#i would feel honoured having him in someone elses art

[thejestofit]

I'm done! I don't know why I procrastinated finishing this😔

Garten of Banban doppelganger au! It's just some weird creature (unknown whether it belonged to the kindergarten or not) that started to mimic and pretend to be Banban when it was clear that it wasn't.

[shelbgrey]

Dating Benedict Bridgerton Headcanons

Paring: Benedict Bridgerton X Reader

Summary: headcanons about courting and marrying Benedict Bridgerton -SMUT warning

💙MasterList ML2 💙Dating MoodBoard

Every Bridgerton’s love story seems to have some sorta trope attached to it. Anthony and Kate have the pleasure of absolutely owning the enemies to lovers, Daphne and Simon successfully fooled the town with their fake courting, and of course the lovely friends to lovers story that evolved between Penelope and Colin.

But when it comes to Benedict and you it just depends on who you ask. Anthony who you have the pleasure to call your best friend says it's the longest slow burn in history or if you ask Kate or violet they will say with everything they believe in that you and Benedict are soul mates.

Growing up and into adulthood the two of you were practically attached to the hip

You've known the bridgertons since you were about ten. You were getting pushed around and picked on by a couple of kids that were older. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin just happened to see it and started throwing rocks at the bullies.

You've been best friends ever since, but you've always had this connection with Benedict.

You are part of the family, there's no doubt about that. Your mother died while giving birth and your father was always gone. The Bridgertons became your family and you a sepical connect with them that outsiders just don't seem to understand.

“wow, your always around them and not one of those men have corted you... Oh I get it, your the Bridgerton’s pet” - Cressida Cowper

Anthony was your first kiss. It didn't mean anything, you just wanted to know how to kiss and Anthony was close enough with you that he could do it and not catch romantic feelings. No one else knows but you guys.

Later on Benedict did find out. “So, you kissed my wife and never givin a thought to tell me?” he wasn't angry since it was way before you and him courted. “we were 13 and she didn't know how to kiss, I was doing her a favor”

Into adult hood Anthony was rooting for you two the most. There was a point he was getting tired of the 'slow burn' as he calls it.

He told Anthony this. “What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honour her being with your deeds and words. That is what the true poet describes” Benedict couldn't help but admire you from acrossed the ball room as the words vomited out of his mouth. Even back then he knew those words were about you.

The first time Anthony sees you cry because of Benedict he waists no time talking some since into him. The first time you and Benedict ever kissed was after you found out he quit the art academy. After the kiss Benedict was feeling so many emotions he wasn't prepared for or knew how to handle, he apologized for 'disrespecting your honor' and left. “I kissed Benedict” you told Anthony because he was your safe space.

Anthony spit his wine out in suprise. “and I don't think it mattered one bit to him” after Anthony heard that he went to talk to benedict. Anthony was angry at him for hurting you but at the same time he wanted to help out his little brother and best friend the best he could. “mother told me once it's unthinkable to find someone so special, someone you love”

“I hurt her” Benedict said, shaking his head. Anthony sighed. “real true love is worth it, do not lose her dammit”

But unfortunately you two didn't become official untill the Polin era. During those few months you avoided Benedict and the family knew something was wrong when your arm would be linked to Colin's and not Benedict's during family walk or gatherings. Colin was oh, so confused when he comes back from his travels and finds out Elois isn't talking to Penelope and your not talking to Benedict.

“what? I can't be happy to see you? You've been go for months” you told Colin as you both walked together instead of you walking with Benedict.

You found out about what he was doing all season and the three way an blew up. That's when benedict confessed everything he's ever felt for you. “I never cared for love or maybe I just didn't want it... That was until I met you. I love everything about you. Your compassion, your stubbornness, the way your eyes sparkle. You filled a part of my soul I didn't even relize was empty, you healed me when I didn't even know I needed it. And believe me when I say I loved you the moment we met, I don't care if we were just kids. I love you”

When you got married Anthony walked you down the isle. “I intend to walk all my sisters down the isle”

Anthony and Eloise definitely cheered the loudest at your wedding.

You rarely call him Benedict, it's always my Love, Ben, Benny. He knows he's in trouble or something is wrong when you call him Benedict.

He doesn't care that you're not as prim and proper as most women. He loves the fact you want to fence with him and his brothers or the fact you'd turn your dresses in skirts and wear his brother white shirts that were hand-me-downs.

His love language has always been physical touch even when you guys were clueless to your feelings. He always needs his arm linked with yours or his hand on your hip.

You're the most beautifulest thing he's ever seen and he wants you to know that. He has always been smitten by you.

Before you were together he was always thinking about you, rather he was having sex with another person or touching himself.

He always wants to sketch you or paint a portrait, he probably has a whole sketchbook of just you in different positions and situations, both innocent and not.

You admired the way his brow furrowed in concentration when he works on his art, he looks so handsome just standing there working.

you feel closest to him when you're modeling almost completely nude and he's painting. No matter what you're doing you always feel so comfortable around him and you both share a connection beyond words and meanings.

He loves dancing with you, the best thing for him is to take you somewhere private and just have a dance with just the two of you.

Forehead kisses. He is so much taller than you it's just easier in the moment, but it's also just a sweet innocent thing that's a staple in your relationship.

He loves receiving them too. Like if he's sitting on his stool in front of a canvas painting, he'll definitely accept a kiss on the forehead from you.

Speaking of canvases and paint, you've both definitely covered your skin in paint and had sex on a large canvas and made an abstract piece of art. And Benedict will hang it up in your bedroom or his art studio.

Fighting over macaroons all the time beacuse you both like the same ones. But if you're having a bad day or it's that time of the month he'll bring a whole box for you.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

This man needs physical contact a lot. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, it's a comfort and a protection thing.

“Darling, I would love it if you cuddle me” he said, giving you puppy eyes and holding his arms open. You smiled and cuddled up to his chest.

Like I said, he needs contact with you. He loves little and big acts of psycial contact. Like he loves if you stand infront of him and fix the collar of his coat or rest your hand on his thigh during dinner.

He's so flirty with you. No matter how many years you've been together, he still thinks you're the sexiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, blushing.

“because you're beautiful”

The way he kisses you makes your heart race. He holds your face in his hands and you honestly feel like you and him are the only things that matter in the world.

He is your biggest supporter. Benedict is your absolute number #1 fan, everything you do amazes him. You've never had a man supporting and encouraging you every day and night.

Whatever you want to do in life he'll be there and have your back. “You are my muse, Darling. And I am forever grateful for you”

He'll think it's adorable if you're a book worm and will always bring home new books for you If he sees them. Sometimes the both of you will sit on the couch in comfortable silence for hours together while you read and he sketches.

Benedict is usually if not always very playful and relaxed, but he also has a protective side. If you're hurt or disrespected a fire will ignight and you will see a side of Benedict that's scary.

Like i said before, you never cared to meet society's expections when it comes to activities and clothes. Of course when you go out to balls, parties, and races you dress properly but there's always a hint of your own style that goes against the 'normal'. Stealing Benedict's top hat is great example. If your borde at the races or just want to wear it, you'll take it and put it on your head.

Benedict and Anthony also tought you how to fence, it's one of your favorite things to do with your boys.

Later in marriage you'd have four kids. Atticus, Charlotte, then boy/girl twins named Eloit and Violet.

Charlotte inherited her father's artistic abilities and Benedict has kept every scribble and every finger painting she's made.

He leaves little notes and sketches all around the house for you. You find them everywhere. In your bag, the book you're reading at the time. On top of your pillow. Stuck onto the mirror in the bathroom. He loves those little details. Loves to write you silly or romantic notes because he knows how much you love them.

Your Favorite one he ever wrote was, 'If I were to kiss you and then go to hell I would, so then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without even entering it.'

Like I said from the beginning, he believes you are his soul mate. There's just this unconditional connection between the two of you no one can explain.

If your in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather your the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to lay his head on your chest. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He absolutely loves feeling your fingers run through his hair. He'll kill to have his head on your cheat while you play with his hair after a long night of dancing.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

If you're in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather you're the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to lay his head on your chest. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He can be a rough kisser, but mostly he's a passionate kisser. He pours all his love and emotions into it, he makes sure you're the only one on this earth he wants to love.

NSFW headcanons:

If he's had a rough day, he either needs one of two things. A rough fuck or he needs to curl up beside you and rest his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He's a boob man, He’ll push your bra up and take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls all around while he squeezes your hips.

He'll bury his face into your boobs as he pounds into you. He loves it when you start moaning and tugging at his hair, He honestly can’t get enough.

Hair pulling, he loves feeling your fingers in his hair or he'll tangel his fingers in yours and tug on it when he's getting head or about ready to cum.

He didn't realize how much he actually liked it until you started pulling on his hair while he was eating you out. “Hell... Do that again... Please”

He's very skilled with his tounge, he loves eating you out. your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

bitting your neck just to hear you moan. When you finally give in to him, he'll lay you down on the couch or bed and start pealing your clothes off to reveal your chest.

You guys are very adventurous in the bedroom. You both have definitely gotten messy with paint before.

One time you both got covered in paint and made love on top of a giant canvas. It made an abstract art that he framed and hung it up in his art studio.

If you come into his studio to tease him it'll usually end with you on top of his desk and smear paint across your cheek as your lips move in a heated rethem.

He'll leave trails of red down your body as he does so. “There's my little work of art, all messy and perfect” He murmured against your lips.

Speaking of which, he refuses to refer sex as 'fucking', he thinks is degrading towrds you so it's just sex or 'making love' in his vocabulary.

He definitely has a Praise kink, he loves making you feel loved and appreciated. He loves how he can easily make you blush. “you're so Beautiful”

“Mmm, you taste so damn sweet” He moans as he continues to pleasure you, his tongue teasing your clit. His hands move to your hips, holding onto them tightly as he devours you.

Even though he's the dominant person in bed he wants to know you have equal control too, if you don't like how rough or fast he's going he'll stop and check on you and make sure you're okay. All he cares about is your pleasure.

“You want it harder, Darling?” He'll comply with her request, thrusting deeper and faster, causing the bed to shake with your movements. He let out a low groan as he felt your nails dig into his back.

He loves missionary, keeping eye contact while he fucks you. He loves how you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer.

Benedict also loves watching your face while you bounce up and down his dick. He loves the expressions you make when he thrusts up into you when you least expect it. “I can't get enough of you, Darling”

If your lips are wrapped around him, he's taking control. It's usually rough, but he'll never do anything to hurt you.

He'll move his hips fast, thrusting himself deeper down your throat, the way you suck him drives him insane “Darling, you're doing so good”

He loves how good you are at making him feel. He loves being at your mercury as he thrusts down your throat. “Darling, you're going to make me cum so hard. I want you to swallow every last drop.”

Benedict is so vocal, he'll let out deep groans and moans as he feels your tight pussy wrap around his cock when you ride him. “Stay with me, y/n... Fuck me back”

Posing naked for him while he sketches you. One time you both sat infront of a mirror, you between his legs with your thighs spread while he used the mirror to sketch you both.

He'll always bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting as he rides his orgasm out. He'll keep bucking his hips into yours until you're both spent. “Christ you're beautiful...”

his voice is like a siren call, pulling you into the depth of pleasure. His hands moving to your hips, holding you steady as he praises you and drowns you in pleasure.

He can't get enough of your reactions, his eyes always burning with intensity as he takes in the sight of you laying under him, bare and utterly captivating.

One of his biggest kink is cumming inside you, seeing you filled up just makes him go crazy.

