#just that. thank you ♥

[sleetkissed]

     ❝ Lord Doordash . . . ❞ @zalimbane

[hugs-and-stabbies]

[ parts 4 & 5 ] Over a month later but we're finishing this!! just one more part left :]

[link to part 3]

[raepliica]

priest guy sending mixed signals, what is he up to?🤨🕶🤏

~~~

[Image Description: A warm-toned comic featuring Trigun98 characters. It opens with Vash shouting "YOWCH!!" as a half-eaten donut flies through the air, a bruise on Vash's tongue. Meryl, editing papers, is annoyed as he complains: "Ow! Ow! I bi'e my 'ongue..." "What's the rush?" Meryl asks, "They're all yours." Vash, still hurt, tries to explain: "They're jus' sooo good!" Meryl argues back, "Well, savour it then!" Wolfwood has been watching the scene unfold as Meryl continues, "Satisfying your sweet tooth doesn't come cheap, unfortunately." Wolfwood clicks his lighter open and closed, again and again. Without a word, he leans closer, his thumb on Vash's lips. "Wolfwood...?" Vash trails off. Then, Wolfwood opens Vash's mouth and knicks his thumb on one of Vash's canines in one fell swoop. "Wah? Huh??" Vash says as Wolfwood pulls his bleeding thumb away. He licks the blood off the wound then snickers at Vash. Meryl looks disgusted, Vash has lit up in an embarrassed explosion, and Milly remarks, curious: "Those are surprisingly sharp, Mr. Vash!" Question marks float around Vash, and his donuts lay discarded on the table. Each panel is signed by raepliica. End ID]

[sysig]

For Requestober

Papyrus and Sans cozily hugging each other in soft clothes😭😭😭

(well this is literally first time I did this hope didn't do anything wrong)

Day 10 - Sleepy snoozey skeletons

[capn-twitchery]

i am 26 now, or something, woaugh

[tatatale]

Hello.

Please know that you're amazing.

The Undertale community is living a tough time right now, and I feel like the creators keeping it alive and standing don't get enough support.

You are part of that. Your art is amazing. I am not a commited fan of your work as in I haven't been here long and don't interact much, but I know plenty of people who are and that's literally all I need.

People love you and there will always be people thankful to you.

Have an awesome day <3

Thank you anon you're so sweet!! T ω T )♥♥♥

It hasn't been easy for many creators lately, especially due to the group of people who spend all their time harassing creators and trying to harm them as much as possible to protect… non-existent fictional characters.

There are creators who can just block and report these people and simply continue with their lives, but others feel more affected by this and that it's normal, because we are human beings, we do exist.

It's very sad to see creators end up with their health affected, and have to leave from the fandom in order to heal the pain that the toxic people have inflicted on them.

It doesn't matter if you have 10 or 1 million followers. It doesn't matter if you have millions of people supporting you, the fact of getting bad words, lies, threats, and general bullshit day after day, is something that ends up affecting any human being mentally.

We all love fictional characters. But they don't exist, real people are what matters.

So please, I just ask you all to take care of real people.

Thank you for understanding this ´◡`)

[would-you-survive-in-australia]

but mod

would YOU survive in australia?

- an australian

Doing my best.

[bunnysnared]

BUNNY!!!!!! DROP ANOTHER SIMON DRAWING EVEN JF ITS A BARELY DONE SKETCH AND MY LIFE IS YOURS. IM IN LOVE WITH HOW YOU INTERPRET HIS DESIGN

here anon!! a couple of crops of sum simons,, just for you

( ˘ ³˘(◡‿◡˶)  ♡

[arcielee]

Just a World Away

Summary: Modern!FemaleReader has a choice to make. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 4021 Warnings: Smutty smut, oral (male a receiving, female receiving), sexual themes,  dubcon, possessive Aemond (since you all loved it, but you can call me kettle). Author's Note:  Here it is, the final part! It’s a bit longer than the others, but we had a lot of shit to unpack. Thank you @f4ll-for-you​ for all of your help!  And thank you, my dear thirsty readers, I really appreciate all the reblogs and all the comments on this series. I just adore all my Tumblr kindred spirits. ♥ Tags (kindred spirits): @glitterandgoldfinds @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @fan-goddess @welcometothelioncage @hueanhdang @sahvlren @heavenly1927 @missusnora @lemonivall @iiamthehybrid @sirenofavalon @hb8301​ (slash through means Tumblr is still betraying me and I cannot tag you, but expect a DM)  Series:   Call It Dreaming

When morning came, it took you a moment to place where your head was resting.

