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backtothefanfiction · 3 months ago

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FELLOWSHIP

PART ONE OF THE GREEN LEAVES TRILOGY.

Summary: Part One follows the storyline of the Fellowship of the Ring. This is a reader insert with a name. (Apart from giving reader a Middle Earth appropriate name and some Elven features there’s no specific descriptors) Raea and Legolas have history, when an old friend calls in your help for a mission it brings up old feelings.

Warnings: 18+, light smut, angst, canon typical warnings, dodgy internet translated elvish, protective Legolas, reader insert no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.7k+

A/N: Legolas is honestly my first fictional love from this lifetime. I have wanted to write something for him for years. Seeing a prompt from @imclimbingthestairsoforthanc for more Legolas content a couple months back now really pushed me to work on something. I was just going to post this all as one, but part 2 is getting kind of long and I didn’t want to wait anymore. So I’ve divided it up by the trilogy. Anyway, I hope readers enjoy.

You had always hated Bree. It very rarely saw the sun. It was like it had its own perpetual cloud of rain falling onto the small village, its streets forever a sticky river of mud.

You tried to wipe it off of your shoes, but it was stubborn and persistent, as you made your way through the doors of the Prancing Pony, to meet the old friend who had asked for your council.

“Still sitting brooding in corners and avoiding attention I see.” You say as you sidle up to his table, finally lowering your hood.

“Still hiding your ears, I see.” He merely replies.

It’s true, of course. Ever since you fled Mirkwood after Thranduil made a show of humiliating you for being a half breed and you’d sought out refuge in your Father’s realm of men, you had always made sure to style your hair so that it covered your ears; the only physical indicator, apart from your fair complexion, that gave away your Mother’s Elven lineage.

You held the rangers dark gaze for a moment. The tension crackling between you, before you both broke out in grins.

“Raea.” He sighed in delight.

“Aragorn.” You smiled back, taking a seat at the table beside him.

“It’s been too long.” He says, reaching a hand across the table to you.

“Aye, it has.” You sigh, allowing him to take your hand in his, his thumb rubbing a comfortable greeting across the back of it, before he dropped it once more. “Tell me.” You say pleasantly, yet with an air of caution, “What ails you that you have to seek me out.”

“I have news, from a friend.”

“What friend?” You frown. You fear he means the Prince you once knew and loved, but his tone implies another.

His voice is hushed as he says, “There is an evil roaming these lands.” Your eyes grow concerned as you hold his gaze, recollecting the dark forces you sense drawing nearer, the evil who’s heavy tendrils hang thickly in the air these days, growing ever stronger.

“I have heard rumours.” You say, your voice growing lower as you lean further across the table to the dark haired man; and he you.

“They aren’t just rumors.” He cautions. “They are here- searching.” His voice says, growing urgent. “There is one.” He says lowly, allowing the raucous sounds of the tavern, mask your conversation. “One who has set out on a quest to Rivendell.”

“Who?” You frown, your body leaning even closer.

He doesn’t reply with a name, but instead looks towards a small group of Hobbits, sitting at a table the far side of the room.

“Them?” You question when you turn back towards him.

“I need you to ride ahead to Rivendell. Tell Lord Elrond.”

“But Aragorn, I can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

“I have not been a part of Elven society for many moons. Since before the Mayrond Star fell from the heavens.” You tried to say, growing panicked.

“I would not ask, if it were not dire.” Aragorn pressed.

Your body sagged as you conceded, your gaze falling contemplative to the table before you.

“You must go now.” He urged. “Things will happen this night and you must make haste before they are upon us. Even now as we speak, the power grows stronger.”

You meet his gaze and nod in acknowledgment. “Go now, my dear lady.” He urges once more, his hand reaching out to encompass yours in a brief yet firm squeeze of dismissal.

“Wait for us there. Lord Elrond will grant you shelter.” He attempted to reassure you as you stood.

You gave him a brief nod, raising your hood back over your head, before turning to leave; flashing a brief look to the halflings in question whose fates were to be changed forever.

———————

True to Aragorn’s word, Elrond did provide for you shelter, as you awaited the arrival of the four Hobbits and Aragorn. Upon hearing your message, Elrond’s daughter Arwen fled to help. It was she who now rode quickly back into the Elven City with one of the Hobbits held tightly to her chest. The small dark, curly haired, creature, looked sickly as the beautiful Elven princess brought her horse to a halt in the courtyard.

“What happened?” You asked frantically, as you raced to take the reigns from her, the young hobbit being pulled from atop the horse in front of her by two other elves.

“He was stabbed by one of the Nazgûl.” She replied urgently. “He is dying. He needs help.”

The frail young Hobbit, reached for something at his chest, but you didn’t get a chance to see what it was, before he was taken inside.

Aragorn arrived with the others hours later.

———————

You did not go down to the courtyard to meet Legolas or his brethren as they rode through the gates of Rivendell. Instead you merely watched from the safety of a window. But he saw you. Of course he did. He’d always said that in a sky full of stars, he would always be able to pick you out.

You hid nevertheless, yet still listened out for mention of his name amongst the circling conversations over what it was the Hobbit Frodo had brought. It was all in vain though.

His hand grasped yours, pulling you away from the pillar you had been hiding behind. You hadn’t heard him coming, his footsteps always feather light. A hunters feet.

“Why do you hide from me?” Legolas asked, pulling you into a dark alcove, his brow furrowing as he looked you over.

He had said he cared not of what his Father had said. Cared not of your parentage. If anything it had made him love you even more. Yet you had still left.

“I do not hide from you.” You replied, denial dripping out of every word.

His gaze narrowed more. You followed it as his cerulean eyes moved from your own eyes to your ears, his fingers tentatively moving to lift the carefully placed strands of hair, behind their points, instead of in front of them.

“Why do you cover them?”

“To help me fit in.”

He sighed and it was like you could see the pit that opened up within his chest. He had always been so open with his feelings.

“You should not have left.” He says softly but the statement of his words, remain.

“I could not have stayed.”

“Then you should have let me go with you.” He said, his lingering hand at the side of your face, moving to trace the lines of your cheekbones, before he cupped the soft flesh of your cheek,

You shook your head slightly, slowly pulling away from his touch as pain swimmed in your eyes. “But you could not.” You said with a faint yet pained smile, before you pushed yourself away from him completely and walked away,

———————

There was to be a meeting. Another man, Boromir, and a dwarf, named Gimli, also arriving in Rivendell, along with a greying wizard named Gandalf. As you made your way towards the veranda in which the meeting would be held, you felt a hand on your arm stop you. You looked to the fair haired elf confused.

“You will not go.” He simply stated.

His assumption and command irritated you. “What do you mean, I will not go?” You said, attempting to push past him, headed towards the door, but his grip on your bicep tightened. “Let go of me.” You said trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

His blue eyes were fixed on you, a sense of steel behind them. Still after all this time a need to protect you, even though he had been the one to train you, to teach you all that he knew. “You will not go,” he said again,

“You don’t own me.” You snapped at him, “You do not control me or what I do.” You said, trying to pull your arm from him again to attend the meeting.

He pulled at your arm tighter, whirling you around and pinning your back to the wall behind you both. “I will not have you be a part of this. You have been pulled into this enough already. If you go. If you pledge yourself as I intend to pledge, my bow, my life, I will not be able to fight the way I need to.” He said, that hard stare, boring into you. The care behind it for you, his need to keep you safe from harm, making you soften slightly and you stopped fighting his firm grip on your arm,

“Please,” he urged, his voice growing softer as he leaned into you, “I did not fight your decision when you left my Father’s kingdom. When you,” his voice grew quiet as he mustered the energy to fight through the pain of the reality of his words, “when you decided to leave me. Please, do not fight me on this. Let me protect you.” You didn’t fight him as he lowered his forehead to yours, his eyes closing.

There was a long pause as you savoured the feeling of his skin on yours after so long. “Okay.” You finally but reluctantly gave in. He lifted his head to look at you. “Okay.” You said again and his tension seemed to ease.

———————

They were due to set out at sunrise. Your bed, that once felt soft, comforting and safe in the confines of Elrond’s kingdom, now felt hard, uncomfortable, cold and far too spacious; as you turned back and forth and back again, unable to sleep. Fear and worry marred your gut. You hated that you would not go. Not help keep your friends safe. That the man you once loved so dearly, would shut you out from this for your own safety. The man you used to fight side by side with, trained with day in and day out, now thought this one mission too threatening to your lives he would have you sit out. Once loved? Or still loved?

The moment you laid eyes on him again, that ache in your chest consumed you, wanting to split you into two.

You would not, could not, let him just leave like this, on a quest that you knew only excited him due to the challenge and risk to his life. The only thing that could make his immortal life feel more alive.

You ripped the sheets from your body, wrapping yourself in a velvet robe and left your room to seek out his. The sky was starting to turn grey with the first light when you knocked on the door. You knew he was already up. Had heard him through the wood, grunting and panting as he did his usual morning exercise.

When he opened the door, he didn’t look completely surprised by your presence. When your eyes silently narrowed in question, he said, “I heard your feet come to a stop outside the door near 5 minutes back.”

“What and you didn’t think to just come open the door?” You questioned, stepping past him into the room.

“I wanted to see if you would have the courage for yourself to knock. Or if you would decide it a bad idea and go back to bed.” He breathed, closing the door behind you.

You sighed as you made yourself at home on his bed. He seemed to swallow slightly but you paid it no mind, “I couldn’t sleep.” You explained.

“Naun gohena nin-“ he began to say. I’m sorry I…

“Don’t.” You cut him off. There was pain in your eyes. Great sorrow for all that had been. Everything you had had together, that you walked away from in fear, because you didn’t think yourself good enough for him. Because you believed his Father.

He stepped across the room to you. His hand lifting to cup your cheek. “*amman car-dh *gwanna.” Why did you leave?

You shrugged him off. “Law iston.” I don’t know. “Not anymore.” You breathed as he sat himself beside you. “I feared what your father said was true. I would never be good enough for you. A Prince?”

“I have not been that in a long time. You know that.”

“But I should not have been the thing that made you step away from that.”

“You weren’t. I did it for me.”

“Do not lie.” You sighed, as you suddenly rose from the bed. This had been a mistake.

You froze as his hand reached out for your arm, forcing you to stop, to look at him- to hear him out. “I do not lie. Would never lie.” He said, a hard look in his eye. Was that really how you saw him. “You know I never aligned with my Father’s views. Would never align with them. That’s why he sent me away, in hopes it would change my mind- but instead I found you- and my resolve grew stronger.”

You both grew quiet, realising you had come to an impass.

Knowing you were unable to come to an agreement on that truth, you decided to pull from him another. “You do not think you will return.” You all but confirm from the sorrowful look that now seemed to penetrate his eyes. A look that spoke volumes to times lost.

“I plan to do all that I can for the cause. We head to dangerous lands and I long swore an oath to protect.” He says, finally releasing his hold on your arm.

“And what of the oath you made to me.”

When he looked to you, tears were beginning to well in your eyes. It broke his heart, his hands instinctively reaching out to you. “I did not think you wished me to keep it.” He confided in a whisper. “But if you wish me to, I shall. If you wish me to return to you, I shall.”

You didn’t know what to say. He was your everything. Your first and only love. A part of you would always be at home with him. Would only be complete with him at your side. With him standing before you now, you hadn’t realised how much you had missed him being there.

“Don’t make any more promises you cannot hope to keep.” You said, your eyes dropping to the floor. “You already said,” you continued, pulling yourself away from his grasp, “if I were with you on this journey, you would not be able to do what you need to- whether I am physically with you, or just in here.” You placed a gentle finger to his temple and his head softened and turned towards your touch.

You both knew you were right. Neither one of you spoke as you began to walk slowly back towards the door, unable to say goodbye. As you turned your body towards the door to reach for the door handle, you suddenly felt him at your back, his hand tugging at your own to pull you back into him. As your body turned, his lips latched themselves onto yours. His kiss was desperate, deep and filled with a longing that could span lifetimes.