He has a thing about cumming on your breasts too. He'll watche in awe as his cum drips down your chest, marking you as his. He'll look at you with so much satisfaction and desire. “You look so beautiful like this”

He'll lap at your clit with so much hunger, circling his tounge over your swollen bud until you're a moaning mess. When he thinks he's teased you enough he'll take it into his mouth, eating you out like a starving man until you're cumming hard on his tongue.

He's very attentive when it comes to aftercare. you want a warm bath? Done. You want massages? Done. You ask, he delivers. All he cares about is your comfort, he insists on cleaning up any mess that's on you or the bed. If he sees any marks or bruises he will apologize for that with a soft smile on his face.“That's a good girl. Just relax and catch your breath, I've got you.”

You'll probably get teased the next morning beacuse Eloise or Colin heard you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heyyy

So I really liked the Damian Wayne x reader platonic friend thingy your wrote. I really feel like there should be more of those.

Anyways, k cam where to respect something similar. Can u maybe write hc on what it'd be like to be friends w him? Like bantering n stuff and maybe u can focus a bit on how Bruce feels abt it? Oh and bonus points if the reader is awkward.

Toodles!

Being friends with Damian isn’t easy in the slightest, mainly because he doesn’t make it easy for anyone to befriend him in the first place. So the fact that you managed to accomplish that was a major achievement already.

However that didn’t mean anything afterwards was made any easier for you just because you managed to make the impossible become possible. No. Why? Damian is one hell of a dry conversationalist if Titus or animals in general weren’t involved.

He’s basically an extroverts worst nightmare given a human form. For no matter how hard you tried to bait him into giving more then a one word answer out of him, it always ends with Damian not taking the bait and allowing a air of awkward silence to befall you both while everyone else was having a better time then you.

You: hey Damian.

Him: hello l/n.

You: how have you been?

Him: in peak condition, why?

You: it’s because I don’t see you that much outside of school, it’s almost as if your allergic to social interaction.

Him: Tt. why should I go out of my way to do such a thing? I have you as an acquaintance don’t I?

You: I mean yeah I guess-

Him: then I have no need to expand my friend group, for they’ll only disappoint me. Now is that all?

You: I mean there’s not much else to talk about at this point.

Him: good.

*cue to the pair of you sitting in utter, awkward silence*

When Damian says one friend is all he needs, he genuinely means it. One is enough for him. He doesn’t need anymore because he knows that he doesn’t have the time for them. Plus he might not say it out loud but he does appreciate your friendship, even if your both awkward individuals within most social situations, but he is happy that someone finally gave him a chance to be a friend.

So even if you were to ever ask why you were friends it’ll probably go something a bit like this;

You: why are you friends with me?

Him: you aren’t an idiot, plus you’re the only one who isn’t insufferable.

You: is that meant to be taken as a compliment or…

Him: take it as you see fit.

You: okay…

Damian as a friend would be protective i’d like to think? I mean you are literally the first friend he’s made so naturally he’s going to feel something when he sees you being friends with anyone else that wasn’t him.

Was it insecurity that you not day might not want to be his friend anymore? Possibly.

Will he ever admit to it though? No. This is Damian we’re talking about, of course he won’t.

Also being friends with Damian would best summed up as being two people who shouldn’t work but ultimately do either way, kind of like an ‘against all their differences they’re the best of friends’ type of duo because nobody and I mean nobody saw a friendship between you two ever happening. Ever.

Not even the great Bruce Wayne.

Speaking about him. If you ever got to visit the Wayne Manor and meet his father aka THE Bruce Wayne. Take it as a sign as you’ve made it as Damian’s best friend.

Would you shit yourself upon meeting quite possibly the most powerful man in Gotham? Yes and your sweating buckets on top of that, all the while Damian would be stood next to you completely unfazed as he introduced you to his father as his best mate.

Damian: father.

Bruce: Damian.

Damian: *points to you* this is my best friend and I expect that they get treated with respect during their visit here.

You: hi- hello it’s an honour to meet you M-Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: tell me how you’ve come to befriend my son?

You: we were in the same art class and I noticed that he had no one to sit next to, and so I offered for him to sit with me, keep in mind I’m not that well liked and practically had a whole table to myself, and I’d like to think our friendship started with that small act of kindness Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: and had Damian been kind to you?

You: in his own unique way sir but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Bruce: *smiled* you’re a good kid l/n and you can go ahead and drop the formalities and call me Bruce instead. I shall go and tell Alfred to add another plate at the dinner table tonight.

Bruce, upon hearing that Damian had made a friend, wanted to meet you within immediate effect and see whether or not his son made for a good judge of character and he wasn’t disappointed.

Given the fact that you were awkward aside, you were defiantly what Damian needed for a friend, and Bruce was happy to see his son finally get to be normal for once as he watched from the window as Damian practically dragged you out to the spacious backyard with an excitable Titus on your heels as the Great Dane tried to get up and personal with you.

Alfred: they are certainly a pair, aren’t they master Bruce.

Bruce: an odd pair they may seem but they even out the other perfectly. Besides when was the last time Damian looked genuinely happy?

Alfred; can’t say that I recall sir.

Bruce: neither can I. At first I was sceptical but I’m glad being wrong. I can only hope that a friendship like theirs will stand the test of time because there will be times that will test their limits with one another. But if they’re as good a pair as I think they are then they’ll be perfectly fine.

Alfred: couldn’t have put it better myself sir *smiles alongside Bruce as they watched you and Damian act on your own within the others presence while in comfortable silence as Titus fell asleep at both of your feet.*

Yeah you’ll both be alright. You’ve got each other after all and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 7

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Summary: In the Keep now as a guest rather than a prisoner, the Tarnished gets used to her new surroundings.

A/N: Tarnished had the last laugh in the last chapter, and Messmer is all the more grumpy about it. Tarnished also really loves calling Messmer 'My Lord' as a mocking title.

A03 link

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Chapter 7: Vindication

"Impressive, the stab wound has healed remarkably!"

Remarkable, you say? Lowering your shirt as Sir Aldwin finishes assessing your injuries. Your body feels energised and rejuvenated once you've awoken by the golden site of grace, embraced by its warmth, only for the reality of being back to hit you in the face. It was always a constant disappointment. 

Aldwin is as fascinated in your revival as are Messmer's men: calling it some fate from the Greater Will. You called it sheer humiliation. 

"This process... tell me about it." Aldwin is ever more curious about the ways of unnatural order. Something flashes in your waking mind, as clear as a living dream. Of a memory you cannot tell if it belonged to you, holding an ornate sword, covered in someone's blood or your own. Experiencing dying for the first time. Waking up in a place, dark and cold, only just remembering your name.

You shudder, trying to think of something else. "I'm uncertain I could explain it all to you, Aldwin. It's... still so unfamiliar to me. Why I was chosen." You hold out your hands, staring deep and hard. These hands, this body, this is not your first life. You would need answers, and the curiosity of walking past the large specimen storehouse piques your interest.

Aldwin seems disappointed but he seems to understand. "He who doesn't fear death shall only have to die once. I have seen it many times in the dying." His words carry a sense of acceptance, though you cannot think of dying over and over again the same way. It is not the acceptance of it that men dread, but its arrival.

"Aldwin, I must ask you something." You bring the Nightfolk's attention back after changing the subject quickly. "The storehouse, who uses it?"

"Well, it is rather a place of collection that his Lord uses for gathering everything known: the history, the arts, culture. It has become his very own gallery."

"And does he... allow anyone else to use it?"

Aldwin seems confused by your question before he pieces it together. "Ah, well, it would be odd if it was not used. Many in his Lord's libraries pour into the histories, using that knowledge to piece a clearer timeline." He pauses, eyeing you carefully, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Before the Nightfolk can answer any more, there is a growing sound of heavy armour approaching. You're already looking to the doors when you see who comes around the corner, a black knight, armour gleaming like Obsidian, Messmer's personal guard has come to greet you.

"Lady Tarnished," His voice is muffled behind the heavy imposing helmet, covering the entirety of his face, "Lord Messmer has asked that I show you to your apartments."

You look to Aldwin, before facing the black knight once again. You're surprised to hear of your new title, questioning to yourself whether it was something the staff and knights had come up with or something higher up ordered them to address you by. "So, I'm not bound to that cell anymore?"

"Nay, milady. His Lord has also asked that a tour of the Keep is given."

You say your goodbyes to Aldwin, relieved he cannot ask more about your whole life and death process, following grudgingly behind the knight. You pass many of those under Messmer's control, all willing soldiers ready to die for his honour. It's amazing and chilling to see the amount of power one can hold, but also the loyalty they have for him. 

You pass by those who are still surprised their Lord has given you his protection. They whisper as they pass you in corridors: a Tarnished who came back from the dead. It's rather comical to hear, for them to create their theories and marvel as you go past. Some are still hesitant around you, others are cold and look through you, as if you don't exist in your eyes. A few of Messmer's staff have grown to give you a bit more respect.

When you reach the highest of the towers, towards the Keep's chambers, does it dawn on you that it would only be you and Messmer in this part since it was the royal apartments, and though you knew you were not part of some royal branch, this was all very unfamiliar to you.

Your apartments were certainly something to marvel at; a canopied bed was big enough to fit maybe five of you, decorated with embroidered cushions and sheets of a deep rich red hue. A roaring fire hit you in contrast to the coolness of the air outside. Intricate tapestries decorated the walls, of faces you didn't recognise, others, from their red hair were obvious. There, in the middle of the mantle above the flames, was a portrait of Marika, holding in her arms the same clothed babe, this time it was obvious from the details that there were two tiny serpent heads poking out surrounding the babe. 

A vanity was present beside a desk by the stained-glass windows, oddly barred from the outside with spikes not allowing anyone to crack them wider than a few inches. There had been a chest opened with a variety of clothes already out for you to touch and gawk at. It had been far grander than you had expected, far better of a place than sleeping in the mud and rain, fearing to catch a chill.

Messmer had provided you with maids-in-waiting, women of different ages who all curtsied as you greeted them. How odd, indeed. 

Turning to the guard, still hovering in the doorway to your room, you asked. "This is all been provided to me by his Lord?"

"His Lord did not say otherwise." The guard muttered curtly, and before you could have more of a chance to get used to your room and look around, you were being whisked away, back down the tower and into the main part of the keep to be shown around. By the time it was almost over, you felt exhausted, not realising the hunger gnawing at your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time you had eaten something properly, but you did not doubt that Messmer's staff would provide some proper meals for you.

The tour was not quite over, until the final part you had been very excited to see appeared to you. 

The high walls, decorated with thousands of books, and artefacts, were a sea in your vision, clear and bright. You could sense if you didn't have to return to your chambers, you would spend days here, looking at every book if you could and finding more information for you to take in. 

Light poured through, casting bright streaks of light to come through like the heavens had opened and poured through. It was a hearth of endless knowledge, stored in what you thought was maybe one of the best citadels you had come across. 

Marvelling silently to yourself, you could not help but have to look to every section as quickly as you could, trying to best believe where you would begin in your pursuit for knowledge, when something, or rather someone caught your eye. Standing in the corner by piles of books towering high, was an armoured man, his silver-white long beard a familiar sight to you. 

"Righteous Tarnished, what brings you here?"

"I could ask the same for you, Sir Ansbach. How did you find your way here?" You're wary of how he's been allowed to step foot through the Keep without all of Messmer's soldiers on him. Surely, there has to be some misunderstanding? 