At first you could feel the warm thrum of a heartbeat and your eyes fluttered open; the touch of bare skin was comforting and you felt a sense of serenity with the arms that wrapped around you with a hold that hinted that a lesser grip and you would be lost. 

Aemond Targaryen and his charred, warm and woodsy musk. 

The early morning light streaked through your window, the lighting allowed you to admire the definition of his torso and the silver streaks of scars across his hard chest. You were careful when you moved your arm, your fingers gentle as they trailed the planes; his chest expanded with a deep breath and he rolled to his side, pulling you closer still, placing his chin on top of your head and a low hum vibrated from the back of his throat. 

This new position allowed you to feel him intimately and you began to burn as his hardness pressed against your stomach.

You tilt your face up into his neck, pressing your lips on the juncture of his jawline to his neck with slow kisses. He shifted and growled your name, half asleep still. “That tickles.”

You grin into his neck, pushing him to roll on his back and straddling his abdomen, leaning forward to find his lips. His kisses are gentle, with one hand cupping the back of your neck and his tongue ran your bottom lip before he nipped it. 

You pushed backwards on his body, careful to press the heat pooling between your thighs against the underside of his cock and he groaned in response, pushing himself to sit upright and hold you in his lap. 

As his mouth latched and sucked on the curve of your neck, you struggled to control your giggles as you reached behind him, piling the pillows up. “What are you up to?” He hummed, nestling into the other side of your neck, his tongue tasting you. 

You did not say anything, instead pressing your palms on his chest and pushing him until his back was against the pillows stacked. Your lips trailed his body, stopping to kiss his scars, your tongue trailing one side of his Adonis belt, and finally you tucked yourself between his legs, peering up to see his brow was raised and the hint of a smile curled onto his lips. 

His cock was swollen, the head a flushed pink that glistened with precum. His gaze did not leave you and you slipped your hand so the back of it rested on the silver patch that trailed a thin line upwards to his bellybutton; you returned his look and leaned forward to drag your tongue flat on the underside, tasting yourself, and up to the tip. 

He groaned and his hand moved to the back of your head as your lips wrapped around and you started a slow bob, allowing your saliva to lubricate as you take him, inch by inch, in your hot mouth. 

You gag when he hits the back of your throat and you feel him arch his back with another guttural groan. “Mazemā nyke sīr sȳrī,” You take me so well, he praised you, his voice low. 

Spit began to dribble from both corners of your mouth and pooled at the base of his cock; you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, using the spit for lubrication as you synchronized the movement of your grasp and your mouth. The motion allowed him to be swallowed and you hollow your cheeks to tighten the suction; his hand grabs a fistful of your hair and you moan around him. 

“Kessa,” he growled. “Sepār raqagon bona. Sȳz riña.”

Yes, just like that. Good girl.

Your other hand holds on his hip and you shift your weight, focusing on the motion and mindful of your teeth; your tongue flattens the underside and runs the length of him and back. There is the prickle of tears in the corners of your eyes, but you can feel him pulsating and know he’s close. 

His grip on the back of your head holds you down for a moment, your nose pressed into the silver hair nested above; you pause a moment and then flit your tongue back and forth the base of his cock. Another groan drags from the back of his throat with his release, a hot stream of cum goes into the back of your throat and you become relentless with his release, your head moved to lick every drop of him. 

