#mighty fine paint job there

[victusinveritas]

At least he has a spotter...

[the-atlas-sister]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔸𝕥𝕝𝕒𝕤 (Sully Siblings x Sister!Navi!Fem!Reader)

Warnings!: Blood, explicit language, sassy reader

Being the eldest sister was no easy feat, any of them could tell you that, but you weren’t just any older sister. You were the eldest sister of five. 

If that wasn’t hard enough, you were also the older sister of none other then the Sully siblings.

Ever since you could remember, it had been your job to keep your siblings safe and out of trouble. It had become your main job. Kiri was there to assist your grandmother in the healing and you were there to make sure none of them needed healing. 

***

“They’re back! The war party is back!” Your ears perked at Tuk’s proclamation. You temporarily looked up from the human book Norm had lent you. “Kiri, y/n, come on!” the younger girl said, running to you. She grabbed your arm and yanked on it. “Come on!” 

You chuckled at her antics but obliged, jumping to your feet and allowing your sister to pull you along. You smiled brightly as your eyes landed on your parents and brothers. “Lo’ak! Neteyam!” you cheered, running towards them. Your smile quickly dropped although at the sight of a bloodied Neteyam. “What the hell happened?” 

“Y/n, language,” your father scolded, watching as you fussed over your brother. “But you know, I’m wondering the same thing,” he continued as you rounded Neteyam and Lo’ak, examining every inch of them. “You two were supposed to be scouting! Staying out of the danger!” 

“Dad,” you said, sending your father a harsh look. 

“Dad, I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Neteyam said, hanging his head. You glared at him as you examined Lo’ak, ignoring his dismissive hands. 

“Hell yeah it is,” Jake scolded. “You’re supposed to keep this knucklehead out of trouble.” He nodded at Lo’ak, making him frown. 

“Ma Jake, you’re son is actually bleeding,” Neytiri said, pulling you into a gentle hug as you grew closer to her. 

“It’s fine,” Neteyam mumbled, waving off her statement. 

Jake sighed, his eyes flashing to you. “Alright, go get cleaned up,” he said. “Kiri, help your brother.” Kiri nodded before leading Neteyam away from the group. “And you,” As soon as your other siblings left, Jake turned his attention to Lo’ak. “You almost got your brother killed. Do you understand that?” 

“Yes sir,” he mumbled. 

“Dad,” you said quietly, placing a hand on your youngest brother’s shoulder. 

Jake clenched his jaw but you noticed his eyes soften at your words. “You’re grounded. No flying for a month,” he stated sternly. 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak repeated. 

“Now get out of here you two. And get that shit off your face.”

You chuckled slightly before pulling Lo’ak towards the healing hut with you. “You okay?” you asked as you walked. 

“I’m fine,” Lo’ak grumbled. You had always been closer to your brothers than your other siblings. Lo’ak you had specifically grown closer with as you grew up. Why? Maybe because you felt the same pressure from your shared father that they did. You loved your sisters but they were often favored by your parents, especially your father. 

“I like the warrior’s paint,” you said, falling into step in front of Lo’ak. “It’s like Dad’s.” 

Lo’ak’s frown deepened. 

“So that’s it,” you mumbled quietly. “Lo’ak the mighty warrior. Great son of Toruk Mato!” you cheered, doing an odd little dance that made Lo’ak crack a very small smile. 

“Stop doing that,” he said, speeding up as to walk ahead of you. 

“Doing what?” 

“Reading my mind and that stupid dance,” the boy scoffed as you entered the hut. 

“My dance is not stupid!” you exclaimed. “As for the mind reading, that just comes with being your elder sister.” 

“Lo’ak’s right, the dance is quite stupid,” your grandmother said, sending you a small smirk as she and Kiri tended to Neteyam’s wounds. 

“Wow, thank you, Gran,” you said sarcastically, making your siblings laugh gently. 

“How is our mighty warrior?” you asked, crouching in front of Neteyam. You ruffled his hair gently, causing him to wave his hand at you. 

“He’s fine, believe it or not,” Kiri answered, standing up with your grandmother. 

“Your brother is strong,” she said, returning the healing supplies to their rightful places. “He now has the wounds of a warrior.” 