"Kindly Miquella's charm has worn off from me. I have seen through his ways." He says earnestly.

"What insight of Lady Leda do you have?"

"She schemes and her blind love for Miquella has set her astray. It did the same to me, blinding me to his charm. Truly, there is nothing so Kindly about him. He's a monster. It is why I have come to Messmer not only for his aid but to seek shelter. There will be no doubt Leda and the others will hear of my betrayal."

You feel your eyeball twitch involuntarily at the mention of seeking shelter. "You mean Messmer handed it to you willingly?"

"Yes, did he do the same for you?"

"No, no he did not." Of course, he didn't.

"Ah, what challenge did you have to do to prove your worth?"

"By bringing Redmane Freyja's head."

Ansbach is silent by this, but when he responds, his voice wavers, "Ah, I see. A true Redmane, to the very end." He is resolute in his decisions, you note. "Then we are both running from the injustices of this world. I stand as your ally through and through, Tarnished."

You don't give much to rethink Ansbach's words, as you're stalking back to your chambers in a huff. Your cheeks are hot in rage as you storm into your apartments, dismissing the maids there. You look out the window, to see it is already dark. Exhaustion has claimed you, and when you expect to go to your new bed, you find sitting on the desk is a meal, still steaming with heat.  

It's a simple bowl of something that looks like stewed chicken in a sauce with a small cut of bread freshly prepared. Eyeing it cautiously, your hunger betrays you before you can believe it was all to have you poisoned, grabbing the spoon and delving into the meal. You come to realise it's chicken stewed in an ale sauce. You can taste other ingredients like pepper, ginger, breadcrumbs and even saffron. The bread is not stale or covered in mould, and you appreciate the warmth that comes from it, hinting that it had just come fresh out of the oven. You also find in the room two pitchers, one full of fresh water, the other with wine. 

You don't waste time after finishing your meal to grab a glass and delve into drinking the water first, two glasses of it before you drink the red wine, full of body and richness. It hits your tongue with unexpectedness. It tastes almost familiar to you, though you can't quite place when or how you tasted wine that belonged to the royal house.

Now that you've eaten, you can finally think back to Sir Ansbach's words, thinking to the storehouse, but most importantly, to Messmer. It was only did you realised since your revival, that you had not spotted him for a full day, being whisked away to the infirmary rather than to be seen by him again. Had he been avoiding you since you bested him at his own game?

You look at the portrait of Marika and a baby Messmer in her arms. It seems through all his isolation, he has few allies and fewer allies. He is a lonely demigod, but a man still is part of him. All men need companionship, no matter how small. You thought, dressing in a simple white shift dress as you got into bed, praying that whatever you found in the darkness of your dreams, awaited you was finally peace.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It is maybe the first time in what feels like forever that you get the first night of unbroken sleep. A dreamless sleep is however all you need to feel alive. Dawn rises as do you, triggering the door to your chambers to be rudely opened, pouring in are your new handmaidens who come, already pulling back the curtains as they present you with a flurry of things: clothes to wear for today, a suggestion of a bath, and jewels that would suit you well. The bombardment of options is so much that you opt firstly for a bath, which is given quickly when they go back and forth providing already hot steamy water.

Your private tub is smaller than the one in the bathhouse and you're thankful for it, for it gives you your privacy away from those as you scrub yourself and clean your hair. When you're dried and dressed in a simple cotton shift, the maids once again present you with many options for clothing, and it is only when you cast your eye on them, that you come to realise something.

"Is there anything else here than dresses?"

One of the maids, younger than you eyes the eldest, unsure how to answer. "My lady," the eldest responds, "We were given direct orders that these were what were to be provided to you-"

"Ordered you say? By whom?" You already know by who, but it twists in your gut and anger rises in your throat.

"Lord Messmer had asked we provide you a ... fitting selection of dresses that would be appropriate for you."

You scowl at all the garments, all oddly enough differing shades of red. Is this some kind of twisted joke to him? You seethe, telling yourself the next time you see him, you will give him a piece of your mind. You cross your arms like a child having a mild tantrum. "I refuse to wear them."

"My Lady-"

"If Messmer wishes for me to play dress up, he can think otherwise. I require trousers, boots and a decent tunic instead."

The maids give one another side-eye glances, bowing quickly before some go on the hunt for your request. It takes some time before they find what you ask for: some of the knights had some spare which you're thankful for, however, the tunic they do find had to be brightly coloured crimson. You huff through it all but finally dress, more comfortable than you would've been in silk dresses.

"Where is Lord Messmer?" If he wishes to play games so early this morning, you're not going to stop yourself from competing against him.

"His Lord is breaking his fast privately this morning, my Lady. We shall bring you to the solace where you may have yours."

You silently grumble, being led into another isolating room, windows barred against the stained-glass windows, with a hint of peppermint heavy in the air. You sit as you're presented with an array of dishes: dried berries with apples, salted cod and rye, bacon and sausages spiced with something that stings your nostrils, and a cup of what you're told is nettle tea.

You begin with the fruits, which are sweet on your tongue and better than anything you have before. The sausages entice you as you pluck one and cut into it, where the smell is stronger. Curiously biting into it, you're surprised by its almost sweet taste, with a hint of heat that makes you nearly cough. You wash it down with the tea as you eat some bacon and bread too, before you are done.

Your morning has you continuing your exploration of the keep, certainly aware you're not wandering alone, for you hear the heavy thuds that move in time with your footsteps. You look back a few times, eyeing the fire knight who seems just five paces behind, following intently and keeping an eye on you. It had you greatly irritated, trying to lose track of him but to no avail. 

It is only when you come outside to the training yard that your sights are taken by what has gathered in front of you.

Before you, Messmer's soldiers train, the clanging of swords, some metal and wood, clash with one another. You take in those of a lower rank, trainees who fight one another as they're taught the best stances and positions. Those of more experience duel with the intent of knocking their opponent to the ground. It is far more interesting to see what is indoors, and you find yourself stepping closer and closer to the ring that has formed around one certain fight.

A soldier wielding a wooden spear and shield is knocked onto his back like a turtle, struggling to get up from the weight of the shield, when his opponent launches on him, triumphantly holding the tip of his sword under his chin. "You'd be dead." You hear from the victor, his voice muffled yet there is a charm as those around him cheer him on. The one who lost gets picked back up as he slinks away, the cockiness of the victor is embued in him.

"Who dares best me I wonder? Any one of you fools brave enough to fight me?"

"I will." 

Heads turn as you step into the middle, and whispers can be heard as some aren't certain what to do with you. Should they allow someone from outside to train with them? It is only when you hear amongst the chatter the taunting laughter of the soldier in front. "You? Trust me, Tarnished, I wouldn't wish to have you spilling your guts all over the courtyard." There is some quiet laughter amongst some of the soldiers, but you pay them no attention.

"Oh, no need to fret. I'm feeling the need to knock some teeth in." You're looking at your selection of weapons, realising all of them are wooden props. Great, all the more to enjoy whacking than slicing. You pick a wooden sword, light in its hold, it's shorter than your nagakiba, but it will still be of some use to you.

You both get into your positions, knees slightly bent, torsos upright and rigid as you await him to swing first. He is cocky and does so, charging you as you swiftly dodge out his way, slapping him as he passes across his lower back. He grunts, rage building as he goes to attack again, this time you block as you push him back, jabbing another time just below his armpit in the part where armour is not covering him.

"My, did you have a heavy breakfast?" You taunt, smiling throughout. It's only now that you're enjoying this, the thrill of not having to strain yourself, and you feel you could taunt them forever. These are Messmer's men, loyal, but in need of good training. What would they do if you or another Tarnished were in the field to meet them? A warrior with years of experience compared to a page.  

 Though this opponent is quick and skillful, he is full of rage, one that could evenly match the raging flames Messmer channels. The soldier cries out as he lunges again, taking a hit whilst you're distracted, and you give him the benefit of the doubt, it did hurt. You copy by getting him by the shoulder blades, hearing a crunch of your sword as it almost snaps from how hard you hit him. It's enough to have him stagger forwards to his knees, as you stand over him.

"That was easier than I expected-"

You see the glimpse of his vicious grin through the visors of his helmet, so fast does he move and have you believe it's all done that you only feel the connection of his fist right into your nose. You nearly fly backwards, holding what you believe is your now broken nose, feeling the heavy pouring of something drip down your lips. 

You spit in disgust, hissing as you now hold the offensive, charging as he only gets up in time before you're swinging down on him. One, two, three, he tries to block, but you're angrier, blood boiling as you kick him in the stomach back. It's not foul play you assume, for no one calls out that you just cheated. The crowd around you is larger, consuming you as you feel as if you're being engulfed in an oven from the pure heat despite being outside.

It rages like a storm, your head hurts, your nose too, but you continue to fight in a rage, swinging harder and quicker until the soldier can't keep in time with you. You knock him onto his back, as you point the sword down on him this time. You witness he only has bruises on him, despite the now bloody knuckles he has thanks to his lovely punch.

"Do you yield?" You growl above him, shoving the wooden tip of the sword into his throat. He is quick to nod in shame, and the crowd around you continue their murmurings, their eyes cast on something above.

You follow their gazes, believing it was some divine being of Miquella that had flown down upon them, only to see a mass of red, two-winged serpents and one cold golden eye.

Ah, there you are. You stare at one another as you chuck the sword into the mud. You believe that to him, you must look like some madwoman, dressed in men's garbs, wielding a wooden sword with blood dripping down your face. In fact, rather than wiping the blood from your face, you keep it there. Look at how dirty I fight now, My Lord. You think mockingly.

You don't break eye contact with him, grinning wildly with red in your teeth as Messmer simply holds your gaze a second longer, before turning and walking away. But you know all too well that through that scowl, there is something that he is thinking other than wishing to burn you alive. 

Vindication builds within you, as you saunter off back to the infirmary.

-

A/N: Ah, I love feral Tarnished, looking like some rabid dog that needs to be put down, whilst Messmer must be thinking what on earth has he brought into his Keep. More fighting! And even though I didn't think this chapter would have any, I surprised myself by including some. I'm also really building into the 'they hate each other's guts and want nothing to do with one another' but I promise I shall have them interacting with one another once again.

