#instead of finishing my wips I bought this instead

[happiwaffles]

Party members smile when they level up, and it’s super cute!

[drifloonz]

o yea my keyboards fixed now . i might forget to do requests or Give up halfway and leave it rotting in WIPs but i will try to rember.. i have at least two i want to do (eventually) when i have the energy . thankyou all for being patient i am god awful at this

[typheus]

we are at the end of september so heres a blanket update :p

[tkwrites]

Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Highly emotional, angst. mild fighting, lots of anxiety, swearing, crying, fluff. If I missed anything, please let me know. 

Summary: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Word Count: 4,600

Comments: I’m back with some highly emotional goodness. This fic was halfway done for a long time until your overwhelming reactions to my WIP ask game really got me in gear to start writing again. I really like the way this turned out, and I hope you do, too. It's, like, 98% dialogue. So if that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you skip this one. But it is setting up all of our off-season fics.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

Summer Decisions

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“My parents want to know if you want to come to our family reunion over the 4th of July. It’s in New Hampshire.”

“Oh,” she said, voice quiet. 

“Is that not okay?” 

“It’s just a big step,” she said, “meeting your whole family.” 

“I’m meeting your family in June, aren’t I?” he asked.

They’d discussed him coming to visit when she went home for a few weeks after school. Were it not for the Canucks making it into the playoffs, she would have bought a ticket for the Monday after her classes would be done. Instead, she pushed her visit back until mid-June, wanting to be in Vancouver to support him through the entirety of their run, however long it may be.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

It was a little strange to her how comfortably serious they were, but she couldn’t imagine life with Quinn any other way. It was that fated belonging she’d talked about so much when they first met. Even still, it was a little jarring to think about him meeting her family or meeting his before they even hit the six month mark. 

The phrase, ‘when you know, you know,’ never made sense until she met him. She knew, and even though it felt too fast and scary sometimes, she knew it would all turn out okay. 

“So we’ll fly out from Van, what? The night before?”

“I’ll have to fly out from Michigan.” 

“Michigan? Why?” 

“I thought I told you we train in Michigan in the summer.”

“You did, but I thought… I thought maybe that changed?” 

“Why?” 

“Because of us?” she gestured between them. 

“I mean, I’d love for you to come with me.” 

“I can’t do that, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just pack up and move to Michigan. I still have my research work, and if I’m not working or in school for more than 6 weeks in a quarter, it violates my education visa. Not only will I have to move back to the States, I won’t be able to finish my degree.” 

“Then I’ll fly you out every weekend.” 

Pricked, the old wound split open, and she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice, “so it’s up to me to fly to you?” 

Shit. He hadn’t taken her schedule into account again. “Sorry, no. Of course I’d come here, too.”

The annoyance still fresh in her mind she found herself asking, “why do I have to remind you my time matters for you to take it into account?”

Quinn winced. “I know your time matters. I’m sorry, it’s not fair for me to assume you could just pack up and move or fly out every weekend.”

“Then don’t bring it up again,” she said. 

Okay then. 

“I’m trying here, Sarah. This is all new to me, too.” He’d never felt close enough with June to figure out a summer situation. They saw each other once or twice when he was gone, and that was enough. Looking back, that should have been a huge sign about the trajectory of their relationship.

“And yet, I assume because I have a vagina, I was raised to take other people into account.” 

“That’s not fair,” he said. 

“No? Then why do you always jump into me coming to you? Into me changing my plans? Into me inconveniencing my life before you do?” 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a nice, light conversation about how he wanted her to meet everyone he loved. 

“Maybe we should just break up for the summer,” she said when he didn’t say anything.  

“What? No!” Quinn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, hurt and disgruntled she would even suggest such a thing. 

“What would you suggest, then?”

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you want to date someone else?” His voice was hesitant as he braced himself for the blow. 

“No. Of course not.” 

“Then why do you want to break up?” he asked through the relief easing his mind. “Why would you even say that?” 

“Because we won’t be together.”

“That doesn’t mean we should just call it off. Why do you always jump into ‘we should break up’ or ‘I should go’ when something hard comes up?” 

“I…” Sarah broke off, caught. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you should figure that out because I’m willing to put in the work here,” he said, gesturing between them. 

“That’s not fair.”

He raised his eyebrows instead of throwing her words back in her face. 

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I am trying, and I know you’re trying.” Tears pricked at her eyes, “I’ve just…” her mind whirred, trying to find the right explanation. In the end, as it always did with Quinn, the truth won out. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and I don’t want to lose you.” 

Bridging the space between them with one big step, he pulled her against him. When they boiled down to the heart of the problem, they were both scared of the same thing. 

Tucking his nose into her hair, he breathed in the calming, smokey scent that was uniquely hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he said. “We can still be together. Just separately.”

A laugh snorted from her nose, and she pulled back, “what?” 

“Long distance?”

It was Sarah's turn to suck on her lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I have. It's not easy. But I think we're both committed enough to make it work. Plus, we'll see each other pretty often.”

She had her thinking face on as a pregnant pause passed, so Quinn didn’t interrupt.

“What would that look like?” she asked, finally. 

“We’d talk on the phone and video chat a lot. I can come see you every weekend.”

“That doesn't make sense, Quinn. You go to Michigan to train and be with family. If you're flying back here every weekend, won't that mess with those things?”

“Probably, but —”

“Then it's out of the question. You need to do what you need to do.” 

He felt whiplashed. “I thought you wanted me to come here.” 

“Only in equal measure to me coming to you. I won’t let you give up your summer training for me.” 

It stuck him how much care and understanding were laid out in that statement. 

“Just like I know you wouldn’t want me to give up my research for you. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Still wrapped in each others arms, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder as they thought. 

Tucking his face into her hair again, Quinn breathed deeply. As always, that smokey, vanilla scent was so calming to him. He couldn’t ever get it out of his mind. 

“This fucking sucks,” he said, voice muffled.

“I know,” she agreed. “I wish it could be different."

It couldn’t. They both had commitments that needed to be fulfilled, and they just didn’t match up.

“I wish I’d known. I would have made different plans.” 

“How would you have known?” she asked. “We only met four months ago.” 

“Has it only been that long?” he asked. The reality of the swiftness of their relationship hit him full force. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” 

“I know. I do too.” 

“I don’t want to go the summer without you,” he said, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

“I don’t either,” she agreed, “but it’s not like it’ll be five months where we just don’t see each other.” 

“Four,” he corrected. 

“What?” 

“Four months, I come back in September.” 

Well, that was a relief. 

“Okay, four months. I mean, we already have stuff planned. Let’s talk through what we do have,” she suggested, breaking away from him all together and pulling her planner from her bag. Flipping to the summer months, she lay it on top of her comparative physiology textbook and sat at the table. The urge to make a plan itched beneath her skin. 

He sat next to her, leaning in.

“So we have my family in June,” she said, pointing out the 10 days she had blocked out for her visit, “I sort of expected you’d come on the weekend?”  

“Yeah, that sounds good. And our reunion over the forth,” he said, flipping the page. “Then, we’re going to Hawaii at the end of July. You can come. I’ll get you a ticket.” 

“Hold on, have you talked to your family about this?” 

“No, but it’ll be fine.” 

She shook her head. 

He couldn’t believe she was turning down the option to spend two more weeks together. 

“That’s your family vacation, Quinn. I’d love to come, but I don’t want to go inserting myself —”

“You’re not inserting yourself, I’m inviting you.” 

“And I’m telling you I won’t come unless all your family is okay with it. Including Jack.” 

Even though Quinn had assured her Jack was a good guy and very devoted to his family and would come around once they met, he was still aloof anytime she happened to be around when he and Quinn were talking. Even Ellen had said as much, but Sarah still felt hesitant. Until she saw it from Jack himself, she wasn’t about to jump into an already planned vacation. She knew what it was like having a new person join the family. She didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be. 

Quinn huffed. 

“The last thing I want is to come between you and your brothers,” she said gently.

His expression softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to them about it when they’re here.”

“So, it looks like we’ll see each other every three weeks or so, depending on when you come to Nevada and what Hawaii looks like. At least until August.”

Every three weeks felt like too long. He could hardly stand a week on the road, and they weren’t even living together. Yet. 

