as he steps closer.

“Don’t come any closer!” You yell and press yourself against the wall behind you in a feeble attempt to create more space between the two of you for the time being, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Hey…I would never harm you…” The man in front of you almost sounds vulnerable, hurt even. In the back of the alley there is a dimly lit wall lamp, but it provides enough light to enable you to make out some of his features. His vermillion eyes stare intensely at you and long, black hair with green highlights peeks out from underneath his hood and frames his face…

Realization hits you like a train, your knees giving out underneath you as you slouch against the wall, hands moving up to cover your mouth in shock. Even more tears stream down your face now. How is Sol Crowe's murderer? This can't be real, Sol was always so nice and helpful, he would never harm and especially not kill another person without reason.

“Sol?” You sob, hoping immensely he won't feel addressed.

“[____]...” he whispers and hooks a finger under his mask, pulling it down and revealing the rest of his face. Safe to say, this was not the answer you were hoping for. You were hoping that this was someone who looks similar to him or maybe that this all is a bad dream or a really bad joke, but it wasn't. Sol's face looked back at you with his all too familiar warm smile.

You sink to the ground and cover your face with your hands, crying your eyes out.

Sol steps closer and crouches down in front of you.

“Please understand, I didn't do this with the intention of hurting your feelings, it's just…. I couldn't sit around any longer and watch him take what's mine” he gently puts his left hand on the side of your right calf, slowly stroking up and down in a comforting manner, smile still evident on his face.

You pull your legs closer to your chest in a weak attempt to shake him off, but to no avail - his hand keeps its position on your calf.

“Get away from me”, you manage to croak out in between sobs. Sol frowns at that, “I know you're scared but please believe me when I tell you that I would never harm you. Unless, of course, you leave me no other choice” he declares this as if it's the most normal thing in the world one could state, as if it doesn't make you freak out internally, especially since he killed a man mere minutes prior.

“Go away!” You yell at him, but he seems unfazed, “You know i won't do that, pumpkin”

You look at him, not knowing what to do. Your eyes are red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears and lips swollen, but despite the situation you two are in, Sol still looks at you with the same affectionate expression he always has. Up until now, you failed to notice it, maybe it wasn't even there before, but there was something dark, something possessive, gleaming in his eyes while looking at you like that.

You are not sure whether to run away or not, but staying here isn't really an option either. Gathering all your strength and courage you push Sol away with as much force as possible and quickly get up. You attempt to start running but don't get far as Sol twists around to grab your ankle, causing you to fall to the ground. It seems as though Sol wasn't exactly pushed to the ground, but rather caught off-guard and thrown off balance a little, unfortunately for you.

“Where do you think you're going?” He sounds irritated now.

You turn on your side and try kicking him with your other leg, but to no avail. Sol is quick to grab your other leg as well, now holding onto both of your ankles while you awkwardly lay on your side.

“[____]...” he says your name in a growling, almost threatening, way as you look at him with wide, scared eyes. Perhaps you actually are like a bunny in this situation, you sure feel like one at least. A bunny which has been caught in a trap and now has to fight for its life.

Sol pulls you closer to him and starts crawling on top of you, placing one of his legs atop of yours to restrain you from fleeing. You thrash underneath him but it's no use, his weight presses your legs down and he grabs ahold of your wrists, effectively pinning you underneath him.

“Don't make this harder than it has to be, [____]” ,Sol growls out, visibly agitated.

You cry bitterly, overwhelmed with the situation. You must be dreaming, there's no other way, no other explanation. Sol, your best friend Solivan, would never kill another human being.

“Why?” You cry out in between sobs, barely audible.

“Why? You're asking me why I killed that low-life?” he leans in closer, studying your face intently.

“He took something from me. The one good thing in my life was taken from me and claimed by someone else, someone who doesn't deserve an angel such as yourself. Don't worry though, pumpkin, he won't be a bother any longer.”

Sol nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, muttering “Of course, if only you had chosen me over him right from the start it wouldn't have come this far… but it doesn't matter now anyways, it's just the two of us now, my dearest soulmate”

You can't seem to stop crying as you keep shaking your head. He was completely demented, Crowe is – was – an amazing person, a friend who always listened and comforted you whenever you needed it most and a loving boyfriend on top of that. He didn't deserve to die. Was it your fault? If only you hadn't been with him, if it wasn't for you he'd still be alive. Now his parents have to bury their son, his friends have to mourn the loss of their beloved friend, all because you were so utterly selfish. You had noticed Solivans interest in you, but chose to ignore it, you thought you were just imagining it, but it was as clear as day. Crowe was dead because of your negligence.

“Hey, no need to cry… I need you to calm down a little, alright? You're shaken up and freezing cold, we should get you home…”

Sol kisses away the tears running down your cheeks, causing you to move your head to the side. Sol frowns at that, moving both your wrists into his left hand and his right hand rising up to your left cheek, lovingly caressing it.

“Let me go…” you choke out amidst sobs, wiggling in his grasp, though this only causes the grip he has on your wrists to tighten.

“I love you. Do you understand that? I love you and won't ever leave you. I won't let you go, pumpkin, I'm here to protect you.”

Sol removes his hand from your cheek and reaches into his back pocket.

“If you refuse to acknowledge that then I will have to make you understand. But don't worry, we have more than enough time for that.”

He pulls out a small syringe, filled with some liquid. You struggle even more in his grasp, eyes blown wide.

“Sol, no no no, please, please don't do this. You… You're my best friend, please don't hurt me, Sol…” you cry out, scared to death. Will this kill you? At least it would be a painless death and you'd be reunited with your star-crossed lover yet again. Though something inside of you tells you that he won't release you from this situation any time in the near future.

Sol's face softens as he studies your scared face. “Shh, no need to be scared, pumpkin. All this will do is calm you down and make you sleep for some time. Remember, I won't cause you any harm, all you need to do is stay still”

He inserts the needle in the side of your neck and pushes down on the plunger, the contents of the syringe injected into your muscle. You grow dizzy rather quickly, your attempts at fighting growing weaker until they cease altogether and your body grows limp. The last thing you take note of is Sol kissing your forehead and whispering something incoherent before your world fades to black.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

should we talk about the weather

(go check out Kaitlin’s amazing cover art!!!)

rated M // 20,259 words

part of the @118bigbang

And then, in Los Angeles, 2018, Eddie had met Buck. Then, huddled over a man with a bomb in his leg, Eddie had needed gauze and Buck’s hand had moved. Then, in the parking lot bathed in the light of an ambulance on fire, Buck had inhaled and Eddie's lungs expanded. And, well, that was that.

This description felt too long for ao3 but here’s what I pitched to the Big Bang server:

“In a world where certain individuals are capable of sharing their own instincts and feelings — and even occasionally physical strength — with their likewise capable partners, Eddie and Buck, and Hen and Chim are what people sometimes call congeneric minds. It comes in handy in a high stakes profession like firefighting to have two people in such synchronization, able to warn each other of danger without ever having to waste time opening their mouths to speak.

Being so in sync with someone doesn’t necessarily mean smooth sailing communication however. Recently back at work after taking time off post-shooting, Eddie worries about Buck and how he’s been dealing with the events of the last year (last several years, really) but doesn’t know how to bring it up when he himself has always kind of encouraged them to move past life changing events with little discussion. While Hen and Chim are getting along just fine, Chimney and Maddie are dancing around each other and their recent breakup, and Hen feels trapped between disappointing her mother or her wife while being roped into backyard wedding planning.

With danger ever present on the job and turmoil seemingly always bubbling outside it, will everyone find the right words before it’s too late?

AKA what if people could be drift compatible in regular life without giant robots, and they’re all disasters at communicating anyway”

Tag list!

@theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings @mcityxe @thehyperfixationspeedrunner @dangerpronebuddie @jenniferscraftlife @phdmama @bbbugzzz @leothil @pantsaretherealheroes @giddyupbuck @hobbitnarwhal @kaseysgirl86-blog @thebrofriends @lillathelegend @thewolvesof1998 @devirnis @bigfootsmom @blahblahwoofwoof @lover-of-mine @queerdiazs @eddiebabygirldiaz

[kuroppiii]

  who are you wearing ? ᵕ̈       timeskip!azumane asahi x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : we forgot about ⋮⋮  fashion designer asahi wayyy ⋮⋮  too soon . . .

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛     ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛     ♡ # ~930 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii  ─ “ i ' ve seen the good people around on the asahi tag ask , and so i ' ve come to deliver ( i ' m actually batman 🦇 ) ”

fashion designer!asahi who knows how to sew and will patch up your clothes if you need, so delicate even if the tiny needle and thread gets engulfed in his big hands

fashion designer!asahi your laundry day superman who knows how to get any stain out of any fabric

fashion designer!asahi who wants to match outfits with you when you two go out

fashion designer!asahi who brushes out all the wrinkles in your clothes before you two head out the door

fashion designer!asahi that always needs to bring you to the shows or galas he attends bc he needs you by his side amongst all the ppl in the crowd

fashion designer!asahi who gets shy when you come home with one of his pieces or a fashion magazine you found with him on the cover bc your unbridled support always makes his heart flutter in his chest

fashion designer!asahi that never fails to mention in interviews how you are his "muse"

fashion designer!asahi who will later get all flustered when you wind up finding those interviews and read them back to him once they get published later on

fashion designer!asahi who always gets front row seats to catwalks for the two of you, where you whisper in appreciation to each other about the pieces as the models pass by

fashion designer!asahi who’s hair falls in front of his face in the midst of sketching custom designs just for you

fashion designer!asahi who sometimes has you model his prototypes around the house, and has hundreds of photos in his camera roll of you doing so

fashion designer!asahi who always ends up sweeping you off your feet and showering you with kisses whenever you're wearing something he's made

fashion designer!asahi who designed both of your wedding garments himself, as well as those for the best men and bridesmaids

       ⇩  ⇩  ⇩ 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎 ::

you give the softest of pushes against the handle of asahi's home studio door. careful not to make a sound, you peer your head in to see all the lights are off, except for the light from his desk's lamp.

you quietly step in a bit more, the sound of pencil scratching and pastels smearing vibrant colors onto asahi's creative visions reaching your ears. every now and then, he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose since his head is hung so low in concentration.

as not to scare him, you call out softly, "'sahiii."

like instinct, his head whips around to the sound of your voice, and when he calls back you can hear the grogginess sleep has laced into his voice, "oh hello honey."