You didn’t question it, the familiarity melting over you like the rays of the sun on a summers afternoon, warm and inviting. He lifted you effortlessly from the ground as his lips continued to move against yours, both desperate, yet long and drawn out to savor every moment. You wrapped your legs tightly around him as he began to lead you back to his bed. You didn’t have it in you to fight him anymore.

It all happened between a few heated breaths and desperate touches, suddenly you were free of your robe as he lay you back upon his bed. Although it had been many a year since you had last lay together, with the familiarity you still had with one another’s bodies, anyone would think it had been no time at all.

He parted from you so that he may lift his loose fitting tunic from his head as you sat up, fingers racing to undo the strings of his slacks.

Once fully naked, he leant down to latch his lips onto yours once more, but quickly parted again as he reached for the bottom of your robe, lifting it up your body and over your head, before it too was thrown onto a heap on the floor with the rest of his clothes.

The sex was desperate and quick. There was still so much neither of you had said. Each unspoken word and feeling from your time apart turned to tension that sizzled and snapped like the embers of the dwindling fire on the far side of the room. You moaned with the stretch of him, whimpered and shuddered when his lips tried to soothe you through every pounding thrust of his hips.

When you had lay together in the past it was usually tender, soft and slow, some may even say you were making love, but this, this was a different kind of fucking entirely- and you loved it.

As you both finished, he rolled off of you, both of you now laying on your backs in a sweaty mess, all angst from your previous conversation completely forgotten. As you both lay there panting and cooling down, you ran a hand through your hair before you looked at him, but his eyes were fixed to the ornate carvings across the ceiling.

You stared at his must hair. Watched as his piercing blue eyes traced the line on the ceiling above, as he silently thought.

“I want you to tie my braids.” He finally said.

His words stopped you in your tracks. You couldn’t help but blink in disbelief. Elven braids weren’t just to look pretty and keep all that beautiful flowing hair out the way. They were a statement. To have a partner do your braids for you to go off to battle, was almost a marriage ritual in itself.

When you didn’t say anything, he finally turned his head to look at you. You couldn’t help but fixate on all the whispy strands of his golden hair that stuck themselves to the pillow behind his head and stuck up in every which way.

“I want you to tie my braids.” He said again, as if you hadn’t heard him the first time.

“No.” You suddenly cut in. “No.” You said, shaking your head and closing your eyes before swiftly scrambling over him to get off the bed.

“Raea.” He tried to call after you as you reached for your night gown from the floor and placed it back on.

“No.” You said again as you picked up your robe and placed your arms back through the velvety sleeves. “No, you can’t ask that of me.”

“Why not?” He asked in that husky and breathy tone of his that always seemed to make tingles flow down your spine.

“You know very well why not.” You said, wrapping the ties of the robe around your waist and fastening them tightly in a knot. You sighed as your hands found a home on your hips and you turned to him exasperated.

“Has there been another for you?” He asks, sitting on the bed, still naked, hands resting on his thighs as he looks at you.

It takes you a moment to answer. You have indeed slept with other men on your travels since him, but you know that’s not what he means. He’s asking you if you have ever loved anyone else. “No.” You finally reply timidly. There’s another moments pause before you ask him the same question. “What about you? Has there ever been anot-“

You haven’t even finished the question before he’s standing and walking towards you as he says “No.”

He comes to a stop before you, reaching out to take your hands in his and you can’t help but seem to relax at his touch. “I want you to tie my braids.” He says again tenderly. “So that I may take you with me. To remind me to return to you.”

In another life time you would have said yes. Would have jumped for joy at his proposal, but you know how important this is. You know what this truly means. You know what happened to make you part. Know all that is still yet to be put right. Can still clearly see the things you have come to resent about him reflected in his eyes.

You shake your head, “No.” you whisper with tears in your eyes. When you slowly begin to back away, only letting your fingers slip from his when you are no longer in his reach, he lets you.

When you wake again three hours later, they are already gone.

———————

Waiting for news after their departure was torture. Talk of what they had set out to do was limited, not many made aware of the task set for the small company; but when it did come, Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen made sure you were kept in the know.

Once the Fellowship had left, they had insisted on you continuing to stay with them. You had no doubt it had something to do with Aragorn’s wishes. You were grateful for the company. Grateful for the luxury. You trained with their guards most mornings to keep you in condition and stimulated. In the afternoons you took walks with Arwen talking fondly of your adventures over the years with the heir of Gondor.

However as the days passed you grew reckless. Never in your life had you stayed in one place for so long. When the news finally reached you of Gandalf’s departure from the company, you wasted no time in saddling a horse and making ready to ride out to join them.

You knew what Legolas had said. You also had heard news of the Orc forces growing. But you couldn’t sit back and do nothing anymore. Despite Arwen’s protests you were reluctantly allowed to leave.

———————

You rode hard and fast through the days and made strategic camp through the night. After what felt like weeks of travelling you finally reached Lothlórien, where you were taken in by the Lady Galadriel and her company. When you reached the wood, you were surprised to find their guard already awaiting you. It turned out Lord Elrond had contacted the Lady of the Wood and asked her to watch over you.

Being in the wood had a strange restorative power that called to your Elven heritage. The soft breeze through the trees and song in the ripples of the waters that flowed through it made you feel peaceful and rejuvenated as you slept. They insisted you stay three days. On that final day, you wished that you hadn’t.

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@imclimbingthestairsoforthanc @starlight5cat @lillisummers

#Legolas #Legolas x reader #reader insert #Lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the fellowship of the ring #lotr fellowship #legolas fanfiction #Orlando bloom characters

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canisvesperus · 6 months ago

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I’ve seen some discussion on this, so allow me to explain something.

Some people do not seem to grasp why artists like me draw so much fashionable Eridan. He’s not fashionable at all, just look at his canon outfit, they say. Well, it is simple. Eridan is one of the few trolls actually experimenting with fashion at a young age in the comic. Look me in the eye and tell me you too weren’t a hot mess trying to dress “fashionable” in middle school. Yet, chances are that if you had that awareness and drive early on, you will also develop a sense of style and grasp on aesthetics earlier in life compared to your peers. This was my experience. I was well known for being very stylish as a kid, but this didn’t happen overnight. Indeed, if you were one of these kids you most definitely started off with some odd or disharmonious clothing combinations that you threw together in an attempt to express yourself aesthetically despite inexperience in that type of self-expression. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I usually draw young adult Eridan. Obviously given some time, his tastes would develop and mature into something derived from those original aesthetic visions, but far more cohesive.

It’s clear he’s trying to assert his individualism and status in his clothing choices, and most of y’all shrug him off as having bad taste while not also foreseeing the intent and vision behind those choices. I see it, and so do other artists. We differ in how we portray this derivation because there are frankly a dozen different directions he could take it depending on the circumstances of the post-canon/fix it scenario. This is why you may see me refer to the Eridan in my depictions as “my Eridan”. I don’t presume to depict something identical to Homestuck proper, nor am I particularly interested in doing so. If you’re the type of person who is married to the events of canon and cannot consider a scenario involving an older Eridan who was allowed to grow and change, this is why we are not seeing eye to eye— and I’m certain this is the root cause of various other discourses as they pertain to portraying the character in post-canon fanworks. That’s fine. That’s your choice. My choice is different.

Eridan consistently demonstrates concern (an excess, really, which backfired for him in the cruelest of ways poor thing) with respect to how he is perceived, hence the consciously thought out image-crafting and classic Eridan façades that his own peers call him out on for being poorly executed, transparent, and otherwise not believable. They were kids. This is normal. Of course he doesn’t have himself figured out yet. It’s a process. Some people in this fandom believe his façade in the most literal and uncritical of ways but this is all a story for another day. Is his drip game shit though, without regards for fan interpretations? If you’re asking me, I don’t think it’s really that bad considering his age. I really don’t think it’s that bad. That kind of scarf with the cape is a bit much to wear around the neck. Maybe he’ll swap the big scarf for something similar in function and category but less top heavy— a cravat, jabot, bandana, or lavallière? If the cape is too overwhelming for the rest of the outfit, a smaller caplet, shawl, or a coat will work. To accommodate some of the alternative neckwear, a shirt with a collar would be preferable. What many people perceive as a turtleneck sweater, need not be entirely sacrificed. Put a sweater vest on that boy. I see lots of complaints about the shoes and pants. More discreet pinstripes and more formal shoes (field boots, paddock boots, oxfords) will work. Of course he can go in the opposite direction, less formal, in that case the cape can go and the long scarf can stay, get some cool sneakers, consider denim bottoms or casual slacks in a single color, accents welcome. However this isn’t the derivation I pursue so I feel less qualified to speculate. He could ditch all of it even. Start new and fresh especially if he were to go through a markedly subversive reclamation of identity and character redemption sort of process. In any case, he can work with it!!! You just have to believe in him.

I believe Eridan had a lot of narrative potential that was wasted, possibly out of disinterest for the character. It’s only predictable that artists like me simply want to devise a world in which these characters had a chance to actually live their lives. I truly do not understand why there has to be so much confusion over this. That‘s all.

#*Stilgar voice* I don’t care what you believe I BELIEVE #I think my time in a certain sector of the Star Wars fandom during my hiatus from the Homestuck fandom did a number on me too btw #Defy every cynical narrative became our war cry for a long time lmfao #Fam I miss you thanks for enabling me 😭 anyway #I wrote this at 4 am #I’ve been holding in so many fucking thoughts for so long so get ready #homestuck #eridan ampora #eridan #ven talks #meta

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 9 months ago

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Breaking the Class Ceiling Chapter 4

This is set in early 1900s U.S.A., during the Edwardian era with some style changes into the upcoming Art Nouveau period. I've changed history a bit for this. Pretending that America didn't have a full Civil War and trying to create a more optimistic outcome for the purposes of the story. I've also tried to research what the rules for society/socializing were back then, and tweaked some of them.

Warnings for upcoming chapters: minor character death, some sexual harassment/assault (but nothing too graphic or traumatic), smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

*smut (ish) in this chapter

Rumor had quickly spread of what happened at the party, and out of embarrassment and public ridicule Rumlowe and Pierce quickly left to go out west to “find new opportunities.”

Everyone’s attention was now fixed on the World Fair. It started in April and was ending in December in St. Louis. You were planning a trip and had invited multiple people in your social circle, including Steve and Bucky.

“You must come, my darling,” you cooed at him as you flitted around your drawing room, making plans and riddling off a list of things to pack to the maid who was furiously writing.

“You know I can’t afford a trip to St. Louis, my love,” Bucky sighed quietly.

“You won’t be paying for it, dearest, I will,” you announced with no room for argument.

“I can’t miss work,” he said. “Mr. Fury has many contracts he needs me to take care of in these next few months. The holidays are coming up, too. I can’t take so much time off before then.”

“Oh pish posh,” you waved him off. “You can quit your job. I’ll pay you to be my personal escort,” you quickly twirled in front of him, “in more ways than one,” you winked at him.

Bucky laughed as the maid in the corner blanched at your innuendo. “You’d pay me to be your date?” he asked incredulously. “No, Y/N, besides I like my job, I need to earn my own way.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, plopping down on your knees in front of him where he sat. He gulped. “You are refusing my gifts again? My darling, I told you to learn to accept my gifts. I have plenty. And if you must earn it,” you shuffled closer to him, setting your chin on his knee, looking up at him innocently, “then why not earn it by being the best beau to me while on vacation?”

Bucky gulped again, watching you carefully as you sat looking up at him. As much as he enjoyed these (mostly) private moments, they were a tease, causing a kind of itch in his lower abdomen that he more than once had to relieve when he arrived home after spending time at your house. As if sensing his hesitation, you glanced at the maid. “Bessy, could you give us a moment’s privacy please?”

Bessy sniffed indignantly as she booked it out of the room, closing the door behind her. When the coast was clear you lifted your head and then placed your hands on his knees, sliding them up his thighs slowly as you gave him a doe-eyed stare. His breath stopped as he watched you, his own hands had a death grip on the arms of the chair he sat on. Your hands slid close to his core, which was pulsing. He tried to shift away so you wouldn’t see but it didn’t deter you. You scratched your fingernails down his legs as you slid your hands back down.