“I’d like you to come out to Michigan,” he said, “meet the guys. See the house.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “And you can come back here sometime here,” she said, her finger circling over a few weeks in August. 

Quinn nodded. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it did feel better to have a plan.

“Are you renting this place out for the summer,” she asked, “while you’re gone?”

“I kind of thought you might move in here.”

“What?” 

“I mean, it’s just going to be empty, and I’d really like to live with you when I move back.” 

She couldn’t believe he could drop such a huge bomb so easily. As she tried to reconcile what he was saying, she repeated, “what?” 

“I mean…” he paused, voice and expression suddenly hesitant, “only if you want to.” 

Her brain finally caught up, “it’s not that. It’s just…we haven’t even talked about living together, and now you have this whole plan about how I should live here over the summer.” 

“I just thought there’s no real need for you to pay for rent anymore, since you spend so much time here anyway.” 

“I…” she was struck with the care in that statement, “that’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

He beamed.

“But I can’t live here alone all summer.” 

Expression falling, he opened his mouth.

“I just —” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. What was one more in a series of already vulnerable conversations? “I’d love to live here with you, but I can’t…I don’t know how my depression will act up if I live alone for that long. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I don’t think a summer where I’m missing my boyfriend is the best time to start.” 

The thought that she’d be here alone hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in a concrete way. Like, he knew she’d be here, and he knew he’d be in Michigan, but he never thought about it like she would be the only one in the apartment.

“Oh,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “then of course not.” 

His immediate acceptance made tears rush to her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a hand back to wipe her face. 

Smiling despite the tears on her cheeks, she shook her head. “I just really love you.” Her voice sounded full, almost like she had a cold.

“I love you, too,” he said, feeling a little confused, “but I don’t know why you’re crying.” 

“Just…” How could she explain something like this? “The way you accept and trust my needs. It’s really nice.”

“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy, Sarah.” 

This brought on a new wave of tears, and she tucked her head into his shoulder, trying to pull herself together. 

Quinn still felt a little whiplashed but tried to roll with it, running a soothing hand over her back. 

“What?” he asked when she mumbled something into his shirt. 

Pulling back, she wiped her nose before repeating, “I’ll have to sign a new lease. It comes up in July.” 

“I’ll buy you out of it,” he said as if it was the simplest, easiest solution to any of the problems they’d discussed that day. 

“I can’t let you do that, Quinn. That’s a lot of money.” 

He hated having this conversation, but it needed to be had. It was actually a little surprising to him that it’d taken this long for it to come up. June had asked him about it a month into dating.

“Sarah, I make eight million dollars a year. I can buy out your lease.” 

Her eyes went wide. They’d never discussed money so concretely. She knew he made big bucks. All pro athletes did, but, “eight million?” she asked. “What do you do with it?” 

“I have a financial advisor who’s helped me invest most of it,” he said, “and I don’t really have all eight million available all the time. But I paid off my parents and some of our families’ houses, and I give quite a bit to charity.” 

She’d seen the way he was with money. He never worried about it, but he certainly didn’t throw it at anything and everything. He wasn’t irresponsible. 

Opening her mouth to say something, she found her mind still reeling and closed it again. 

The annoyed look he would give her when she paid the dinner bill flashed in her mind. No wonder. He made so much more than she did. All the same, she wasn’t about to become some sugar baby. That went against nearly everything her parents had taught her.

“I still want to pull my weight,” she said.

Quinn was a little taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, “what?” 

“If we move in together, I still want to pull my weight.” 

His lips pursed, and he held back his initial response in favor of gathering more information. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, if I make $80,000 a year, I want to pay whatever percentage that is of what you make.”

“You only make $80,000 a year?” he asked. 

“No. Right now, I make $50,000 a year from my research stipend. It pays for my schooling, too, so it’s technically more, but $80,000 is a general base salary for a marine zoologist.” 

“You’ve been living on $50,000 a year?” 

“Yes, and I’ve been fine,” she said, giving him a look that stifled any follow-up questions he may have had. “My point is that if —” she paused to correct herself, “when we live together,” he beamed and she lost her thought for a moment before continuing, “I want to pull my weight, even if it is just a small percentage of the household. I don’t want to be some beholden trophy wife.” 

“Beholden?” he repeated, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, I don’t want to be some kept woman. A lot of financial advisors that I listen to say you should split the household and each pay the percentage compared to your salaries. How much do you pay here a month? Do you rent? Is it a mortgage?” 

“It’s a rental. It’s not really smart for me to buy a place when there’s a chance I may get traded in three years. It’s not enough time to build adequate equity on a home.” 

Sarah stuck a mental pin in that to come back to, “and how much is your rent?” 

“12,000.” 

“A year?” she found herself asking, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be the answer.  

“A month,” he said with an indulgent smile, knowing it was her shock speaking more than anything else.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but this fact struck Sarah harder than anything else they’d talked about. She knew she’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on her own, but this was insane. More than a fifth of her yearly salary went to Quinn’s rent each month. She counted herself lucky to find a private room for under $2000.

“Okay, so if I make,” she paused, doing mental calculations - moving decimal points. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, “one percent of what you do…” She trailed off, looking into his face, “Quinn, this is insane.” 

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m happy to just pay, but if you would feel better paying whatever, I’m happy for you to do that, too.” 

 “So, I’d pay one percent of the household expenses.” Saying it out loud, it sounded so silly. One percent? That seemed minuscule, too insignificant to matter. “Maybe I could pay ten percent? One feels too tiny.”

“Sure,” Quinn said, knowing this was important to her. Unless she was storming in, trying to take over all the bills, he was happy to have her contribute in whatever way she wanted. “If you want to do that, let’s do that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

They sat quietly for a moment, and he gathered his thoughts.

“I know it’s important to you to contribute,” Quinn said gently, “and I’m not saying you shouldn’t - but I just want you to know I’m happy to pay for things. I know I’m insanely blessed to make the kind of money I do to play a sport that I love. I’d really, really like to live together once I move back. So if that means I need to buy out your lease, I’m happy to do it if you’re comfortable with that.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. If Quinn paid off her lease, she wouldn’t have to put off moving in with him or live on her own in this giant apartment or find a place to live for the two months between when he was home and when her lease was up. 

She wondered if this was one of those instances her grandmother often talked about. “Sometimes,” she would say while they were cleaning the basement or kneading dough, or working in the garden, “life showers you with blessings. And it’s up to you to catch them.” 

She always accompanied this wisdom by shaping her hands into a bowl as if to fill them with water. 

Sarah did the same now, pulling her other hand out of Quinns to cup them together. 

Eyebrows knitted together, he glanced from her hands to her face. 

She giggled and told him the story. 

“I should start doing that every morning,” he said, cupping his own hands together. 

“Every morning?” she repeated. 

“Well, every morning that you’re here. When I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest guy alive.” 

Despite it being incredibly cheesy, Sarah couldn’t help feeling moved. “Quinn that’s really sweet,” she said. “I feel like that, too,” she paused, feeling like she needed to add a caveat. “And I want you to know your money isn’t part of that. I would love you no matter how much money you were making.” 

“I know,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, “I’ve known that from the start.” 

His hands found her waist as their lips connected. 

A while later, that pin she’d stuck in for later snapped back into her mind, and Sarah pulled away. “What did you mean about getting traded?”

Well, they might as well have all the hard conversations all at once. “I’m in contract for the next three years, but after that, or even before, there’s always a chance I could get traded.” 

The trade deadline had already passed for the season, and Sarah had watched, fascinated, as players were moved around from club to club, like pieces on a chess board as organizations tried to build the best teams possible. Now, she had a new level of understanding, knowing lives and families were being uprooted in the process.

“But they love you here.”

His smile was wide and genuine, “I love it here, too. I don’t really expect I’d be traded anytime soon, but I can’t say never with what I do. I could get seriously injured, or my game could crash.” 

She gave him an incredulous look. 

“Its happened before.” 

“To you?” 

“No, but it has to people I know. I really like it here, but I can’t guarantee I’ll play here forever, or even for the next three years. I think I will, but I can’t say for certain.”

“What happens if you get traded while I’m still finishing my degree?”

“I don’t think that will happen, but I guess we’d make it work apart until you were done. Most players get traded right at the end of their contract, so we’d be apart for the rest of the season, and then we’d decide what to do moving forward. If I was moving clubs by choice, we’d decide where to go together. ”

She nodded. “Do you get any say in trades?” 