[diazsdimples]

Wasn’t sure how mean I was gonna be today but I can’t resist Alfie do lots of Alfie sentences please and thank you 😘💜

👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼

And one more for luck:

👨‍🍼

Here’s the old Alfie art for motivation 💜

39 Alfie sentences!!! Your wish is, as always, my command. And I LOVE the Alfie art, thank you so much 🥺 you get two bonus sentences for that 😊

“Anyways!” he interjects before either of them can come up with another reason to roast him. “Tommy and I actually had reason behind coming and finding you.” “Ah, are you looking for sage advice from your elder? What can I help you two with?” Bobby sets down the tea towel he’d been holding and places both hands on the counter, an expectant but friendly look on his face. “Well actually, we more wanted to ask something of you,” Tommy explains. “Or, Evan did.” Bobby’s gaze settles on Buck, and he swallows thickly. It really shouldn’t be this nerve-wracking to ask this of Bobby, considering everything they’ve been though together, but in all of these years, neither of them have ever put words to this dynamic between. Everyone else in the station has been happy to – muttering “father and son” at least once a week – but it’s not something either Buck or Bobby have openly acknowledged. Until now, at least. “Tommy and I, uh, we realised the other day that Alfie doesn’t really have any grandparents near him. I’m not really in contact with Mom and Dad these days, and Tommy obviously hasn’t spoken to his parents in years.” Buck watches as Bobby’s expression changes, initially his brows furrowed inquisitively before smoothing out as a look of understanding passes over him. Like he knows where this is going. Buck takes a step back, searching for Tommy’s hand. As their fingers lace together, he feels his anxiety seep from him, strength taken from his husband’s presence. “S-so we were – we were hoping that maybe – if it’s okay with you guys of course – th-that you and Athena could be like his grandparents? If you’d be comfortable with that?” The words are barely out of Buck’s mouth before Bobby’s arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He can feel Bobby’s fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as he clutches Buck to him, as though he’s afraid he’ll disappear. He’s released almost as quickly, but Bobby keeps a hand on his shoulder. There are tears in his eyes, mirroring the ones threatening to spill in Buck’s own, and Bobby reaches up to wipe them away before speaking. “I would be honoured to. Honestly, you two have no idea how much that means to me, and how much I’m sure it’ll mean to Athena. We both love that little boy so much, and you two as well. It means the world that you asked.” “Well we figured, what with all the jokes about you being like Evan’s father, that we’d make you officially Alfie’s grandpa. Seems like the least we could do to repay everything you’ve done for us,” Tommy says, his hand settling on the small of Buck’s back. Bobby laughs wetly, taking another swipe at his eyes. “Yeah well, someone had to parent that kid. You should have seen him back then, Tommy.” “Oh, I’ve heard the stories.” Tommy smirks and he presses a cheeky kiss to Buck’s temple. Buck curls into Tommy, resting his head against Tommy’s shoulder. He feels light and floaty, the relief that had surged through him after Bobby’s response akin to helium. He’s about to open his mouth to thank Bobby when Jee comes barrelling into the kitchen, all limbs and pre-schooler excitement. “UNCLE BUCK!” she yells, launching herself at him, and he catches her around the middle, hoisting her up into his arms. “Daddy says to tell you guys to get your lazy asses into the lounge so we can open presents!” “That is not what I said!” Chimney yells from the lounge, and Jee covers her mouth with her hand, letting out a little giggle. “Yes it is,” she whispers conspiratorially in Buck’s ear. “But he told me to say it nicer.”

obligatory @hippolotamus tag

Make Me Write!!!

[thrashkink-coven]

I worship Inanna, Lucifer, and Aphrodite as the most powerful and greatest Gods, yes even beyond Ra and El and Ashirat and everything. I know that’s a bold fucking claim but I’ll explain why.

As glorious and incredibly divine and powerful as Gods like Ra and Ashirat and the primordial creators are, and as much as I respect, love and honour them immensely, my personal connections to the Gods come from my perspective as a human being. To us, the most powerful and influential force in the entire universe is Love. It is why Cupid’s arrows will always be more powerful than Apollon’s. Love is the primary motivation behind anything a human has ever done, created, or nurtured, beyond the basic instinct to survive. As soon as you transition from a state of being a human to a person, you become a slave to the Goddess of love.

Even if you’ve never experienced carnal love, romance, even if you never had a family to love familially, if you’ve never had a friend or a pet, you’ve still fallen in love in secret ways a million times. When I wake up in the morning and decide to wear something, it’s because I love myself. Or at least, I love some idea of what I am beyond what is essential to my survival. I add a little bit of icing sugar to my pancakes because I love the way it tastes when I do that. I draw a picture of a flower, because for some reason I loved it enough to study its petals. I wanted to remember it as it looked in that exact moment. I took a picture of a worm I saw on the sidewalk. I didn’t know it at the time, but I loved it too. I have music preferences, a favourite color, a favourite pair of pants, and they are all mine because I fell in love at one point or another.

I had a stuffed bear when I was a kid, and I loved her for some reason. I gave her a name, I even gave her a gender, and I called her my friend. But one day I had to take a bath and I decided to bring her into the bath with me because I didn’t want to stop playing with her. She got water logged and I think my mom threw her away, and I mourned her. Love is like a sin to the ones that feel it the most.

Every lasting grudge in human history was formed out of love. Because nobody believes that everyone loves everyone else as much as they do. I feel like I love my partner more than anyone has ever loved in the history of the universe. And yet I know that everyone loves something or someone as much as I love him. If someone hurt him, I would never stop hating them. If someone killed him, I would kill them, and the person who loved them would want to kill me. That is why the Goddess of Love is the Goddess of War. The height of my love is the depth of my hatred.

Because humans are social creatures and we love each other in order to love ourselves. Because love gifts us with the highest bliss and the deepest mourning. Because I would shrivel and waste away if my lover wasn’t with me. Just with me, beside me. That’s all I need.

Everything that has ever lasted maintained itself because someone loved it enough to create it. The pyramids, ancient temples of worship to Gods that were loved, adored. Markings on the bark of a tree that promise that two people were there, and loved each other. Every trinket at the thrift store, from the dog wearing a dress to the ceramic angel, that mug with that old man’s face on it, were made by a human that loved something enough to make art in its image. Whoever felt so strongly about a girl that their words turned into lyrics and their yearning turned into symphonies.

Humans are slaves to the power of love. When the end of the world comes and everything is done, we will embrace each-other dearly as if we were all that ever mattered, and we’d be content with that.

I champion the heralds of love because I am forever in dept to them. How incredibly lucky I am to have been born as a creature that can experience her bliss. How foolish and drunk I am on her infinite pleasures. How cruel it is of her to erect the most wonderful place in the universe between the arms of my lover, knowing that one day those arms will return to dirt, and hopefully, hopefully, I will still be in them.

Lucifer is the harbinger of Venus, and i love that so much. He ushers in her presence and does so with the fire of rebellion on his wings. What does it mean to love oneself more than any rule or doctrine? Or to love knowledge and self discovery? No wonder the angel of the rebellion is the harbringer of the Goddess of Love and War. The one who screams “Love is here! Love is here! She is more powerful than any system, any rule, any law, she is stronger than the mightiest warrior. She is loud! She is quiet! She always saves the day. I am proof of that.”

Lucifer tells us that even if we are not lucky enough to love and be loved by others, if we can love ourselves, we will always be free.

That is why I say that Venus is the greatest God. That is why I chose Lucifer to be my patron and why I express my loyalty to them above all others. Without her I could not have loved all those other Gods I adore. Without her they would be nothing to me, because I would be nothing to me.

You are the greatest God, Inanna. I will forever be your loyal devotee.

[capricornlevi]

bokuto x reader // sfw, gratuitous fluff, established relationship // wc 1.6k

planning birthdays is just one of bo's many talents <3

an: this is a little birthday present for my favourite bo stan in the entire world @brainrot329 ! she is a ray of sunshine and one of the best people i know and it is an honour to write a bo fic dedicated to this wonderful human !!!

you had never figured bokuto for much of a chef. you've been together for four years, lived together for two, and so you feel you know him pretty well by now -- the man has multitudes of talents, but preparing food is not one of them.

he has no trouble with eating, obviously, since pretty much every team barbeque ends with him being physically dragged away by a teammate or long-suffering coach, begging for someone else to be allowed their pick of the steaks.

but his appreciation for food does not extend to cooking or baking, shopping for ingredients or meal planning. his lack of culinary proficiency is not from any form of uselessness or incompetence -- he's good at pretty much anything he turns his hand to, plus the msby nutrition team supplies most of his meals anyway -- he just doesn't have much of an interest. which is more than fair; nobody can be expected to be good at everything.

but this is also why you find it to be very shocking that today, your birthday, he has offered to prepare you a four-course meal to mark the special occasion.

he had informed you of his plan this morning over pancakes at your favourite diner while you were mid-sip of coffee. as you smiled and expressed gratitude, you had to put in a copious amount of effort to prevent your jaw from dropping open and accidentally spitting coffee everywhere.

again, it's not that he's incapable of achieving this task. he’d likely be very capable should he puts his mind to it, but it's just ... this is his first time cooking. you don't attempt the tour de france before learning how to ride a bike, and you can't imagine that a four-course meal (with accompanying wines, he informs you) is the easiest introduction to the culinary arts.

but he seems certain, and the last thing you want to do is discourage this newfound enthusiasm.

the rest of the day was spent out with friends and family as bo headed home to get everything ready. he didn't give many hints as to what the rest of the evening would entail, but he did say that he knew you'd love it.

(and you will; regardless of the final product, you can see how much effort he's put in. you just hope you won't arrive home to the scent of singed hair and an eyebrow-less bokuto standing forlorn in the kitchen.)

when your college friends took you out for cocktails in the early hours of the evening, you stuck to just two margaritas so as not to take away from the rest of the night. they dropped you back home with gifts in hand and plans to meet up again next week to get your nails done – a strange suggestion since you haven’t gone to the salon as a group in years, but you wave it off. 

now, standing at your doorstep, you take a deep breath before twisting the handle and letting yourself in.

the place smells ... nice. really nice. it's a medley of scents from multiple dishes but they all come together to paint a very positive picture; hints of citrus, the buttery aroma of your favourite pasta sauce, something sweet you vaguely recognise as being your grandmother's french vanilla cake recipe.

suddenly overcome with a sense of awe and burning anticipation, you make a beeline for the kitchen.

you find everything in it to be clean, perfectly presented, except for bokuto himself. he stands by the countertop, spatula in hand, covered with a light dusting of flour and with a scorch mark on his light-blue shirt.

"never promised it'd go completely without a hitch, did i?" he grins, expression as close to bashful as you've seen it. setting down the utensils and dusting himself off with a kitchen towel, he closes the distance to take your hand, guiding you to your seat at the table. with a professional flourish he pours you a glass of sparkling wine, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head once you've sat down.

"you enjoy that while i go change," he mumbles against your hair, "and i’ll also make sure I'm not still smouldering."

you laugh as he walks away, heart swelling in your chest as you survey the space around you.

he's bought a bouquet of your favourite flowers from that little old florist who lives three doors down from your apartment, the one whose displays you always admire when you head out to work in the mornings. he has your favourite album playing on vinyl, the low reverberations of the music filling the candle-lit kitchen.

distantly, you wonder if bo's fire incident came from the cooking or the decoration.

but before you have much time to consider, he's arrived back in the kitchen with a fresh shirt and almost-tamed hair, paired with that signature bo smile that lights up all of his features.

"ready for course number one?" he exclaims, clapping his hands together as he heads over to the counter space. once you voice your assent he produces two dishes as if from nowhere, heading over to the table and setting yours down in front of you.

you find yourself looking down at a perfectly presented salad, crisp leaves and a citrus dressing that reminds you exactly of the one you had --

"on our first date!" you burst out before even taking a bite. "this is the salad from that bistro by college!"

the bistro where he had taken you after finally mustering up the courage to ask, waiting until after you both had graduated to make his move. you're still not sure why he was so anxious since your class had no qualms about intra-departmental fraternisation, but you're just glad he went for it eventually.

he nods, clearly relieved you picked up on the connection.

the salad is wonderful, a light and refreshing starter for the evening, and you inform him as much.

your response clearly encourages him. he gets up again to start heating the next dish, pouring you a glass of wine beforehand for you to nurse while he gets things ready.

this time, he presents you with a bowl of soup. the same type of soup ...

"that you made for me that time i got the flu!" he informs you this time, voice achingly fond as he watches for your reaction. "and no word of a lie -- it cured me."

his earnestness draws another laugh from you, the soothing smell of herbs and vegetables bringing you back to that afternoon.

you had never seen bo so sick before and you haven't seen it since. with the combination of his healthy approach to life and sheer stubbornness to remain top of his game, he ends up avoiding most illnesses, and so when he called his coach to inform him he wouldn't be making 8am practice, you knew things were serious.

he ran a temperature, cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink that you would have appreciated more were he not suffering, and had started shivering by noon.