“Our mighty warrior,” you chuckled. You looked at Kiri, nodding at the entrance of the hut. She rolled her eyes but begrudgingly exited, your grandmother following close behind. “What the hell were you two thinking!” you scolded as soon as it was you three left in the hut. “You know Dad’s rules!” Lo’ak rolled his eyes. “Lo’ak, you’re already on thin ice with Dad.” 

“Y/n, really it was-” 

“No, Neteyam, it was not your fault,” you interrupted. “You’re his older brother, not his father or his keeper.” 

Neteyam stared at you before nodding. 

You sighed gently, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re both okay though?” 

Both boys nodded, avoiding your gaze. 

“How was it?” They now stared at you with a bewildered look. They were often surprised when you went from scolding to quick intrest in their mischief. “Being in the battle field? How was it?” 

You sat down, eyes filled with curiosity. Your father had never allowed you to go into battle, despite your age and training. You often found yourself frustrated seeing your mother go into battle, but not being able to do so yourself. 

“Kind of scary,” Neteyam admitted. 

“We were hardly in battle,” Lo’ak scoffed. 

“I imagine it was still scary,” you said, sending Lo’ak a stern look. “Soon, though, you will fight by our fathers side.” 

“Maybe when I’m eventually not grounded,” Lo’ak joked. You smiled, feeling the tension in the hut drift away.

A/n if you’d like to be tagged in future posts lmk.

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/mooskey/724247343162114048/%F0%9D%95%8B%F0%9D%95%99%F0%9D%95%96-%F0%9D%95%8A%F0%9D%95%9A%F0%9D%95%A4%F0%9D%95%A5%F0%9D%95%96%F0%9D%95%A3-%F0%9D%94%B8%F0%9D%95%A5%F0%9D%95%9D%F0%9D%95%92%F0%9D%95%A4-%F0%9D%95%84%F0%9D%95%92%F0%9D%95%A4%F0%9D%95%A5%F0%9D%95%96%F0%9D%95%A3%F0%9D%95%9D%F0%9D%95%9A%F0%9D%95%A4%F0%9D%95%A5

[stardestroyer81]

🥪 Introducing... Door2Door! 🥪

Door2Door stars twenty year old possum Gigi Dempster, who lives in a rather ramshackle, podunk town in Vermont called Bendersville. After sending numerous job applications all over town with no word back, she finally lands herself a delivery driver position at an unassuming locally-owned sandwich restaurant named Dine 'n Dash. With no prior experience in the art of crafting a mighty fine sandwich or running a delivery route, Gigi is strapped in to experience the whirlwind of a first time food service job firsthand, and in an unpredictable town like Bendersville, quite literally anything can happen.

(For more information on what Door2Door is— as well as a handful of progress images— please consider checking underneath the cut!)

At last, witness unveiling of my latest project I've spent the last month conceptualizing, Door2Door! What once came about as a silly idea of basing a project after an inner-city delivery driver inspired after a certain gameplay section in Spongebob Squarepants: Revenge of the Flying Dutchman, it has since blossomed into one of my dearest passion projects yet!

Though, before I get into any further detail behind Door2Door and its creation, I must stress— none of the above five images hail from a lost late nineties/early 2000s Cartoon Network show, and if by chance any of them were enough to fool you into thinking they were, then that just means I achieved what I set out for! 💙✨

Now, about a month ago, I'd been watching a retrospective on the critically un-acclaimed Spongebob Squarepants: Revenge of the Flying Dutchman, a game I had growing up. It's important for me to mention that I had seen and personally played the aforementioned gameplay section before, though for some reason seeing it again struck me with a brilliant project idea.

Anyone who's been following me for at least a year knows that I've designed a cavalcade of candied characters for my own arcade game concept, Rascal, and initially my idea for Door2Door— which I also called Project JJ (In reference to the sandwich chain Jimmy John's)— was to give it a plot simple enough to translate into an arcade game.

The idea was that you played as a plucky delivery driver who rides through the streets of a seedy city to deliver a food order to the... er, order-ee. But your progress would be impeded by a fiendish gang of mobster alley cats who are after your sandwiches, so there would have definitely been a large cartoony element to the gameplay loop.