“I think I probably would, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I mean, Bo had a monster year last season, but they couldn’t come to an agreement, and so he got traded, and I know he would have liked to stay. It’s just never guaranteed.” 

“How do you live your life like this?” she asked. 

He shrugged, “you just kind of have to get used to the idea that things could change tomorrow.” 

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” 

The concerns his parents had expressed when they were here snapped into place, and a sudden, consuming worry that she might not want this kind of life overwhelmed him.

“Are you,” he paused to lick his lips, trying to find the right phrasing, “I mean, do you think you could be okay with that?” 

Even as it was racing with anxiety, the worried look on his face melted Sarah’s heart. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that while it felt steady now, his life had the possibility of being in flux all the time, and that where he chose to work was only partially up to him. At the same time, she didn’t want to be without him. The pull between them was too strong, too fated in a way she couldn’t deny. She was too in love with him to be scared of the reality of his life. 

There was only one thing for it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I can,” she said. Perhaps this wasn’t even something she needed to be worried about. Thoughts buzzing, she tried to think of players on Quinn’s level who’d been traded recently. She couldn’t remember any off the top of her head. She’d have to look it up. 

He gave her a relieved smile, and she saw moisture shining in his eyes. 

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her hands coming up to cup his face. The course hairs of his beard tickled her palms. “I think I’d probably move to the ends of the earth with you.” The words just fell out of her mouth, and once they were out there, spoken aloud for everyone to hear, she realized how true they were. For someone so practical, it was strange for her to have such a frivolous thought mean so much. 

His face split into a beaming smile, and he pulled her into a hug. Tucking his nose into her hair again, he let a few grateful tears fall. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he said. 

“I don’t know either.” 

A sudden, surprised laugh barked from his chest, and he pulled back with a raised brow.

“Oh no,” her hand went to her mouth as a blush blazed over her cheeks. “I meant that I feel the same way.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she had ever said something so stupid. “You’re the most understanding, accepting man I’ve ever met, Quinn. I’m so glad the Universe brought us together.” 

He nodded, “me too.” 

Looking into his eyes, which seemed more hazel than usual to the point that she could almost see a ring of green near the iris, the reality of what was coming hit her square in the chest, “this summer is gonna fucking suck.” 

“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap. 

Arms around his shoulders to bring herself closer, her feet hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair. Though she knew her toes would be tingling from lack of blood flow within a matter of minutes, she didn’t readjust, savoring the feeling of his solid chest against hers. 

The deep breath she sighed out moved her whole body against his. “We’ll get through it together, right?” 

Tightening his grip, Quinn agreed. 

As the minutes passed, his hands traveled over her back in slow, calming waves that put her totally at ease. 

“Do you have homework?” he asked quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the question himself. 

“Yeah, but it can wait a while.”

A pleased little hum filtered up his throat, and he pulled her tighter against him. 

“Can we move to the couch, though?” she asked. “My feet are falling asleep.” 

Laughing, he stood, hands cradling her butt to keep her wrapped around him. When she hooked her ankles around his back, Quinn filed the position away to try later. 

Halfway up the stairs, Sarah unwound herself from him. Sure, he was an athlete, but carrying her up the stairs was still taking a toll. 

She lay down on the suede couch and held her arms open for him. He gratefully lay on top of her, his head on her chest. 

Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah replayed their relationship in her mind. Knowing what she knew now, both about Quinn’s celebrity status and his quiet nature, the fact that he came up to her at all was a miracle. He could have any woman in the city, and he’d stuck his neck out for her. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She hoped she was living up to his expectations. 

Half an hour later, Quinns phone chirped with a notification, bringing them out of their sleepy reverie. By that time, they’d switched places, and Sarah was draped over him. 

“It’s 6,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got to get up to make dinner.”

Even as she whined, Sarah pushed herself up. This soft, caring version of Quinn was always her favorite, and she didn’t want to let him go. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him.

“I love you, too,” he said, standing and hugging her to him again before they had to get back to real life.

Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Quinn Hughes, but I’m so glad you’re mine.” 

Tucking his face into her neck, he pressed a few soft kisses there before telling her, “Sarah Roberts, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[alllgator-blood]

I have ten billion WIP sketches I need to finish, but for some reason I stayed up from 9 PM to 4 AM conceptualizing, making patterns, sewing, painting and applying makeup on this stupid fucking felt squid......the detailing needs to be cleaned up cause there's only one coat of paint so far, but he's pretty much done

my neighbors probably think I'm insane because I was running around the yard clenching this toy kallamar in a death grip and flying him around like an airplane/putting him in the barbecue/poking him with a stick. I want to tie him to a string and recreate the opening of napoleon dynamite >:) ALSO I MADE HIM SMOKE OUT OF A STUPID CRYSTAL PIPE BUT PLEASE DON'T ACTUALLY USE THOSE, THEY ARE SUPER TOXIC LMAO MINE IS FOR DECORATION

I don't have any process pics because I had tunnel vision autism style and forgot the rest of the universe existed while I was working on him. BUT if you're curious I'll ramble below the cut

Okay I am not a seamstress by any means. I've sewn my entire life but very, very infrequently. I've done plushies, clothes, cosplays, fursuits, accessories, etc. but I only do one like once a year, so while I planned to make all 5 bishops, I'm not really sure I'll get them all done. The material cost was like 20 bucks tops so I'm not too upset if I don't finish them. I AT LEAST WANT TO GET SHAMURA OR HEKET DONE.

here is the concept sketch ft. heket's toes and shamura's fingers. I decided to do his pre-schism version so I could fit him with jewelry! I did him first because like I said I sew infrequently and don't know wtf I'm doing, everyone else seemed a lot more complicated.

So I basically just traced this drawing on a printer paper-sized canvas in SAI, and guesstimated how everything would look in a 3D space. His head is four pieces, one triangle identical to the one in the picture, two wide triangles that are sewn together in the back, and a circle for his chin. You can't really see it in any of the pics but he's literally like a black cylindrical stick with little tentacles sewn on where his mantle connects to his cloak. The leg tentacles are one piece of felt that look like tassels, where they're connected by a rectangle but branch off into individual pieces. He can't stand up very well, so his cape keeps him up (that's gonna be an issue for every other bishop too except heket cause she's gonna be ROUND). Mostly everything like the crown, cloak, head, etc. are cones so I just had to make a lot of wide triangles.

For the details, I just used acrylic paint that was watered down so he's not especially crunchy, and for the blush tone I used a makeup palette my mom bought me 10 years ago in hopes I'd get in touch with my "feminine side", but I grew up into a nonbinary butch lesbian so OOPS. Kallamar looks better with makeup than me anyway. I'm kinda sad I couldn't get his freckles as lopsided as I draw them but it probably looks better in plush form to have them even anyway....

I could just post the pattern so I don't have to explain this but 1. I am mentally ill about the thought of my kallamar being in someone else's house and 2. the original pattern had to be tweaked while I was working on him so the final pattern straight up doesn't exist, I winged it the whole time

OH and the jewelry is just scrap pieces I had laying around, I might repaint it all to be gold instead of silver + bronze. I used 20g aluminum wire for his armlet thing, jumper rings for his earrings + ring (+ a diamond dot from my mom's kits for the gem) and chain for the bracelet. I made him an amulet as well but it felt like overkill so I took it off. I'm probably gonna make him a plague doctor mask and medicine bag sometime because I think about nurse kallamar more than I probably should :') I've already sewn one as a prop for a toy raven before so it shouldn't be too hard

[simpjaes]

i became a fan of enha in july. i found milf hunt fic wip in july. i have been waiting for this ever since i got into jay. u dont know what u just did for me. its crazy.

im just thinking of pregnant milf reader and jay as her new husband, loving her newer curves and bigger tits. just like when he used to let the neighbours assume more about his relationship with her, he does the same things. drinks coffee in the patio by the pool with a newspaper in hand. when they do shopping in their town, he has a hand on her hip as she walks, proudly showing off his employer turned wife. The rumours spread by the other women proved to be true, he is her husband. he pounds into her wet pussy every night, he drinks from her leaky tits. He fixes her fence, changes her light bulb, takes care of the little girl who calls him “dad”, he whispers to her swollen belly, builds the new baby a crib. buys matching clothes for their daughter and his child. he proudly shows off to the women he used to work for, that instead of boys his age struggling in tiny apartments with big boy jobs, he can stay lavishly finishing college with building a family checked off his list. his wife gets him to a big boy job too so she can rest with the upcoming birth.

he truly is the absolute trophy husband 🎀 our trophy husband

- noona anon

TROPHY HUSBAND IS THE EXACT. MAN. MH JAY IS!!!! you are also his trophy wife too tho.

me gushing about MH aftermath:

like, you make enough money to take care of him through college, even enough to take time off work during pregnancy etc, he would absolutely be the house husband while you're the money maker. I personally see him dropping out tho, ngl. Like living the full life of being a house husband, maybe getting paid to do odd jobs around the neighborhood like "ooooo can you fix my fence too Jay?" and "Ahhhhh, can you clean my pool like that?"

but ofc, it would still be classy wives tryna get his ass all sweaty and sexy for them to ogle at and he'd always come to you like "Babe, why do i feel like they're bitching me out?" and you'd probably snort, eating the craving food he's bought for your a million times by now like "Well, look at you."