“Iksā va jāre ossēnagon nyke!” He groaned again. You are going to kill me.

You stop, wiping the corners of your mouth and he grabs you to crush you against his chest again; you lay against him, listening to his heart and waiting until it paces itself. “You seem so pleased with yourself,” he commented with an exhale.

“I am, my prince,” you grinned in return.

His head turned and his fingers caught beneath your chin. “My name is Aemond,” he said. “You should remember from how you have screamed it prior.”

His comment made your face burn and a smile hinted again as he pushed away from you. “Or must I remind you…?”

Aemond was both a prince and gentleman, you have decided as he nestled between your thighs. His slender fingers remembered every sensory pressure point of yours and his tongue diligent and able to find your pearl with efficiency. You came undone, tears streaming your cheeks, and he kissed the insides of your thighs, which caused you to jump. 

“You seem quite smug yourself,” your voice is breathless and you can see how his cheeks dimpled with his smile. 

Eventually, you leave the bed; you scrounge through your closet and find an old pair of grey sweatpants left behind and the largest shirt you had to best fit his long, lithe abdomen. He hummed his appreciation when you combed through his silken locks and took care to twist it into a low bun. He accepted the beanie you presented him without complaint and followed you into the kitchen. 

You helped him decide on a cereal to hold him over while you cooked breakfast. At first, he leaned on the kitchen bar, propped on his elbows to watch you pull a clean bowl from the cupboards, followed by a collection of boxes that you set on the counter. 

“What is that?” He had asked.

And you did your best to explain the concept of breakfast cereal to him. 

“It is to be eaten with milk?” His brow furrowed. 

“Yes, but we are lactose friendly,” you add, meaning you and your roommates. “So we mostly use almond milk.” 

His lips had the slightest curl to them. “Milk from almonds?” But Aemond was willing to try, pushing from the counter and coming up behind you to pick up the first box. “Honey Nut… Cheer-ee-os?” He attempted the word.

You struggled to hear him, your face flushing from him being pressed against your backside. “It’s Cheerios,” you correct him, almost choking on the word. 

Aemond was all too aware of your visceral response to him and he leaned forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, his arms caged you in as he picked up the next box. “Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” He said it like a question, his eye flitted over the cardboard. “The printed nutrition for this item shows it is mostly sugar…” 

You giggled and twisted to face him, your lips brushing his chin. “You should try Cheerios, it’s probably the only thing cereal-wise with the least amount of sugar. It can hold you over while I cook us something.” 

“You can cook?” He sounded impressed, pulling away and returning to the kitchen bar, seating himself on one of the stools. 

“It’s a quality needed in my world to survive,” you grinned as you poured the almond milk over and walked back to place the bowl in front of him. “Eat, my prince,” your voice is low and he smirks, grabbing the spoon.

There was comfort in the simple action of frying some eggs and slices of ham, listening as Aemond munched away. You steal a look and find he was just watching you, his one sapphire eye and one lavender eye locked on your every movement; the blood rushes to your cheeks with your smile-

“Oh, good morning,” the singsong voice of Emma interrupts and you both look to watch her shuffle into the kitchen, wearing an oversized shirt and some shorts. She stops to pull out a pitcher of iced coffee from the refrigerator and the creamer.

“Is this the late night guest?” Miguel was next to follow in. “Pour me a mug.”

“You know I cannot reach the mugs,” Emma made a face. 

“Oh, right, well then move,” he nudged her with his hip, reaching to grab two mugs from the top shelf and Emma turned back to the kitchen bar. 

There was a moment of silent, exchanged looks as Aemond finished his last bite, pushing back from the bar and placing the bowl in the sink. You finished plating and he reached to take one, leaning forward to press his lips against your cheek. 

Your cheeks flame when you realize your roommates were still watching, though Aemond just returned to his seat. Miguel finally just shrugged, “So, are you going to introduce us…?”