“Will you come with me to St. Louis?” you asked in a voice that was feigning innocence.

Bucky’s hips stuttered as your hands started to slide up again, this time your right hand rubbing his inner thigh right next to his throbbing cock.

“Y/N, you…mmmh,” he moaned lightly, sounding strangled as he tried to stop himself. “We can’t, it’s not…we’re not married,” he mumbled, losing coherence quickly.

“Yet,” you corrected, your fingers sliding until they slightly stroked his cock through his pants. He moaned again, his hand flying to your wrist to stop you. “Will you come with me to St. Louis?” you asked again, this time standing, hiking up your dress and straddling his lap before he could stop you. You ran your hands up his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck, dipping your head down to the crook of his neck and kissing it repeatedly. Without much thought he brought his hands to your hips, keeping you over his cock as he cautiously rutted up into you. Your kisses became more heated and you sucked on different spots, making Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head. You made your way to his ear, your breath tickling his neck, then you nipped his earlobe, making him whimper lightly. “I’m your job now, my darling,” you said in an authoritative and husky tone. Bucky nodded. “You’ll come with me to St. Louis,” you continued. He nodded again, gritting his teeth as he rutted up harder into your clothed center. “I will pay you for your troubles, since my company is apparently less important than writing contracts,” you tugged his shirt down and gave a broad lick from his collar bone to his ear, sucking on his earlobe. He whimpered louder.

“No troubles, doll, my pretty doll, please,” he begged, his hands kneading your thighs now. “I’ll do whatever you want, just please.”

“Please what, darling?” you teased, peppering soft kisses across his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, down his chin, and so close to his lips but without actually touching them.

“Oh God, please, I need to, to…” he trembled beneath you as your hands stroked through his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck.

“Go ahead, darling,” you gave him permission, your lips hovering over his mouth. You ground down on his lap a few times, which was enough for him to finally burst. His hips shook as his head fell back, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth slack as he panted. As he finished in his trousers he pulled you in close, setting his forehead against your forehead, noses nuzzling each other as he came down from his high. “Very good, my love. You’re so handsome like this,” she teased as she gave his nose a small peck.

“I love you, Y/N,” Bucky sighed, his embrace tightening around you.

You let out a sound of surprise, looking at him with wide eyes. “I know we are not engaged, but none of what we’ve done in this courtship is traditional, so to hell with it. I love you. I think of you constantly. I want nothing more than to spend every waking moment with you.”

“I feel the same, Buck,” you said, a wide smile on your face.

“So if you want to employ me to do so, then I accept. Though I’d happily do it for free,” he gave you a mischievous smile. You snorted at him as you rolled your eyes.

“What’s your going rate, Barnes?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #series fanfic #chapter 4

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silentsnowflower · 3 months ago

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Lazy-bones versus Soft-paws

A slice of life in ThunderClan a year after the Great Hunger, from the perspective of Speckleflight (Speckletail in canon), who was a kit during the Great Hunger. So much of her formative moons - kithood and apprenticeship were shaped by the Great Hunger and as a young warrior, having just lived through a normal leaf-bare, is beginning to see the clan recover - mostly. Except for a few cats.

In this AU, the ThunderClan family tree has been substantially overhauled. Here, Speckleflight and Tawnyspots are littermates and are the offspring of Mumblefoot and Fawnspots (Doestar’s sister), born shortly before the leafbare known to the clans as the Great Hunger. I always imagined the two of them looking similar and this way, it makes more sense to me, for Goldenflower to name her daughter Tawnykit - after her uncle, who was also Goldenflower’s mentor in this AU.

I’m also still trying to practice with Procreate (specifically with coloring and shading) and find my style. Time spent on the drawing is approximately 2 hours.

TW: Grief

Speckleflight lay stretched out in front of the warrior’s den, enjoying the warm of the newleaf sun on her fur. It’d been so long since she’d felt properly warm and she was so close to feeling bundled up in sunshine. Now, if we could just take Sunningrocks back from RiverClan. She flexed her claws, imagining sinking them into the thick-furred, oily pelt of a RiverClan warrior. She would send their warriors screeching from the gray, flat-topped stones, claiming them for herself - and ThunderClan, of course. Purring, she imagined stretching out on the stones.

“What’s got you so happy this dawn?”

Speckleflight rolled over and blinked happily up at Robinchest. The wiry brown and ginger queen stood over her, scraps of moss still clinging to her pelt. “Just enjoying the sunshine.” Her paws flexed, kneading the air happily. Stop that, Speckletail scolded herself. You’re not a kit anymore.

“It is a nice day,” Robinchest murmured, settling down next to the young warrior. With brusque strokes of her tongue, she began tidying her pelt. “Has Mumblefoot sent out any patrols yet?”

Speckleflight shook her head. “Not that I’ve seen.” Her father was sitting attentively next to Pinestar, listening as the ThunderClan leader spoke to him. “I think he’s letting the clan have a slow start today. The dawn patrol hasn’t come back yet. They’re a little late.”

Robinchest chuckled. “Fuzzypelt bet me some fresh moss that Weedwhisker asks to stop and hunt.”

“Did you take him up on it?” Speckleflight looked sidelong at the queen. She seemed happier, lighter today - like her constant grief was not weighing on her as much.

Robinchest flicked her tail as she shook her head. “No. We’re already on moss-duty today. He’s already getting fresh moss for his nest.”

“Seems a pointless bet,” Speckleflight purred. “Weedwhisker is always hungry. You know you’d lose.”

“Indeed.” A heartbeat later, the queen added, “I can’t wait until we get some apprentices. Then I won’t have to worry about gathering moss or helping the elders with their ticks.” She made a face with the last statement.

“You don’t even like taking care of your own. I’ve seen how you beg Fuzzypelt to get them off you,” Speckleflight teased.

Robinchest swiped at her half-heartedly, cuffing Speckleflight’s ear. “Don’t forget - I raised you.” Just like that, grief settled on the queen, as thick and heavy as the snow during the Great Hunger. There was a far-away look in the queen’s eyes. She was haunted by the ghosts of her lost kits. Her milk and her warmth had not been enough to save them. Speckleflight could hardly remember the three kits - two brown and one black. They’d been born tiny scraps of fur at the start of leafbare, when Speckleflight was just two moons old, and died two moons later, while Speckleflight and the rest of the clan struggled through the gray twilight haze of perpetual cold and hunger.

“I know,” Speckleflight mewed, deliberately keeping her tone light. She missed Fawnspots dearly. Too many of the clan had been lost to starvation. At least I still have Tawnyspots.

As though she’d called for him, Tawnyspots slipped out of the warrior’s den. He glanced at Robinchest and tilted his head to the side, in a question. His green eyes were shadowed with concern. Speckleflight shook her head, rising to her paws to greet him. “How’d you sleep, lazy-bones?”

“Well enough,” he meowed. “I didn’t have to go on the dawn patrol.”

“That’s just as well,” Speckleflight chirped. “They’d hear your sleep-heavy paws coming from tree-lengths away.”

“Oh - you’re one to talk.” A mischievous glint appeared in Tawnyspots’s gaze. “Every cat in the forest knows when you’ve stepped on a bramble, soft-paws.”

“Take that back!” Speckleflight ordered, a growl in her throat.

Tawnyspots danced away, his tail flicking in an invitation for her to come and get him. His ears tipped back and he crouched down. “Make me.”

Speckleflight leaped for him, paws outstretched. The two young warriors collided in a tangle of fur and paws, rolling head over tail as they grappled. “I was having a fine morning until you decided to stick your nose in it,” she puffed.

His hind paws battered at her stomach and he kicked her off, sweeping her forepaws out from underneath her in the same move. She crashed to the ground and he was on top of her, pinning her. “How about you take back your lazy-bones comment?” he meowed, thrusting his muzzle in her face.

Her gaze flickered to Robinchest and so did his. The queen was still looking lost, not paying any attention to their mock-fight. Tawnyspots exhaled slowly. “Sometimes it feels like she’s not ever going to get any better.”

“It will take time,” Speckleflight assured him, playfully kicking at his stomach. “Now, come on. Do you really think you can best me in a fight?”

“Seems I already have. I’m not the one on the ground.”

“Not like this!”

She drew her legs back and kicked his hind legs out from underneath him. Tawnyspots crashed down on her - driving the breath out of both of them. Gripping his shoulders with her paws, claws unsheathed just enough to hold onto his fur, she rolled them over, so that he was underneath her now. He twisted, trying to repeat the same move that had allowed him to pin her initially. She reared back, dodging, before diving down on top of him. He stopped her with a paw pressed against her brow, over paw poised to strike.

“That’s enough!” As quickly as the fight began, it was over. Speckleflight scrambled away from her brother, blinking innocently at Mumblefoot, who had finished his conversation with Pinestar. The dark brown tabby padded across the camp, his yellow eyes narrowed. “You’re warriors now. I expect you to act like one.”

“Sorry,” Speckleflight muttered, hoping her father did not call her out on her insincere tone. Tawnyspots said nothing.

“Now, I was going to have you lead your own patrol today, but-“

At this, Tawnyspots’s ears flicked forward. The young tom squared his shoulders, a quiet “No” escaping him, interrupting Mumblefoot.

“Excuse me?” Mumblefoot grumbled.

“Sorry, sir. I was just surprised that you were considering us for patrol leaders.”

“I was - but it seems that neither of you are mature enough to be leading one.”

“Oh - leave them be. I’ll lead whatever patrol you wanted Speckleflight to be in charge of. And she can come with me.”

Only Seedspeck. The mottled gray she-cat was Mumblefoot’s former apprentice and to Speckleflight, it seemed that nothing could scare the warrior. If I could be like her. She turned to look at the other warrior. Seedspeck’s green gaze was steady as she met Mumblefoot’s yellow one.

“Fine,” Mumblefoot grumbled, but his words were soft. “Take Speckleflight, White-eye, and Sunfall. I’ll leave it up to you to decide where to hunt.” As the deputy turned away, he continued, “because apparently no cat will listen to anything I say.”

“Only those who aren’t afraid of you,” Seedspeck meowed sharply. “You should quit terrorizing your children.”

Mumblefoot flicked his tail contemptuously.

I really want to be like you now, Speckleflight thought, staring at Seedspeck. She tipped her head towards her brother and murmured in his ear, “Will you stay with Robinchest?”

“Of course,” Tawnyspots promised. “I’ll see if I can get her to go hunting. Or for a walk. Just something to get her out of camp.”

“Maybe Goosefeather will have something for her,” Speckleflight meowed.

Tawnyspots shrugged. There was no love lost between him and the strange medicine cat. “I don’t think herbs will help.”

“Herbs won’t,” Seedspeck murmured, joining their conversation. “Just time and weather and new, good memories will help.”

“She’s supposed to go gather moss with Fuzzypelt today,” Speckleflight added, suddenly remembering what the queen had mentioned earlier. “Maybe you could take her, Fuzzypelt, and another cat on a patrol to gather some moss? Sparrowfur or Moonflower?”

“I’ll do that. Just be careful that Mumblefoot doesn’t hear you. He might think you’re wanting his job,” Tawnyspots purred, turning away to slip into the warrior’s den. “I’ll send White-eye and Sunfall out to you.”

“Tell them we’ll be waiting in the ravine,” Seedspeck called, padding away.

With a glance at Robinchest, Speckleflight followed. Her ears and tail drooped as she thought about the sorrowful queen.

“You can’t help her - not any more than you already are.” Seedspeck paused before the bramble barrier, her gaze lingering on Robinchest as well. “Caring for you and Tawnyspots is why she’s still here today. I’m glad you’ve never forgotten about her.”

“She’s like our mom,” Speckleflight explained, ducking through the thorns. “I spent more of my kithood with her than with Fawnspots.”

“I know.” Seedspeck stretched, hooking her claws over the top of one of the many boulders scattered along the ravine. Her back arched and the she-cat purred. “But don’t spend too much time worrying about her. Or dwelling on the… on the last leaf-bare. It’s a nice new-leaf day, and I, for one, want to enjoy the sunshine.”