You'd not be super jealous or toxic, even based on your history bc of who jay is, and how he treats you. He's cleaning some lonely wife's pool and he'll just talk about you every time she approaches him. like, example:

"Jayyyy, oh you cleaned it so well, would you like to come inside f-"

"yeah, my WIFE says I'm pretty good at this." and "haha, i should be getting home to my PREGNANT HOT SEXY WIFE"

[there's still the eventual option of him getting a big boy job, but for now i think his sole purpose in life that he wants to fulfill is being a dad. he'd not go back to school or get a big boy job until the kids are in school.]

He would definitely flaunt tho. He'd still likes the attention from other women of course, but for a different reason now, sometimes even seeing the women around town who did get to touch on him back before he landed you and always making damn sure they know what they're missing out on. Hand on your back, lovingly guiding you through the grocery store, kissing on you before you go to work in the morning. SUPER PDA from him. ABSOLUTELY on the porch with coffee like a fucking DAD too. that's the cutest fucking image omfg.

would throw BBQs, and you'd invite all of your friends and they'd snicker and whisper with you over how lucky you are to land such a hottie boy-toy. and you'd always correct them with a narrowed eye like "That's my husband, not a boy-toy" and he'd prove it every time ;-; making the best goddamn bbq in the city, playing with your kids and all the others, making all the ladies super jealous that their husbands are too "manly" to play dolls or dress up with the kids, or sword figh the little boys in a fuckin' tutu [bc jay would absolutely do that, wants to make all the kids have a good time when they're in his well-maintained yard]

Even more jealous that Jay does all the house work, cooks, cleans, parents, runs errands etc. he does everything they do for their own husbands, and MORE. The way you glow and flush when they ask about your sex life, phew, boy, they know Jay's gotta be a fuckin' maniac or something in bed.

NOT TO MENTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you'd be so so so pregnant.... jay would just, like, constantly be so so horny.

always touching on you, always massaging the pain away and trying to contain his cock because he neeeeeeeeeeeds youuu. def sucks your tits every night, esp when you start lactating KJFHSDKJFDS and you're like "ewwww jay that's so gross" all playfully, but his mouth always soothes your sore tits, and he wouldn't care anyway. he loves his mama, fr. loves even more when she stops calling him "Jay" or "Jongseong" all the time and refers to him as daddy in bed.

whispers to your belly all the time, rubbing it, takes you to every doctor's appointment, buys you everything you need [albeit with your credit card lmfao] for real just drops EVERYTHING FOR YOU at any given moment.

And there is a part in the fic where he fantasizes about you waking up every morning filled with his warm cum. He'd do that too, pregnant or not. Condoms are a fucking NO-NO in this house [for now], at least until you've had a third, even then he'd have to get snipped or you'd go on birth control bc there is no way in hell he's not gonna at least pretend to constantly get you pregnant. Jay wants a big family, you only wanted 2. But you've come to the agreement that if you want to have at least one more pregnancy, he will still be here, and he will be doing all of the work outside of carrying the baby.

also, second child is a boy. imagine jay glowing just as much as you are when he finds out.

man, im so soft for him. this is a mess, i just choked out every single thought of milf hunt husband jay all in one go and like, there's more in this broken ass brain of mine too,

for instance, how he asks you to marry him, where you get married, how is family reacts, how your ex husband reacts, your daughter + jay interaction, the birth and him absolutely fainting in the delivery room, how his friends act when they find out what he's been doing etc

[cdelphiki]

Athanasia going to the Manor - Jason and the Three Terrors

I started working on what will likely be the first installment of the alt-POV story I'll eventually publish. I ran out of time to finish this up and make it a full piece, so have my WIP. Once I have Attie meeting Alfred written and everything, I'll post it on AO3. I think I'm going to make another fic called "The Three Terrors and the Batfamily." or like "Bruce and the Three Terrors" or something, I haven't decided. It will be the POV of everyone not Jason, basically, and I'm totally going to write the little vignettes out of order, and I'll just post them to where they belong chronologically lmao. So like this will be chapter 1, but it won't stay that way because there's several scenes that happen earlier than this I will want to post and the fic chapters will be in chronological order. ANYWAY! Here's 1000 words of Attie being scared and going to the Manor.

Athanasia didn’t know what was happening.

Clark had taken her to his parents house, and she thought she would have to stay there until Jason got back. All by herself, without Mara or Damian or Jason. With people she never met before.

Ma and Pa Kent were nice. Pa didn’t do much with her, he was outside working on the tractor, Ma said, but Ma had her and Jon help her make ice cream.

Attie didn’t even know you could make ice cream. Jason had bought some ice cream at the store the week before, but it tasted no where near as good as the ice cream they made that afternoon. She really wanted to make ice cream again with Mara and Jason. Mara would like making ice cream.

Mara was in the hospital and wasn’t going to die, everyone promised her. Lois called her a couple hours before to tell her Mara had a surgery and the doctors said she was going to be okay, and when Mara woke up they could talk on the phone. So Attie had been sitting on the couch in the Kent’s living room, cuddling Batman as she waited for Mara to call.

But then Clark had landed on the porch and told her she was going to meet Alfred.

She didn’t want to meet Alfred. Not without Jason with her. But Clark said Jason wanted her to go to the manor to be with Alfred, because that’s where Mara was going to be when she got out of the hospital, and then they’d be there when Jason got back with Damian.

Now she was sitting in the backseat of Clark’s car, him driving and Lois sitting in the other front seat. She was by herself in the back, holding onto her backpack.

Someone had got her backpack and put some clothes and some of her toys in it. She didn’t know who did that, but Clark said Robin and Superboy had been packing up their stuff in their apartment, and keeping guard.

They drove over a giant bridge into the city of Gotham, and then through Gotham and across another bridge into the town called Bristol, where Clark said Father lived.

Attie didn’t want to meet Father. That was what she was most scared about. She didn’t want to meet Father.

But Clark assured her Bruce wasn’t there. He was in an airplane with Jason and Dick, and they were going to get Damian. It was only Alfred she had to meet.

Without her cat. She wanted to take Kitty out and hug onto her, but Damian had told her it made her look weak when she did that. So instead she had Kitty in her backpack, with her dolls and clothes in there.

She didn’t want Alfred to think she was weak, and then tell Father she was weak. Damian said Father was very strong, and he wouldn’t like weaklings.

Jason said Father was an asshole, but he’d like Attie. And she didn’t know what to believe. But she did know that Alfred was Father’s caregiver, so he would probably tell Father about her.

Attie hugged her backpack tighter, and tried to focus on all the buildings outside. Houses. Lots and lots of very large houses.

They drove down a long winding road, and Attie saw fewer and fewer houses. Right up until they pulled up to a giant iron gate, and Clark came to a stop to type a code into a keypad.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Lois asked.

She nodded.

Clark looked back at her through the mirror, as the gate in front of them opened slowly. “Are you scared,” he asked.

“I’m brave,” Attie said in response. Jason wanted her to do this, so she could do it.

“I know, you’re one of the bravest little girls I know,” Clark said with a smile. He drove the car forward, up a hill, and a castle slowly came into view.