The blush envelopes you further as you follow to sit next to him, gripping your own plate. “Yeah, sorry, so rude of me,” your words feel rushed as you hand him some clean silverware. “Emma, Miguel, this is Aemond, my… friend,” you decide on the word, your face even a shade deeper. “He came in on a late flight to surprise me.”

“Well,” Miguel mixed the creamer in both mugs, dropping the spoon in the sink and handing one to Emma. “Cheers to having such a good… friend.”

You avoid Emma’s look, who was smiling like she was suppressing a smirk. “So nice to meet you, Aemond.”

Aemond hummed, nodding his head and was quick to swallow his bite. “A pleasure to meet you both,” his tone was polite.

You managed a weak smile and looked at Miguel, “Um, his luggage was lost. Is there something he could borrow…?” 

Miguel raised his brow but disappeared into his room for a moment. You then hear Emma ask, “So, Aemond, what brings you to the area?”

Your attention snaps back to them. “He is thinking about transferring to our campus,” the lie was quick to your lips, your eyes wide when he peered at you.

“Oh, yes,” he adds, his voice flat with his delivery. “It seemed like an adequate institution and she promised to give me a detailed tour of all its facilities.” 

You nod, relieved when Miguel returns with an armful of clothes. “I had to guess your aesthetic,” he placed the folded clothes on the counter and Aemond pushed to stand, cleaning up your plate and his own, bringing them to the sink. “A hipster flare is my guess? But with your complexion, I was thinking darker tones-” 

“Yes, perfect,” you are quick to grab the clothes. “Thank you. Uh, what do you guys have planned today?”

Miguel perked at your words, “Oh, are you inviting-?”

“No,” you stop him. “Just calibrating schedules. For, uh, private time.”

“Private time,” Emma called from the kitchen. “With your good friend.”

You grab Aemond’s hand to pull him into the bathroom, leaving your giggling roommates behind; you show him hot and cold, as well as where the soap, shampoo were and he hummed his understanding. Just as you tried to leave, he grabbed your elbow to offer, “Perhaps you want to join me…?” 

You decline with a pained expression, only because you knew full well your roommates still lingered in the apartment and, instead, you returned to your room, breathless and your mind whirring over what was happening. 

Aemond Targaryen is in your world right now. His perfect physique is showering in your bathroom and using your toiletries… your face flushed again and your hands held your face. How long would this even last? Or was this a result of the stressful semester finally breaking your psyche?

The constant linger in the back of your mind, did you tell him about the pregnancy test? 

Instead, you get dressed, changing into some black leggings and an oversize sweater that would be perfect with the beginning of Autumn. As you pulled your boots over your socks, Aemond walked into the room.

Your breath caught in your throat: he was wearing black joggers and a grey shirt that fit across his chest and shoulders, with the jean jacket slung over his arm. You bite the inside of your bottom lip and guide him to sit on your chair, taking care to towel dry his hair and twist into a low bun; you hand him a corduroy cap. “For discretion,” and you gesture wearing it low to bring less attention to his sapphire eye. 

I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want this to end.

He hums and pulls it on, his gaze falling to your wall where your artwork was pinned. He peers back at you with the curl of his lips, noticing the subject drawn. 

Himself.

Your face flames again but his voice is soft with his compliment. “This is how you perceive me?” He asked, reaching and touching one. You nod mutely. “These are very good.” 

“Thank you,” your throat is so dry, it is almost a squeak. 

“Are you an artist?” His tone does not mock you, but is a generous inquiry. 

You scoff and quickly add, “I wish it was, but I am on a pathway to some state job and a lot of debt.”

His brow quirks at your words and you reach for his hand. “Nevermind. Let me give you a tour,” you offer and he follows. “And you can explain how you are here.” 

The day is spent exploring the campus; you show him the buildings that arch upwards, the campus community where you stop to grab a drink, smiling when he tentatively sips at the tea the barista prepared for him. You bring him to the art museum where students have their end of semester projects on display and his free hand interlocks his fingers with your own as you both take your time to look over the artistry. 

“Which one is yours?” He whispered in your ear.