I drew concept art for Door2Door's protagonist, then known as Marcy, though I really wasn't vibing with either drawing. For one, making the protagonist a cat seemed a bit overdone, and I already have a cat character who's name rhymes with Marcy, so that had to go. More so, I also couldn't settle on a good spriting style, which prompted me to rethink the whole project.

Well, there is a general aura of cartooniness to Door2Door, I thought, why not just embrace that vibe whole-heartedly and reshape the project into a long-lost late nineties cartoon?

I did like the idea of having an excuse to drawing more animation cels, though if I was going to make Door2Door into something resembling a cel-animated cartoon, I was prepared to go the full distance in nailing that aesthetic, in the form of how characters are designed and the way I go about drawing each screenshot.

For those unfamiliar with cel animation, essentially it can be described as a traditional form of animation and involves objects— usually characters— being hand-inked and painted on clear celluloid sheets and placed over painted backgrounds.

Above, I've provided a visual for what a standalone 'cel' from Door2Door would look like, coupled with a hand-painted background. When overlaid on top of one another...

... you would get this! This is exactly how cartoons were animated up until the era of digital inking and coloring... but that begs the question. How am I achieving a hand-drawn and painted aesthetic if everything I've shown so far has been drawn digitally?

I have my ways! It involves a lot of studying how individual cels of animation look, and taking note of recurring hallmarks; grainy textures, paint blemishes, drop shadows, etc. Above, I've assembled a small gif of my process in composing a screenshot for Door2Door, from lineart to final product!

So, that all should loosely explain it; Door2Door is what would happen if I were in charge of a late nineties Cartoon Network show, and what you've seen here is merely the beginning. Going forward, I will be posting art of Door2Door's main cast with some additional character information and concept art for each one, though for the time being, enjoy all five art pieces I've supplied for this post— they are perhaps the biggest works of mine yet this year! 💙🏳️‍⚧️✨

[wolfdrawer]

Alright so, who's ready for a cowboy au!!

General premise of it:

Gideon Coal is on the hunt for the hobgoblins that took his family away from him and has left him a permanent scar. With the help of a crew he hired, he'll finally seek his revenge.

All characters are their normal races just not their classes. So...Avantris that got hit with the western stick. Just so there's no confusion.

And they all have different nicknames but I haven't thought of much...still a work in progress.

Characters:

Gideon Coal:

•The leader who's fiery revenge is gonna make for a mighty risky plan.

•His outfit is like Orville Peck's if it was more chaotic and messy.

• (Thank you @obsidiancreates for this idea) He looks like a mess on purpose, since he's had too many people doubting him, might as well adapt to it. His guns doesn't look clean so people assume he's got no game and will get himself killed.

•His fine weapon of choice is his Pappy's trusty shotgun and a dingy revolver that was left behind when the hobgoblins invaded. He's a tank that likes to go head first and do as much damage. Although he's not fully advanced with the revolver, he gets the job done with it.

•He's a massive risk taker, getting into fights with the wrong people to get what he wants and a big shit stirrer whether it's flirting or sleeping with another man's girl or just pick pocketing from his winnings. If it's a risk, it's already worth it.

Kremy Lecroux :

•The proud owner of the Hungry Catfish after running away from his old employer. When he's not making sure the patrons of his bar aren't ripping each other to shreds or causing mayhem or doing finance, sometimes he likes to go down and give a show. Whether dancing or singing, he'll put on a show for his patrons.

•He's the only one not affected by the hobgoblins because he runs away whenever he's paranoid and feels like they are too close to his business or his life. But he knows too many stories.

•He can be a flirt but it never goes far because although he doesn't look like it, he's a fighter.

•He's the closest one that maybe has magic, however, it's all just a magic trick, smoke and mirrors as he performs.

•His performing outfit consists more of a regular button up, a corset, leather gloves, normal leather pants, and a big jacket. And his actual outfit is something I have to get drawing on. He does wear his makeup for each outfit, his performing outfit more of the typical voodoo paintings and then when he's out, it's a hand made skull mask he made.