“Mara is brave, too,” she said, as she stared at the giant house. It was made of stone just like castles, but it didn’t have any tall pointy towers. So it probably wasn’t actually a castle.

“She’s the other bravest little girl, it’s the two of you,” Clark said.

Father’s house was huge. It was bigger than their entire building in Metropolis, and lots of people lived in their building in Metropolis. She didn’t know how many people lived in Father’s house.

She wasn’t really sure how many sons Father had. Jason had said he had three sons, other than Damian, but all the pictures only showed two. And Dick didn’t mention having another brother, other than Jason.

Maybe Jason was bad at counting.

They came to a stop at the top of the hill, right in front of the entry.

Attie really wanted her Kitty, but she left it in the bag as she hugged it tightly.

Clark smiled at her one more time, then unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.

Shakily, Attie unbuckled her own seatbelt, and watched as Clark opened her door for her.

“Ready?” Clark asked, as he held his hand out.

Athanasia slid out of the car and put her backpack on, then took Clark’s hand. She looked up the stairs to the massive front door, and squeezed at Clark’s hand a little more. Lois rounded the car, as Clark shut the car door, and when she got to them, Attie reached out for her hand, too.

Even though she was brave, she was very scared.

Jason was afraid of Father. Attie didn’t know why, she didn’t know what Father did to Jason. She just knew he was really scared of him. All the photos she got of Jason with Father were happy, so she was confused.

But Father wasn’t there. It was just Alfred. And Jason wasn’t scared of Alfred.

Although, Jason didn’t talk about Alfred much.

Together, they walked up the stairs and to the front door. Clark reached out and pressed the doorbell, and he squeezed Attie’s hand back as the pretty chimes sounded on the other side of the door.

[babsvibes]

4 🤩🫶🏻

For the Bob’s Burgers prompt game, I… may have accidentally finished a WIP for this prompt: Erotic Friend Fiction

Tina-Novela

Tina shifted her weight in the red pleather booth and wondered again why Louise called a meeting with her in the restaurant. Typically about this time, her younger sister would be fixing Fischoeder messes or telling her consultants to pull their heads out of their collective asses. Instead, they sat across from each other, Louise’s heavy bag dropped onto the table in between them just moments before.

“Tina, you know that I’ve always been a big supporter of your works,” Louise began, folding her hands in front of her, eyes closed.

“You have?”

“I read all of your stories, don’t I?”

“You do??” Tina asked and broke away from the forebodingly stuffed satchel to stare wide-eyed at Louise, who only shook her head at Tina’s doubt.

“Obviously. It feels like we’re kids and I’m back stealing your diary. Reading it gives me a peek into your life. Or whatever.”

“My life…?” Tina shuffled in her seat and quirked her head just barely, hoping to indicate a passable measure of innocence. “But this isn’t friend fiction. All of the characters and settings in my books are completely fictional.”

“Really?” Reaching into her bag, Louise retrieved a paperback and displayed it with two hands so that Tina could read the title. The artwork beneath it showed three oil painted figures expressing devotion to each other. “The Raven, the Dancer, and their Zek? All you did was leave off the E, T.”

“Heh. ET. And the book is an alien romance. Good one.”

“I’m not done.” She pulled out another copy. “Published a while after a certain sibling and a certain high school heartthrob had a little fling. A Jean Jacket for Jenny.”

“I thought the title was clever…” Tina ran a finger over one of her prouder novels. Her first lesbian romance had been a huge hit. “I can’t believe you actually bought copies. Louise, that's really nice.”

“Which brings me to my next point.” Louise grew serious and deadly. “I wasn’t a fan of your latest work.”

Oh. Oh no.

Louise heaved the last book from her bag, letting it clunk onto the table with an accusatory thud. Staring back at Tina was a title she had hoped her younger sister would never see.

The Longing of Lisa.

“Uhhh,” Tina scrambled to think of something, anything, to distract her. “What did you not like about it?”

“You know, the title could have really used some- the characters! Tina! And who you based them off of!” During her tirade, Louise shoved the bag and the rest of the books out of the booth, sending them careening to the ground in a violent hurry. Post-lunch rush, the thud of paperbacks against the floor echoed in the empty restaurant.

“That was… Mom and Dad. Linda. Lisa.” She averted her gaze as though it was possible to hide behind the thick frames of her glasses. “Both have the s- same letters in them.”

“So which part of Bob made Landon?”

“Uhh,” Tina groaned then finished meekly, “the O?”

“It’s Logan, Tina. There is a whopping one letter difference. You put me and my rival in a suspense monster romance. You Thriller’d me!”

“I was experimenting with the genre, and I needed different characters. That doesn’t mean it’s you two though.”

“Oh is that so?” Louise flipped the book open. “There’s an entire section where the plot stops because Landon keeps trying to take Lisa’s beret. Also, a beret? Really?”

“If I wrote her with a bandana, then you’d know it was you.”

“Ah HA! You admit it!” After slamming the table with her fists, Louise composed herself, folding her hands together and releasing a deep breath. “Tina, we’ve known each other a long time now. You’re like a sister to me.”

“That’s because.. we are… sisters…” Tina said getting quieter on every word as Louise continued to berate her.

“So I’m having trouble coming to terms with you treating me this way. I’ve been good to you. I’ve helped the family business. I babysit sometimes. I’ve never once forgotten your birthday. And you turn around and write werewolf smut about me and my arch nemesis. I’M not even the werewolf?! What the fuck, T.”

“Hey now hold on. There wasn’t actual smut. I did a very tasteful fade to black that pissed off my editor but ultimately made the cut.”

“Also,” Louise continued to rant, “what’s up with us only using last names? I call him by his name all the time.”

“Oh that’s just, uh, a thing people like.”

A storm of nitpicks, clarifying questions, and accusations swarmed around Tina, who could barely get a word in edgewise.

Louise didn’t seem like the type to know these kinds of tropes or thematic questions. But she also wasn’t supposed to know about this book, so there was a lot Tina could be wrong about.

Apparently, Louise had really read it. In depth even.

Tina would be touched if she wasn’t so worried about being murdered.

But what was she supposed to say? Hey, you don’t see the looks he gives you when you’re not paying attention. Or, can you tell how much time you spend with him because you two just keep “happening” to run into each other?

Tina wanted to live long enough to be a grandmother one day.

“And all of that to say, no. There is nothing going on between me and Logan, there never will be anything going on between me and Logan, and if I EVER catch you writing us into one of your little curse breaking true love’s kiss scenarios again I will teach your kids how to smoke.”

“They’re four and six??”

“Did I stutter?!” Louise, chest heaving, closed her eyes and took a long, composing breath. She straightened her bandana, then fixed Tina with a look. “Just… say you’re sorry, and we can put this behind us.”

“… No.”

The customers stopped eating.

The ceiling fans stopped spinning.

The fryer stopped bubbling.

Louise broke the silence, grinding her teeth together with a twitching eye.

“... What?”

“I said no,” Tina repeated, crossing her arms. “You two have something worth writing about, I felt inspired by your chemistry, and I told a good story. I have nothing to apologize for. It’s not my fault you can see what’s right in front of you.”

Louise drummed her fingers against the table, slow and pointed. Her other hand tightened around the book.

“Do you remember… that brief period where we were both teenagers at the same time?”

“You can try to tear my hair out all you want,” Tina said, flashbacks to their more violent outbursts replaying in her mind. “I’ll still just twist your arm around.”

“So you DO want to fight, huh? You want to fight?”

“Bring. It.”

Saved by the bell, a jingling from above the door interrupted the bare knuckle brawl before it could really begin.

Though Louise probably wasn’t a fan of who entered.

“Oh goooood,” Logan drawled. He lazily saluted at Tina but focused his attention on Louise. “You’re here. Feed me, Burger Woman.”

“Do you want me to put up posters?” Louise snapped.

He paused, tilting his head with a question. “A wanted poster?”

“No, a missing poster. For your goddamn mind because you’ve obviously lost it.”

Caught up in their banter, neither noticed Tina slinking off, taking out her notebook and jotting notes for her next piece.