You blushed again as his question fans his breath on your cheek. “Oh, no, Aemond, I only draw for personal pleasure.”

He hummed, looking around. “Your work is much better, though.”

“Isn’t that a biased opinion?” You grinned.

He just shrugs and you both continue to walk, eventually finding the library. He admired the arched, glassed ceilings that showed the beginning of the setting sun, allowing the rows of shelves brimming with literature glow with the warm reds, yellows, and amber colors. 

“I would never wish to leave this,” he whispered to you, his gaze taking in the lines of book spines. “I wished to lay my head in your lap and read my days away.” 

You were at a loss for words. A few months ago, you were fantasizing about a fictional prince from some fantasy world and now you were touring the fucking university with him. “Aemond,” your voice is low. “You still have not told me how you came here…” 

Aemond looks down at you and hums before taking your hand and pulling you towards the exit. You round the corner and stop to lean against the outside wall, listening as he delves into his explanation which includes a witch and a potion she concocted, which would allow you the opportunity to leave this modern world you were ensnared in and return with him to Westeros. 

It all sounded too good to be true. 

You watch him wet his lips, waiting for your reply. 

But you still had no words and so you pressed to your tiptoes to kiss him. He responded by wrapping his arms around your waist, his mouth opened to deepen the kiss and his tongue was tantalizing against your own. His hands moved to rub the curves of your hips and pull you closer against him for a moment before releasing his hold. 

You fall back a step, your cheeks and tip of your nose red from the kiss. “Let's go back,” you whisper and he is quick to follow you. 

The modern drab is easier to peel away and you both fall into your bed a tangle of bare limbs. His touch is tender and attentive as this morning, with a familiarity as he navigates over your body; Aemond is dutiful to your reaction, pacing himself with the soft gasps that spilled from your lips, until the inevitable rush of blood that bloomed between your thighs with your climax. 

He falls forward, burying his face into your neck with the hum of his own release and his lips kiss the curve of your neck. You both lay there until you feel your heart beats return to its normal, precoital pace. 

You have your answer for him.

“Aemond,” your voice is soft and he shifts to his side, his palm resting beneath your breasts. “I will return with you to Westeros, but…” his face is stoic, just waiting for you to finish your thought. “There is something I have to tell you first.” 

He moves again to bring your head to his chest and you nestle beneath his chin, unable to see his face. “Go on with your confession,” his tone is tight. 

With a deep breath, you tell him you may be pregnant. 

His reaction was not what you expected; you feel him still and look to see him peering down at you, a small furrow on his brow. “Are you certain?” 

You explain the concept of a pregnancy test but that you had yet seen someone to confirm. His palm moves, calloused but warm, and rests on your stomach. “Ñuha zaldrītsos,” his tone is so low and your cheeks heat with his words.

My little dragon. 

“We will marry once we return to Westeros,” he continued and, of course, it was not a question but stated as a fact. When he notices how you stare, only then does he say, “You must know that I cannot father a bastard and I certainly did not travel to your world to only be,” his lips curled with the words, “your good friend.”

Your face flames. “I mean, yes, but, uh, I also thought it would be… you know, a bit more romantic?”

Aemond only hums his reply, pulling you closer and you eventually relax against him, your head resting on his chest and listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. After a few moments, you finally ask, “When would we leave?”

“Tomorrow night,” and with his words, begins the countdown of your time left within the 21st century. 

The next day begins with the warm hum of Aemond nestled between your legs, with kitten licks to your cunt until your eyes flutter open. You feel the coil in your lower abdomen and his fingers curl into you to coax your release. “Swear you will always wake me up like this,” you are breathless and he grins as he licks his fingers clean. 

Eventually, you pull yourselves from the bed and find all your roommates dressed and waiting in the living room. They treat you to a late lunch at your favorite restaurant and give an annoying toast to you and your good friend. Aemond smirks into his drink, his hand underneath the table and palming your thigh; your fingers rest gentle on his firm grasp, enjoying the heat of his hold. 