"it's getting late," you say as you saunter over behind him, resting your head on the top of his and draping your arms around his broad shoulders.

"i know," he coos. the sound of etching drifts into the still night air again as he can't resist adding a few more lines to the curve of a dress on his paper, "but i want to get these done so we can start fittings as soon as possible. fabrics in some of these colors might take longer than expected to arrive before the ceremony. trust me, i know."

you look out into the sea of drawings scattered across his desk, and your heart swells at the thought of those you love wearing such amazing works of art on your special day. the thought makes you tighten your arms around him to pull him closer, and you feel his free hand reaching up to squeeze one of your arms affectionately, as his other hand reaches for a colored pencil to shade in part of his sketch.

"why does everything you make have to be so perfect," you jokingly sulk, reaching out to run your fingertips along some silky fabric samples occupying a corner of asahi's desk.

you can feel the tiny rumble of his soft laughter beneath you, "not true."

you peel yourself off of him and crouch down next to where he sits in his chair. you take your hand and take the colored pencil out of his hand, before gently holding his face in your two palms, fingers brushing his brown hair out from his face.

"very true, actually," you correct him in a whisper. and even though his facial features are very visually tired, the smile that grows on his face as he's looking at you still manages to meet his lidded eyes. you feel his larger hands place themselves over yours, and feel the cold metal of his engangement ring tickle at your left hand.

the feeling makes you giddy and a small fit of sleepy and loopy laughter starts bubbling out of you, but asahi lovingly cuts it off, leaning in to leave an affectionate kiss on your lips.

he tastes like dark roasted coffee and beeswax chapstick. his fancy cologne lingers even when you finally pull apart, the one you suprised him with when one of his pieces made it into one of the big showcases for the first time. it mixes with one of the many scents he's gifted you in return since then. (he loves to spoil you, it really being one of the only reasons he mingles with other designers at events, so he can later get linked up with the best stuff to give to you.)

you both smile against each other. just you, your soon-to-be husband, and the many manifestations of his love for you scattered around his studio.

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Hello, hello!

Welcome, make yourself comfortable, here are some cakes, tea and hot chocolate, and enjoy your stay. In this little pocket dimension of a blog, you will mostly find posts about our Celestial Jesters and other FNAF content, along with space-themed aesthetic, writing, some silly whimsical quotes, comfy vibes and similar.

I shall be tagging my own writing posts under "jester's privilege chronicles" (these are especially for my longer works) and "amary's chronicles" (these are especially for my shorter little scenes), to make it easier to navigate or find them. For answered asks the tags are "amary answers" and "amary speaks", to find them easily in case they get buried in reblogs. As of recent, I made the tag "amary's art" for my doodles, although I am still a beginner.

Under the cut are links to my AO3 fics and summaries of all the current stories, if you are interested!

(Additionally, I have also written a few joint AUs with the amazing @ravenwriter16 @robinette-green @lets-zofifi-stuff @amymaleneart How to Capture a Nymph's Heart: Satyr's Guide to Romance (nymph y/n and satyr dca au) and Furever Home (werewolf y/n and shepherds dca au) )

Have a lovely day and enjoy your stay!

Jester's Privilege Chronicles series:

Sound the Bells: You are a mermaid in charge of the daunting task of managing the sea and your court consists of playful twin Leviathans and an uncooperative Kraken. You also have the disadvantage of being an utter disaster at this mermaid business and you live on land in human form, having the swimming skills of a rock.

Your sea monsters are not too thrilled with you living on land, so they love to cause shipwrecks and general mayhem to get your attention. You try to place a stop to this by having them spend a month with you in the town of Celestial Bay disguised as animatronics.

Sun is thrilled to explore human technology, Moon prowls the night threatening city council members into making better legal acts to protect the sea against pollution, and Eclipse's natural protective Kraken instincts are getting a tad bit out of hand and making him the friendly neighbourhood serial killer. He loves quick solutions to complex problems.

Officer Vanessa is the only one brave enough to keep knocking on your door for some explanations. She is also in charge of a very confused police unit that really needs to get some sleep.

Extended Contract: You are a witch that fell for the oldest trick in the book by giving your name to the mischievous Fae princes of the Celestial Court. Such an inconvenience on what was supposed to be a typical office night. You are honestly not having it. They, however, do seem quite happy about having you. You decide to make a deal with the Fae King to regain your freedom. The only thing that is functional in the whole situation is your phone signal in the Fae Kingdom.

Tip the Scales: You are a charismatic defense lawyer in a constant competition with two ruthless prosecutors that do not understand your ideals about criminals deserving a second chance. You are also housemates with a certain bitter and retired judge, who has a habit of operating at night as a cloaked figure known as the Judge of the Damned, serving justice as he deems fit according to his own moral ideals. In order to solve his frequent habit of going after your clients, you two had established a game of Tip the Scales to keep a balance of which person deserves redemption and who is condemned to damnation. Things get complicated when an old friend gets wrongfully accused. You do all in your power to convince your prosecutor rivals to secretly cooperate with you and help clear his name before you lose the game.

Our Guest: You arrive at a sinister and luxurious castle with the innocent intention of checking why its mysterious residents haven't been paying any taxes or utilities for the past several centuries. Very useful excuse for a vampire hunter to have when trying to do some good old infiltrating. The three vampire lords, however, fully intend to capture and seduce you, possibly give your pretty neck a bite or two, but all of that does get a bit complicated when you are being such a tease and constantly asking them about their financial books. Will they succeed in the task of making you theirs, dear Y/N? And are they onto your little schemes?

[hudsuns]

✎ rating oc headcanons!

(huge thanks to @yourpenpaldee and @pixies-love-envy for the open tag! check out their posts here & here :D ++ bonus thanks to dee for the template i used, it made everything 10x easier)

RULES: use this headcanon generator to generate some headcanons for your OCs! how accurate are they?

(TAG UNDER THE CUT)

— alex

Alex chews their nails when nervous.

0/10. Alex is more likely to drum his fingers against a table or bounce his leg when nervous. He saw those pictures and videos of the long-term effects of nail-biting and it was enough to scare him into never doing so.

Alex hates being alone.

5/10. Even though he thrives when he's alone, I rated this one a 5/10 because there are times where he can't stand being alone with his thoughts—especially after Wally's passing.

Alex can't handle criticism.

9/10. Alex would tell you that he handles criticism well, but he's so obsessed with proving people wrong that criticism often leads to spiraling.

— bea

Bea is a great artist.

4/10. Bea can make sure her make-up looks good, but that's about it when it comes to art. The kids at the daycare center where she works tease her about her drawing skills, and she can't really sing, dance, or play instruments either. She's more sport-oriented.

Bea instinctively cleans messes in their own house as well as other peoples.

10/10. It took a while for Bea to accept that her home wouldn't be tidy as long as she lived with her overworked and naturally messy father. She's the kind of girl to help your mom with the dishes after dinner, take her shoes off at the door, and make your bed even if she sits on it for five minutes.

Bea cringes at their middle school yearbook photos.

0/10. Bea was homeschooled by her aunt in middle school.

— julia

Julia does intricate and expensive cosplays.

6/10. Julia doesn't cosplay, but she used to take Halloween very seriously before her brother passed away. Intricate? Yes. Expensive? No… her elaborate dance costumes are where the expenses come in.

Julia gets road rage.

0/10. She doesn't drive yet, but Julia accepted that some people are going to be stupid on the road. She's mostly excited for the freedom to go wherever she pleases whenever she pleases.

Julia is a cry baby.

8/10. As a child, Julia was teased for how much she cried in school. She doesn't cry as much in public anymore, but she knows that she needs to cry in order to process difficult moments in her life—thanks therapy! Dance is also a huge outlet for her emotions.

— pj

PJ wears Hello Kitty socks.

10/10. She stole them from Bea… then replaced them so they have matching Hello Kitty socks!

PJ has an incredible short-term memory but an awful long-term memory.

0/10. PJ has amazing short- and long-term memory. She remembers things you forgot about yourself.

PJ doesn't know how to say "no".

1/10. The only person she doesn't know how to say "no" to is Bea. If something comes up that messes up plans they'd already made, she does everything in her power to make it up to her. As for everyone else, "no" is one of her favorite words.

— wally

Wally is a horrible liar.

10/10. Wally didn't lie much because he could never get away with it. There was especially no lying to Julia.

Wally can play the piano.

10/10. And he could play it well! He took piano lessons from age three all the way to the time of his death. He loved to play for Julia's dance company's recitals.

Wally can't spell resturaunt.

0/10. My boy was a 3-time spelling bee champion. He would never let you live it down if you made a typo in a text message. He had to teach Alex how to spell appreciate.

i'll tag: @ibuprofen-exe, @mitchell-nihil, @charlies-storybook + open tag! have fun :D

teenage vows taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @fleurtygurl & @wildswrites

[amberstormblade]

Part two of the Viking Piglin AU is here!! If the formatting is off, I apologize! I’m doing this on mobile in my work parking lot. Also, I’m pretending the second level of Grady’s tavern has bedrooms in it because I don’t actually know what’s there so it would make sense.

One last thing! Probably! If you haven’t already, go check out @arckiaym ‘s really cool art that they’ve made based on the concept of this AU! It’s super cool and amazing and I wish to absorb their talent because it’s just that great!

(Hope it’s okay that I tagged you arck, I can probably untag you if you want)

Part One

Legundo had never realized how small Viking was before. He was alway moving around, phasing through things, almost like he was incapable of standing still. But now, as he sat there, shaking in his arms, it was painfully obvious. His jacket hung so loosely off his frame that he was practically drowning in it. The blood that was dripping from his mouth and the pain and confusion painting his eyes didn’t help either.

Speaking of the blood, Joy came over with a damp cloth and started to wipe it away, being extra careful next to the new tusks that were poking from his mouth. They were so short still, it reminded him of the members of his bastion that were fresh from training. While they were technically adults, they were all still so young. Looking at Viking now, he’d fit right in with them. He could see his new tail twitching behind him, as he and Joy now worked together to try and clean his face off. It was obvious that he didn’t have full control over it and that it was bothering him a great deal.

Exhaustion rolled off of Viking in waves. It was clear that the transformation had taken a great deal of energy out of him and that if he wasn’t moved soon, Legundo would become his personal pillow. Viking looked lost in thought in spite of this. He hadn’t spoken much after the initial reveal of his coming back to life, most likely due to the shock of the situation.