"you need to keep your strength up," you had whispered softly to him, setting a glass of water down at his bedside and perching yourself on the edge, watching as he slowly started eating the soup. it was difficult with a sore throat but he managed to polish the whole thing off.

that soup was the only thing he could stomach for forty-eight hours, eating it for every meal until his shivering subsided and his muscles stopped aching.

it's one of the few dishes he knew how to prepare before tonight, since he insists on making it with you whenever either one of you starts to show any signs of impending sniffles.

once the soup has been finished and cleared away, the third course is presented with another glass of wine and near-giddy smile from bo. just as you had guessed from the hallway, he serves up your favourite pasta dish, the recipe having been scribbled down on a napkin after the chef from the aforementioned first-date bistro was kind enough to let you have it. 

bo managed to replicate it perfectly, albeit not without slightly singeing the accompanying garlic bread (explaining the scorch mark on his shirt).

as you take your first bite, you realise that he was right earlier when he promised that you'd love this.

it wasn't that the food was michelin quality (though it was undoubtedly delicious, especially for a first-timer) -- it was the thought that went into every dish, every ingredient, every element. the effort that went into telling a story with each course.

you've never felt as loved as you do in this moment.

that is, until he brings out dessert in the form of your grandmother's french vanilla cake. it’s been frosted to the best of bokuto's ability, with 'happy birthday my love!' edged in pink font and surrounded by flickering candles.

there's also a design under the words. a little shape, something you can't see without squinting.

he carries it over to you proudly, though with a slight tremble in his hands you can't quite understand ...

after blowing out the candles, you lean in to examine the cake closer.

it takes a few seconds for it to land, to determine what bo attempted to draw in icing format, but once it hits you ...

"is that a ring?"

your heart pounds in your chest, each word leaving your lips in a flurry as you try to gauge whether or not your exhilaration is merited.

and in lieu of an answer, bo sets the cake on the table before getting down on one knee, producing a velvet-bound ring box from the pocket of his new shirt.

[thebisexualwreckoning]

@jegulus-microfic | Day 9 - Heart | Word count: 739 | tw: vomit, human experimentation, animal death, human death (technically mcd but he gets better), descriptions of surgery on cadavers, life threatening disease, blood, body horror, gore, basically dead dove do not eat

Now, with that out of the way, I am honoured to present to you THE FRANKENSTEIN AU

Fic under the cut

They'd been ready. They'd been prepared. And yet when James finally drew his last breath, Regulus had to run across to room to empty his gut, retching till there was nothing left in him any longer. Sirius was right there by his side, rubbing circles into his back until he could finally breathe again. He'd felt a sharp pang of guilt then. James may have been his other half but if soulmates existed, then James would have been Sirius'.

Regulus manages to pull himself together. They have a short window of time before it's too late to do what they have to. The previous experiments had been successful, but Regulus didn't want to take any chances when it's James' life hanging in the balance.

Remus is there when they reach the lab. He'd been one of their first tries, back when they still didn't know what exactly they were doing or whether it would even work. But despite the scars that litter his body now and the eerie feeling of something not quite right whenever someone looked at him for any extended amount of time, it had worked.

They still don't know the how of it. When they find out about James, Regulus had spent the entire time at his side, unwilling to move even an inch while Sirius had torn up Black manor trying to find a solution, any solution to save his life. That's where he'd found it, tucked away in some long forgotten corner in the family library.

They hadn't believed it at first, wrote it off as a madman's ramblings. But as time passed and James grew worse, they had no choice but to hedge all their bets on the book in a desparate bid to save him. And it had worked. Despite all logic, it had bloody worked.

"It's time," Sirius says, handing Regulus a pair of gloves. Sirius and James might have been the geniuses who figured out how to bring the dead back to live, but no one else but Regulus could do this. He'd practiced, taken apart dead bodies over and over again till he had it down to an art while the two of them were pouring over books.

He takes a breath and lifts the scalpel. The process was simple. Cut a flap into the patient's chest, take out their heart, replace it and shock them back to life. The book said to use lightning but Sirius had figured they could just use electricity. Getting the replacement heart had turned out to be the most difficult part of the process. It had to be hunted and prepared by the receiver. James wasn't yet so weak that he had to stay on bed rest, but he was still in no condition to go hunting. In the end, they found a baby stag seperated from its mother. James' hands had shook as he raised them but they struck true.

It's almost time now. Sirius stands in the corner of the room, tapping his feet on the linoleum. Remus presents him with the open cold box and Regulus takes a deep breath. He picks up the glistening heart and places it in the gaping hole of James' chest. He threads his needle one last time and stitches James back together.

Sirius takes a step forward, stops, and says, "Are you ready?"

Regulus looks at James. He's beautiful, even now, covered in blood and guts and other bodily fluids. He's glad he has Sirius here with him, glad that he has someone who doesn't ask him whether he wants to do this but only asks when.

He nods and Sirius grabs a bunch of cables, going around James and attaching them to his body. James' blood is slick on Regulus' hands and he feels the urge to throw up again.

Sirius takes his place beside him and squeezes his hand before finally hitting the damned switch. There's no big explosions, no electricity arching through the air, only a soft buzz and then its over.

For one heart-wrenching moment, Regulus thinks that it hasn't worked. He lets out a quiet sob. It's not fair. Not after everything they've been through together. They were meant to survive this. Sirius' hands are a vice grip around him, the only thing holding him up. Regulus makes to move for him, kiss him one last time, hold him and refuse to ever let go.

And then...... James moves.

[magistralucis]

happy el muchacho monday folks im spinning my Wheels and Going Insane over this part in The Infinite and the Divine. Sure, they're talking about humans, but according to necron hierarchy Orikan? is also a 'lesser being'??? 😭 Especially since the necron he's talking to also outranks him and was happy to gloat about it five chapters ago??? If anything, he's quite fortunate that Trazyn's the way he is - who else could Orikan talk to like this?

I find this line fascinating. Not only is it proof of Orikan's moral hypocrisy, it's also proof that he sees Trazyn in a light he sees no one else in. There's no way Orikan could say this to any other Overlord. Consider how he leveraged himself against the authorities in the trial scene: think about who has my back, think about the debts you owe me, think about the services I could provide. His words cut deep, but these are bargains and threats and reminders, not personal judgements on someone's rank and character. Orikan is proudly anti-authoritarian and unafraid to show it, but there is a tangible limit to how far he can question his superiors before he'd be put in his place. It's what happens when he tries to give Trazyn's ship a command, and it's why we only see detailed justifications of his anti-authoritarianism in his POV, because as far as the higher-ups are concerned it's not open for discussion.

Keep it in your head. Or talk to Trazyn, since he's as weird as you are.

And that's a significant outlet, I think. Trazyn is about the only one whom Orikan feels comfortable commenting directly on his character: you care too much for the lowly, and that's not right, and you make me uncomfortable. I doubt he could say the same thing to Imotekh if the latter suddenly began displaying sympathy for human beings, nor to most other necrons of high rank. Clearly he said this because he did not feel Trazyn, as an individual, would retaliate against his judgement. And he was right - Trazyn just shrugs it off, without withdrawing his moment of compassion. Orikan pursues it no further and there is no punishment. It's bitter, it's dismissive - but it was a conversation.

He can actually have those with Trazyn. Something about beings approaching his own level, and it being nice to talk to them, yada yada.

But that's not to say Orikan doesn't suffer for his judgement. That's where the moral hypocrisy comes in. He's not doing himself any favours saying it like that, not just because his xenophobia is bullshit from our reader's perspective, but because he is willfully inauthentic to the space he occupies in the world. Necron culture is rankist. Elitist, classist, chauvinistic. The only necrons who aren't are either clinging to a sense of honour (not guaranteed to be returned, nor perceived by honour by non-necrons), insane, or so fallen down like the Flayed Ones as to be not considered necron at all. Necrons may or may not practice polite conduct with those higher up, but they do tend to know who's beneath them, and are happy to punch down as they see fit; for Orikan to speak of 'lesser beings' is normal, for him to talk about artisans that way is not, or shouldn't be.

The only artisans left in necron culture are the crypteks. They create things, they maintain things - it's the crypteks who wrote the play, War in Heaven, the theatrical piece our protagonists rely on so much. When Trazyn speaks of the human artisans' suffering on Serenade, he's really making a statement about the value of art - what kind of person does it take to create such a thing, what does it mean to consume them? - and for Orikan to dismiss it as a lesser act for lesser beings is to dismiss his own profession.

It's exactly what the nobility he hates likes to do.

Which: fair enough. There is not much love between crypteks. But I don't think Orikan's judgement is the kind of thing that stops at interpersonal rivalries, nor is it just a humanities vs. STEM argument. You could read his line at face value (humans are just insects to necrons, newsflash of the year), but you could also attribute any level of hypocrisy, denial, and/or self-deprecation to it, and it would be consistent with his character. None of it stops him from growing, or making him worse, depending on what mood seizes him. Gotta love me some bad faith necrons, they are such intriguing food for thought

[mountainshroom]

hallå dear artist.

I am here again to tell you that one of your medic drawings served me as inspiritation to draw him myself. I don't draw and so I had to stick close to how you drew him, but I am endlessly thankful that you posted your drawings of him.

I am proud of how it turned out (for someone who doesn't draw, like, ever) but too shy to post publicly so yeah you'll just have to believe me.

I hope you don't take offense that I drew your medic. I just really like and relate to your artstyle and think it fits tf2 perfectly

sending many thanks.

Man I am getting emotional a bit reading this 🥹

thank you so so much, like I’ve never thought my art would be a possible inspiration for anybody before but this makes me think maybe otherwise. I’m so happy to hear you relate to my artstyle on that level!

And I’m NOT offended at all, I’m seriously honoured you liked my Medic fanart that much oh wow!! Thats so awesome I hope you keep drawing the silly doktor and anything else you ever feel like to your hearts content

Much love to you dear new artist, thank you again

[jackmanifold-daily]

CAN WE KNOW ABOUT PROTEGE!JACK AU PLEASEEEE I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT TOO.

WHAT IF HE WENT WITH DREAM WHEN HE FIRST JOINED THE SERVER. WHAT IF DREAM FOUND HIM AT HIS LOWEST, AND EVENTHOUGH DREAM IS HIS (OTHER) SWORN ENEMY HE HAS NO ONE ELSE TO TURN TO OR TO HELP HIM. PLEASE TALK ABOUT CHILDMURDERDUO.

Ok so, I& was initially going to answer these asks with some art, but I& am realizing I& do not have the motivation and time to draw at the moment T_T I& still sprinkled in a few traditional doodles but not U_U Sorry that these asks were left unanswered for so long!

Protejack AU's core concept is Dream finds Jack right after his revival on Doomsday. Dream, naturally interested in Jack's powers, decides to get closer to him and team up.

Initially, Jack's hesitant to trust Dream for obvious reasons, but after a bit of time talking to him and having Dream show more support for him than any of his friends did, Jack agrees. Of course, the main goal they decide to work together towards is stopping Tommy from ruining the server, the one view they both share very closely.