Back in the quiet of your room, you settle in a nest of pillows to write a farewell letter to your roommates. Aemond spends a moment in front of your shelf and comes to lay on the other side of your bed with a book in his hand. “The Hobbit?” You ask with a smile. “It is a classic and one of my favorites.” 

“I have always read to understand and to learn, which I enjoy,” he explains, looking over the cover. “I am curious to read for the sake of a story. This is a first for me.” 

Finishing your note, you clear off your lap and allow Aemond to lay his head down as he reads; your fingers comb through his hair and he gives the occasional hum when your nails scratch his scalp. 

There is a tightness in your chest. You dated a bit, but nothing that allowed an intimate moment like this. You had never been with someone who so boldly craved your touch, your attention. There was a comfort under his constant eye, how his gaze would search for you and watch your every move.  

You sigh at the thought, knowing this was why you decided to leave, because what truly kept you here? You had devoted yourself so thoroughly to a tedious school schedule and were now in your mid-twenties and all that remained was a tedious career and debt. 

You lost the little things in this life that you had so dearly loved. 

You are going, your mind was bold with the words and only then did you notice Aemond shifted to stand up, holding his hand towards you. 

Your room was dark, save the golden glow from your lamp. Your fingers were cool to the touch and he pulled you to your feet and only then did you notice an iridescent circular glow in front of your closet. “It’s time,” he said.

And you freeze, your eyes looking over your room that you stayed in for the last 7 years. There was comfort with what was familiar and risk with the step, but what was the fucking quote? You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it?

Only then you realized how Aemond was watching you; he dropped your hand and turned away from you. 

You stupid bitch, why did you hesitate, you think and reach to touch his arm. “Aemond, I’m sorry, I’m just scared-” 

He turns back to bring you against his chest, pressing his lips against yours; you welcome him, your lips parting to deepen the kiss and your mouth fills with a liquid with a sickly sweetness like cough syrup. You try to pull back, but his hold tightens and his hand clamps over your mouth and he does not release until he feels you swallow. “Aemond,” you gasp for air. “What the actual fuck.” 

Aemond leans forward for a second kiss that is more chaste, his lips soft. “I understand your hesitation,” his voice is low and his gaze is intense. “But I cannot risk it. Life presents different pathways and we have only a moment to surrender to it, allowing yourself something that is destined for you.” He kisses you again and you moan in his mouth, your head spinning. “You are mine and you will return with me to Westeros where I will spend all of my days to cherish, to worship, to ravish your body until my last breath, I swear this to you.”

Your eyes are wide with his words and only then do you notice an iridescent glow to your skin tone. “What is happening to me…” 

He pulls you closer still and whispers, “Come with me.”

And you go, half expecting a rush of wind, some sort of indication you left behind everything you ever knew, but instead you were standing in an empty throne room where tapers were lit and littered around, emitting a warm glow. 

Alys Rivers looks up from where she is sitting and you see a smile to her painted lips. “You returned with her, my prince,” she turns her focus to you. “Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Westeros.”

[bethanyactually]

Nancy Drew + text posts (38/?)

4.08 || The Crooked Banister (2/5)

feat. @acesnancy ♥︎

[avocadoraisin]

Is it possible we’ll be getting more hoffstrahm fluff soon???

i mean, you will, inevitably! but i kindly need some ppl to realize my last art piece only being ~2 days old & my last fluff piece being only ~1 week old respectively is.. Not long ago LMAO

like damn i just. i just drew!! haha

[pipileo]

i kinda just wanna clear this up, incase if anyone was curious... (probs not)

even though im turning sixteen in less than a week, i will still be keeping my art and my blog E for Everyone (...uhm. minus the occasional profanity... maybe T for Teens is more accurate) so the young'ins will still be able to support my art and my blog.

i dont think i will be delving into suggestive artworks anytime soon, nor will i be reposting suggestive artworks, including those of my ocs. speaking of which, i still ask that y'all avoid sexualizing me and my ocs if you were to make any fanart of them.