“You could set him in my bed for now.” Joy suggested. “Unless you think it would be okay to use the waystones with him. Not quite sure how teleporting would affect the newly revived though.”

Viking jumped at the sudden noise, almost as if he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone. He was quick to cut off any response Legundo had, however. “I’ll be alright. I can just,” He grunts as he shifts to stand, it’s a slightly different noise than what he would have made before and he can’t hold back a flinch. “I can make my way back to my place and then just-” He’s cut off as his legs collapse under him, Joy and Legundo being the only things stopping him from bashing his head on the floor. They gently lower him back down so he can catch his breath.

“Yeah, no offense bud, but I know I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while. Joy probably isn’t either.” She nods in agreement. “You just went through something extremely traumatic to say the least and you’re probably going to need some help. Who knows what’s going to be different now!” Legundo shifted a bit, trying to keep a good grip on Viking. It was a little difficult with the height difference but he and Joy were making it work for now.

“What other differences could there possibly be?” Viking asked, sounding at least slightly in denial of this whole situation. “I mean, I’m fleshy again, sure. That’s going to make it a little more difficult to get in and out of my house but I’ll get by. The tail, also a difference but it’s literally attached to me so I figure I’ll-” As Viking started to ramble, Legs slipped a gold ingot out of his inventory and held it in his face. The younger instantly quieted, all interest now focused on the gold. His pupils dilated until his eyes were practically black and he started making little rumbling sounds. Legundo then put the ingot back in his inventory and Viking seemed to snap back to reality.

“Well you definitely have some new instincts to deal with!” Legundo said with a bit of a chuckle. After a second however, he grimaced slightly, almost speaking to himself. “I’m going to need to teach you about those, aren’t I?”

“Where’d the shiny go?!” Viking was almost distressed, still teetering on the edge of his sudden fixation. “Why did that happen? Why would gold of all things make me do, um, do whatever the heck that was!”

“I’ll explain it to you, don’t worry. Just need to think of a good way to do it.” Legs sighed. He then helped Viking stand again, making sure to go slow just in case.

The small group made their way over to the waystone while Joy and Legundo explained that the transformation seemed to have given him some piglin instincts as well as the obvious physical features. Legs had decided that the best thing for right now would be bringing him to spawn so he could rest until the meet up that was happening that evening. Then they would bring up this development with everyone else and figure out where to go from there. Joy decided to stay back for now as she wanted to start researching into what had happened further and make sure that Viking would be okay. It was only after they had arrived at spawn that Viking noticed something else.

“The sun!” He stared at the sky in awe, almost as if seeing it for the first time. “It-it feels… It feels amazing!”

“Oh yeah, it kind of just hurt you before, didn’t it?” asked Legs, who was still supporting most of his weight. “Not catching on fire must feel nice, huh?”

Viking let out a hum, eyes closed and seemingly soaking up the warmth that he had been missing out on for a long time. He seemed to sag into Legundo as exhaustion threatened to drag him down once more, only to jolt back awake as a strange rumbling sound seemed to come from him. Legs sighed and scooped him up so they could travel faster, deciding to explain yet another new trait along the way.

“Us piglins are capable of making a wide array of noises. That rumbling is something similar to a cat purring, it can mean different things depending on the situation. Sometimes it’s used to help calm others or you make it when you’re calm or content. Sometimes it’ll happen if piglin feel sick but that’s mostly in younger ones. Although, I’m not sure how that would work with you, considering the circumstances.” Viking was doing his best to listen but all he could manage was a small grunt to acknowledge that he’d even heard anything. “Don’t suppose you’re awake enough to point me to your place, are you?” When Viking didn’t respond Legundo just sighed. “All the action today really tired you out, huh. Guess we’ll see if there’s space for you to rest in the tavern, I’m sure Grady won’t mind.”

[que-serra-serra]

[Serennedy] Animal Instincts

Happy spooky season! 🎃 This fic was shamelessly inspired by @kaychen666's Serennedy vampire/werewolf roommate AU. Kay, I hope you like this, your art is an absolute blessing to the fandom ❤️ Rated Explicit | 3.1k words | ao3 link (look here for tags & warnings!)

"Harder! Mierda, do you think I'm made of glass!?"

"No," Leon said evenly. "I think you're made of skin and fur and two centuries of bad decisions."

Luis snarled and thrashed on the bed, but was held firmly in place by Leon's hands pinning his wrists and Leon's hips steadily pounding him into the mattress.

Because even though Luis was a powerful werewolf, he had nothing on the raw strength of a vampire.

"Calm down, you overgrown puppy," Leon chastised.

"Fuck you!" Luis spat. "I'm not your puppy, and you're nothing but a glorified mosquito!"

Leon just rolled his eyes and kept thrusting.

This was how they spent every full moon. Luis was normally very in control of his baser instincts, resembling more a particularly flirty golden retriever than a bloodthirsty wolf. But on the night of full moons, it was a completely different story: Luis became antsy, irritable, and unable to settle down before he'd worked off the energy by hours and hours of either fighting or fucking.

Fortunately, Leon could provide both.

"You can't even fuck me properly!" Luis, apparently, disagreed. "All those muscles just for show, you useless—ah!" 

His sentence cut into a groan as Leon snapped his hips up hard enough to jostle Luis on the bed, his whole body shaking with the intensity of it.

"What was that?" Leon asked smugly, picking up a rough pace of slamming in and out of Luis' now-pliant body. "Cat got your tongue, mutt?"

"Nngh," Luis commented. His head was thrown back against the sheets, eyes closed and his mouth parted enough that his canines peeked out.

Leon mentally translated that to, "Yes, fuck me, right there."

So Leon allowed himself to let loose. He used more of his strength, groaning at the feeling of Luis still so hot and tight around him as he fucked in deeper and harder than before.

"Sí, sí, más duro…!" Luis babbled, clawing at the sheets and clenching around Leon.

Luis' cock was so hard it looked almost painful, bobbing in time with Leon's brutal thrusts and leaking pre-come down the shaft. It would be so easy for Leon to get a hand between them and jerk him to completion, but that wasn't what Luis had asked for.

With a grunt, Leon threw one of Luis' legs up on his shoulder and braced his hands more firmly on the bed, never faltering from his rough pace. The new angle and added leverage made Luis sob from pleasure, and a stream of Spanish expletives and endearments alike fell from his lips as Leon kept going, nailing Luis' prostate over and over until—

Luis jolted and came with a scream, his back arching and his cock shooting untouched into the air. Leon's sheets ripped under his claws but Leon didn't care, too busy watching Luis come undone and feeling his body squeezing tightly around his cock.

Leon rode it out with him, slowly fucking him through the aftershocks and then stilling completely when Luis whined from overstimulation.

Luis took a shuddering breath and sank back down against the sheets. His stomach was covered in his own spend—this was already the third time he'd come tonight—and by all accounts, he should be more than sated.

But Leon could read the signs. Though Luis was unusually quiet, his hands stayed gripping the sheets and a quiet growl escaped between his clenched teeth.

Luis wasn't done yet, and fortunately, neither was Leon.

Leon lowered Luis' leg back down but stayed inside him, then experimentally pulled out and slowly thrust back in. Luis hissed, the feeling probably uncomfortable so soon after coming, but he still bucked up to meet Leon's hips.

Taking that as the permission that it was, Leon quickly worked back up into a steady rhythm, quietly amazed at how much Luis' body could handle. Every slide of Leon's cock into his well-used hole seemed to gradually ease the tension in Luis' body, until his dick was back to full hardness and his quiet growls sounded more like pleased moans.

"There you go," Leon praised. Luis' breath hitched and his ear twitched in interest, so he lowered his voice and murmured, "That's a good boy."

"¡Joder!" Luis protested, even as his face went ruddy and his dick jumped from the praise. "Stop acting like I'm a pet dog!"

"If you're not, why does your tail always wag when I call you a good boy?"

Luis went still, and Leon knew he could hear the rhythmic thump-thump of his tail hitting the mattress even over the harsh slap of skin against skin. Half of Luis' tail remained squished between his back and the bed, but the visible part was very enthusiastically showing Leon how much he enjoyed this.

And then Luis glared at Leon and the wagging stopped, but it was a moot point now; Luis could control his tail if he wanted to, but most of the time it was an unconscious action, like breathing.

"Next time, I'll get someone else to fuck me," Luis groused.

Leon chuckled and reached for Luis' cock. "No, you won't."

"Mierda," Luis cursed, bucking up into Leon's hand. "Make me come again and I'll consider it."

It was an empty threat. Their arrangement just worked too well to jeopardize: Luis needed someone who could hold him down all night during full moons, fucking and arguing until he was finally tired out, while Leon required a willing partner to essentially be his personal blood bank. Conveniently, vampires had more than enough strength and stamina to deal with the full moon frenzy, and werewolves just so happened to have enhanced healing that allowed them quickly bounce back after, say, a vampire feeding from them.

Of course, vampires and werewolves were supposed to hate each other. But Leon and Luis had both been shunned by their own kind—ostracized for wanting to coexist with humans and not hunt them for sport—and though they got on each other's nerves like nothing else, living with Luis was one of the best decisions Leon had ever made. They balanced each other out, fought well together, and Luis was the only person Leon had ever truly considered an equal.

Someone more sentimental might have said it was simply meant to be.

"Leon…" Luis groaned. His claws dug into Leon's back and made him hiss: Leon wasn't pinning his wrists anymore and Luis had apparently taken that as an invitation to maul him.

"Yeah?" Leon asked, ignoring the sharp sting of the scratches. His body would heal them in no time, and he knew Luis needed this.

"Good," Luis simply murmured. "It's good. Don't stop."

"I won't. I've got you," Leon promised.

He squeezed Luis' cock on the downstroke and Luis moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he went pliant under Leon's touch.

It never failed to amaze Leon how fully Luis trusted him. No matter how much they fought or how many insults they threw at each other, somehow they'd always find their way back here: Luis fully handing himself over for Leon to take him apart and put him back together.

"Luis," Leon murmured, thumbing the head of Luis' cock and moaning when it made Luis clench tighter around him. "You feel so good."

Luis whined and threw his head back, exposing the smooth column of his throat, and…

Leon felt the familiar instinct to feed.