“Maybe we could hunt by Sunningrocks?” Speckleflight suggested, hoping the older warrior would at least consider her suggestion.

“Sure!” Seedspeck nodded. “This way, we can scout out the best sunning spots before ThunderClan retakes Sunningrocks.”

Surprised, Speckleflight broke into a purr. She wasn’t the only cat dreaming of warmth.

Cats featured, in order of appearance/mention:

Speckleflight (Speckletail) - golden spotted-tabby she-cat with amber eyes

Robinchest (Robinwing) - light brown she-cat with ginger patches and amber eyes

Mumblefoot - long-furred dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Pinestar - large, dark reddish-brown tom with green eyes

Fuzzypelt - long-furred black and white tom with green eyes

Weedwhisker - pale ginger tom with white fleck and yellow eyes

Tawnyspots - broad shouldered brown tom with lighter, tawny spots and green eyes

Seedspeck (Seedpelt) - mottled gray she-cat with darker flecks and green eyes

White-eye (One-eye) - very pale gray and white she-cat with one blue eye and one cloudy, blind white eye

Sunfall - slender dark ginger tom with a lighter ginger tail and green eyes

Goosefeather - long-furred pale gray tabby tom with blue eyes

Sparrowfur (Halftail)- dark brown tabby tom with a stump of a tail and amber eyes

Moonflower - silver-gray tabby she-cat with dark stripes and very pale yellow eyes

Fawnspots (Deerdapple) - pale ginger spotted tabby she-cat with green eyes

#erin hunter warriors #warriors headcanon #rewrite of warriors #long reads #fanfic #warriors fanart #warrior cats #speckletail #tawnyspots #warriors designs

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alwaysbethewest · 2 years ago

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Kingsman fic: That's You for Me

Folks, you know that thing where you see a cowboy and you think, he's cute and all, but what if I wrote him as troubled and sad on New Year's Eve? Well—

Title: That's You for Me Pairing: Agent Whiskey/f!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.8k Content/warnings: alcohol, lingerie, a maudlin cowboy, established relationship, mundanity, softness, lap sitting, neither plot nor porn, kind of emotional hurt/comfort I guess? Reader is mostly blank slate but is described as having cleavage. Unbetaed but as always thank you to @mourningbirds1 and @fleetwoodmactshirt for being my sounding boards and cheerleaders 💞

It’s raining out, and the backseat of this car is a welcome refuge, warm and dry and clean. The driver has K-LOVE playing on the radio—quiet, contemporary love songs to Jesus after dark—and you wonder if he sees you as a soul in need of saving. You probably look the part—eye makeup overdone and smudged by now, and cleavage peeking out from under your coat. You’re buzzed on good champagne and mid-shelf vodka and you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror and give him a smile, because you can’t help it, because it’s New Year’s Eve and you’re filled with a sense of warmth and goodwill toward your fellow man.

Your own man had stayed home tonight, claiming a pile of work needed his attention, and the tone of his voice had told you it was an excuse, and the look on his face had told you not to push it, so you didn’t. The party was fun, even without him on your arm, but the want of him had been tugging you back home all evening and you’d bowed out well before midnight and summoned a cab.

The house is quiet, lit just enough for you to slip off your shoes and pick your way through the foyer and down the hall to the bedroom. You’re expecting him there, dozing already or relaxing with a book, ready to draw you in close and ring in the new year.

The bedroom is empty.

You wander through the house, making a detour to the kitchen for a glass of water and a plate of leftover iced sugar cookies from Christmas, and eventually you find Jack in the only place he ever could have been—his study.

It’s his favorite room in the house, the only one untouched by hired decorators or exes or you. It’s dark, and warm, and simple yet plush. His desk is massive, and he cuts an imposing figure behind it when he wants to. This room is designed to intimidate visitors as much as it is to suit himself.

Tonight, his posture is slumped in the sturdy desk chair, body half illuminated by the Tiffany-style table lamp to his right. The door is open, and you’re on bare feet, but he still catches you coming in and glances at his watch as he straightens upright.

“You’re back early,” he observes. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.”

Under your feet, the carpet is soft. You dig your toes into the threads as you walk towards him, enjoying the sensation. You still have your coat on, and it makes you feel sexy, like showing up in nothing but a trench coat, even though you’re fully dressed. You pause by the side of his desk to set down your treats and make a show of slipping off the coat.

Jack pushes his chair back from the desk, leaning back, and looks you up and down. “Well, well, well. Those legs go all the way down to the floor, now don’t they.”

“Well, well, well,” you drawl, with a laugh, “where else would they go, honey?”

He waggles his eyebrows. “I can think of a few places.”

“Very clever,” you tell him dryly, but the champagne bubbling through your system must be impairing your judgment because you feel genuinely amused and can’t hold back a smile.

You slip in front of his chair, perching against the edge of the desk, and he swivels to face you head on, letting his gaze linger on your thighs where your hem is riding high. He’s taken by the sight, distracted from whatever he’d been at before you came in, but there’s a tightness around his eyes that you recognize, that you know won’t dissipate all that easy.

You cock your head, listening to the music he’s got playing quietly on the stereo system. It’s a woman’s voice, high-pitched and full of heartache, singing a song that you can’t quite place. It would sound sad even if you couldn’t make out the words.

“Tammy?” you ask. His eyes travel up to meet your own and he looks a little sheepish. He knows that you, more than anyone, can see right through him.

“She’s been keeping me company.”

You lift one foot and rub it against his ankle. He feels far away from you still, despite sitting right there.

“I would’ve stayed home with you,” you tell him.

He’s silent for a beat.

“I wanted you to have fun,” he says. He reaches past you to pick up the glass of whiskey on his desk, and then rolls in closer so you’re nearly touching.

You open your legs for him, making room for his knees between yours. He rests his left hand, broad and warm, on the bare expanse of your thigh, and takes a slow sip of his drink.

“Tell me about the party,” he says.

You brush your fingers over his knuckles, drifting your eyes down his body. He’s wearing a soft, dark blue cashmere sweater and well-fitting charcoal trousers. It’s an elegant look for lounging around the house, and for a moment you find yourself wishing he’d come with you tonight, just for the image you would’ve struck together, his subdued, clean lines and your sparkly, low-cut dress.

“It was fun,” you tell him. “Trace and Geri were there. They were sorry not to see you.”

He shifts his jaw, thoughtfully.

“I told them you had pressing work to take care of,” you assure him. “They understood. Geri said she’ll find a date to have us over for dinner soon. Just the four of us.”

He nods.

“Linda brought her new boyfriend,” you continue. “You would’ve hated him.”

Jack laughs, surprised. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “Call it intuition.”

Call it the fact that the young man in question was clearly coked up all night, more like, but telling Jack that would ruin the good mood you’re trying to coax him into.

He makes a skeptical sound and slides his hand an inch higher, fingertips threatening to edge under the hem of your dress.

“What brought you home so early?” he asks. “I thought you’d be out past midnight.”

“The catering was no good,” you tell him. “And the music was too loud. And… I just thought—I would rather be here with you, anyway.”

He smiles, and shakes his head a little, like he doesn’t agree with your decision-making but appreciates the sentiment nonetheless. You reach your hand out to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb along his chin and up to the corner of his mouth, and you lean in closer, carefully, so he has nowhere to look but at you.

“Jack,” you whisper. “This is always where I’d rather be.”

He blinks, and you see something shift in his face��that tightness he’d been trying to mask momentarily relaxing away—a break in the self-punishing armor he’s put on tonight to keep everyone out. You’ve given him a statement of truth and he’s absorbing it now, reckoning with it, feeling the unhappy lies he’s told himself being tilted on their heads. He inhales, swallows hard, closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them again his face has gone a little softer, tension fading into relief, confusion turning to acceptance.

“Come here,” he murmurs, tugging at your hips.

He pulls you into his lap, straddling his thighs. Your dress rides up indecently and the space between you is shrouded dark and silky—his trouser fabric soft under your thighs and brushing through the thin layer of your underwear. His hands span across your back, holding you close and secure, and he tips his head up to press a kiss under your jawline before leaning forward and down to nose into the valley of your cleavage. He rests there for a long moment, just breathing in slowly, angling his head to arch into it when you scratch your fingers lightly into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Nice perfume,” he says, muffled slightly against your chest.

“You gave it to me,” you remind him.

He hums, a self-satisfied sound. “I guess I have good taste.”

“I guess you do.”

He pulls upright again to look at you, and opens his mouth to say something, then hesitates. You wait him out, fingers still massaging at the back of his head, and after a moment he has that sheepish look again, see-through, like he’s remembering there’s no use hiding if it is from you.

“Thank you for choosing me,” he says quietly.

You feel something deep in your chest, a swell of tender affection for him overtaking you.

“Thank you for being everything I need,” you say.

He doesn’t shake his head this time. He searches your face, seeing the truth of it, and gives you a small, sincere smile.

He glances at his watch again.

“It’s only eleven. You want me to help keep you awake until midnight?”

“Yes please.”

“There’s a catch,” he warns you. You raise an eyebrow. “You have to take off this dress,” he says disapprovingly. “You look—incredibly sexy, but—those sequins are scratchy as a briar patch. I want to feel you.”

You laugh and gesture over your shoulder. “The zipper is right there, baby.” His hands are reaching for it before your sentence is complete, and your laughter at his haste gets lost in the slinky fabric pulling over your head as he takes the dress off you. He tosses it onto the desk and runs his hands down your sides, giving you a low whistle.

“That’s much better,” he says. “I guess I have good taste in lingerie, too.”

It’s warm in the study, and surprisingly comfortable sitting astride his lap in nothing but your bra and panties. He wasn’t wrong about the scratch of the sequins and how much nicer it is to touch your soft, bare skin. You lean forward, experimentally, and press your body to his, enjoying the luxurious feel of his cashmere sweater. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, pairing with your own warmly scented perfume, perfect complements to each other.

“I have a proposition for you,” you say.

“I like the sound of that.” He palms your ass and squeezes with intent.

“I’ll trade you one of my cookies for a sip of your whiskey.”

“A cookie—” He shifts under you, glancing around to find your plate of Christmas cookies. “Sugar, this is a two hundred dollar bottle of liquor. That’s just not a fair trade.”

You pull away, shooting him a small mock frown. “Two cookies, then.”

He looks calculating. “One cookie,” he says, holding up a finger, “and two kisses.”

“It’s really two hundred dollars?” you ask, and he nods. “Alright,” you decide. “One cookie, two kisses, and I’m going to throw in another one for free.”

“You’re a terrible negotiator,” he observes, but he doesn’t seem to mind it when you lean in for your kiss, and you don’t mind it either that you only get your whiskey half a dozen kisses later.

(teensy tiny tag list for this one: @loversandantiheroes, @pedrostories, @littlemisspascal, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13)

#my fic #fanfiction #kingsman fanfiction #pedro pascal #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey fanfiction

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clothyume · 10 months ago

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Astraea's Atelier: Ally of Justice Part Five

Ally of Justice: Part Five

Summer

(Ten minutes later)

Chiaki: Ah, ahem.

First things first, let’s sort out the current situation.

Leo: Wahaha☆ Good, good, Morisa~! Go for it! The best hero in the world!

Chiaki: …Tsukinaga. Sorry, but can you be quiet for a sec.

Leo: You’re mad!? Why, Morisa~! Mama taught me this is how you’re supposed to support heroes!

Chiaki: Are you talking about Mikejima? It’s rare for people to actually call him that! Speaking of which, you two are friends, right?

Leo: Yup close friends! Friends forever! A friend of Mama’s is a friend of Mine, an enemy of Mama’s is an enemy of mine!

In other words, you’re the hero Mama respects, which makes you a friend of mine, Morisa~!

Chiaki: It’s not Morisa, it's Morisawa… But that really makes me happy.

Although, I’m not sure what Mikejima said about me, but I’m not that important yet, I’m still inexperienced in the midst of my career.

In fact, even in this case— If Mikejima were here instead of me, the case would already be solved.

That guy's ability to solve problems is like no other.

Kurou: Haha. This is the first time I’ve seen Mikejima being praised so much.