i love all of yall, and i will not be throwing you guys away just so i can appeal to the "older audiences." im happy with the community you guys have made with me, and it should be staying the same for a damn good while.

thanks for reading and supporting me, i really do appreciate all the love and support yall have given me, big and small. i hope you guys continue to enjoy my art and flood my notifs, and... yeah. thats about it for now. thanks for reading, pip out ★★

[presiding]

you'll never guess which level we're up to in this dishonored 2 rewrite

[cerosin-bis]

i'm really curious as to your interpretation of why krueger killed his parents, did he have a particular reason? did he kill them just because he knew he was capable to kill? i personally hc him as having a but of a god complex but it would be wonderful to see your input. thank you tumblr celebrity!! ❤️

I wanna preface this by saying that "krueger offed his parents" is my interpretation of his in-game lore (fled his home country to evade murder charges *and* both parents dead), and not outright stated.

It is a choice of mine to have never fully imagined what could have led to this. I like when things stay vague. I also (personally, again) headcanon Krueger to have psychopathic traits, so... there's always a part of uncertainty/shadow that is absolutely inherent to the character and my interpretation of him.

My headcanon is that he half-accidentally killed someone while in his early 20s. realised that the thrill associated with it was not "addictive" per se, but definitely indulged something in his brain. This, alongside having developed since his early childhood (I absolutely stand with you there) an unassumed god complex, and at one point in his mid-20s it just... happened. Can't be more precise than this because that's the extent of it to me.

Bonus doodles of early 20s ID picture and late 20s absolutely did not not falsify his papers KSK krueger because this man has never been arrested once in his life and doesn't have proper mugshots.

[capn-twitchery]

I love your ocs but I fear I am a bit out of touch with some of their lore. how much does Grace know about the red honey fuckery?

thank you sm!! :D♥︎ don't worry--i'm not sure i've actually spoken about this a whole lot!! (plus my lore is scattered around random posts like a ransom note. imagine being organised, couldn't be me)

for context: the two of them are a ridiculously slow slowburn bc neither of them know how to talk about feelings, they go in different directions a lot, twitch's response to Having Feelings (or anything) is to disappear to zee. everything takes forever. there's a summary of their timeline here if you want it !!

ANYWAY to answer:

tl;dr summary: most of the time, nothing! eventually, more than anybody else.

so, for most of the time, grace knows absolutely nothing. nobody does, really--twitch doesn't tell anybody, they don't want to talk about it, nobody sees their face at all.

as far as anyone knows, including grace, twitch's bad memory, lying & inconsistent stories are just a personality quirk. and they get sick sometimes, they just need bedrest & won't be available for a few hours, a day, a couple of days. nobody is allowed to see them.

grace remains mostly unaware for a long time--he has inklings that something is up. once he gets to know twitch better, he can tell they're not themself sometimes. but prying would push twitch away, so he just offers help, if they want company, for their headaches the surgeon mentioned. he'll leave the cabin door unlocked, just in case.

he has no idea how bad the "headaches" are until it's happening right in front of him, once they're close enough for twitch to trust him to that degree. he has no idea why it's happening, but he knows twitch doesn't want to tell him, either. and when they're sobbing in his lap, pleading for something he doesn't understand to stop, begging him to help them tie a blindfold because they don't want him to see their face, it's not exactly the time to pry.

it happens a few times. it never gets easier, and it never gets any clearer. it's not til after grace leaves for the new sequence and comes back that he finally sees their face uncovered. he doesn't connect any dots-whether that's because he genuinely just doesn't make the connection, or because twitch doesn't want him to make a big deal about it, who knows!

while he was gone, twitch starts connecting some dots: something's weird with their memories. they don't know how to process it. they bring it up subtly, ask grace if he knows anything about red honey, and maybe he can figure it out himself. he tells them he does, he learned about it during nemesis, in the palace cage gardens. it still haunts him, sometimes, the prisoners with their crying, the suffering the hollow looking eyes-

the eyes.