Rationally, Leon knew he didn't need to drink yet. He'd done so not even three days ago, and he could easily go a week without. But it was almost a Pavlovian response: each time Leon fed from Luis, it would inevitably end in sex, because Luis was a crazy bastard and actually enjoyed getting brutally bitten and having the blood sucked out of him.

Last time, Leon had bitten and fed from the soft skin of his inner thigh, and Luis had gone lightheaded as all the remaining blood in his body seemingly went to his cock. Once Leon was done feeding and Luis was begging to come, Leon hadn't even bothered wiping his mouth before wrapping his bloody lips around Luis' cock and teasing the tip with his fangs, and Luis had spent himself right then and there.

Leon's mouth watered at the memory. He kept staring at Luis' exposed neck and shoulder; he could see the sweat on the skin, could hear Luis' heart beating frantically in his chest, could imagine exactly how he'd taste…

"Leon?" Luis' uncharacteristically quiet voice snapped him out of it.

Leon met Luis' eyes and saw the red from his own reflected in them. His eyes were glowing bright red with bloodlust and he only now realized his fangs had extended of their own accord, resting heavy against his bottom lip.

Anyone in Luis' position would have been paralyzed from fear, seeing the most dangerous predator on the planet about to attack them. But Luis simply held Leon's gaze and lifted his hand to gently cradle Leon's jaw. 

"Mi príncipe," Luis murmured. "What do you need?"

You, Leon wanted to say. Just you. Always.

Leon swallowed; his throat was so dry, and he wanted…

"I just," Leon rasped, eyes locked on Luis' shoulder. "I know it's only been a few days, but—please, can I…?"

"Of course, corazon." Luis smiled and tilted his head to the side, giving Leon better access. "Bon appetit."

Leon's instincts didn't care about the joke or the pet name: they only cared about being granted permission.

Moving faster than any other creature could, Leon surged down and bit into Luis' shoulder.

Blood roared in Leon's ears and endorphins surged through his entire system. He'd meant to only puncture the skin with his two largest fangs, but as soon as the first flood of Luis' blood hit his tongue, Leon was helpless to do anything but let out an animalistic growl and dig in with all of his teeth in a savage bite.

He distantly registered that Luis was screaming himself hoarse, his claws digging into Leon's scalp and back. His body clenched around Leon's cock and a spurt of warmth landed on Leon's stomach as he came.

Leon groaned long and loud, rocking into Luis' body while his fangs siphoned even more of Luis' delicious blood onto his tongue. He always tasted like smoke and the sun, like laughter and home—

Leon's thrusts stuttered as he abruptly came too, burying himself deep inside Luis and filling him with his release. For a second, it felt like he was flying, high on the euphoria of claiming Luis in the two most carnal ways possible.

Mine, Leon's entire body sang. He's mine.

It took a while for both the bloodlust to fade and Leon's erection to go down, but eventually, Leon pulled off Luis' shoulder with a gasp. He was shaking—both of them were. Luis was whining softly and cradling the back of Leon's head, holding him close while Leon fed from him.

He always trusted Leon not to take too much. Because in the five hundred years Leon had been alive, Luis was the only one who wasn't afraid of him.

Leon's chest clenched and his cock pulsed with the last aftershocks, making him moan and bury his face against Luis' throat.

"Fuck, Luis," Leon murmured against Luis' skin, then lapped up the blood dripping from the wound on his shoulder. "Such a good fucking boy."

A choked whimper escaped Luis' lips and his still-soft dick managed a weak spurt, trapped between their bodies as Leon's words milked one last orgasm out of him.

Leon pushed up onto his forearms and simply watched him with a perverted sense of satisfaction. Luis had an arm thrown over his eyes and was taking shallow breaths, his skin shiny with cooling sweat and Leon's bite bright red like a brand on his skin. 

He looked exhausted. Sated, but tired, and overwhelmed, and…

"Beautiful," Leon whispered.

Luis laughed hoarsely. "Oye, stop teasing. It's your fault I look like shit."

Leon felt his pale cheeks flame hot with warmth. He really hadn't meant to say that out loud, so he opened his mouth to apologize…

And Luis promptly cupped his head and pulled him down into a kiss instead.

Leon's breath stuttered as Luis' mouth moved sloppily against his own. They didn't usually do this: it felt more intimate than their no-strings sex warranted, and Leon was always afraid of accidentally hurting Luis with his fangs.

But Luis didn't seem to care. He eagerly licked into Leon's mouth, groaning as he tasted his own blood and teased at Leon's fangs with his tongue.

So Leon let himself indulge. He pressed close and kissed Luis hard and messy, smearing red over both of their lips. Luis shuddered and tightened his fingers in Leon's hair, canines playfully nipping Leon's bottom lip before Leon's tongue bullied its way into his mouth and made him moan.

Leon reluctantly pulled away after only a few moments, leaving Luis flushed and panting to catch his breath—and thoroughly testing Leon's self-control to not just pin him against the bed and kiss him for hours.

Luis laughed breathlessly. "Dios mío, who taught you to kiss?"

A drop of blood slid down Luis' chin and Leon licked it up with the flat of his tongue, ending with a peck on Luis' lips. "You did."

"Mmh, I am a very good teacher," Luis said smugly, then shoved Leon's shoulder. "Now move, you giant bat, you're crushing me."

Leon huffed and got off Luis, rolling over onto his back. "Still think the muscles are just for show?"

"A little." Luis winked, then groaned, "Ugh, I need to sleep. For a week, preferably."

Luis turned onto his side and immediately scooted close to Leon. Because vampires always ran cold, and with both the full moon frenzy and vigorous sex, Luis was a furnace. Being close to Leon simply helped him cool off.

Leon knew it didn't mean anything, but he still enjoyed the cuddling.

Luis pressed up against Leon's side, then yawned before tucking his head in the crook of Leon's neck and shoulder. He was sweaty and covered in come and his lips were still smeared with blood, but Leon didn't care. Luis was usually meticulous in his grooming, so it was nice to see him disheveled for a change.

Feeling particularly fond, Leon reached over to pet Luis' sex-mussed hair. Luis didn't say anything, but he tilted his head to give better access, then sighed quietly when Leon scratched behind one of his ears. Leon smiled to himself as he heard the soft swoosh of Luis' tail wagging across the sheets.

Part of Leon wished this didn't have to end—that Luis would call him pet names outside of sex and crawl into his bed for cuddles even on the nights that didn't involve the full moon or Leon feeding from him. That every night, Leon would get to kiss him and hold him and pet his ears even if they bickered until one of them fell asleep.

Because Leon loved this stupid mutt. But werewolves mated for life, and he wasn't about to insert himself where he didn't belong. 

He'd wait for Luis as long as he had to. And since they were both immortal, that could be quite some time, but Leon didn't mind.

Luis abruptly stirred against him, and Leon gave him more space as he tiredly lifted his head, eyes still half-lidded from exhaustion. The sun was already starting to rise outside and a sliver of light painted Luis' skin a warm gold.

But then Luis visibly sniffed the air, and poetic sunrises were the last thing on Leon's mind.

Leon quickly pushed himself up. "What is it!?" he demanded, already reaching for the bedside table for a weapon.

Though Leon's senses were enhanced compared to a human's, they had nothing on a werewolf's. It definitely wouldn't be the first time Luis had sensed hunters coming for them, smelling the silver bullets and wooden stakes long before Leon did.

In this state, Luis was temporarily weakened and wouldn't be able to fend for himself. But Leon felt stronger than ever after such a good feed, and he'd do anything to protect Luis; if a hunter so much as stepped foot in the building, he'd rip their head off with his bare hands and—

"The downstairs neighbor is eating bacon," Luis concluded.

Leon groaned and lied back down. "And that's relevant how?" he asked.

Luis' head flopped back down with a huff. "Because I'm hungry."

"Really? I'm not."

"Because you just ate from me, idiota!" Luis snapped, then settled and groused, "I want a steak. Rare."

Leon sighed but obediently got out of bed; it would be good for Luis to eat, especially since Leon fed from him so soon. "Fine."

"And a glass of wine," Luis added.

Leon didn't need to ask what kind—they both only drank red.

"Alright," Leon said.

"The good wine."

At that, Leon bristled: he knew exactly which wine Luis meant. And Luis knew perfectly well that Leon had aged that bottle for well over a hundred years.

"No!" Leon snapped, turning to glare at him. "Bad dog."

As soon as the words left Leon's mouth, he regretted them. Luis' entire face fell and his ears drooped miserably, his tail curling protectively around himself like Leon had physically struck him.

"Bad?" Luis asked, his bottom lip trembling. His expression was full of betrayal and he looked like he was about to cry, his eyes shimmering wetly as he whimpered, "I was bad?"

Leon's cold, dead heart clenched painfully at the display.

"No," Leon said, "no, you're not bad. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

Luis sniffled. "Really?"

"Really," Leon said. "I'll go get your food and the wine—it's about time I opened that bottle anyway."

God, he'd do anything to not make Luis cry. The stupid wine wasn't worth seeing him so miserable over.

"Okay," Luis said. He was still pouting, but at least he didn't look on the verge of tears anymore.

"Just sit tight, I'll be right back," Leon promised, shutting the bedroom door.

It didn't even take enhanced hearing to hear Luis start snickering as soon as the door closed, and Leon belatedly realized that he'd been played.

Nonetheless, he headed for the kitchen with only a slightly irritated sigh. It was his own fault for falling for the same damn trick for probably the hundredth time.

Because even though vampires were widely regarded as both the most powerful and intelligent creatures in existence, they all had a weakness. For some, it was sunlight, or crucifixes, or the classic wooden stakes.

But for Leon, it would always be Luis and his puppy eyes.

[m-jelly]

Heyy, I have a quick question. Could you maybe write something again for an insecure Y/N where she sees other beautiful women on Instagram and thinks bad about herself. So Levi tells her that she's beautiful just the way she is? The last time you wrote something like this it made me almost cry because I can relate too much to that stuff! Also I felt really insecure lately because of my appearance. You don't have to write this, and only if you want! :) Peace & Love!

@kenkopanda-art <3

Beauty is subjective

Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: Modern AU, fluff, romance, being a couple, angst, insecure reader, hurt and comfort.

Concept: While looking on your phone at some fun ideas for baking and cooking for Levi you come across a lot of comments and posts about what makes a woman beautiful. You go against your instincts to stay away and dive deeper only to make yourself spiral into self-hate. Levi catches you doing this and showers you in love.