Leo: Why? Everyone needs to praise Mama more! He’s my Mama!

Shu: You shouldn’t call out ‘Mama’ repeatedly in front of Kiryu.

In any case, what time do you call this? If you’re going to keep talking about things that don’t concern me, I’ll leave.

You won’t be surprised to know I’m a busy man.

Chiaki: …I wanted to come off topic and postpone the problem as much as possible.

But, that’s not at all like Mikejima’s respected hero. Yup, yup♪

I’ll summarise it. About a month ago, strange things started popping up in the atelier Itsuki is lending, right?

Shu: Right. To be exact, that’s when I noticed something strange.

During that time, suspicious objects started showing up regularly in my atelier.

Leo: Suspicious objects? Like these! The ones lined up here! Wahaha☆

Shu: Don’t show them off! My eyes will rot…!

Leo: Hmm, these kinda have the feel of a pervy drawing or sculpture. Shu really didn’t make these? I get the impression he did!

Shu: You of all people should know that’s not to my taste.

Leo: Eh~? I thought you’d be the kind to appreciate all ‘art!’ No matter the type!

Look, doesn’t it have a likeness to that eroguro stuff Michael draws?

Shu: Michael…? Ah, Kagehira? Don’t call him such strange names.

Leo: Wahaha! He’s Michael! You’re Raphael! The artists…☆

Kurou: Don’t chatter just for the sake of it.

…Don’t take it the wrong way when I ask this but, did you really not make this erotic stuff, Itsuki?

Shu: Non! Shut up! Do I look like I’m lying to you, Kiryu?

Kurou: Okay, I believe you. That means the culprit is someone that’s sneaking in regularly and leaving erotic stuff in this atelier.

Chiaki: Why would someone do something like that…? I wonder if they’re doing it on purpose to harass Itsuki, knowing he’s not good with this stuff?

Kurou: Isn’t it a bit too elaborate to be harassment? If you want to hurt Itsuki, it’s easier to just destroy all the art in his atelier, right?

Shu: Right. When you look at them, all these drawings were done by hand from scratch. And, they all have consistency in style.

Chiaki: Is that right? I thought it seemed chaotic or random, like there’s no connection…?

Kurou: I sort of understand, the artist’s own personality always comes out in their work.

I can’t really explain it well, though.

Leo: Don’t be so modest, Kurou! You’re a praiseworthy artist too! A naked general!

Kurou: Not all generals are naked.

Shu: Fufu. In other words, these were all carefully created by the same person.

What kind of sentiment would use such labour for mere harassment?

Chiaki: Then, why on earth would someone do something like this? By the way, have you spoken to the police?

Shu: Isn’t it obvious? You like to act righteous and solve cases yourself, but isn’t it common sense to leave such matters to professionals?

However, even though I reported it, it wasn’t resolved. A police officer leisurely waltzed in, looked at the works and said.

“These are great! Eh, they’re showing up out of nowhere? I’m jealous!”

Chiaki: Ah… I see, they didn’t look at the case. To be honest, it’s not like anything has been broken.

Shu: Even though there has been trespassing. It was determined that there was no incident, rather, he just treated me as a “lucky young man”.

It seems the police officers that turned up believed that all men would be happy to receive such vulgar things.

Even when I told them I found it a nuisance, they refused to listen.

Leo: Ah~ I kinda get it~ Recently I’ve had the same feeling about the people assigning me work. They love sex talk, and keep talking about it when no one has asked.

I don’t know why, but I get the feeling they have the impression it’ll make me happy.

Chiaki: I get that… I feel like there’s a surprising amount of people who will think it’ll make a hot story and be popular. That’s not something you make a minor talk about. Outrageous.

Kurou: Haha. Or rather, because we’re idols we feel the need to avoid that sort of stuff.

In the public eye, stories like that are seen as ‘interesting’. So it’s probably us who are insane.

#ensemble stars #enstars #shu itsuki #kuro kiryu #chiaki morisawa #leo tsukinaga

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kitty-is-writing · 5 months ago

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🖋️ WIP update 🖋️

Hi! I know I've been kinda absent the last couple of weeks, but I've been busy actually writing *insert shocked gasps*

I'm about halfway through my 8th novel, Forgotten Magic. It's the second in the Dragonmage series, and I'll put a sneak preview of chapter 4 below the cut. In case you missed the cover reveal a while back here it is again:

Ember fought to control the flames, raging up the large tree and threatening to set light to the entire forest. Every time she tried to rein it in, to assert her mastery of it, it would push back and nearly overpower her. It had just flashed across to a bush nearby when a blast of ice and snow doused it. She dropped the spell, feeling exhausted all of a sudden, and glanced over to where Soris and Eliora stood, freezing her rogue flames before they could do too much damage.

“Alright, kiddo. Take a break, stressing out won’t help anyone.” Blaise handed her a mini cake from the box of sweet snacks he’d brought along.

“I don’t know why I keep losing it like that,” she said, picking at the icing. “It starts fine, and then everything just whooshes up and I can’t get a handle on it like I used to.”

Blaise looked at the scorch marks and melting icicles on the tree. “Soris, could you go grab your other friend real quick? The one you said can use isithi? There’s something I think we could try here.” Soris nodded and ran towards the small cluster of huts in the distance. “Ember, you were more familiar with using risnat energy before Miller took you. I know we’d had a few tries with kolnis, but you hadn’t quite got the hang of it yet. I might be wrong, but I think what’s happening is both sides of you are trying to draw on each other to cast, and they’re just feeding each other instead of working together.”

“You want her to try weaving?” Eliora asked sharply.

“It might be worth a go. Take a good look at those burns over there, see what you think.”

Eliora crouched to examine the marks on the ground around the poor tree they’d been using as a target, a faint golden light surrounding her hand as she reached to touch one. “Two kinds of energy, you’re right. I don’t recognise one of them, but I’m not overly familiar with kolnis myself.”

“Trust me, it’s kolnis. I recognise Fyre’s style in there,” Blaise said. “Piece of advice, kiddo, trust your dad. There’s more of his spark in you than you realise, and he’s not gonna lead you wrong. Let him handle the kolnis for now, and you focus on risnat. Don’t worry if part of a spell seems uncontrolled, just deal with your bit and the rest will follow along. Try again, but don’t take over the whole thing, okay?”

Ember took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the confusion and frustration in her mind. When she felt calmer, she cast a small stream of fire towards the blackened tree. As the magic left her hands, she felt another stream join it, yellowish-white next to her own deep red, the two spiralling around each other. It wavered slightly, but struck true, right on the charred knot in the wood she had aimed for. A brief round of applause behind her made her drop the spell and turn. Soris had returned, with Enkarini and Fogsbaine in tow.

“That was really pretty,” Enkarini said, with that soft, guileless little smile she always had. “Have you figured out your magic again, then?”

Ember shrugged. “I’m getting there. That felt weird,” she said, turning to Blaise.

“Weird how?”

“Like there was someone else casting alongside me. I know Dad’s spark is in here too, but this felt different, separate somehow, but like he was guiding it.” She shook her head rapidly. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

Blaise grinned at her. “It makes perfect sense, my girl. Your dad’s spark is there, and he’s guiding your kolnis, your spark. I’ll have to get you talking with some other hybrids, they’ve said something similar. For a pure Isati like me, all I know is kolnis, so I’m used to channelling the spark alone. Using it alongside risnat the way you’re trying to do, consciously or otherwise, isn’t something I’m familiar with. As long as it doesn’t feel bad, I’d say keep at it.” He looked over to Enkarini. “Rini, was it?” She nodded in response. “Soris mentioned the two of you have been practising darkflame. How has that been going?”

“It’s going fine, I don’t think we’ve completely got it yet but we’re doing well. Why?”

“Fancy trying it with Ember? I think learning some basic weaving skills could help her out with things, and since the darkflame is a form of weaving, one that you’re already familiar with, you might be able to work with her on it easier than anyone else I can reach immediately. So, you up for it?”

“Sure, it sounds fun.” Her little black fluffball appeared out of thin air, perched on her shoulder like a weird, wispy accessory. “Ready when you are, Ember.”

“One problem, I don’t know what this darkflame thing even is. Do I get a hint at all?”

Soris answered her. “It’s a way of combining flame spells with shadow magic. I’ve only tried it using risnat before, but we’ve made it work pretty well. We’ll do it first, then you can see an expert at work.”

“Oh, you’re getting someone else to demonstrate after this?” Ember smirked.

“It’s good of you to offer, Soris, but I’d prefer Ember tries it without any prior expectations,” Blaise stepped forward, interrupting Soris’ response. “We’re trying to let her figure out how her own energy mix works, without being pushed into risnat’s ways. All you need to do is cast a flame spell, like you just did at the tree, only send it towards Rini here instead.”

She glanced at Soris. “Better get one of those ice spells ready, then. We saw what happens when I start throwing fire around these days.”

#my work #writing #writeblr #fantasy #novel #current wip #dragonmage series

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justanechoflower-ddlc · 8 months ago

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(I’d say it’s fair to do some posts where it’s just writing. Really, we’d actually expect things to display in DDLC’s style, so things already look a bit different than how they actually are anyway. So sure, some things can be text. Besides, my Monika posts are just text, so there’s no reason why the Flowey responses can’t also be text. I would suggest Doki Doki Dialogue Generator as a middle ground, but I haven’t found a simple way to make custom characters there yet… If anyone more in the know about that program can give a simple way of making a custom character (Like human Flowey?), they can share. That’d trim things down to a few sprites that can just be re-used so Nat doesn’t have to re-draw Flowey every single panel, while still being able to do a few visuals. And the excuse for re-used sprites is that it’s literally how it’d actually work in the game!)

(But text-based responses work too. They’re what I do, after all.)

(Oh, and Faysal, the order of the plan was left, right, middle. Yeah, I know it might be a bit confusing for them to be in that order, that’s why I’m clarifying. Of course the concept of the game has to come before the revelation of what Monika, and later Sayori, did TO the game! Those flashback sequences he’s talking about are just the events of the game, by the way. If you’ve played or seen someone play DDLC, it happened just like that (presuming they got the normal ending and not the special one). He means Act 3 and Act 4. They just don’t call it that because those are meta terms that we use, and aren’t said in-game.)

(As for the recap, I suppose what Flowey said is good enough for what’s currently going on. Sure, there’s also this subplot going on with Flowey setting up a baking show-off against Natsuki that he’ll probably cheat at and also say he’ll get rich from the things he’ll bake and sell (when he’s actually taking gold from the Underground), and we did learn a bit more about the things leading up to this, but most of that isn’t that relevant for the time being. Maybe we’ll come back to it eventually, though.)

(My own take was basically going to be that Monika came to Flowey’s world some time after she was deleted, mostly because she saw much of herself in him, both knowing their worlds were a game, abusing that, and are trying to be better now, but also that unlike Monika, Flowey didn’t go insane from that knowledge, so there was faint hope he might have some idea to help lessen the existential problems such knowledge would bring.)

(Monika thought it was a good idea to stay in Flowey’s world, mostly because she still didn’t want to come back to the club after everything she did (like we see in Act 4 of the game), then Flowey pointed out a bunch of reasons why that‘s a bad idea. He also wanted to see her world, so Monika took him there. That’s how this blog started and why Monika was dropped from the main blog…

(After that, I’d probably have just said what Flowey said. Though there was a step before the three he mentioned, but that wasn’t Monika’s plan. It was Flowey (and also Sayori) convincing Monika to stick around in the club in the first place. They‘ve managed to at least get her to give it another chance. They’re hoping she’ll find herself choosing to stick around for real. And Sayori’s planning to make Monika the club’s vice president soon, as a part of a transition that’d end with Monika becoming club president once again.

(Oh, also, nice rendition of the events of Act 3 there, Nat!)

(I think that’s everything. The rest either aren’t that relevant anymore, or are things that can be derived from the game itself (for example, of course the club writes and shares poems still!))