everything clicks all at once-twitch's eyes, their headaches, the memory issues, the inconsistencies, the lies. it only gets worse when twitch tells him they're starting to wonder if the memories are all theirs.

oh, god. how could anybody do that to them? who did that to them? but twitch doesn't want him on any kind of revenge mission, they don't even think they remember where the cage garden was, and they don't want to try either. he settles for comforting them the best he can-but what can anyone do to help, really?

at the very least, trusting someone enough to talk about it is a huge weight off twitch's shoulders. grace can help them try to figure out what's going on with their memories, it makes them better at talking to each other. it's not easy, but it helps twitch to move forward-slowly, but surely

[respondedinkind]

Quick (long) update.

|| I know I haven't been around in a hot minute, thought I'd give a quick update.

Sorry for vanishing like this, life has been a little wild recently; I started therapy a few weeks ago, next to me finding joy in a new game where I slipped into the fandom (rather hard lol) and realized that I am, right now, much happier with doing art and creating fics rather than RPing.

This might sound a little odd to some - but the thing is, my brain simply doesnt hold enough energy to do *all* the creative things I want to do. For example: RPing is incredibly fun but also *incredibly exhausting*, and whenever I put a lot of time into RPing, I am literally unable to do art or write fics. It's taking so much of my creative-energy-meter that it's empty quick, leaving me with being frustrated as I don't really get to create anymore.

So I decided to pursue creating art as well as writing fics for now, which means I basically vanished from RP tumblr in return. I know this might be frustrating to some - especially my writing partners - and I want to apologize for that, for said frustration I might have caused.

But it is what it is, and I am not going to change much about it anytime soon. I am actually feeling rather happy about being able to do art, write fics, and *not* worry about writing replies and possibly making partners wait. It's a sort-of-pressure that I've taken off of my own shoulders...

Which is needed right now as I, as mentioned, also started therapy. It's going to be a journey, and I was just diagnosed with general anxiety as well as depression (which could actually be a 'double-depression' on top of it, means it is a chronic depression as well as an 'episodic depression'). It feels... incredibly relieving, in a way, to finally have an official diagnosis and to know that yes, something IS going on with me, I am not just crazy in my head and/or lazy. However, the whole therapy-thing is only going to get harder from here on and I am already working on things that have been talked about, think about them in my head, work with what I have realized about myself and try to handle it.

I do have a whole diagnose-session going on in August for ADHD / Autism as well, which will *also* require a good chunk of my energy. So yeah, things are happening.

Long story short: I decided to put my priorities elsewhere for now, for my own mental health's sake, and my happiness. Reducing stress was *needed*, especially since I am only going to be more stressed while working on me, on my diagnosis, and on all the problems I finally want to be able to figure out and address, possibly solve. ---Something also happened in my private life a couple of months ago that basically, let's call it 'triggered', my sudden energy to finally ask for help after trying to handle everything for literal decades. So yeah. It's been a yeah so far lol.

I want to thank each and every single one of you for having been with me, RPed great stories, formed companionships over weeks and months; I won't delete this blog nor do I plan to 'archive it'. I'll just leave it like this and maybe, who knows, I will return to it (and my other blogs) at some point. I just don't want to put stress on me as in 'I will come back in x day / months', I'll just see where life takes me and when I find the energy to be here again, I will.

I love Khan, love Stephen, love Bones. I haven't lost my love for them, my attention is just elsewhere. (Including that cute game I have been playing, falling in love with some characters...)

I wish you all the best, sending you lots of vibes, happy thoughts, my eternal gratitude and some strength for whatever you need to deal with in your life. Remember that you are loved, that your thoughts are valid, that you are worth it. ♥

-waves-

PS: I do miss you, the people I formed friendships with. I miss you, our RPs, our conversations. In case we have been interacting much on here, but not actually exchanged other ways of staying connected besides tumblr - discord, for example - you are absolutely allowed to hit me up and I'll give you my discord. ♥