This AU actually complies with canon pretty well, and all the events described so far I& genuinely think are things that should have happened in canon. It makes too much sense not to have. (They also did literally happen to me& in my& memories, so... maybe I&'m biased)

The things that happen next vary a little bit every time I& try to write or roleplay them out. But, in theory, project Dreamcatcher still can happen just fine with Jack working secretly both with Dream AND Niki. After that though, I& think rocketduo would fall apart when Jack would start suggesting that Dream may be misunderstood, something that would not sit well with Niki.

This leads me& to the next big point: isolation as one of Dream’s manipulation tactics. He convinces Jack that, because of his hatred for Tommy (and eventually, because of his association with Dream), nobody else would understand him and would even want him dead. Jack believes it because his experiences of everybody denying his death in Exile and Niki leaving him after he admits to supporting Dream.

This is where it gets self indulgent. I&'m not quite sure if it would be the most in character or fitting for canon idea, but a lot of the time I& imagine Jack kidnapping Tommy under Dream’s guidance and the two of them dragging him to The Second Exile.

(Yes it's a little bit stupid but it's a really good setup for whump and it kind of makes a little bit of sense)

Jack's duty in the Second Exile is to constantly guard Tommy so that he doesn't escape. Additionally, this is when Dream’s fascination with revival turns into an obsession, and when he also begins to properly do experiments on Jack (depending on the headcanon maybe he did a few before but this is where it picks up full force).

One of the honourable mentions here is an AU of this AU where using the revival book and knowledge from all the experiments, Dream binds Jack’s and Tommy’s souls together so that every time one of them dies, so does the other, but also since Jack always revives himself, him and Tommy are now functionally immortal.

I& am not entirely sure how this all ends. If everything before this is already variable and up for change, then the ending is doubly so. I& personally like imagining someone coming over to rescue Tommy and killing Dream and rescuing Jack in return, but I& get if that's a bit too boring. It's up for anyone's interpretation!

If anyone has any questions or ideas left, feel free to send them here or to my& main, @luigra , since this might be a little bit off topic for this blog.

[soraviie]

you compare yourself to him.txt

━ type: bts x f! reader ━ navigation ━ part II here

━ about: angst! discusses themes of abandonment and inadequacy

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: "There's honestly no way to undersell your influence," the woman gushes on and it's like you don't exist. Joon is giving her the trademarked, polite smile, one of neutrality. It means nothing. But also at this moment, you mean nothing.

"You went to the White House and the UN, and now you're visiting my little gallery! Gosh, it's such an honour."

"Ah, it's...it was unprecedented. I'm just doing what I love, it's the people I should be thankful for. They helped me to get to these heights."

"Don't be so modest!" she pats his arm, perhaps lingering a tad too long but where once there would be a kindling flame of jealousy, there's nothing now. Her words have poured a bucket of ice-cold water soaked with a certain realization, washing away all happiness of the day.

You can't compare.

You won't ever compare.

"I have a private screening of the latest works. Usually, I wouldn't reveal such a thing, but you're Kim Namjoon!"

He takes a step back, sporting quite the awkward stance. Because this is Namjoon. He's polite. Tries to not show judgement upon anyone else. Like you, for example.

"I was actually preoccupied -" he waves at where you've been standing mute and unmoving whilst whatever this was unfolded.

"Oh, your secretary!" all too confident the owner of the gallery calls out and you can only muster to stand there. No strength left to argue.

"She's not my se-" Namjoon fruitlessly sputters but the lady waves his indignance away.

"Are you familiar with the work of contemporary artists?"

"No," you truthfully reply. They were but colours to you.

"Oh, not very educated in this field, are you?" she coos in a farce of sympathy and blankly you shrug.

"No."

"Well, then, let's go. This level of art needs viewers of...worldly inhibitions."

Her long red nails sink into Namjoon's beige shirt, one you gave him on his birthday, like a reborn harpy of old tales. He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in million confused questions but you quietly wish him to have fun. His educated, smart fun, remaining to stand there in the middle of a fancy art gallery. And you can't stop thinking about that shirt and laughing dryly to yourself. A multimillion pop singer, donating his money to art galleries, collecting masterpieces, visiting presidents and here you were gifting him shirts because that's all you could afford.

"What are your thoughts on this piece?" a stranger approaches you all of a sudden probably thinking that just because you were here you belonged here, that you earned your spot here when in truth you were just someone Namjoon dragged along.

And with a carving, empty feeling you don't see any reason at all why would he do such a thing.

"It's beige," you breathe thinly, glimpsing at the painting on the wall and he leaves upon hearing the simplistic answer. Figures.

YOONGI: "Already thirty and still unmarried? Is there no one in your life?"

He looks almost apologetic into the camera. A glimpse lasting a second, travelling through infinite miles as if he knew you were watching.

"No," he lies. "No there is no one."

He lies for your safety because it's what he has to do. It's what you agreed to but right now you couldn't name a worse feeling to have than to be called nonexistent. A ghost. A void, not a living human being occupying space and deserving it.

"No way," your cousin laughs loudly across the table. "No way this guy is dating you!"

"It's true," you object poking at the plate of dinner you have no intention of eating anymore. Her words have created a gaping hole in your stomach, that honestly had been churning away for longer than you had noticed.

"What's he doing with you then? A charity?"

"Keep your mouth shut!" her mother hisses sharply but bolstered by the many wine glasses, she drones on.

"What? I'm just stating what we're all thinking. This is what? Just a reprieve, a cleanser! He'll have his fun with you and then will marry a supermodel or a singer. Cause it's what they all do. No rich person marries a commoner."

Yoongi is not like that. You knew he was not like that. He liked to eat tangerines by your side and fix the broken shelves, night upon night he'd cried how he just wanted to make music but be that as it may his life was set.

And a quiet librarian was in no sort of way part of cameras and red carpets.

And he'll have to say it time and time again that you did not exist.

And you feel like you don't.

The night is empty and cold with the house gone deathly quiet. The water runs underneath your hands as you scrape the dishes - to have something to do, to not be consumed by the gaping wound of being hidden away. Like a scab almost.

A phone rings.

"How was the dinner?" he immediately asks, sounding a bit rushed. "Sorry, I couldn't make it this time."

Or the time before that and the one before that, and a hundred others in the past, making you seem like a lonely ghost wailing false moans that you were loved by a star. He was an innocent idol onto whom you had delusionally pushed your need of companionship, pictures could be downloaded, and lies could be spun.

And as far as most people knew - you did not exist.

"It was fine," you answer monotonous. There's a wobble in your lip so you have to really frown to not let it spill.

"I didn't mean it. None of what I said. It's just something I have -"

"- to do," you finish for him and your voice wavers. "Yeah, I get it. Listen I have to go, alright."

"Wait, no-!" you drop the phone and lean over the sink, swallowing down rushing tears. Breathing in a determined breath, you wash the remaining dishes in complete silence and no one calls or talks to you for the rest of the night.

JIN: "Yeah, right," the front desk lady sneers. "Get out of here, freak."

"I'm literally handing you my ID. You saw me before!"

If only any proverbs were ever listened to. A wise saying once claimed to not judge a book by a cover. What a wonderful world would it be if it was actually listened to.

Dripping rainwater and mud, you scoffed, frustrated and just wanting to lie down. It had been an exhausting day. The kind where you regret ever waking up.

"Do you not have a register or something? This guy literally is vouching for me."

You point at the gardener of Jin's apartment building and he nods, eyes full of compassion. He was a good guy.

"It's true she was here and the day before that."

"So, you're a hooker. I'm not letting you up. Just look at yourself."

Look at yourself. Those words were like an axe to your head. A dull blade swinging time and time again as you bent your knee at the podium.

Wherever you went they reverberated like ripples in a lake.

"Just look at yourself," one woman sneered while you went to the bathroom at a party with Jin.

"Really look at yourself. You must think you have some sort of inner beauty? People like you make me sick! You're all delusional," and she had stormed off, face warped in such contempt as though you'd done something wrong. But you just stood here.

"Don't listen to her," you told your reflection but the eyes looking back were tired. "You did nothing wrong."

You can only insist that you did nothing wrong but no one listens. Certainly not the cops shoving you in the van on the charges of stalking.

The holding cell is very cold and you're freezing, wet hair seemingly lowering your body temperature even more.

"HOW DARE YOU?" Jin's voice rings even down the hallway. "WHAT SORT OF COUNTRY IS THIS WHERE INNOCENT PEOPLE GET ARRESTED?!"

"We apologize, sir, but the front desk worker phoned in as it was susp-"

"IS SHE THE CHIEF OF THE POLICE?! YOU JUST CARRY OUT THE ORDERS OF SOME RANDOM WOMAN?! LET MY GIRLFRIEND GO THIS INSTANT!"

The doors open and stiffly you clamber out, immediately swarmed by Jin's warm embrace.

"Don't think I'll let this go so easy," he growls at the nearby officer before guiding you away.

"I'm so sorry, honey, it won't ever happen again," he strokes your head all the way home but the cold doesn't dissipate. It's all a blur and you're just so very tired.

"What are you doing?" Jin asks gently opening the bathroom doors where you finished taking a warm shower as he had ordered. You wipe the steam off the mirror. The shoulders are hunched and there's no spark. Just another face in the proverbial crowd.

"Just looking at myself."

HOSEOK: It's nothing that anyone says. They think it, you can certainly tell by the snide glances occasionally thrown at where you're standing, but they don't dare to say it. The rest of the group is here and they wouldn't tolerate any off-hand remarks just as much as Hoseok himself.

But they don't need to say it. No one needs to do anything. You just have to look.

He's swarmed by celebrities, the A-listers, the top of the top, all celebrating the genius of his album and they blush as he pays they some attention. Because he's not just a celebrity, he's the top celebrity, he's what the people above aspired to be. And he wants this, he wants more of this.

And you don't belong here.

You don't belong here at all.

Like a piece of furniture or a fallen decoration, you stand in the corner invisible. The scarce attempts of talking all ended with an awkward side glance. The one given to friends, saying: "who invited her?" They excuse themselves with gritted teeth, sometimes just simply walking away and you stand by the side, admiring and not participating. How could you when this was not your world? But it's his and amidst all the fans and all the meetings, even Hoseok has forgotten you're here.

You don't belong here. You don't want to be here. Didn't want to see anyone ever again.

"Where are you off to?" a voice asks and you peek underneath the table, surprised to see Jin's head poke through. His phone light illuminates the hiding spot with flashing bright colours of a nameless webtoon.

"Just need some air," you answer emptily before pointing at the device. "You're having fun there?"

"Ah, I don't want to meet anyone," he whines and you offer a small, meaningless smile.

"I get that."

He glances up and you think he sees something in the way your eyes gaze grayly around, observing but not seeing. Though in the end, he says nothing and you're free to walk on the street. The music of Hoseok's album party pours out even there but at least it's dull. Another world now.

You push your hands deep into the jacket and not wanting to return to an empty apartment, end up in a 24/7 convenience store. It's cheap and common. Your spot, a planet familiar.

"Rough night?" the guy at the counter asks as you quietly slurp a cup of noodles on a rickety chair nearby.

"You probably had it rougher," you point out at the 2 am flashing on the clock hung behind him. He only shrugs.

"Not really. People leave me alone during night shifts and to be honest during day shifts as well. It's like I don't exist."

You frown at the red noodles and there's nothing but an empty pang in your chest. It's not one of hunger you realize now.

"Yeah. Me too."

JIMIN: The day is long and weary. Your legs ache and your apron is stained with dry milk. You're trying very hard to not cry in the break room and then you see him and you want to cry yourself to death. Be the princess that drowned in her own tears.