No tags due to sensitive subject.

Levi leaned over the back of the sofa and looked down at you. "You need anything, love?"

You smiled up at your boyfriend. "All good. I'm just browsing Instagram for cool cooking and baking ideas."

Levi leaned lower and kissed you. "You're too good to me. I'll make us a pot of tea."

"Okay!"

Your eyes flicked back to your phone and you began browsing once more. You moved through the videos posted about cooking and made notes on a few. You hummed a little song to yourself as you felt pure happiness as you looked up new ideas. You were excited to try a peanut butter, banana and chocolate chip cookie someone suggested.

Ideal woman.

You don't know why, but your eyes seemed to lock onto that comment. You frowned a little as a pang of darkness started inside you. You looked at the replies to the comment and saw everyone was talking about the baker. You looked at the video and saw how pretty the woman was. You clenched your phone a little before moving on and trying to focus on baking.

Special routine to make me beautiful.

You gulped hard and didn't understand what had happened. You were happily looking through videos of amazing cooking and baking, but now you were on Instagram models. You saw their routines, how they did their makeup, the things they wore and how people talked about them.

The more you delved deeper the more you were damaging your own self-confidence. You knew you shouldn't be looking for your own good, but you just kept doing it and comparing yourself. You pinched and pulled at your skin as hatred towards yourself consumed you. You felt a lump in your throat at a few comments saying how these women were the perfect women and men deserve women like that.

"Love?"

You looked up at Levi. "H-Hey."

He placed the pot of tea down before sitting by your feet. "Come here."

You sat up and whined. "I don't think you'll want that."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm not that pretty and I'm a bit..."

Levi grabbed your arm and dragged you closer. "Have you been looking at those models again?"

You blushed a little. "Yes."

Levi held you close to him. "My love, you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. I love you with all my heart and soul. I wouldn't change you for the world."

You played with his shirt. "Well, they wear lots of makeup and I don't."

"I love your natural look. I love that I see you a lot without any on at all. You're so beautiful without it." He kissed the end of your nose. "Besides, if you wore a lot of makeup it'd get all over the furniture and clothes. Imagine cleaning that out."

You giggled a little. "Yeah, you're right." You hummed. "What about my body?"

"It's sexy as fuck. You know how much I love seeing you naked. I loved biting and kissing every inch of you."

You blushed hard. "You're right."

He massaged your thigh. "You're just stunning."

"Thank you. But Levi."

"I love you. I fell in love with you, not those women. Besides, a lot use filters."

You hummed. "You're right."

Levi cupped your face. "Beauty is subjective darling, so what people find beautiful is different to others. Those women on your phone? I don't find them attractive." He slowly pushed you down making you giggle. "Oh, but you? You are sexy and beautiful. I just want you all the time."

You moaned as Levi kissed and nipped your neck and chest. "Levi."

He leaned up and looked down at you. "I wish you saw yourself the way I see you. You shine brighter than anyone I've ever seen. Other women are like dull grey blobs, but you? You are this angel."

You smiled a little. "You're sweet."

"Besides, if all women aimed to be like those models and men like the male models, wouldn't it be boring? We'd all look the same and it'd be bland."

You played with his shirt. "You're right."

Levi kissed your forehead. "Kiss it better." He hummed a laugh. "I know that my words won't fix the years of wounds you've gained about your self-image, but I am happy to help you slowly heal some of them."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Levi."

He growled. "Be with another man who will be awful and not me and I'd be unhappy."

You laughed. "Levi, don't think about us not being together. I'll never leave you. I love you, Levi."

"I love you more than anything in this world." He sat up and pulled you into his arms. "Now, it's time for cuddles and tea. We'll look at videos together and pick out some tasty things to make together."

You snuggled into Levi's arms. "Perfect."

[haejjoon]

I just finished Royal and I've been really enjoying the swap au, and your take on the characters!

You said you had lots of thoughts about Yusuke too? 👀

WE REALLY ARE TAKING TURNS WITH CHARACTER ANALYSIS i should just make it a tag at this point. ykw im gonna do that.

okay, onto yusuke:

I adore him. completely and utterly. he’s my favorite boy apart from akeshu and for WILDLY obvious reasons: he’s fun, SUCH a character, and his story arc feels whimsy but not so out there that it feels unrealistic. adding onto the fact that i’m an artist myself, gunning to go pro, and he’s so relatable it hurts. straps yusuke onto the operating table let’s do this

1) his struggles relating to madarame

one thing that i’ll say right off the bat is that i HATE how the pts approached him. its nonsensical. even if ryuji and ann aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed how the hell did they think that approaching a stranger and saying “YOU’RE BEING ABUSED WE CAN HELP YOU FIGHT YOUR ABUSER” was going to turn out well in any way possible?? the writing suffers from something similar during ryuji’s run with akiren to question the volleyball team members. ryuji and ann, as dull as they may be, are abuse victims themselves; surely they’d understand why abuse victims would be hesitant to say anything? especially when a stranger gets all up in your face about it.

but apart from that: i love how yusuke dealt with all of it. i’m not saying that him becoming defensive over madarame was a good thing, but in terms of realism, it just Makes Sense. children raised by abusive guardians often aren’t aware how they’re taken advantage of, and when they’re as isolated from society as yusuke is, their obvious first instinct is to defend those who raised them. it’s like rapunzel about mother gothel from disney’s tangled. of course yusuke defended madarame’s ‘love’; he never knew what love was.

it isn’t even only that. yusuke and madarame are both branded as very traditionally japanese, from how they speak to how they dress. it’s even shown in their primary art medium—traditional painting and japanese oil work. i’m not japanese, but i am korean, and if there’s anything i’ve learned while growing up in a traditional asian household: it’s very suffocating. the filial piety you learn from high school history class isn’t just a far-off tradition in the old ages, it’s EXTREMELY prevalent even today. i can’t even count the amount of times i was put down or chastised for simply speaking out of turn, and that was with my parents trying to adapt to the american standards of respect.

in this context, it makes even more sense for yusuke to defend madarame so vehemently. it’s literally been ingrained into him growing up. the entire “parents are right, children are wrong” mentality is SO strong with the Growing Up Asian experience, and that’s coming from a korean-american. i can’t even imagine the kind of shit yusuke’s had to go through.

and it’s with all that that i find it so cathartic and admirable that yusuke finally managed to recognize madarame for the shitbag he is. genuinely, the amount of brainwashing he’d been forced through should have made it impossible for him to fight back, but my boy did it—and in the most stylish way possible, might i add!!! he stuck it to madarame and finally recognized his own worth. that’s incredible. i’m so proud of him.

but what makes all that even BETTER is his CONFIDANT STORY, and OH MY GOD I’M NEVER SHUTTING UP ABOUT HOW AMAZING IT IS MOVING ON TO POINT TWO

2. HIS CONFIDANT STORY OHHHH MY GOD

one of the biggest opinions ive heard about yusuke’s confidant story is that it doesn’t make sense or that it’s in his own head. SLAMS ATTORNEY DESK. OBJECTION YOUR HONOR ITS TIME FOR THE CROSS EXAMINATION

of COURSE it’s all in his own head. his confidant begins after madarame’s arrested and he finally, finally gets to be his own person and live on his own. the physical threat is gone!! but one of the most amazing things about his story arc is the depiction that childhood trauma never truly goes away. madarame being gone for good doesn’t automatically mean that yusuke’s mentally safe and sound. in fact, it fucks with him even more that he’s free—he doesn’t know how to live on his own, or how to make art for himself.

he’s literally lived his entire life for someone else; how can you expect him to suddenly go out and do whatever he wants? until this point in time, yusuke’s wants didn’t matter. he didn’t matter. the only important thing to him was pumping out art for madarame to display at his next show JUST TO SURVIVE. to EAT. i’m gonna get into his whole thing with eating in a second but i’m just putting that out there: it’s all in his own head because it has to be. he has to grow mentally in order for him to to do anything.

with that point out of the way: yusuke doesn’t forgive madarame for what he’s done, especially with his mother, but he also just has no idea what to feel about him in general? there’s two clashing images: one, of the teacher who (in yusuke’s view) loved and raised him, and one, of the monster who let his mother die in cold blood to get his hands on her personal artwork. and you might say “oh well yusuke’s being delusional again because madarame never truly loved him.” no. it isn’t delusion. it’s how yusuke’s been raised. he didn’t recognize madarame’s abuse because he never registered it as abuse. he was never taught that it was abuse. unlike shiho and ann who knew that what kamoshida was doing was wrong, yusuke never had anyone to tell him that madarame was taking advantage of him.

yusuke didn’t have anyone.

throughout his confidant story, he agonizes over his purpose for creating art at all—it makes sense, as his only purpose thus far was to put food on the table and to avoid verbal abuse from his father figure. yes, he said that his only purpose for creating art in the past was because he wished to put beauty in the world like his mother did with sayuri, but is that really all there was to it? i don’t think so. yusuke created art to survive, and coped with it by staring at his “sensei”’s magnum opus and telling himself that he was creating things for the sake of creation, not to give in to his survivalist instinct. it was a coping mechanism. i’ll live and die by this.

and this is also why he crumbles so much over that art director coming to him to monetize his work. he’s now aware that what he was striving for in the past was fake. he wants to truly pursue that goal again, to create something beautiful just for the sake of creating, but now he’s been thrust into the real world—one of capitalism, one where corruption thrives. the pure art he wants to make just doesn’t exist here. it never did. and that realization destroys him.

now if you Didn’t Know, i’m also an artist. i’m literally the same age as yusuke is (if not a little older), and that truth hurts. the fact that i have to make art in order to feed and clothe and keep myself warm hurts. there’s nothing i’d like better than to just make things i want to make, but i can’t, not in this world. his struggle is so realistic, and it rings so deep. every time i experience his story it always leaves me feeling bittersweet.

but then!!! at the end of his story!!!! he comes to a very important realization.

all of that’s okay.

it’s okay to profit off of your work. it’s okay to make things other people like. it doesn’t make you any less of a person to seek compensation for your work. it’s doesn’t make you any less of a human to seek praise for the amazing things you create. it’s okay.

and to the non-artists out there who might not understand why this is such a groundbreaking revelation: artists are constantly being put down in this capitalistic society. art is literally everywhere you look—it’s in the buildings you occupy, in the subways you ride, in the words you read, in the shows you consume. art is one of the cornerstones for what makes humans human, and those who create such beautiful things are never given credit.

just look at the ai discourse happening recently. look at how artists are treated when they stress about having art stolen or watermarks erased. to people like us, our creations are proof of us being alive. it’s our living mark on the world, one that will remain (physically or digitally) long after we ourselves pass away. but we’re constantly, constantly told that “it’s not that deep”, “you’re being selfish”, yadda yadda yadda. we’re shit on simply because we want to survive in this hellish fucking world. and that builds up.

so many aspiring artists out there give up too soon because of this. because art isn’t profitable, because we have to survive, because no one appreciates what you do no matter how beautiful it is or how much work you put in.

but then, persona 5 finally turned around, and told an entire generation of aspiring artists that their work was important. you are important. it’s okay to profit off of what you do.

that’s fucking incredible. it’s also a really, REALLY low bar, but it’s something. yusuke coming to the realization that creating art for himself is okay, whether it be for monetization or praise, was so cathartic to me. i’m sure other artists feel the same way.

his story arc is a fucking fantastic depiction of how much artists suffer, no matter what medium or era.