(As for the other post… what you said there makes sense. About what parts of their own code they’ve edited in the past editing probably how it worked then. And with Sayori, maybe how it’s like now too. She’s less prone to the same kind of thing Monika is. Maybe it’s because she did a lot less than Monika did, since Monika stopped her mid-way, or because Sayori didn’t make the other characters worse, but just skipped straight to going Just Sayori, or maybe it’s just due to her more aloof personality. I don’t see her shying away from the code as much as Monika does. She definitely doesn’t tamper with anyone else’s code though, that would be too far for her at this point (at least after we account for the fact she wouldn’t want to make Monika uncomfortable.) She’s way more likely than Monika to use the console for stuff though. There’s a reasonable possible world where there’s a dynamic of Monika having to stop Sayori from doing anything too big with it so things aren’t given away too soon, though I already explained before why I didn’t actually do that here, despite how in-character for Sayori that’d be.)

(As for the non-existent NPCs, I’ve been thinking of them of them as sheer environmental factors that the game sort of tricks the characters into thinking exist. Natsuki and Yuri would have had the illusion of having gone to class with a teacher, when really the game doesn’t render any of it. Kind of like what you see in the actual game, you never see any teachers or the classes, but MC describes the school day as your average, usual day. Monika and Sayori right now see it for how it really is, and how there’s no such thing.)

(It’s also like when MC narrated “As we draw near, the streets become increasingly speckled with other students making their daily commute.” The only other characters at the time were Monika, Sayori (who was with MC), Yuri, and Natsuki. But the game had a general narrative that there were other students, and MC described these non-existent students. They’re sort of formless “characters” that are implied to exist, yet don’t. Same for the teachers. They’re implied to exist, but they’re really just the game doing things and attributing it to a non-existent character, and so don’t really exist. But people unaware of this like Natsuki and Yuri would recall seeing them. Monika and Sayori, with the full epiphany, don’t see them at all, since they see the game how it really is. Which also means illusory interactions with them don’t work that well, since they couldn’t directly see or hear them, due to them, you know, not existing..)

(This is what I was going for with this interaction:

“>#Well yes, we could… except that I told everyone if we DID find a way for that to happen, I’d have one of the school’s admin faculty people tell all of this himself, so that way we know it’s for real… and, well, they don’t actually EXIST, because it’s just us, so… I wouldn’t be able to actually talk to them… ehehe…

>#Sayori, seriously?! You should have known that anything involving direct interactions with background entities doesn’t work well, and not even SAID that to the others!)

(Also, if you asked Natsuki and Yuri to try describe what the “teachers” are like, they’d probably give totally generic answers, because said “teachers” are not real entities with actual properties. And of course, they probably wouldn’t notice anything off with that unless someone in the know points this out.)

(Oh, and should I make a submission on the main blog (or maybe this one?) that more goes into how the blog runs? Like how it technically takes place between the end of the human Flowey arc on the main blog and Flowey turning back into a flower, or explaining the fact the blog is currently in a cycle of two “phases”, the meeting phase, and the void phase, and how they work?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Good idea! I looked into ddlc text boxes and I found a generator where I can put in my own sprite. The only thing I need to do is draw the main form in ddlc style- may be difficult but I'll try- make some expressions, and I'll be good for awhile!

(For the confusing panel sequence I didn't mean for it to be that hard to read! I figured it would be fine to understand since the middle panel had its text low in the image so therefore it would be read last. I'm not an expert on comic style. I just thought it'd look cool!

(If Monika and Sayori flatout told the other girls the world was a game (without a full explanation and proof) they would probably think it's a joke and say they're hallucinating or something like that. And I find that so ironic because Yuri and Natsuki are the ones who see people that do not exist!!!

(I'd really appreciate the help if you could write that clarification of what happened and how things work! Thank you for the offer. I suggest to submit it on the main blog so more people will see it. Also make sure to keep it concise as possible!

(Thanks for adding to my rundown of events! @faysal1232 I highlighted the summary of what's happened so far in red so you can find it easily.

#submission #ask flowey #doki doki literature club #crossover #ask blog #mun #nat

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datasoulglitch · 9 months ago

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[Soulmate Demons AU old arts / part 1]

And finally, the prelude is finished and we go to the main thing. ..Hmm .. although all the most of basic things I've already told before?.. Well, individual arts still have their own stories.. I also have some RPs archieved, which can be rewritten as a stories too.. I still thinking about it. I already had experience in writing, but I wasn't sure where it could be posted.. O-okay, I got carried away..

This is based on one of the outfits that my former friend chose for Soul. Since he made his “art” in Gacha Life, he often chose different clothes every time. ..To be honest, it drove me crazy, because in the end I didn't know which outfit to rely on when I drew them and what is now the canon in his version of Soul (Tamashi), almost every time the details were different.. In fact, I decided to draw Soul in this outfit because he liked this? .. At least it seemed to me. It was.. interesting experience.

It was a moment when I realized that I would like to come up with an appearance for Corrupt that would compared to Soul's, but so far just horns and tail, ignoring the wings that a former friend added to their appearance. Of course, a more edgy style, unlike Soul's relatively smooth ones. This is where AU start to exist, but without official name yet. I can’t remember where the idea for a scarf and gloves came to me.. It is unlikely that it came from the RPs.. Most likely I just wanted to add more individuality, adding details than to make completely different clothes (already had enough Tamashi's clothes that had more and more details every time..)

It was my aswer to his gacha recreation of [skittletoc] art in which Soul shows Corrupt middle finger with "F*ck you", but in his interpretation it was "This is why what am I saying~ Fuck you Darling~" It was kinda out of nowhere, but I can see that it's just random thing for lolz, but.. I’ll be honest, Corrupt doesn’t feel funny about that. Therefore, there were two reactions. The one he showed..

..and the true one.

[Really, despite his origin, my version of Corrupt came out quite sensitive and emotional when it comes to those to whom he trusts, craving for mutuality in his feelings. So it's not surprising that this was his original reaction to such an action..]

It was a critical moment. Enough events happened that dismoraled Corrupt so much that even I had to violate the rules of a spatial continuum to simply bring him back to his senses. In theory, this is Soul's work .. .. sigh .. I don't know. It is difficult, I retell the events that took place due to the actions mostly of the person and not the character whom he roleplayed, is this even correct? In other hand.. This is the past that already made. I can't rewrite it, it all left a mark on us, remained in the form of arts and stories. In general, AU about these two together, having special bond, while a friend with whom we created it constantly makes some kind of nonsense aimost all the time. As, for example, through role-playing actions Soul suddenly acts around Corrupt as if the latter is something despised, although they seem to have romance already, as he said? This really created a bunch of misunderstandings and resentments. It can be imagined that at first Soul treated Corrupt with hostility and don't likes him, for a reason, but I can’t imagine him being so vile as to make him to believe that there is something between them, and then brutally reject, playing with feelings. No it's not like him at all.. [I think I still personally cannot get rid of resentment because of many things that have happened. Remembering them, I go through it again. ..I hope that this will help me bury some bad memories, and then I can create new, and better one for this AU. Albeit alone..]

I can continue here.. but probably I'll divide it into a few more posts.. ..because I'm too generous with details and comments.. ..It can take me away into more of my memories and experiences, and there is a particularly cruel moment ahead that I cannot forget. We haven't reached that yet, but I don't think that I can say only a few words about it. Like now.

So it's better to go through it measuredly.. It resonates with my emotions too much.

#FNF Corruption mod #FNF Corruption AU #FNF mod #Friday Night Funkin #FNF #Soulmate Demons AU #SmD AU #Corrupt BF #Soul BF #SoulGlitch

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bunny-carrothunter · 2 years ago

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Opposite to this ask, here’s my top 10 favorite Wordgirl villains I guess

Also Happy New Year

10) Maria She’s Maria. What else can I say? She deserved better-

9) Glen More fun as a character but it’s funny that somehow he managed to corner TB not once but twice? Once by accident. Yeah he’s annoying. But he’s a hot mess and I love him. And also I blame my friend (YOUNKNOWHOYOUARE) for legit making me go totally indifferent to him to becoming my 4th favorite character in general).

8) Chuck Honestly, he goes all over the list depending on my mood but he’s just great. Fred Stoller is amazing and the more I watch his Instagram live streams the more convinced I get that he’s just Chuck’s humansona.

7) Ms Question

She’s just so much fun and I love her question mark hover board. I still can’t draw her to save my life and that makes me sad ;; BUT she’s definitely a top favorite. And the fact she gets Chuck as a brother-in-law is so funny to me.

6) Nocan Love me a himbo that can sense granola bars from across the entire city. Also my dude is legit the second strongest non-alien villain, give props where its due.

5) Guy Rich Fanon or canon? Yes. Gotta love the gawl this man had for acting so high and mighty, taunting Mr Big like he did when he was just a con man. He’s more fun to play with as a foil to Big rather than an actual villain but I still love him.

4) Dr Two Brains Yeah what a surprise imarite but if its not for the nostalgia, he’s just fun to watch. Tom Kenny was perfect for him. I said all I could on the previous list so we’re moving on.

3) Lady Redundant Woman What can I say but I absolutely love her. Unhinged woman who does not give a flip. She will bite your leg if you talk to her before she gets a cup of coffee. My friend pointed out how Beatrice’s villain self is basically her yassified form and that’s so accurate looking at it. I love that her outfit is the 4 colors of a printer ink cartridge, and I LOVE her style. Yas queen.

2) Mr Big To the surprise of no one- Arrogant, touch-starved manchild himbo. There’s so many layers to this man and I might make a character analysis post on him if I get the chance. Also the fact that he has the most SIMPLE design and yet 80% of the fandom agrees he’s SO HARD TO DRAW is the funniest fucking thing. We love a himbo.

1) Leslie Yeah, there was no doubt, and I will count her as a solo villain because she technically did in that one ep. I absolutely love her and no one will ever change my mind.

It’s not surprising most of the fandom agrees Leslie very well may be one of the smartest characters in the show, and yet she works with someone who, well is the opposite lol. She’s a martial artist, a gymnast, wielder, pilot of just about every vehicle imaginable (golf cart, crane, blimp, a rocket ship), paints, engineering to an extent (that we know), ON TOP of all that being able to manage an entire company and business managing.

ON TOP OF THAT, it’s canon Leslie is immune to mind control. Even Mr Big got himself mind controlled, the dumbas-

Speaking of Big, their dynamic is just so amusing, they play off each other so well and I honestly wish we could of seen Leslie interact with the other villains on her own. If “Leslie Makes It Big” is anything to go off of, they all seem to like her and get along with her.

I am very normal about Leslie.

#wordgirl #dont ask since when This draft Is from #HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE

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pinkasrenzo · 1 year ago

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mid-year book freak out tag

thank you @bloody-wonder for tagging me💕

haven’t read a lot this year but let’s do this

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2023? The Tower of The Swallow (The Witcher #4/6) started out slow and kind of all over the place but I loved the focus on Ciri (finally!) and her journey (metaphorical and literal). It seems this is the most divisive book in the series and I get why, the writing style changes abruptly from the rest of the series, the plot is sort of on pause to make space for Ciri’s telling of her journey, and Geralt (alleged main character but is he? really?) is basically sidelined from his own series and also a liiiitle pathetic in this one (he’s,,, not doing great, trying his best but clearly failing, he’s going through It). But! It’s Ciri’s time and she’s my fave and I love her and reading more about her was great! Her character changes so much throughout the series but in this book she goes through hell and back and comes out bloody and powerful and so !!!! complete? like she’s a fully formed person/character now, she’s at the end of the road and ready to take on her (and the world!) destiny and tell it to fuck off and I’m so proud of her🥹

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2023? The Tower of The Swallow (again) for all the reasons above and also cause this is a transitional book of a sort: Geralt has been the main character so far, slaying monsters and doing his thing and we’ve seen Ciri grow slow and steady by his side, but Geralt’s getting old and tired and weary and it’s just time to let go (of the sword, the adventuring life, the narrative) and let Ciri take over, and so she does. She gets her own sword, made to fit her (it was always going to be for her) and she gets her own journey and challenges that break her and hurt her and make her grow and harden her, she gets to learn how far she’s willing to go, if she’s capable (and willing) to hurt people to get her destiny and wether she wants to follow or defy it.