[ahedderick]

The week

On the weekend I set 'Finish the WIP painting' as my highest priority for the week; planned to get t it first thing Monday. However, a look at the weather forecast convinced my to do my outside work Monday instead - we're looking at rain on and off the rest of the week. So yesterday I did the trail and felt REALLY good about it, got the quarterly taxes paid, and added a drawstring to a lovely new skirt that my daughter bought. It has elastic, but it's tiered and has so much fabric in the bottom tier that it drags the elastic down. That was a finicky mending job, but I got it done.

Today is gray and threatening rain, which makes it hard to truly wake up - but I am going to get that painting out. If I'm lucky, the last little details won't be too hard.

Keeping myself accountable by telling y'all is a very useful thing. I could not bear to get to the end of the day and tell @gargelyfloof118 and @rederiswrites that I didn't Do the Thing!!

[coridallasmultipass]

Finally knitted Halloween socks that I've been meaning to knit since I bought this yarn last year!

The yarn is from "SavannahRoseHandmade" from the 90s Halloween Collection (sold out now UGH [understandable, but UGH]) and is visually inspired by the movie Scream (1996). I saw the colour pooling effect on their sample swatch when they shared the yarn collection images on Reddit last year, and was immediately like, 'Holy shit it's just like CRT TV static!!' And I had to get it. (And then life happened and I didn't get around to knitting them until now lol).

And unfortunately, I'm SO IN LOVE WITH IT!! THE EFFECT DID TRANSLATE TO SOCKS AND NOW IT'S LIKE, AHHH I NEED MORE. I don't know if I have enough yarn left to make an additional pair, so I'll have to figure out how to weigh it and the socks and see if the weight compares (really don't wanna end up with 3 socks and not enough for the 4th lol). But yeah. I'm so glad I got to do this. The yarn colouration was SO fun to work with, and the yarn was a nice and smooth 1-ply which was a huge relief from the fluffy yarn on the socks I'd been working on just before this. And yes, I did intentionally take this photo in front of those books because of the spiral-ish pooling.

Can I just also... like... holy fuck, man. I LOVE when yarn pools into unique patterns. It's the best phenomenon ever. And especially like for this one being black and white? That subtle grey transition from stark white to pitch black is EVERYTHING. Like I never would have thought one could create yarn that would pool EXACTLY like TV static rolling down the screen when knit. Major nostalgia vibes. I can feel the forcefield.

Also, started these babies September 27 and finished the second sock today October 3rd, which may be a new record for me knitting socks, I was so fucking excited. I even have a big ole 'writers bump' on my finger from the way I hold my knitting needles lmao (was also knitting a different pair of socks before this, too), and my arthritis is Not happy, but screw you, arthritis! I'M HAPPY.

Side note: it would be cool to pair this yarn with like a red addition somehow. Get a Saw vibe going bc of the TV static pooling effect. (I do love Scream though.) Or you could even probably take it a The Ring route with like a fly applique or something. So many horror movie staples with TV static effect, and not enough Scream yarn to test them out!!

Bonus image when the socks were a WIP:

I had my new tooth and doll eye stitch markers going. I DO have bloody murder weapon stitch markers, but none of them are a buck knife (Ghostface's weapon), so I went for general Halloween vibes instead (even tho I use stitch markers like this year-round lol).

[crooked-jes]

wip wednesday :)

thanks for tagging me, @urmomsonfire!!!! <3<3<3

here's a little snippet from my fake relationship fic. it's long as hell (sorry) but it's my beloved excerpt and i'm sticking a big "made with love" sign onto it. enjoy!

Bradley takes the initiative of cleaning after breakfast while Hangman is scrolling through his phone, still at the dining table. He washes all the dishes and wipes the counter clean, and then the still unpacked tote bag catches his attention, so he steals a quick glance inside. There are some basic ingredients in the bag and Bradley can’t help his curiosity, so he asks,  “What are you gonna cook?” “Pasta,” Hangman answers, and when Bradley turns around, he’s still looking at his phone. “There’s no pasta in the bag, though. Aaand,” he prolongs the vowel and hesitates for a second, “I might’ve forgotten to restock,” Bradley finishes, a little embarrassed, and scratches the back of his head. Hangman’s eyes shoot up in his direction. “I’m not serving my Italian family store-bought pasta.” Bradley blinks.  “So what, you’re gonna make it from scratch?” “Yes?” Hangman says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. They both stare at each other like the other one has lost his mind before Bradley finally raises a brow and cracks a smile. “Nat is never gonna believe it,” he says before grabbing his phone from where it's lying next to the coffee machine and opening the message box. That seems to spur Hangman into action because he suddenly stands up, the chair legs scratching on the wooden floor, and he’s at Bradley’s side in the blink of an eye. “You’re not texting Phoenix about this, you dick,” he grumbles and tries to take the phone out of Bradley’s hands, but Bradley puts it out of Hangman’s reach. “Oh, I’m totally texting Phoenix about it,” Bradley says and extends his arms even farther, trying to type while also holding his phone up. He’s halfway through the message when he feels a punch right to his gut, fairly light but strong enough to make him wince and bend in half, and soon the phone is out of his hands and Bradley pouts, though he’s not really upset about the loss. “You’re a buzzkill, Hangman.” “Jake.” “What?” Bradley furrows his brows, confused. “Jake. You weren’t gonna call me by my callsign in front of my mother, were you, Bradley?” He quirks a brow. There's a ghost of an amused smile on his lips, and Bradley blinks. “No? Of course I wasn’t.” He tries to sound convincing, but Hangman—Jake doesn’t seem to buy it, his eyes all-knowing. It’s not like Bradley has never thought of Jake as Jake. There was a time in the past when he’d let himself do that, back when Jake wasn’t Hangman yet and Bradley wasn’t Rooster, back when their egos hadn’t yet led them to rivalry so big that any kind of truce or friendship was out of the question. It all changed after the mission, but… it was just easier this way—calling him Hangman. It put some distance between them, allowed Bradley to breathe. Helped him not to feel like he was so close to the flame that he could get burnt at any second if he let his focus slip. So “Hangman” it was. Until now, apparently. Jake clears his throat. His voice is confident and steady when he speaks, but his gaze is fixed on the counter before him, not meeting Bradley’s. Instead, they are trained on the bag handles he's fiddling with. “Want me to teach you?” It’s an olive branch, one of the many they have offered each other in recent months. Bradley takes it without hesitation. “Sure.”

i'm tagging @whistler-king, @acetonitril, @cottagecori, @jaggedstartalk, @karlmschwartz, @hangmanbradshaw, @indybob, @icezansky and everyone who wants to join <3 go wild with it

[ruhorih4ra]

Holaa! 🐏 I have finally finished editing the 8 part of this, it's quite long (compared to the others), so it probaby has more grammar mistakes since I kind of hate editing (YES I KNOW I ALREADY SAID THAT BEFORE BUT I REALLY REALLY HATE IT).

So, having said that: would you still read this Fanfic if I keep with the angst instead of moving on to the comfort were a worm?

👉🏻👈🏻 🪱

Flashbacks are written indented (this time heheh).

Also, this was not suppose to be a replaced!Au I fucking swear over all my forgotten wips, don't blame the fic, blame my writer skills JAJSJAJ so, no, Mc is not replaced. This trope is more like a ✨ misundertanding Replaced!Au ✨

Happy ending of course, I don't want to cry.

Finally, this part takes place after the little fight with Lucifer (part 6), we get to see what they did and thought.

Get out of my way 🌈

The Seven Lords of hell were hopeless, who would believe that being ageless hadn’t taught them a single damn thing about facing their emotions? It seems the safest option is to bury your feelings deep down until they come out like a grown-up angry demon.

Everyone in the house of lamentation heard your fight with Lucifer, it wouldn't be a surprise if all the shouting made its way to the castle as well.

Belphegor had remained with his face buried in the soft cow-print pillow, listening to every word with a calm he was far from feeling. When your voice broke, his fragile comfort broke too, he didn't try to lay his head again. He knew rest wouldn’t come soon.

Beelzebub was exercising, lifting weights. It wasn't unusual to hear Lucifer’s scolding, quite the opposite he dares to say. What was unfitting was hearing you scream with such anger and sadness. It brought him to a halt. As worried as he’d felt, he remained still with his arms holding the heavy weight.

While the silence filled the room and your voice faded, he felt the barbell was too much to bear, though he wasn't sure if it was the bar or the ominous silence that engulfed him.