He's beautiful, the literal "It" boy of the nation. Kind, gorgeous, determined and you're crying in the break room.

The TV shoved in the corner has no sound but you don't need it. It's plenty enough seeing him laugh generously on the main story of the day, one discussing his success.

"Good day, sir, how ma-"

"Iced espresso," he interrupts and doesn't spare you even a single glance. You're just a machine here to obey. Nothing more.

"Damn, ________, you're still here?" a coworker asks, tying her apron hastily around. "I thought you applied for that new job?"

"Yeah, well, they rejected me," you explain lifelessly, face turned away.

"Is there no one else?"

"Yeah, and they rejected me as well. And all the other thirty places I applied."

She sucks in a breath through her teeth.

"Damn, that sucks. Still, don't keep your nose low, you might end up staying here forever."

Yes, that's just what you might end up doing. Someone had to be at the bottom of the barrel. Someone always had to do the dirty job you just never assumed it'd be you. That it'd be you who'd be the failure.

"She's a surgeon, you know," your mother says on the phone and you scuff your shoe against the tile ground.

"Yes, I know."

"Since this degree of yours didn't work out, you might apply to study something useful you know like a lawyer."

"Mom, I don't want to be a lawyer."

"Do you want to be a barista all your life? Because this art degree is certainly accomplishing that. And you're not marrying a rich man."

"What if I did?" you snap back spitefully.

"Well, then I'd be embarrassed to have a daughter whose such a liability."

"I have to go."

You're trying really hard to not cry but it's not quite working.

"I'm not a liability," you mutter underneath your breath but it feels like a lie in your mouth.

"Hey,______, we need you out here. It's a madhouse!" the frazzled head of your coworker pops in and all you can do is wipe your face and raise your aching legs once more.

"Good evening, ma'am! What would you like-"

"Iced espresso," she orders without looking up from her phone. You nod.

"Can you take the register?" you whisper to your colleague switching places.

"Why?" she furrows her brows.

"Just don't want to talk anymore."

Thankfully, she only nods curtly and you're free to do what is needed, alone and unbothered.

It's evening already but Jimin is still on the news and he smiles brightly as the sun. You don't even remember when was the last time you met him in real life, held his hand in yours. Last time he felt like a real person and not just someone you can look at through the screen.

"This dude really has it all," your coworker mutters underneath her breath whilst counting the register once there's no one in the sight.

"Yeah, he does."

TAEHYUNG: It's nothing but the truth to call jealousy a disease, a fatal one at that. Incurable, unstoppable rot wrecking you from within. Never before had you looked at a video of your boyfriend and felt...felt bad. If bad was even a word to describe the awful hollow that washes the world grey.

The entire Paris screams for him, hell, maybe the whole of France. They talk of Lisa, Park Bo Gum and V. The infamous V. And they talk of Lisa, the A-lister, the star, the face of the fashion, the top girl of the top.

"You just have to work hard, okay," your mother always said. "You work hard and you can do anything."

It was such a comforting lie. Because you did work hard, you worked so hard it nearly crushed you and all it did was land you in an office cubicle, creating documents day upon day. Just like millions of others before you and like millions after you. Just an expendable tool.

You can't help it, because it's a disease, it's wearing down all the kindness in your heart, all your confidence and reducing you to a husk slumbering on the bed. What did they have that you didn't?

As a sick sort of punishment, you continue watching the video. V is getting quite cosy with the other celebrities, the 1%, the people not doing the office jobs, not doing the sowing of the fancy clothes they wore, not serving the drinks like the nameless waiters people treated as mindless robots. You ponder how horrible they must feel, how tired. The video suggests you want this, this is the world everyone should aspire to but it leaves a sour taste in your mouth and the fact that V is there makes it only more appalling. Because that is the fact. He was your boyfriend, Taehyung, the guy from a line of farmers, a simple guy who respected everyone but it's hard to see that Taehyung in V. The fashion icon, the creme de la creme sipping champagne far far away from you. He seems happy. Happier than he was when you parted.

Coincidentally, it's your birthday the next day and there are only three calls - your mother, your best friend and for some reason Jimin. Jimin who remembers it's your birthday before Taehyung or should you say V.

You get yourself a cake. It costs a pretty penny but it's cute and just this once you want to have nice things. Just this once. You take a picture of it, almost upload it on Instagram but then think better of it. Who cares what you post. It's there that you scroll upon a video of V cutting up a cake and you just know it's much more expensive than yours will ever be. This cake he seems almost bored with costs more than your life and it's given to him. Even if he would get it himself he wouldn't have to worry about the cost. It didn't matter how much you work hard, you will always have to worry about the cost.

In the end, you blow out the candle right there in the bakery and the girl working the register is the only one who claps. She asks what wish did you make, you answer none but secretly you just wish he would call. That he would remember of his girlfriend at home as low as she was.

He doesn't call but at least a video floating around the internet tells you he has a grand old time spinning around the pole with Lisa.

JUNGKOOK: "I don't like dispassionate people, I guess. I can't imagine how can one live without a goal. I'd rather die than live without passion."

It wasn't like Jungkook to be cruel and he probably didn't intend to be one as well but it still is cruel. Your own boyfriend just told everyone on national television that he doesn't like you. You're everything he loathes - the dreamless drifter, people who are just here.

"Why are you frowning?" a voice asks and you turn to look at him standing in the doorway with a frown. He must have said something before this but you hadn't heard. The mop in your hands lays still as you finish sweeping. Bam is there as well, his big brown eyes flickering in between both of you.

"Nothing," you reply quietly.

"No, it's something," he insists. "Don't lie."

"Why is passion so important to you?"

The frown on his face deepens and Bam begins to whine from the surging tension.

"I don't know," he laughs, sound falling strained and awkward. Because it's not funny. "It just is. I mean what's the point of life then? Hanging around? That's useless, isn't it?"

"I'm useless?"

His eyes widen for a fraction the second he understood his own words.

"I didn't mean you," he corrects but whether or not it's real or just in your perception, you don't think they sound sincere enough. It's just something he has to say.

"You just haven't found your passion yet."

"Because it doesn't exist!" you don't mean to yell. It upsets Bam, upsets you and most importantly it upsets Jungkook but he's never understood this. Never grasped that it's not the matter of you not finding your special devotion, it's because you simply didn't have one. And you're tired of trying to explain yourself over and over again.

"I don't care for jobs! I don't care about hobbies! I just want to live!"

"Okay," he brushes off passively. Not that he believes you, not that he listens to you at all, he just doesn't want to fight.

"Why is it so hard for you to comprehend that I don't have any aspirations? Yoongi -"

Abruptly he rolls his eyes, arms tightening around his chest.

"Again with Yoongi. Would you stop bringing him up?"

"Because he makes me feel heard! I don't have goals, I don't have great dreams and aspirations! Does that make my life meaningless?"

"What do you think?"

For a while, the only sound are the whines and the scraping of Bam's nails against the floor.

"You think my life is meaningless?" you echo breathlessly. Jungkook merely scowls at the floor.

"Right, who are we commoners against the mighty Jungkook? The millionaire, the young idol, right?"

"It's what my passion led me to," he mutters obstinately and for all intents and purposes, he might as well just have punched you in the gut.

"You won't achieve anything if you're just hanging around."

Exhaling a shaky breath you gather the most strength you ever needed.

"I have a dream, Jungkook, it is to live happily. And I'm not happy with you."

There's really, absolutely no way of knowing now either whether the flash in his eyes is out of fear or anger. They remain only as assumptions but what is an indisputable fact are the words spoken out loud.

"Well, I'm not happy with you, either."

The floor dries as you stand in front of this man, a stranger suddenly, one to whom you're too exhausted to defend yourself anymore.

"No, you can't come with me," you whisper to Bam who tries to squeeze the nose in through the door gap, tail wagging behind him. He must think you're going on a walk. How lovely animals were, they didn't care how you looked, who you were, or what you lived for. They simply were, and enjoyed life at its face value.

"You have to stay."

Bam is a sweetheart through and through but above all he's well behaved. His eyes are brimming with sadness but he does as he's told and steps away.

"I'll miss you, buddy."

"Enjoying the weekend?" the man at the local bakery friendly questions and you cast him a smile.

"Yeah, you know, appreciating the day."

"Ah, preach! It's nice to just enjoy yourself, isn't it?"

As you pay, your phone lights up and a picture of Jungkook flashes in front of you. Briefly, you break and zone out in his eyes. Weeks have passed, you should change it.

"Does that make my life meaningless?"

"What do you think?"

You shake yourself out of it and lock the phone.

"It is," you agree with the baker.

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-23

[once-upon-the-moon]

Kakashi Hatake x Gender Neutral Emetophobic Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Mentions of emetophobia, food and drinks, eating, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, upset stomachs and stomach aches, people other than the reader having colds. There are no mentions of anyone t****ing u*

I wrote these as comfort for myself and anyone else who also has emetophobia. There are parts of these headcanons that can apply for any character, so hopefully anyone can find at least a little bit of comfort here <3<3

Credit for the art above goes to the original creator (if it’s yours please let me know so I can credit you) and credit for the divider goes to cafekitsune here on tumblr <3<3

- Kakashi hadn’t heard of emetophobia before he met you, but he wasn’t surprised. People can have phobias surrounding anything, he knows that.

- He would never, ever judge you. He treats it like he would the presence of any threat: priority number one is to make sure you’re safe.

- If you’re having a moment where you’re hesitant or afraid to eat or avoiding a food or drink that you actually want, he is not letting you go through that by yourself. The man practically orders you (lovingly of course) to come find him at times like that if he’s not there.

- He’ll remind you of all the logical reasons why you don’t need to be afraid of eating or drinking (in that moment, or ever), and he’ll stay with you for your meal if he can. If he has to work, he’ll bring you with him so you can eat in his office or have your meal under a tree outside while he trains.

- He would absolutely feed you, with no hesitation, if you’re comfortable with that. He’s already very nurturing, so it’s a way of taking care of and soothing you while also making sure you stay healthy and strong.

- He would give you a mask just like his to wear when you go out if you want to, or so you have an item you can mess with to help calm yourself down.

- He always has water with him, both because he needs to stay hydrated with how strenuous his job is, but also because drinking water can help calm you down if you get anxious.

- If you go on long or taxing missions, he makes sure you get as much rest as possible, eat and stay hydrated, to ease your worries about getting a cold of any kind from the strain on your body (it’s also a good excuse to take care of himself in the same way).

- If your stomach feels upset because you’re anxious, he’ll hug you and try his best to distract you. Sometimes he takes you with him to meet up with Team 7 cause they always make you laugh.

- If you have a stomach ache, he’ll have you sit with him and pet your hair in hopes that you drift off and sleep through it. If you don’t, he’ll play a game with you (usually cards or trivia), or hum some random tune for you while he reads.

- Always warns you first if he knows someone you need to interact with has a cold at all. He’ll go with you if he can too, if that would make it easier.

- He’s absolutely honoured if you let him make food for you.

- Early on after you met, before he was comfortable having his mask off in front of you, the two of you would eat together, sitting facing away from each other, and once when you were getting anxious, he turned and kissed your shoulder while he talked you through it.

“Keep breathing for me, alright? I’m right here. You’re okay, I promise”.

- Later on when you were calm again, you damn near melted. It’s still something he does to soothe you to this day.

- He loves it when you tell him about any time you finish a meal, or get past an intrusive thought. He’ll always give you a hug, ruffle your hair or kiss you for being so brave.

“Well done, I’m so proud of you!”