It may have been Geralt The Witcher at first, but it’s Ciri The Witcher now, and she’s a force to be reckoned with.

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To? Feed Them Silence I honestly have no idea what the plot is but I loved Summer Sons so I’m gonna trust Lee Mandelo on this one and see what fucked up sticky horror they’ve come up with this time👀

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2023? Bloom Part II should come out in 2023 but there’s no release date yet so Idk if it’s going to come out this year or not but I’m definitely hype for it👀

5. Biggest Disappointment? Lady of The Lake (The Witcher #5/7) not really a disappointment per se but it could’ve been better? Pacing was atrocious, incredibly drawn out with a lot of unnecessary and repetitive scenes, and when the Big Finale came it was completely out of left field and anticlimactic. I didn’t dislike the finale itself, but it was missing a lot of context (that could’ve been there! if not for those unnecessary scenes drawing out the plot!) and so ended up feeling like a deus ex machina situation.

Can’t say much without spoilering but what was missing the most was probably an entire book worth of Emhyr var Emreis POV chapters, cause I get how he came to his final decisions and why, but it lacks impact, it feels like it’s out of the blue and it makes no sense without actually seeing him get to that point. I can imagine how he got there, but the book doesn’t show it or even tell it in retrospect it’s just like “he’s doing this now” and it contradicts everything he’s done so far. And we get a few hints of what he wants to do vs what he has to, and why, it’s clear he’s battling with contradicting feelings and courses of action but it’s not enough to make the finale and his final actions/decisions grounded in the story.

This book is mostly traveling scenes that are all the same (literally the way they’re written it’s,,, they’re like copy-pasted) that could’ve been cut and replaced with Emhyr POV chapters giving him more time and space to develop as a character and show his internal battle and how he reached the conclusion he did, but no🙄

6. Biggest Surprise? The Underground Library and Other Stories (Chika Toshokan Tanken Tan) it’s a manga short story collection I found by accident, and bought on impulse cause it was a one-volume series and I couldn’t find one (1) scrap of info on the author or the manga (maybe it’s too niche or too new? the mystery is compelling) and it was so good? It’s four short stories, all not exactly supernatural, the author calls the genre low-fantasy which fits.

All the main characters have some instance of getting lost or being lost (either in life or in a place) and trying to find an exit/a purpose/a treasure, and they’re all incredibly fleshed out considering how short the stories are (40 pages max). The art style is also amazing, it’s so detailed and cosy wether it’s an urban landscape or a countryside, realistic or fantastical and I could stare at it for ages there’s so! much! detail! it’s mind blowing! And it makes it feel so grounded and real? It almost feels like you could touch what’s on the page as if you were there

7. Favorite New Author? Chome, author of the Underground Library, I’m going to keep an eye out for what else they publish next cause if it’s like this collection they’re definitely going to be one of my new faves👀

8. Newest Favorite Character? Ciri, but she’s not exactly a new one, I already loved her from watching the Netflix show, I just love her more now🥰

9. Newest Fictional Crush? No one ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

💕Best Ship💕 alas, no ships so far

10. Book That Made You Cry? Not cry exactly but The Tower of the Swallow did make me feel a lot

11. Book That Made You Happy? The Underground Library, especially the last story, it was about a mystery-treasure hunt and it was so happy? Main character’s excitement and curiosity was so contagious and the story itself was also very🥰 perfect story to end the collection on

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw This Year? NIMONA oh it was amazing perfect showstopping spectacular no notes 10/10 execuction! the soundtrack the colours the animation the way the characters move and interact with each others the hUGS they’re MELTING INTO EACH OTHER and the queerness of it especially given all Nate discovered about himself since the graphic novel came out and the added weight of it and how it’s inextricable from the narrative and it’s so! there! uncensored and unfiltered!! and and NIMONA SHES PERFECT my baby my precious she🥺and ballister little meow meow with his big beautiful eyes and okay he’s modeled after Riz Ahmed’s big beautiful eyes but it has nothing to do with how I feel about him I swear I’m so normal about this.

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year? I don’t really do reviews but I’m counting mine and @montdargent rave about Nimona for this one

14. Most Beautiful Cover? It has to be The Underground Library, just *chefs kiss*

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year? Sul bordo vertiginoso delle cose has been in my TBR since 2018 so definitely that (now that I finally have it!) and then I wanted to finish/catch up with the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness series, also maybe reread the Beautiful Creatures series, and try and finally read a few books I’ve had for awhile and have yet to read (including gifts from friends from literal years ago) but we’ll see if I’ll get around to all of them :”)

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wantonlywindswept · 2 years ago

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mando 3.8 liveblog (at least it’s finally over)

alright here we go

hey what happened to not being able to use comms

i will consider it justice if axe dies too

ahh feckin imps with beskar

did they? drug him??? hit him?? HE WAS WALKING FINE BEFOR---nevermind

ewwww they even have flamethrowers???? fuckin mando wannabes

also lol really only 2 of them for din??

baby~!!

no torture for din :(

btw BO YOU LET THE INFANT WANDER OFF ON HIS OWN??

tracking?? WHY IS HE RED AND GROGU A GREEN DOT oh cos droid mb? that would make sense. fucking hilarious if they were color-coordinated by gideon tho lmao

scomp. what. what is that word

frankly surprised R5 wasn’t scrapped tbh, he DID deserve it

guys you. you cannot make another R2. i do not have emotional investment in a droid that betrayed the covert

din why ask questions when you can’t understand him

yes! yes if axe dies on the cruiser as his epic death scene i will allow it for paz

fuckin love mandalorians just. flinging themselves out into space. love them.

ah yes the stupid vader shields

IS THIS GONNA BE ANOTHER DUEL OF THE FATES bc it can’t, that shit was too cool to be remade

mmmmm knives

PARRY THIS BLADE BETWEEN THE ARMOR YOU FILTHY CASUALS

i am loving all of his kicky moves

tube people!

are these the mandalorian jedi i wanted--oh my god the bitch cloned himself THE NARCISSIM. i mean im not surprised but

damn that life beneath the surface though, so green

oh boo that means the armorer isn’t the spy doesn’t it

is it just gonna be ‘facist chick and gideon were the spies for the evil facism council’?? so boring.

oh my god that flying saber pose pls

lol u bitches wanna try to take on mandos mid-air? you’re not THAT good of copies

I WAS RIGHT I WAS RIGHT HE WANTED TO PUT THE FORCE INTO CLONES/MANDALORIANS I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT DEMAGOLKA 2.0

technically he exploded them before they could draw their first breath

guys beskar v beskar hand to hand is. silly.

ohh worm? mando vs shithead fake siths?

baby jedi vs sith??

oh god that heartbroken little ‘no’ din yelled

guys you’re being beaten by a giggling infant

oh gideon totes put an exoskeleton in his suit didn’t he, loser

no. no. no. really? really bo vs gideon? my fucking god it hate it.

we were shown how gideon vs mando was important, their fight vs each other during the seasons, and the fight gets passed over to bo. like yeah i get din saving his kid more important but i just. the lack of payout.

woves you’re still alive?

OH?? OHHHHHHHHH UIT BROKE? IT BROKE IT BROKE IT BROKE FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH

seriously the classist bitch gets to live but paz doesn’t??? lame. uber lame. go down with your fucking ship woves

so slippy slidey

okay if gideo died in that fire they abso---NEVERMIND BABY FOR THE WIN

damn love that precedent being taken advantage of. would love if more things were too

rip the great forge

oh??? mythosaur??????? please??????

oh no ragnar

why you gotta be like this

oh i guess they didn’t count his as complete

FUICKING. BAPTISM??

oh we gonna baptize grogu now too?

OH? OH I WAS FUCKING RIGHT YOU DIDNT CONSIDER YOURSELF A DAD YET YOU MOTHERFUCKING GO ON, SAY THE FGUCKING WORDS FUCKING DO IT

MYHSAUR NOW?? FOR MANDO JEDI???

DIN GROGU HELL YEAH. also does that mean the naming styles are eastern asian style? IS DIN ACTUALLY HIS LAST NAME. WOT. is ‘din’ some form of appellation? WHAT IS GOING ON

oh my god are y0ou fuckign srs he has to leave mandalore already what is this SHIT

MTYHOSAUR??? BABY SEE MYTHOSAUR????

oh worm visiting the pubs? yay more carson!!

oh my god are we ACTUALLY bringing back the droid

lawls vacation cabin, glad to see the secondary ‘obtain a house’ quest was fulfilled

oh god we brought the droid back as the marshall

din get a landscaper in there

congratulations din djarin on successfully becoming the npc side character he always wanted to be

#mandalorian season 3 #the mandalorian #me @ the writers be like #this storyline is a lame hill to die on #but at least you're dead #ANYWAY paz just didn't show up bc he was in the infirmary #i make the rules now

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innaneramblingsofamadman · 2 years ago

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Chapter 3: A Little Late on the Draw

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14200223/3/A-New-Alliance

Chapter 3: A Little Late on the Draw

Today the Sinclair’s would arrive, and gears would be put into motion at last. For Wednesday it felt as though the machine were destiny, and it marched ever forward without rest or warning to those in its path. It seemed she’d been caught unaware while her back was turned and she had been focused on other things. After spending the whole night in the library, the closest grasp of new information she could find was that one could use dognip mixed with peppermint in an incense to addle a werewolves mind without alerting their heightened senses, yet they did not make them prone to suggestion as she had hoped. Thing had remained in her room all night as instructed, and reported only finding a small tunnel that led outside the house in case of emergencies. A house without any secrets? Where’s the fun in that? She frowned.

Wednesday set about getting ready for the day, tying up the familiar twin braids with practiced ease. Her wardrobe offered up a simple outfit for her today, black riding pants and hiking boots paired with a charcoal sweater and white undershirt. Not very inspired, but she figured there would be a tour of the property sometime today anyway, so going with her usual morbid and eccentric style may not fit. It fit her like a tomb, but was excellent at bracing against the wind this area was infamous for.

Outside the day seemed to be just getting started for the rest of her family. Dark clouds blanketed the entire sky, an omnipresent shroud veiling the world from above. Gomez and Morticia were taking in the beauty of the bleak gray next to the lake as they walked arm in arm, with eyes locked only on each other as they strolled just past the reach of the water, never stumbling or faltering despite the rocky terrain. Pubert lay in the grass with his sketch pad, taking his time to capture each little detail he could manage as he shaded in a drawing of the mushrooms in front of him. Lurch stood nearby, waiting with a pitcher of water and glasses on a tray. Corvus and Pugsley seemed to be missing for the moment, but that was fine. Wednesday looked down at her watch and sighed. It’s just a quarter past eleven now, I’ll find them and follow Corvus to greet the others before they arrive.

“Lurch, please inform my parents I’ve gone to welcome the Sinclair Pack whenever they finish defiling this marvelous day with their longing.”

“Uuurgh”

She turned on a heel and began stalking to the back of the house, expecting to find her cousin and brother there. She was right, of course. Corvus and Pugsley were in the process of throwing hay bales onto the back of a large flatbed truck and arranging them as though they were seats in neat rows with blankets over the tops. A tour indeed, one free of walking, thank the seven hells. Corvus spotted her first and paused in placing another bale, then tapped her mammoth brother on the shoulder and pointed to her.

“Hey Wednesday,” Pugsley called, “wanna come with? We’re gonna drive the wolves to the old house.”

“I’d be delighted actually, it’s always a good thing to know where the enemy sleeps.” Wednesday crossed her hands behind her back as she approached the truck and inspected the stacks before her. “Though perhaps I could be on something else? You and Corvus can take the truck for your own glory.”

“Care to see the stables? Something in there might grab your attention,” Corvus suggested as he hopped down to the earth. “Just walk down the road and it’s on the left past the rise. All the saddles are kept in the building next door, we’ll meet you there in a few minutes and I can help if you can’t decide.” She thought for a moment, stock still, and then looked up into his empty eyes.

“Do you have anything black?”

“As a matter of fact, I might have just what you’re looking for.”