…….. and then people turn around and shit on it because they don’t understand its intricacies. as expected.

sigh.

3. the theme of going hungry

throughout the entirety of the game, yusuke’s depicted as the quintessential ‘starving artist’. he’s always hungry, and never knows how to budget his money, and that shit’s hilarious but also really, really fucking sad.

i remember reading a fantastic yusuke study on ao3 a couple years back—forgot who the author was, but it’s called “the emperor”—and it said something along the lines of this: “you have to eat in order to starve.”

like.

oh my GOD.

and it plays in so terrifically with the experience of creating art, as well. you have to eat in order to starve; you have to taste in order to crave. you have to experience praise in order to want it more. i’ve gone through dry spells where no one saw what i made, and it only made me go hungry for that appreciation again—and then i get it, just a little taste of it. i keep making content. i keep on going and going and going just to get the smallest bit of acknowledgement.

for those who’ve ever gone hungry before: would you be able to turn down a feast, if offered? would you be able to pace yourself, or would you inhale it quick as you can? if you’ve ever eaten a large meal after being hungry for a day or two, you’d know that it would immediately come back to bite you in the ass. you’d stop eating for a bit, you’d get hungry again, and then you’d scarf down another gigantic meal, rinse and repeat.

the correct choice here is to moderate yourself. take it slow. eat enough to be full, and pace yourself so that you won’t have to go horribly hungry to eat again.

yusuke, starved for appreciation, suddenly finds himself with the offer of his life. he’ll be sponsored by one of the most influential art directors in all of japan. he’ll be successful; he’ll have a scholarship, he’ll never, ever have to go hungry again—

and then he turns it down.

because this entire time, the hunger allegory was about success. you get the opportunity of a lifetime, and you invest everything you have into it—you eat and you eat and you eat until you can’t anymore, and then you find that that the satisfaction of finally feeling full has long since gone, and now you’re hungry again. you’re still a nobody. no one remembers your one-off success.

yusuke refuses the incredible offer, and decides to build his success slowly. he won’t take it all in stride. he’ll pace himself until he doesn’t have to be starving to eat.

that’s FUCKING brilliant.

i have so much more to say about yusuke than just this—how i feel about him (being, in my opinion, incredibly autistic-coded) as an artist with adhd, how his behavior is treated by the phantom thieves, how he plays into the phantom thieves as the sole creative mind of the group—but if i get into all that i’ll literally be typing on my ipad forever. i’ve already been sitting here for thirty minutes instead of finishing up chapter 5 of ex machina. oh god i love yusuke so much.

if you somehow came across this gigantic character dissection on your tl, hey hello hi, i also write stories! currently working on a swap au in my spare time, you might’ve heard of it. ex machina by hhaeyeun on ao3. check it out <3

thanks for the opportunity anon i’m So Sorry to have filled your inbox with this absolute beefcake of a reply. have a lovely day <3

[hesterias]

hello lovely 😘 4, 5, and 13 for the arctic monkeys asks! 💞

Thank you so much for creating this and sending asks.

4. which member of the band would you like to spend an afternoon with, and why? how would you spend your time?

my first instinct is to say alex, because i'd love to pick his brain creatively and see what he enjoys doing on a normal day, see his habits. most likely go to the cinema or an art exhibit or a show or just have a nice day in the park followed by some pints at a pub. i think we both have an introverted extrovert thing going on, where we can talk to anyone but actively choose not to. BUT i think i'd most likely vibe best with matt, he seems so fun. we'd probably go to the beach (i live in CA), or stroll the city and take photographs/talk photography and people-watch. he seems hilarious. so either one of those choices would be good. matt would be a fun hang, alex would be an artsy, intellectual hang.

5. which album means the most to you?

definitely tbh+c. before the release of TC, i wasn't a big monkeys fan. not that i didn't like them, i just knew the AM hits and that's it, never investigating further. @reconciledviolence729 got me into the fandom and her favorite album was tbhc and she bought me the vinyl for my birthday last year. such a great, unexpected gift and i listened to it often. i even spent an evening listening to it with my dad while we drank wine and just.... listened to it. it was amazing, such a great experience, so yeah, tbhc is a special (and pretty perfect) album for me.

13. what are some of your favourite lyrics alex has written?

haha can i quote all of tbh+c? (seriously, all of tbhc) as you can probably guess by my blog (and the little nod to it in ASA) i love

i've been on a bender back to that prophetic esplanade, where i ponder all the questions, but just manage to miss the mark (such an introspective line)

My mistakes were made for you / And in the back room of a bad dream she came / And whisked me away

With folded arms you occupied the bench like toothache Stood and puffed your chest out like you never lost a war And though I tried so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction There was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw

Yesterday's still leaking through the roof That's nothing new

I'd throw the rose tint back on the exploded view Darling, if I were you And how's that insatiable appetite?

There's all those places we used to go And I suspect you already know But that place on memory lane you like still looks the same But something about it's changed

You pushed my faith near being lost But we'll stick to the guns Don't care if it's marketing suicide We won't crack or compromise Your derisory divides Will never unhinge us

But seriously. All of TBHC is gold. Tagging @mrsnarl and @m0nkfys because they asked these too 🫶🏼

[steviewashere]

Let's have a quick little conversation, Stranger Things fandom. This is a conversation for everybody, including those who create the amazing things we pass around our table of stories like bowls of mashed potatoes.

A lot of you guys are fucking mean. And I'm not talking regular mean. I'm talking a rotting, moldy, dilapidating, squelching sort of mean. I should know, I've given way too many speeches about this kind of shit. So, you're gonna listen good.

The new trend I'm seeing is bullying the bodacious babes within our community, and I won't fucking stand for it. I've had my fair share of bullying, both as the victim and as a bystander, and it's exhausting to have it spread into such a tight-knit space like this.

Let me reintroduce you to some wonderful technology on here, you hateful pieces of shit (no, I'm not talking about the people who are actually nice, but please continue to read this). (And, I'm not gonna be nice to people who are blowing up babe's Tumblr inboxes and anon messages and Twitter replies and AO3 comments. Or people sending death threats and threats of sexual violence. Because you don't deserve kindness. Not anymore.)

There's a "close tab" button located conveniently below your address bar. There's also a little bar on the side of your screen that lets you scroll all willy-nilly away from things you don't like. AND there's a "block" button! Oh, let's not forget the "mute tag" button! (Explosion sound effects here.) Isn't that crazy?! You can block anybody you want. You can scroll away. You can close out of a fic you're reading or a fanart you're viewing.

Isn't that wonderful? Because then, you don't ever have to see it again.

Fandom is a space for everybody, no matter what someone enjoys. Even if it's dead dove fics or unconventional kinks or relationship dynamics that may come off as "abusive" or "toxic".

If topics that are considered unsightly to you really bother the fuck outta your soul, then just ignore 'em. Ignore them. Leave them alone. Art, no matter the form, has always been made to make a statement; art is meant to be uncomfortable sometimes; art comforts those who may have gone through the same or similar experience.

Not everything is for you. That's what's so wonderful about tag filtering and muting tags and blocking users and content. That's what's so wonderful about the internet. You can get away from things that would otherwise be triggering for you.

You don't have to read everything. Or view everything. Or like everything.

Somebody else will like that piece of art, guaranteed.

And to artists, whether you're a writer or a painter or a scrapbooker or whatever you do that pleases your senses, continue to create. Continue to create because you do enjoy it, even if sometimes it seems that nobody does. Take breaks as needed. Walk away if you have to. That's alright. Taking care of yourself is so important and nobody is allowed to tell you otherwise. But at the end of the day, you are the poet and the artist and the muser. You are the creator.

The first person you should create for, because all fan work is self-indulgent on some level, is yourself. Always create for you. Create because it's something primal. Because it's an instinct.

Not everything is beautiful. But art can be beautiful. You make it beautiful. Your minds are beautiful. Everybody is gorgeous.

Fandom is like a museum, babes. Sometimes, the creator is going to be walking the same room as you, viewing their paintings sidelong. Keep your voices down, move on if you don't like the painting they made, and find something you do like. You're allowed to do that.

But by the gods, be thoughtful, be kind, and remember that the creator is always standing behind you in the art hall. And they're sharing their craft with you. And they don't have to. And sometimes they don't want to. But they do it anyway. Because it's important to create and tell their story and reflect on what is otherwise something shitty.

Telling stories is part of human nature. We've been doing it for centuries. It's in our blood. Don't be the reason somebody's blood turns cold or their pens fall dried or their mouths clink shut. Art is an objectively subjective form of culture, it changes from where you're going to where you've been and it's always changing and not every aspect is for you.

You do it for you, though. At the end of the day, your art should matter because it's an appendage of you. You're wonderful, you're beautiful, you're talented, and you're worthy of what you do. Because you're doing it. At the end of the day, you're doing it. That's something that matters.

But what matters most?

You do. You're the heart of everything you do. You're part of the thousands of arteries in the community we've built, you are the vessel carrying life in this community. And damnit, what a good job you do. You matter. At the end of the day, you will always matter.

Always. You will always matter.

[unohanabbygirl]

I’ve been following along with your HIPS x FMN posts and I’m totally invested. Could you give us more angsty headcanons?