[raayllum]

What Aaravos says : And i can better serve you

What Aaravos means : And you can better serve me

So like I've been mulling this over because

What is the difference between a servant and a pawn, if there is one?

Is such an interesting question, thematically. And it shows how someone can take concepts and either purposefully misconstrue them or genuinely honour them, which is to say: King Harrow and Aaravos are set up as perfect ideological opposites and I think it's really fucking cool.

Where Harrow sees strength in children

"The great illusion of childhood is that adults have all the freedom and power. But the truth is the opposite: a child is freer than a king."

Aaravos sees them as someone to dismiss

"These are the champions you've gathered to try and stop me? Why, they're nothing but pathetic children."

Where Harrow did his best to be a servant king as the most powerful person in his kingdom, for Aaravos (the most powerful being in the world), it is a guise and a mask

Their hatred of arrogance

as well as the core principle of Freedom that Harrow has that Aaravos is chasing, both interwoven and passed down to Callum in giving him the Key

Where Harrow did everything he could to make Callum feel welcome and at home in their family, Aaravos merely wants to add him to a collection of pawns

There are also old concept art in which Aaravos was blindfolded, reminiscent of Harrow's choice from Lady Justice. Not to mention Harrow as someone who was like Aaravos (and many others) in that he perpetuated the cycle out of misplaced love / a rageful grief (which, if Aaravos is doing the same because he fell in love with a human, would also provide those sweet Harrai parallels) but unlike Aaravos, he changed his mind. Even if their ideas of servitude are a bit similar, re: the kneeling motif

Which of course, makes sense; Harrow was a man with his life tragically shortened, burdened by regret, anchored by his own crown/chain and by the end of his life, believed wholeheartedly in the Narrative of Love. Even more than someone like Viren, Aaravos appears to wholeheartedly believe in a Narrative of Strength (especially if there is no one left he loves). Which is why I think it's so interesting like, Arc 1 for Harrow is a tragedy told in retrospect and at least partially in reverse; unlike everyone else, he never lives to see the Dragon Prince that he felt so much guilt over returned, that the peace he probably wanted (for his sons if nothing else) was not only achievable, but something that happened. And now Arc 2 is starting to shift the stage, beginning in S4 with setup, of being a tragedy for everyone else who outlived him (for S5 and S6 at least) because the Wheel of the Cycle has yet to stop fully turning and it's so fucking good?

Which is compounded with what I've touched on more briefly before of each of the Main Trio having Core Traits of Harrow that they are then responsible for carrying for the sake of thematic exploration.

Rayla is Harrow's martyrdom (right or wrong) and concept of paying the price, as well as hunting down 'monsters' to solve all her problems; Callum wrestles with Harrow's temptation regarding dark magic and the weight of choices / unintended consequences; Ezran has the place as literal king with a reinvigorated crown and having to well, be king, as well as upholding a relationship to Xadia / the dragon monarchy that's the opposite of his father. All three of them are called to Do Better.

So Aaravos being in some ways the embodiment of history - powerful, ancient, unknown and lost to time - is the perfect opposing threat, because how can you Free yourself from the Past, from the Chains of History, if you can't "learn from it, understand it, and then let it go"?

But like Harrow said so long ago, and as S4 is demonstrating even in a post-outright war world

And now we get to see it unfold first hand

[aroacesigma]

For the ask game ummmmmmm obligatory sigma but also chuuya <3

ok !!!

first impression - sigma

honestly i thought he seemed like a nice enough guy going off the whole thing where he let the man win . a bit bossy when he was talking to teruko but honestly i was kind of rooting for anyone but the hunting dogs at the point so i was like yeahhh go buddy . you got this . also thought he was very gender

first impression - chuuya

i thought he was REALLY fucking cool . loved his design instantly . like about half this fandom i thought that was a ponytail for ages but noooo . terrible mullet . look dazai was my fave at that point but i still laughed when he got his ass kicked by him lmfao

impression now - sigma

ok . deep breaths kai you can say this normally . i love him very much and he is my fave . as you can all tell . finding out his whole backstory and watching him go through the sky casino arc and the mersault arc was so fucking ... god . hes so tragic . i love him so much . he tries so very hard all the time and nothing ever comes out of it does it . i just want him to be happy .... he really deserves it . hes not a bad person but hes done bad things out of necessity which honestly makes you root for him more doesnt it ? its so heartbreaking every chapter watching him do everything , throw himself into danger, hurt people, hurt himself just so they can get a home... i really hope he does . very much . fucking hell

impression now - chuuya

pretty much exactly the same . hes so fucking cool and i love him . i think he should be allowed a weekly quota of kicking the shit out of dazai . stormbringer tore my soul to shreds that hurt which made me feel terrible for him also . hes a wonderful character and i really do love him and wish this fandom treated him a little better

favourite moment - sigma

oughh this is hard . uh . probably when we get his backstory honestly . everything really makes a lot of sense about him once you get that . its really sad but it really hammers in just how desperate he is to find a home. they dont really have anything else , their sense of being human is shaky at best because no matter how much he says hes just an ordinary man he knows he isnt . so having a place to belong to make up for the fact that there is nothing like them in the world and there never will be is something hes totally desperate for and their backstory hammers that in HARD . and just the art is just so well done ...something about the image of him just sitting alone in the desert really shatters my heart every time . honourable mention also goes to when he kicked the shit out of teruko , purely because its an excellent counteraction to people saying dumb shit about him being weak and pathetic

favourite moment - chuuya

ohhh..i think i really like the scene where the flags throw him a party . its nice to see him hanging around with his friends . even if theyre all a little bit fucked up . he deserves nice things even if he didnt fucking get to keep them god asagiri why

idea for a story - sigma and chuuya

ok i NEED YALL TO HEAR ME OUT on this crack theory that definitely will not happen but imagine if it did . now i trust dazai will come back for sigma butttt if he didnt . well dont you think mori , who sent chuuya into mersault , would be extremely pleased to have someone with an ability like sigmas . and sigma wouldnt really have too many options would he . being left behind again would probably kill any trust he had in the ada and really all his ability has ever been suiteed for is criminal activity right ? and that is how we get pm!sigma . which means chuuya and sigma interactions . they can bond over shared experiences like having somewhat funky relationships with humanity, terrible haircuts theyre somehow pulling off, and wanting to kick the shit out of dazai .

unpopular opinion - sigma

this is more of a bsdtwt / bsdtok problem but yall do know if you like a characters design but not their actual character you can just say that instead of making up an overused fanon personality for them right

unpopular opinion - chuuya

idk if this is unpopular exactly but it is blatantly obvious when people only like him in relation to dazai like it is not subtle at all

favourite relationship - sigma

ooh this is hard . if we're talking about shipping exclusively then sigzai is my fave (almost got put off it by the aforementioned annoying bsdtwt though lmfao) . but i do also find it very interesting how he interacts with and views fyodor and nikolai . i do wish we had more on how they were like as an organisation

favourite relationship - chuuya

again, talking shipping id probably have to go with skk , but even in a non shipping context it really does interest me how him and dazai interact . theyre so fucking weird

favourite headcanon - sigma

living up to my duties as ceo of transmasc sigma , thats obviously my favourite headcanon . hes soooo trans guy coded its insane . bless him . also my headcanon that he always has that new book smell hanging around him no matter what . cause . yknow .

favourite headcanon - chuuya

ok i also love to headcanon chuuya as a trans guy like honestly asagiri what is it with you accidentally coding all your funky little guys as trans . also i reckon hes a tea drinker . he will fuck that shit up . hes got all the fancy ones yknow those really weird flavours that honestly are barely even tea anymore thats just a fancy drink but hey the box is pretty so

[quilteddreamz]

Hiya, I'm your secret skeleton!

Saw your message in the discord about refs and I'm wondering if you could perhaps give me a detailed description of what you specifically had in mind visually, it'll be greatly appreciated!^^

Also best of luck with your own secret skeleton gift!(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ✧⁠*⁠。

Hello my spooky little friend! Such an honour to have you here!

I'm so excited to get to work on my own, but first I made this for you!

I did everything in bullet points so it’s easier to comb through :3

Also I've included some mentions of how the character interacts with the reader, but if adding a reader/insert isn’t your style, feel free to ignore it.

KingOfHearts!Eclipse:

Colour scheme is Red, white, and black.

He wears an expensive, but not crazy-looking suit. He has a minimalistic vibe to him.

His rays are sharp, with smaller ones in between. Red that tapers off into bold white at the ends.

The crescent part is red. The shadowed part of his face is still shadowed though it holds a navy hue— or dark red if that looks better (if it is art. Colour theory is my enemy lol)

He has white eyeliner under his eye to make it pop. He has white littered around his design to make him stand out so he’s not just red and black.

He has hearts littered around his design (I don’t have placement ideas yet)

Personality wise he’s very full of himself. Thinks he’s above everyone else— and to a degree, he is. Ready to behead someone for glancing at him.

Everyone fears him and his dark grin.

He loves his tarts. So much so he won’t let anyone else eat them

He enjoys the reader, though he refuses to call them anything but Alice— which the reader isn’t a fan of. He will flatter the reader in the midst of screaming at a guard for sneezing. The reader can do nothing but distract him so he doesn’t behead any poor fool.

MadHatter!Sun:

Colour scheme is yellow, red, and green. 

Everything about him is uneven from his lopsided smile to his bent hat. Any holes in his clothing were sewn up by cloth patches that clearly don’t match the original material.

He has a big bow tie and large hat! 

For the rest of his design, I’ve included the mad hatter picture for the Alice in wonderland live-action movie! I think it suits him decently

He more or less looks like Sun but in mad hatter cosplay lol.

He is goofy, and according to the King!Eclipse, an idiot.

But he is far from stupid. He loves playing tricks and asking riddles. He enjoys baking and is quite the inventor of new foods for his parties.

He is delighted to have the reader join him for tea! So much so he doesn’t want them to leave!

He is definitely off the wall.

Cheshire!Moon:

Colour scheme is purple, blue, and silver.

Sometimes he’s just eyes and a sharp-toothed grin. Other times he’s a robot, somehow lounging in a tree that shouldn’t support his weight.

His grin is too wide, stretching just past his cheeks. Due to this, his mouth can unhinge.

His pupils are cat-like, full of mischievousness.

He has ears and a tail. Striped to match the Cheshire cat. His ears poke out of holes in his hat.

He lacks his shirt but has goofy, fluffy pyjama pants.

His face is mostly the same outside of the cat stuff. The colour is all the same, save for more purple shades and purple accents.

I found a picture that encapsulated the creepiness of the characters! You may also use it as a colour ref if it's helpful!

He is a trickster like his brother, but more of a mean one. He loves temping people down the wrong path in the woods, making jokes and comments that make ones skin crawl— or thats the spider he dropped on you.

He loves to play, and always takes it too far.

He visits both of his brothers— when Eclipse will let him. And enjoys company.

He has made it his sole purpose in life to taunt and bother the reader while secretly keeping them from the dangers of wonderland.

Original/Normal!DCA

If any of the descriptions/personalities above don’t work for you, I would love to see your take on the DCA during this festive season! Have fun with it! All I ask is they're doing something spooky :3

I have monster designs too if you're interested in those. This is just everything I got done before lunch.

I'll put this on Discord so you can easily find it. Let me know if you need anything else!

Helpful images below! (Though I will warn you, the Cheshire image is spooky. Honestly, It's like a jumpscare lol.)

For Moon ^^

An Idea for Eclipse' suit!

For Sun ^^