Corvus strolled inside the stable and turned to his right, walking down a short stone ramp to a set of reinforced steel barn doors, he explained that the more hostile creatures were kept down here both for the safety of all the other horrifying wonders upstairs, but also for training and disciplining. All three of them walked up to the door and entered into the dungeon where, locked behind iron bars, paced more dangerous breeds of mount. Including the Mares of Diomedes in a larger pen on the left hand side. The keeper walked the stalls, running his fingers along the bars without any worry at all of being attacked. These creatures were restless, but not untrained, not unbroken. If he could make such monstrosities bend the knee, Wednesday had the ability as well. At the third pen from the end he stopped and crouched down, reaching through the bars and petting whatever rested inside. Wednesday and Pugsley waited by the door per his instruction, and couldn’t see what it was.

“You wanted black, he’ll more than account for that. But I think he’s an attention grabber anyway, come say hello,” Corvus waved her over and gestured for her to kneel next to him. Behind the bars all she could spy was a pair of simmering green eyes that pierced like a javelin through her soul, and as the creature within began to shift and lift off the floor she at last got a full view. “His name is Asmodeus.”

A muscle bound panther squared off against her, as tall as she was, with claws and fangs glittering in the torch light, and the long tail that extended behind twirled in the air as the barbed tip remained pointed at her. Wednesday stood slower than a man at gunpoint, eyes affixed to his. It was a contest of wills now, whoever broke first lost, and Wednesday Addams did not lose.

“Open the door and let me in,” she commanded. Corvus did as she said, unlocking it with a quick rune and opening it for her with the same bow he had offered last night.

“Maybe that isn’t a great idea!” Pugsley shouted from the doorway.

“Hush now and watch a prodigy at work.” She stepped inside and continued the staring contest with the ominous wall of darkness before her, holding a hand out with her palm up to its nose. His concentration had been broken for the moment as the large black maw lifted up and chuffed at her hand a few times, but the moment the guard had been dropped Wednesday placed her hand between his eyes and ran her hand along the thick skull to the base, where a simple pressure point allowed her to drop the panther like a sack of rocks. Dust and hay littered the air as it hit the stone flooring, a dazed mewl escaped past the sharp teeth as it looked up to her again. She reached down and placed the hand between his eyes again, but this time began to rub and smooth gentle patterns along the creature's face before running the other hand along the sleek pelt that adorned his back. “Tell me, what is he?”

“A simple bounder from around these parts, but Asmodeus suffers an excess in melanin, causing his fur to be black. Most of them wander the hills around here and look almost the same as a large mountain lion,” he grinned and walked away, “I’ll grab his saddle, you and Pugsley get him brought outside.” Well, that was going to take a bit of finesse, but it was a fair price to take power of such a handsome beast as this. After a minute or so of stopping and walking Wednesday discovered the large feline followed her every move and never strayed more than ten feet from her, so it was an easy matter of walking back up the stone ramp and out into the clouded day. Asmodeus took advantage of his new freedom and began to roll in the grass and dirt as he covered his entire body in dust while emanating a deep purr. Wednesday resisted the urge to smile but only managed to tone it down into a quiet smirk. As her new companion continued to roll and chuff on the ground, Corvus emerged from the side building hauling a strange looking saddle with a large silver ring at the front and straps that looked as though they would wrap around the bounder’s shoulders and another loop that cinched around the midsection.

Her older cousin began to instruct her on how to secure it so it was steady enough to not slide, but not so tight on the creature as to impede movement or breathing. Within a couple minutes both Corvus and Pugsley watched as Asmodeus began to rise after the saddle had been secured to his powerful frame, with a smug looking Wednesday perched atop with her hands affixed to the metallic ring. The clouds rolled overhead without a whisper as she situated herself a bit more, rising up and back down several times before nodding to no one at all.

“How does it feel to be taller than me for once?” Pugsley’s attempt at a joke was met by a hard glare that he waved off. It felt good, but not quite right…Wednesday could feel something small within herself resisting the enchanting black pelt and murderous power of the beast. The rest of her brain decided it was uncertainty at something so new, and she waved the thought off as Pugsley had dismissed her gorgon’s stare.

“Adequate,” she answered. “Come along now boys, we have new friends to intimidate.”

~30 minutes later~

Enid had been stuffed into the backseat of the tiny rental car with her older brother Malachi, and had spoken less than maybe 10 words in the last 3 hours of the drive. When her parents had delivered the news that their family would represent the pack at the Addams meeting she’d been ecstatic, because there was absolutely no way people with that much money were going to meet them anywhere less than a five star hotel, in her mind at least. Sure it might have been haunted or whatever, but she could handle that. What she couldn’t handle was that wherever they were going was in the middle of LITERALLY nowhere, and she’d lost cell service more than twenty minutes ago now. So much for updating her blog. Malachi had made some remark about it being good that she couldn’t spend the entire trip on her phone, but she’d barely heard him over the wailing of her own self pity. The GPS in the front seat pinged at last, signaling her dad to turn right. Down another dirt road. Yay.

The dark clouds swirling over them did little to improve her mood, and the tree line they were about to drive straight into only added to her anxiety because was it her or did she see something move behind that bush?

After a few more minutes of following the road through hanging branches that scraped the roof of the car, it opened up again to a small clearing where the road forked. Waiting in the middle of that fork sat a beat up truck and two men leaning against the hood as they talked, the one on the left looked skinny and short but that might have only been because he was standing next to the tallest dude Enid had ever seen. Their car pulled off to the side into a grassy area and parked.

“Now remember everyone,” her mom started, “best behavior, we’re here to make a good impression and make it stay that way.” Malachi and her dad nodded, sticking to their usual silence as Enid rolled her eyes. She doubted it would be hard to make a good impression on people who were regularly known for their cultish behavior. Esther let out a deep sigh and patted her husband’s knee twice before opening her door and stepping out as the rest of the family followed suit, the man on the left was strolling up to their rental with a relaxed ease, hands tucked into his vest pockets.

“Welcome to the Addams Family Reserve everyone, I trust the journey was as long and arduous as always," he smiled. Oh my god, his eyes are all black, that’s so freaky! And he smells like rot. Enid’s nose crinkled as the scent hit harder with a gust of wind, it was like she’d just found a body in the woods months after it had been left there.

“Oh no, it was lovely! So scenic and gorgeous! Right Mur?” Esther had stretched out a hand and shook his, Murray offering another nod and smile. “My name is Esther Sinclair, this is my husband Murray, our oldest Malachi, and our youngest Enid,” she pointed them out each in turn. Behind the man speaking to her mom, the boy who had been leaning against the truck also walked over, fidgeting with the cuffs and collar of his suit the whole time.

“A pleasure, my name is Corvus. The giant behind me is my cousin Pugsley, his parents are preparing for this evening and could not join us, unfortunately. Somewhere around here though,” Corvus narrowed his dark eyes and began to look around. He frowned and turned to Pugsley. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know, she said she’d be right back five minutes ago,” his eyes darted around the clearing, filled with sudden panic, “do you think she’s okay?” Behind Enid something rustled in the trees and the sound of twigs snapping put her on alert.

“I assure you, nothing out here could kill me even if it sacrificed itself in the process,” a deadpan voice echoed across the clearing. Enid could have been standing only feet away and it still would’ve carried the same volume. From out of the trees a massive panther lumbered up to them all, green eyes all aglow and the scent of a fresh kill on its breath. Resting on its back was a woman about her age, with dark hair in braids and eyes so intense they pierced all her walls. Corvus offered a small bow and held up an open hand, helping her off of the saddle and onto the ground next to him.

“Allow me to introduce the next matriarch of our family, Wednesday Addams.” Her eyes scanned each of them in turn from head to toe, pausing on Enid for a second longer than the rest and Wednesday held a hand out to Enid alone.

“The displeasure is all mine,” she said. But at that moment Enid’s mind had already broken, all the mechanisms were just spinning and whistling as a record played over and over in her head, hot goth girl hot goth girl hot goth girl.

#wednesday fanfic #wenclair #wenclair au #fanfic

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rainydawgradioblog · 9 months ago

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A. Savage showed me I can write a decent song (I’m delusional)

My first major purchase after arriving in Copenhagen last summer was a ticket to see Andrew Savage’s European tour in February. The legendary Parquet Courts co-frontman played Ideal Bar in Vesterbro with his band Midnight Stew to a crowd of me and 99 tall mustachioed film bro-looking Danish lads in their 20s and 30s. I fit right in wearing my artsy new A. Savage “Riding Cobbles” t-shirt, as Andrew convinced me with his lovely little tunes to write a song of my own.

Andrew’s visual aesthetic had me straight to Ticketmaster before his latest album Several Songs About Fire even dropped. Everything he rolled out in promo shoots, cover art, and concert merch was drenched in David Hockney meets “The Adventures of Tintin” meets the doodles on the back of my middle school binder.

Paired perfectly with the cartoony visuals, the music of Sevel Songs About Fire boils down melodies to a uniquely simple formula. Nothing is overcomplicated, leaving plenty of room to feel every chord change and focus on his glorious rusty voice, which is down-to-earth but also smooth enough to make me think he could burn the house down singing Frank Sinatra hits if he wanted. Andrew’s style makes great songwriting feel like something that anyone with a shitty guitar can do, and that’s not meant to sound shady.

Another major draw to Andrew’s music is his lighthearted pessimistic humor that he throws all over his lyrics. It’s the same humor that my dad’s college buddies who never had kids embody. You can tell he’s got a weird whimsical take on the world in the way he phrases his feelings. “My weekly dinner of popcorn and Coke / Every Friday, like communion that I took as a joke” in the intro “Hurtin’ or Healed” is objectively a bit bleak but you can’t help but smirk and hope you're as witty as him at age almost 40.

I can thank Andrew and his band Parquet Courts for my appreciation of art punk and a lot of the politically charged folk rock I obsess over today like early Courtney Barnett and Fontaines DC. The band’s pop art aesthetic and funky yet punky take on indie rock recontextualized a lot of harsh punk aesthetics into something that made a lot more sense to me when I was first getting into music. Album’s like Wide Awake and Human Performance were palatable but gritty enough to slap some taste into my teenage brain.

Where Andrew’s solo work deviates from Parquet Courts is his more laid back take on songwriting, packed full of energy without doing the most. He’s got a handful of chords and progressions that are standard but still sound so uniquely his own. Hearing a song like “Le Ballon” or his latest single “Black Holes, the Stars and You” put Andrew’s skill at building tension and emotion with just a few particular chords and subtle melodies on full display.

Most of the emotion conveyed on Sevel Songs About Fire is rooted in finding comfort in simple pleasures and observations in a life far from a sense of home. Living all the way in Denmark, I listen to “Riding Cobbles” bumping down the cobbled Copenhagen streets, “My New Green Coat” while wrapped in my new thrifted Bob Dylan jacket, and “Mountain Time” watching the geese fly in Vs like they do in the Cascades back home.

To me, the album is music to ramble to– it’s the music you listen to with your thumb out on the side of the road with a knapsack tied to a stick over your shoulder. I listened to the new album for the first time while waiting for trains between Berlin and Copenhagen, anticipating a long bus ride to Stockholm the next day. Being on exchange often felt chaotic, trying to experience as many new things as I could without a lot of regard to my ability to settle down, and Sevel Songs About Fire is exactly that. Andrew mentioned during his set that he loves touring because he has the unique ability of finding a sense of home in a lot of places, something I wish I was better at.

After Andrew’s show, I picked up my very own $35 guitar from the charity shop down the street and started thinking about tiny observations or inanimate objects that made me feel any kind of something. However insignificant these things seemed, they were unique to me which is exactly why Andrew’s music is so important. Several Songs About Fire was never about reinventing the wheel but more about a unique perspective and personality using the bread and butter of what makes a great song.

I beg of you please listen to Several Songs About Fire and after you’ve realized it’s your favorite album ever I’d give his debut album Thawing Dawn a listen. For more political indie rock stuff I’d listen to Parquet Court’s Wide Awake and if you like it even punkier, try Light Up Gold.

You’re welcome!

Mead Gill

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