Asmodeus absolutely hates being disturbed while painting his nails. Almost always ruins his ever perfect manicure, this time was no different. He was ready to complain to whoever was making such a fuss until he heard you. What do you mean by “forgotten about you” ? They would never do that! They love you more than their own sins! He's always pampering you with gifts and attention!

Just yesterday he had thought you would look great in the red suit he saw at the mall, he hadn't bought it tho. But what about those dramatic black shoes he saw at your favorite store! He frowned, slowly realizing he hadn't bought anything for you in quite some time. But you would never resent him for something material.

He bit his nails trying to remember the last time you both spend a full day together. Asmodeus averted his reflection in the mirror, how terrible it would be to see the truth in his own eyes.

Leviathan couldn't stop looking at the 'GAME OVER' screen in front of him. You called them a “Bunch of liars” that's not true! They love you, he loves you. You're his second player, his Henry. He looked at your empty place and wondered why you weren’t with him, why were you fighting Lucifer instead?

“My honorable Lord of Shadow, would you honor me?” You passed the controller to him, silently begging with your eyes, more than 1 hour stuck at the same level.

“Nu-uh. I must deny your request, my dear friend Henry” He said as he easily dodged an empty bottle of water. “Help me pass the level, you ass.” “I can't. This is for your own good.” But you didn’t miss the hint of doubt in his eyes.

“Pleaseee??” Leviathan tried, he really did. It's not his fault but muscle memory doing its job. “Thank you, Levi. You're the best!”

How did he even manage to win the game in less than 5 minutes?! Why are you laying your head on his shoulder?! He's going to collapse at any moment now.

“You'll always help me, right? With you, I'll never lose any game.”

He blushed just remembering. Still, your words echoed in his mind “Bunch of liars.” and the big and awful words remained on T.V.

'GAME OVER'

Will you give him another life? A second chance to win you over? Did he just lose in the stupidest way ever?

Satan arrived at HoL, accompanied by Sc. He couldn't shake the pain that had settled inside him back in the library. “I feel so abandoned.” He's surprised by his own stupidity.

How could he have treated you like that? Invalidating your feelings, it was more than simply jealousy, much more than that. You felt lonely, excluded, abandoned.

“Shut up, Satan.” “You need to rest, you are human.” You pretended to ignore him as you continued reading. “Really? I hadn't noticed. I thought I was an angel.” He chuckled and took the book from your hands.

“You are. My one and only guardian angel.” “Demons don't have guardian angels. Give me back my book.” You were tired but Satan's words were engraved on your heart. He had told you how lonely he had been feeling lately. “SHH.”

He big spoon you. Your head resting on his chest. He started reading for you. “Thanks for being here, Mc.” You shook your head, already halfway into dreamland.

“No, Satan. Thanks for letting me be here.”

“They were reading... 'How to get ride of annoying demons' heh, they want to get rid of us.” The mere thought of letting you go hurt him to the core, steals all his wrath and morphed it into pain. “Satan, don't worry. I'm sure everything's going to be alright.”

“I’d read them the instructions for getting rid of our pacts if they just let me hold them close again.” He ran a hand through his hair for the thousandth time.

“Forget it, I would read them every torture method they could use on us. Every curse, each damned echantation to hurt us.” His breathing became erratic as he fought the urge of tearing off his own hair.

“Calm down, Satan! Breathe!” Sc was nervous, she was unaware of how much of your time together she had taken. Now, she felt helpless watching the mess she had unintentionally done.

“What if they decide to leave us?! No, what if they decide to leave me?!” Satan didn’t notice his state, his demon form out. His eyes gleamed dangerously and his fangs showing.

“They won't! We'll talk, this is just a big misunderstanding, okay?” The black-haired lady was honestly terrified, how you manage to calm down seven demons was beyond her comprehension.

She was begging whoever could listen to her, that you would find in yourself the kindness to forgive these idiot demons who know nothing of emotions.

While Sc was outside, confronting a panicked Satan, Mammon was still glued to the same spot where you’d left him. As if your previous order had been for him rather than for Lucifer.

He could barely remember your words, the only thing that occupied his mind was your pained face. Your eyebrows arched to show sorrow, your eyes filled with tears. The way your mouth twisted into a broken smile as you fought back tears.

The saddest smile he had ever seen on you. But the worst of all was the shock, the shock in your eyes.

From his perspective, you looked surprised and frightened in equal measure. Did you realized something? “Mammon, it's okay, alright? Stop crying.” He narrowed his eyes, he saw Lucifer’s worried face apparently calling him but instead of his voice he heard yours.

“They don't mean it, they love you. I love you.” You held his head in your hands, giving him pecks first on his forehead and then all over his face.

“Please, say something.” Mammon had gone quiet after a slightly more violent than usual fight with his brothers, he had run to his room followed by you. His face was blank and you knew that was a bad sign.

“A scumbag and an idiot who can't do shit. A shitty big brother.” He repeated the words and you felt a lump in your throat. “That's stupid. You're none of those things” You wiped the single tear that had slipped down Mammon's cheek.

“You're so smart, very handsome.” You caressed his hair while continuing to praise him. “You are my first! The one who helped me more than anyone.”

“Lucifer saved your life. I couldn't do it, not that time or any other time.” Now his face was an actual waterfall of tears. “You saved me first. I wouldn't have survived the Devildom without a friend. You were the first to offer me your friendship. You're the Great Mammon, remember?”

Because of his tears he saw you with blurry eyes, and for a moment he was speechless. Your eyes were mesmerizing, as if someone had taken a ray of celestial light and shoved it inside them.

The words escaped without him being able to stop them. “You're gorgeous.” You blushed as soon as you heard him and quickly averted his eyes as a small smile appeared on your face. “I said that out loud? No way! It's not true! Y-you heard me wrong! I said that YOU ARE GORGEOUS! wait no-” You roar with laughter like a half-dead seal, but in Mammon’s ears it sounded heavenly and soon he joined.

“I wouldn't trade you for anything, Mammon.”

“I wouldn't trade them for anything, I wouldn't.” Mammon was crying in Lucifer's arms, clinging to him like a lost child. “I swear, Lucifer. Please do something.”

Lucifer felt useless, a complete fool. Why did he ask you such a stupid question? Was it born out of worry and anxiety? You were right, anything could have happen to you.

That's exactly what he fears the most, something or somebody hurt you and he hadn't been there to protect you. He was watching a movie instead, even when he saw you leave he hadn't tried to stop you, why?

He would have preferred you to throw a tantrum, fake everything, whatever to avoid admitting how he had failed you. How he had failed you again.

You were absolutely right, he is arrogant and stupid.

“Don't cry, Mammon. We will talk with them, they'll understand.” Mammon separated from Lucifer’s embrace, shaking his head. “They don't trust us anymore.” Lucifer remembered how you had closed your eyes when he was trying to caress you. The sudden fear in your eyes, the trembling of your legs.

He would never hurt you. Except that he has hurt you plenty of times before. Maybe his father was right all along, he wasn't meant to care and protect, only to kill and destroy.

“Who’s a good demon, hm? Who is it? You! You are a good demon!!” You pat Lucifer's head, smiling so much it almost hurts.

He'd only shared a bottle of wine that he had bought in the human world a long time ago. Who would have thought that you would end up like this? Happily giggling like a toddler.

Lucifer was ashamed and, much to his surprise, amused. “You're bolder than usual, my love.” You sat on his lap and cupped his face, he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“My morning star, so good, what a good demon you are.” His eyes shone when he met yours, he recognized pure love through your gaze, deep and sincere. “I'm not a good demon, Mc. There are not good demons.”

He felt your forehead on his.

“I'm looking at one right now.” He smiled and thought to himself. “If they think so, maybe I can try.”

He's going to try. Lucifer swallowed, his throat still sore. “We'll try, we'll do better.”