I’d be more than happy too. Ngl, I’ve been thinking about this AU for a while now so I have quite a few.

First off, getting into Osferth’s headspace is important because the plot revolves around his existence just as much as it does Luke’s past life and former trauma’s. Being a child born of r*pe isn’t an easy plight to come to terms with and creates insecurities regarding self-worth as well as your place in the world. Knowing that the worst thing that’s ever happened to your mother is what led to you being born is traumatic within itself. It’s something that never leaves your head, always there to remind you that you shouldn’t exist, that you ruined the possibility of your mother having a great life and doing amazing things. Luke could’ve been someone history regarded as one of the best Lords Driftmark had ever seen, but because of him Luke is no more than a victim whose been the subject of perverse and degrading art for centuries.

The constant reminders hurt, especially living in modern day. He’s still very young so being such a big (and slightly controversial) topic in history gets to him easily. He’s been forced to listen to strangers good and bad opinions regarding his mother and the choices he made. Judging what Luke should’ve done differently or how he fucked up by doing x,y,z despite the fact that he was no more than a scared kid himself. Osferth has always been a kind, understanding boy so it drives him up the wall that people can’t find it in themselves to see that his mother isn’t a topic to fuel their debates but a human being. Its a lesson to him that teaches him not everyone is capable of empathy or can put themselves in someone else’s shoes like he can.

Egg gathering evidence for months to reveal to the family that Aemond has a twisted fixation with graphic paintings depicting Luke’s assault hits Osferth hard. Though everyone did their best to make sure we wasn’t subjected to every piece of evidence available he still decided to do his own research after listening in while hiding at the top of the staircase. It leads him to googling the museum and taking some time to scroll through their website where he finds an entire category dedicated to art with Luke as the subject amongst other popular historical figures. The first page is tame and even leads him to shedding a few tears. Filled with beautiful pieces of paintings and sculptures alike that depict he and his mother as holy figures. Mostly of him as a newborn in Luke’s arms.

Sadly, the next click is where things start to get darker. Osferth doesn’t even make it to the bottom of the second page when he exits out and deletes his history without a second thought because there’s a chilling look of fear in Luke’s eyes as he tries to push a lust ridden Aemond off of him. Some are from as early as the late 12th century with price tags that go upwards of hundreds of millions. Little descriptions going on about the complex beauty of pain, forbidden lust and tear jerking push and pull between primal instinct and basic morality.

He doesn’t talk to anyone for a few days after that. Makes it a point to block Helaena’s phone number too after the bs she spouted in her brother’s defense. She never tries to contact him anyway, not after the absolute disaster she made of his 12th birthday party after showing up uninvited with Maelor and the twins.

One of Osferth’s most difficult struggles regards his looks which is understandable. He’s a carbon copy of Aemond and there’s not much he can do about it. He’s come to Rhaenyra about it quite often, voiced his own issues with how he looks as well as asking if she resents him for it. Ofc she tells him no, gives him a big and and assures that she could never see Aemond she looks at him. Same as his own mother did after he learned the truth.

Unsurprisingly, this doesn’t help much.

Soon enough Osferth goes down the rabbit hole of cosmetic procedures to change his most striking features. He’s still a young teenager (I picture somewhere around 13) so it’s not as though he can go under the knife, but this doesn’t stop him from becoming borderline obsessed with changing his looks via surgery once he’s of age. Perhaps a nose job or chin shaving, maybe both along with some filler to make his face less angular. Round out the harsh edges that he’s come to resent.

In conclusion our baby is struggling 😔

[notasapleasure]

a meme!

Thanks for tagging me, @grimm-lynn :)

1. Are you named after anyone?

I think the intention was to name me after my dad's mum (who died when he was very little), but to spell it in a more modern way. Inadvertantly, it's also a portmanteau of my parents' first names.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I was very sick and very tired and very frustrated when the removal guys broke it to me midway through emptying the house that they absolutely couldn't take any of my garden plants over the Irish Sea because of fucking BREXIT. I was also very angry with my husband, who was meant to have checked this. In the end, we managed to palm the plants off on friends and family and we'll try to bring them over later, once we've looked at the paperwork involved.

3. Do you have kids?

No!! I have known for a very long time that I never wanted them and do not have even an iota of maternal interest let along instinct.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

It has its uses.

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

My weekend hobbies as a kid were horse-riding and karate, and I played field hockey at school, did long jump and 200m sprint. But then, y’know. Everyone else got taller and I didn’t really. I dabbled in rowing at uni, because it was kind of expected that you'd try it, but my late-night carousing rather interfered with the early mornings. Also, as mentioned, I am short. Since then I haven't really done anything regularly except about a year where I got into weights. I'd like to get back into picking up heavy things and putting them down again, but I resent the cost of gyms and I need to have a structured class where someone tells me what to do, I don't have the willpower or imagination for solo training.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Hm, it's tough to describe (my mum would say 'their energy') but like...whether they're engaging with me, like really with me and curious about what we're talking about, or if there's that feeling that you're on the clock to prove you're interesting or whatever before they get bored.

7. What’s your eye colour?

Blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Weird things to compare?? But uh. Happy endings probably? Not in my scary movies though. I like scary movies with bittersweet endings. Though the more I think about this choice the more confused I get.

9. Any special talents?

I'm so bad at answering these things, my mind just goes blank and I'm like 'oh pffff I don't do anything special, there's always going to be someone who's better than I am'. Assigned Jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none. There are lots of things I like to do and I try to do them well. I guess I will say that you probably want me around in a stressful situation - I'm calm and I love coming up with solutions to things.

10. Where were you born?

In a county hospital in a large and rural county of England.

11. What are your hobbies?

Ok, well. Writing, obvs. Fic and poetry now and again. There's an original idea that's been rattling round my head for a few years that I keep saying *this* NaNoWriMo I'll do it! And then don't. Art used to be much higher up the list but I'm so rusty. I haven't painted in years (...has it been over a decade?). Gardening (I miss my garden so much SO MUCH rn). Baking and cooking. I go through phases of manic knitting interspersed with a little crochet, but I want to improve my sewing - I have my granny-in-law's sewing machine I need to learn how to use. If we get this amazing house we’re looking at I’m going to have to get good at DIY, too.

12. Do you have any pets?

Two greyhounds and six (yes. six.) ferrets.

13. How tall are you?

5'1"

14. Favorite subject in school?

Art and English lit.

15. Dream job?

Not to be all 'I don't dream of labour' but I for sure don't dream of working for other people/companies. As you can see from the hobbies section, I like to DO stuff and be busy, but I like to work on my own terms and I like project work. So my freelance editing and proofing stuff suits me fairly well right now, though I dream more of a UBI that would let me do more with my time that wasn't just about earning, but could encompass more volunteering and community stuff. Being on furlough during lockdown suited me so well - I did so much and recovered so much energy that I was much more willing to engage with strangers as well as friends through video chat etc.

Tag fifteen mutuals - FIFTEEN?! huh ok, I’m tagging y’all but no obligation, right? And Idk who’s already been tagged, sorry if you’ve done this already and I didn’t see! @stripedroseandsketchpads @notfromcold @erinaceina @bellaroles @batri-jopa @donnaimmaculata @notabuddhist @kheldara @blxcksqvadron @boogerwookiesugarcookie @elwenyere @thatonelemontreeiforgorabout @jimtheviking @weirdsociology @rapidashmascot

[adventuretolkienlover]

CHICKEN TROUBLE! 🐔🐓🐤

(An Alchemy Bros Fic)

Introduction: First off, I'd like to tag a couple of the Alchemy Bros fans that inspired my to write this. @whitecatindisguise and @brushes-of-sage! Your fics with this concept are masterpieces to me and you're both awesome! You don't have to read this fic, but I'd just like to say thanks for the inspiration. The amount of emotion you put into your own fics brought me to tears and inspired me greatly. My fic is a bit goofy compared to those, but soon I hope to write more deep emotional pieces like you have. That would be amazing. And I'd also like to tag a couple of friends in here too! @disneyfanatic1993 @blueberrycrystalowo and @sbartdump! You don't have to check it out of you don't want to, but it's here if you do. And last but not least, the fic is based on an art piece by one of my favorite artists Cinn-a-mum! I love her art! I keep saying that, but I really do. It's this piece here! And the title is courtesy of my brother. Who is great with titles! So, without further ado, the fic! By me!

Summary: During his first farming lesson, Hugo finds himself in a scary situation with one of Old Corona's grumpiest chickens!

Trigger Warnings: NONE! This is a silly fluffy fun fanfic. Nothing even remotely scary! Unless you count grumpy chickens as scary, like Hugo.🤣

Hugo was a city slicker. No two ways about it. He didn't know the first thing about farm work. But unfortunately for him, he'd just been adopted into a farmer's family. With a huge farm. With lots of farm work to be done. And lots of chickens. Chicken as far as the eye could see. Just wandering around in a great big pen. Hugo had never seen so many chickens. At least not alive. And today was the day he was going to be feeding said chickens. He'd have to walk across the pen, pour feed into the feeder, and walk back. No big deal, right?