Part. 9 ಠ⁠‿⁠ಠ

Thank youuu so much for reading!(⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)♡♡

Taglist: @yuumaofc @kodasstar @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @dearangels

[elizmanderson]

2024 wrap-up, part 1

part two | part three | part four

[ABBA voice] here we go again, my my—

anyway, now that I've put that song in your head, let's look back at my year

writing

book stuff

as you may know, my second book, The Keeper of Lonely Spirits, releases in March 2025! so I spent much of this year editing, then editing some more, then line editing, then copy editing, then going over pass pages, then over more pass pages... the process never ends (until it's too late to make changes)

(artist: Xuan Loc Xuan)

if you find any typos in the final book come March, instead of being annoyed about them, you should recognize their determination and give them an award for MVT (most valuable typo) and a kiss on their lil typewritten forehead. because they made it not only through my own fifty six thousand rereads, but also through my agent, my editor, my copy editor, and my proofreader, and I think almost every single one of those people went through the book at least twice

anyway, The Keeper of Lonely Spirits is a cozy fantasy about an old man cursed with immortality who hunts ghosts rather than making mortal friends who will die one day. when the residents of an Ohio town beset by a vengeful spirit adopt him as their own, he must decide: leave to protect his heart, or stay to save their lives?

link to StoryGraph listing

link to signed preorders through my local indie

link to unsigned preorders through the publisher

I also received my first ever trade reviews, one of which was a starred review from Library Journal! trade reviews can convince booksellers and libraries to purchase the book, especially if positive, especially if starred. they look good on a book's resume

read the reviews here:

link to Library Journal review

link to Publishers Weekly review

short stories

because I was so busy with novel stuff, I only wrote one short story this year. part of one short story. back at the start of January.

you know what happened? I let it sit for a few days for reasons I no longer remember, and when I came back I couldn't remember quite where I was going with it a l a s

anyway it's a queer Cinderella-inspired short, and I'd love to magically figure out a direction for it afresh so I can finish it in 2025

in-progress stuff

...we still won't talk about how revising last year's cozy mystery is going, but in my defense (a) I've been on deadline for other things and (b) just nine chapters in I had already strayed so far from my scene list that I had to rethink the whole book, whoops

mostly, I've been working on the second book that this publisher bought, which has resulted in a very terrible first draft full of so many footnotes and brackets that I would almost call it a zero draft, except I can't bring myself to use that term*

(*for myself. y'all use it as much as you like, if you like it)

literally it was 79,000 words, 6,000 words of which were footnotes-to-self so as not to ruin my fancy WIP aesthetic (Blackadder and Perpetua ftw) with comments

anyway, then there was a marginally less terrible second draft, which is what my editor got (a respectable 98,000 words with zero footnotes and almost zero brackets)

THEN I was supposed to take a break and not think about the book again until my editor read it and got back to me...but instead I immediately wrote a brand new synopsis, sent it to her like "seriously you don't even have to read the version I already sent you bc it's gonna look so different," and then a couple weeks later whoops turned around started rewriting the whole story

which isn't going great bc I really DO need a break, I can TELL I need a break, but unfortunately when it comes to writing my brain is like "NO BREAK. ONLY WRITE >:[" which is Not Good. but I am trying to let myself casually poke at it instead of going hard and getting it done fast enough to send to my editor before she can even read the version she has lolol, so that's something

no-context spoilers for this WIP:

(tried finding the original post but could not, so screenshot from the internet it is)

that's it for part one! part two to follow is here! link to part two

[doodlemania]

WIP: (Wally tried making you breakfast before you woke up but burnt down the kitchen and just bought some from Howdy’s instead)

Gotta finish my school assignments first or I’ll forget about them, if I finish early enough I can finish this today! ☺️

[adelaidedrubman]

new year same old fucking wednesday

i was tagged today by my darlings @socially-awkward-skeleton @galaxycunt @direwombat @corvosattano to share a wip in the year of our lord 2024! here. have some short (sfw) parts of this same stupid fucking wip that i was working on in 2023 and rewrote to be new year’s eve themed then didn’t fucking finish for new year’s eve. what the fuck ever

As with all holidays, Jestiny would ideally prefer to spend her New Year’s Eve outdoors. 

She would gladly take her midnight kisses whilst guzzling craft beer and watching fish leap from the water rather than sipping champagne and watching pixelated footage of a ball dropping — if only the temperatures of December bleeding into January in Montana would agree with her preferences. 

And sure, a sharp chisel and a thick jacket could guarantee she would still be taking home her share of trout from a frozen solid pond. A good set of crampons strapped to her favorite hiking boots was all she needed to scale the highest mountain peaks, even covered in ice. A durable tent and well-insulated sleeping bag meant she could still feel wind-nipped cheeks warmed by the flames of a real campfire no matter the season, instead of settling for the store-bought logs currently crackling in the hearth behind her.

But even a rugged outdoorswoman the likes of Jestiny had to admit the blistering, unforgiving cold Big Sky Country winter required some activities be strictly indoor-only until the wildflowers of spring began to poke their first bright blossoms from the hard, frozen earth. 

sending no pressure, good for the year tags out to @poetikat @blissfulalchemist @deputyash @confidentandgood @captastra @voidika @inafieldofdaisies @just-another-wasteland-merc @strangefable @8bitpizzacoupons @unholymilf @orionlancasterr @v0idbuggy @jackiesarch @strafethesesinners @henbased @simplegenius042 @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @quickhacked @miyabilicious @stacispratt @nightbloodbix @thedeadthree @shellibisshe @wrathfulrook @fourlittleseedlings @cassietrn @florbelles @g0dspeeed @belorage @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @afarcryfrommymain + like/unlike this post to opt in/out of wip day tags!

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

tagged by @jesuisici33 @callaplums @daffi-990 @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie 💖💖

made a bit of progress on the sick fic so here it is🤷

prev snippet

___

“Maybe we should get you to a doctor.” Buck muses, wrapping the blanket over Eddie’s shoulders.

“I don’t need- I just closed my eyes for a second. I’m fine.” he grumbles, fumbling with the blanket too long to want to actually throw it off, but he does in the end – he’s cold and refuses to admit it, and he’d rather sit here and pretend he’s fine. He’s impossible.

“Eddie, that cough did not sound fine.” he points out. 

“Buck-” he sneezes, and then wraps the sleeves of his hoodie over his palms. Buck raises his eyebrow, and Eddie pointedly avoids his eyes, as he not-so-discreetly wipes his nose with a sleeve. 

“I bought tissues.” Buck reaches for the bag and digs out a box, then tries to give it to Eddie, who, instead of taking it, just levels him with a stare, as he sniffles loudly, and swipes a sleeve under his nose again. “Seriously? You’re gonna be gross and disgusting just to prove you’re not sick?” That’s a new level of stubborn Buck hasn’t seen from Eddie yet. He can’t believe this is the man his heart decided it wants. And that even while sick and gross and stubborn and ridiculous, a part of Buck is still endeared by him.

“I’m not.” Eddie insists, sounding so congested Buck swears he can feel it in his own sinuses. “Let me just finish my coffee, and then I-” another sneeze. “Have so much to do today.” he finishes, but at least this time he reaches for the tissues, looking anywhere but at Buck, cheeks red.

“Yeah, no, all you’re gonna do today is rest and take some medicine.” Buck says decisively, then takes the bag in his hand, and slowly starts walking to the kitchen. “Get comfortable, and I’ll just put this all away and be right back. I bought meds, tissues, and something to cook you some soup-” he starts listing off, getting louder the further he gets. “Oh, and stopped by the farmer’s market to get honey. Did you know that honey has antioxidant and antibacterial properties?” he asks excitedly, ready to tell Eddie every single thing he found in his quick research. Buck learned a long time ago that with Eddie he doesn’t need to hold back and can rant and ramble all he wants, and Eddie is happy to listen to him.

“Yeah?” Eddie yells back, voice hoarse and strained. Buck can hear the couch shift as Eddie gets comfortable, maybe even finally lays down. He knows Eddie won’t just give in and admit he’s sick, but this is a start. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?” he sounds genuinely interested, though also really tired. 

“I will, just a sec! I’ll make you some tea with lemon and honey, how’s that sound?” he asks, and gets a grunt in response, though he’s not sure if that’s an answer, or if Eddie’s just trying to suppress a cough in an attempt to hide that he’s sick, as if Buck didn’t already know. He chuckles to himself. He really has his work cut out for him today.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gayarthur @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @diazblunt @911onabc @eddiediaztho @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @ladydorian05 @forthewolves @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @eowon @theotherbuckley @weewootruck @thewolvesof1998 @giddyupbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck @spotsandsocks