He hoped so anyway as him and his brother Varian walked toward the chicken coops. Hugo could hears the hens flapping and screeching like banshees. He looked out over the madness. He felt a twinge of fear. "Var?" he asked. "Yeah?" said Varian. "Can a chicken kill you?" asked Hugo. Varian looked at him quizzically. He wasn't going to lie. He was slightly amused by the question. "No? I mean a whole flock maybe. But one chicken? Nah." Varian plopped down a bag of feed on the ground and turned to Hugo. "Okay, a few things to know about chickens. They're mean. Cows are fine, sheep are nice, but chickens can be the jerks of the barn yard. And their talons and breaks are SHARP. So try not to aggravate them. When feeding them, do the job quickly and with skill. If that bag breaks and your standing to middle of it, well... You're in trouble. So just make sure you get across and back again and you'll do fine" Hugo wasn't sure if Varian's advice made him feel better or worse. He picked up the bag and walked up to the gate. He looked over his shoulder at Varian. Varian grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Hugo gave him a forced smile and then opened the gate. The mere movement of the gate opening sent a few hens fluttering into the air. Hugo flinched but kept going. He started across the pen, trying to ignore the pecking and flapping all around him. He tried to look calm but internally, he was screaming. "Just keep your eyes on the target. You're not afraid of any chickens! For goodness sake you eat them all the time. Just think of them as your prey." A rooster let out a loud squawk! Hugo jumped slightly and began to wonder if it was the other way around. He could have sworn he saw killers instinct in those beady little eyes of theirs. Finally he made it to the feeder. He tore the seam on the bag and poured in the feed. Suddenly the chicken came running at him! Hugo skittered out of the way as the chickens flocked to their breakfast. Hugo gave a sigh of relief, as now they were too wrapped up in eating to notice him. And now the pen was mostly clear to walk through, so no more flapping and pecking his legs. Mission accomplished! He was just about to walk back to the gate when he heard a loud "BUK BUKAW!" at his feet! He let out a yelp and looked down at his feet in shock. There was red feathered hen staring right at his face. It looked like it was staring into his soul. Hugo tried to walk around her, but she matched every move. Hugo began to panic. "What now?!" he thought. He decide to try acting more confident. Maybe she could smell fear. He stood tall and kept his voice unwavering and stern. "I don't fear you bird!" he proclaimed. The hen stared at him, unmoving. Hugo felt a hint of pride. He'd done it! He'd conquered his fear. He took a step. "BUKAW!" "AHH!!!" he screamed as the hen fluttered toward him! Hugo ran around her and made a dash for the gate. "I FEAR YOU! I FEAR YOU!" Suddenly he heard the sound of pattering feet. The hen was CHASING HIM! He ran out the gate and shut it! But the hen flew over and clawed at him in mid air. Luckily Hugo was too quick for her and he ran away letting out a scream that was much too feminine sounding for a boy his age!

Varian, who was turning the soil in a pumpkin field, heard to the chaos and looked over his shoulder. He was just in time to see a terrified screaming Hugo being chased into town by a very mad and loud chicken! "Hugo!" Varian shouted! He dropped his graden hoe and ran after him! Meanwhile, Hugo was dodging pedestrians and carts as he ran through Old Corona's streets! "What did I do to deserve this fate?!" he thought! "Okay, so maybe I have done some shady stuff BUT I SAID I WAS SORRY!" Hugo realized that the chicken was gaining on him! He vaulted over a pile of apple crates and pushed through a group of customers. The chicken fluttered over the crates and into a man's face! She knocked him off his feet before continuing to chase Hugo! He ran past Quirin talking with some of the other farmers! "HEEEELP!" he shouted! Quirin looked at him in shock! "Hugo?!" said Quirin! Varian came running up to his father panting. "Hugo needs help!" he said breathlessly. "No kidding!" said one of the other farmers! "Come on Varian!" said Quirin and they rushed off to help the boy.

Hugo ran into town square and clambered up a tree! The chicken ran around the trunk squawking and flapping while trying to get to Hugo! Hugo was scared. No, more than scared! He was terrified! No, more than that! "What's a bigger word then terrified?!" he thought! "SQUAWK!" Hugo yelped again and clung to his tree branch with all his might. Some of the passerbys had stopped to watch the show and we're laughing hysterically! Hugo didn't see what was so funny. What's funny about being murdered by a chicken?! Just when he was trying to remember if chickens have a taste for human flesh, Varian and Quirin pushed through the crowd to come to his rescue. "Don't worry Hugo! We're coming!" called up Varian! "Don't worry?!" shouted Hugo! "I'm in a tree! With the Bird of Death below me!" Quirin grabbed the chicken and restrained her. "You can come down now Hugo. I've got her." he shouted. Hugo wasn't so sure. But he didn't want to stay in the tree, so he slowly made his way down. He could hear the town folk gossiping already. "We should have expected that from a city boy." one whispered. "How ironic. A chicken running from a chicken!" said a man. "Did you hear him screaming? He sounded like my sister that time she got a bug caught in her hair!" another laughed. The crowd began to disappear. Their laughter faded as well. Hugo sighed and sat down on the wall surrounding the tree. " I guess I messed up pretty bad. Huh?" "It's okay Hugo. It was your first time." Varian said gently. "Of course." agreed Quirin. Quirin handed the now calm hen to Varian and sat down next to Hugo. "Maybe you didn't do perfect, but you were brave enough to try. And that's what counts." said Quirin. Hugo looked up at him and flashed small smile. "Really?" he asked. "Definitely." answered Quirin. He put his arm around Hugo and continued. "Farming takes practice. I wasn't great when I first started. You must remember that I was once a knight. I hadn't done farming before either. I learned how to farm from the other farmers here. When I first tried feeding those chickens, I made the mistake of forgetting to shut the gate afterwards." Hugo's eye's widened. "You did?" he said. "Yes." chuckled Quirin. "The next time I went outside, the whole farm was covered in chickens! I took hours to catch them all." Hugo laughed. "Wow. That's crazy!" he said. "And I once got stuck in an apple tree after the ladder fell!" chimed in Varian. "I had to wait for hours until my dad realized that I was missing!" By now all of them were laughing and talking about their funniest farming fails. Hugo was feeling much better. When things finally quieted down, Quirin took the hen back from Varian and turned to Hugo. "Now that she's relaxed, would you like to try making friends with Abigail here?" he asked. "Abigail?" thought Hugo. "I guess that's a fitting name for a chicken." Hugo reached out his hand cautiously and stroked the hen's head with his index finger. The chicken clucked contently. Hugo felt his shoulders relax and he let out a deep breath. "She's not so bad now I guess." he said as he stroked her soft back feathers. "Yeah, she just needed to get used to you." said Varian. "Well, we'd best be getting back boys." said Quirin. They began walking back to the farm. Hugo looked at his father and brother and felt better than he had in years. Maybe this farm life would be better than he thought.

The End.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Notes: So, in this fic, I wanted to capture the seer terror of a man who has literally never touched a chicken before. I hope I succeeded! I have seen so many videos of people going to pet chickens and then getting a taste of unbridled chicken rath! LOL! I don't think chickens are scary in general. It just that there are some mean ones out there! And I thought that this would definitely be a scenario for poor Hugo. That boy is NOT a farmer. 🤣 I hope you all liked this fic! It's my first one so there may be some mistakes. But overall, I think it's pretty good. I'll hopefully be writing more stuff like this so stay tuned! God bless and bye for now!

[myalchod]

20 questions for fic writers

Stole this from @backjustforberena because procrastination tastes delicious and also I love a good excuse to babble. Not tagging anyone else, but if you want to steal it and tag me in your replies, I'd love to read your thoughts in turn.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

110 currently.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

249,772. Which is a whole heck of a lot more than I ever thought I'd write. (70k of those were in the last year, which is pretty amazing for me when I think about it.)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At present, primarily Fate the Winx Saga, with a side of House of the Dragon on occasion. I tend to be a serially monogamous fangirl, but right now that seems to have an Eve Best asterisk. A number of others previously, most recently BBC's Musketeers.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Never and Always (Musketeers, post-S2 Milathos-centric canon-divergence AU, also the longest thing I've written for posting ... or possibly ever?)

A Pear and an Apple (X-Men comicverse, Kitty Pryde, for Jewish Comics Day)

Lessons (Musketeers prompt fic that just kept going; me writing completely against type except insofar as I am a people pleaser)

instinctively (FtWS, Silrah kink meme fill for a sex pollen prompt)

Show Me (Musketeers, Milathos sparring plus baby's first proper smut)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I'm consistently pretty far behind, but I like to try to show appreciation for the people who take the time to comment. (Whether I do or not, commenters are a gift and I love you all.)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh dear god. Considering my predilections, I'm not even sure what would win -- considering I've used the angst tag 26 times, there are definitely a few contenders (and in hindsight, there's things without that tag which could count). I think I'd probably put it as a toss-up between let's pretend i'm a man (because in my head it does not end well) and that thunder in your lungs (despite the tag I wrote later). (Despite the death count, I would not give it to who shall i say is calling?, mostly because canon?)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably gonna give that to the fading year. Is this in large part because of @anne-in-dreamland's ridiculously soft and gorgeous art for that last scene? Entirely possible. 💙

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Rarely. I feel like I write niche enough fandoms that it's not commonplace, at least. The occasional ones I've gotten have felt more bewildered than really hateful. (Hate commenting is bad, people. Do something better with your time.)

9. Do you write smut?

I didn't for the longest time, but was convinced to try in my last fandom and found I actually enjoy the challenge -- though I have to be in the right frame of mind and it has to fit what I'm writing. There's a puzzle to both the headspaces and the words, and I like trying to figure that out.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Also rarely. I have a couple that made it to AO3, and both were with the Sandman comics, which lend themselves well to that.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, which hopefully means never.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of -- I don't mind the idea but find the idea of it being done without explicit permission to be unaccptable. (I've had one fic podficced, which was such a flattering request.)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Only one, for the March Madness challenge on the Winxsource server ... and I don't know if I'd call that co-writing given the blind activity and the crack. The two collaborations I have posted were for RBB, with some wonderful artist partners.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I refuse to choose. All of my idiot children are precious emotinally-constipated morons.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof. The easy answer would be Between Midnight and Dawn; the framework is all sketched out, but thanks to the circumstances I hit such egregious writer's block on it that I don't think I'll ever be able to go back and finish it. This makes me sad, because I've got some parts of future scenes written out that I love, and I very much liked the concept and that (entirely unplanned) AU and how it took on a life of its own, and the fandom was so lovely and supportive, but ... alas, no. On an unposted front, I'm beginning to realise I will probably never actually write the House of the Dragon AU where Rhaenys and Meleys limp home after Rook's Rest and everything changes as a result. Intentions good, but the distractions are infinite, and right now they show no sign of flagging.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that I handle emotional beats and introspection fairly well, and I enjoy playing with word choice and sentence structure -- which people respond to positively, so let's go with that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action, my behated. Extended dialogue, my equally behated. Plot, my kryptonite. And yet. (If you know, you know.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Depends on the length of it, whether translation is necessary (or the requisite understanding can be inferred), and how it fits. It has its place, but it has to be handled carefully or it can really be unpleasantly jarring.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Trek (TNG, mostly). In pencil, on notebook paper, starting in my preteen years, and lost to the ages ... which is probably for the best.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Once again, I refuse to choose, because I'm certain that once I do I'll think of another one I love. Each and every thing I've written has had a purpose: to get something out of my brain, to explore an idea, to push myself to grow as a writer ... As long as I got something out of it, and hopefully someone (or someones, even better!) enjoyed it, that's good enough for me.