•Weapons of choice would be his two ranger guns that sit on the lower back of him and his cane that doubles as a hidden sword because I do love me some hidden swords.

•You can make a deal with him, whether it's getting him for a heist or helping you get the money you need from a game, he's your man as long as you can pay him with as much as you got. (60 - 40 like he said)

Morning Frost:

•A working farm hand that got his knack for shooting things across the way when he had to quickly grab his mom's rifle and snipe a hobgoblin that was about to grab his friend. He got a few more shots in before the hobgoblins finally got away from his village. He was regarded as a hero and forced to learn the ways of the world pretty harshly. Now in the future, his knack for the rifle has landed him to be able to turn off his emotions in a pinch to get the job done, although it bleeds through when the going gets tough.

•His outfit, and this may be obscure, is going to be a sort of ref to Tigerclaw from the 2012 TMNT, just without the eye patch and adding a few more details to make it more cowboy aesthetic.

•His weapon of choice of course is his mom's trusty rifle that he cares for deeply and makes sure it's in tip top shape everyday.

•He's calculated, knowing risks and how dumb it would be to do something, but he's not above going in and sniping for a job if he desperately needs the money.

•He still lives in his village, now a protector of sorts and still practices his shooting to hone it even though he's already good, but good just isn't enough.

•He has 2 lockets around his neck that his mom and dad wore, each containing a faux gem that he feels represents them with a picture of each them. I will say the jewels later but I have to do my research on jewels.

Gricko Grimgrin and Hootsie T. Grimgrin:

•A man in the midst of woods and barely any civilization, Gricko lives for the hunt. With his daughter and trusty companion Hootsie, they scavenge all they can for their meals. Unlike the rest of the guys, they are so far into the woods, that they don't know any stories about hobgoblins nor have they even heard anything that sounds like a train. What is a train to them?

•Because of hunting, he's mastered the art of traps and the usefulness of materials. Everyday, he makes a new trap or stocks up on old ones, just to be ready. On his scavenging, he finds things that people who venture too close have and makes more of his weapons like makeshift bombs or fixing himself a knife as best as he can. Basically a wild man.

•Weapons of choice would be his makeshift bombs, think of Sokka's bomb from Avatar, and a janky knife he tried to make using bullets he found on a random corpse. It does it's job and that's all that matters to him. I am debating on whether or not to give him a gun, but I want to get everyone different guns. Still debating.

•Hootsie was going to be one of Gricko's marks, but Gricko does understand nature more than anything and took pity on the owlbear cub that lost its momma, and now he raises her as his own, inseparable. Now, she helps with scoping out prey and sniffing out when people are near.

And that's what I have so far! Hopefully I can fully get more of an idea for them and can get the map fully to really scope out how much these hobgolbins have fucked with everyone, but for now, take these disconnecting things. Torbek and Twig will be here as well, but I'm also trying to figure out their backstory and their roles in this without overlapping a bunch. The drawings I will have to add later because Gricko's and Frost is something I have to workshop. Especially Gricko because I want to make him a wild man but not a savage, anyone catch what I'm putting down, you know. If not it's fine, but I just have to think of his outfit. Anyway Enjoy!

[sir-walton-goggins]

Stranger in the Alley

Summary: Kris starts acting strange while out on a job. Arthur worries about her, recalling the incident in his journal. Will the young woman finally open up?

2.230 words

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem oc

Warnings: explicit depiction of PTSD, canon-typical violence and gore, hurt/comfort

What happened that morning had been nothing short of strange.

The blond outlaw sat on his tiny bed at camp, jotting down his thoughts on his journal, trying to manage his restlessness by getting some thoughts on the page.

Today we ran into some of the O’Driscoll boys while on a job. This ran down, old homestead that promised a good stash of money and jewelry, had apparently been occupied by those fools. Slaughter the previous occupants, they did. They dumped the bodies on a wheelbarrow outside.

It was just me, Charles and Kris. We handled them fine, but… something strange happened.

I heard her struggle with one of them, but when I got there Kris had already taken care of him. She had this wild look in her eye, like she was miles away, and she was breathing all funny, bloodied knife still in her hand.

When I touched her shoulder, she flinched so hard she damn near lost her balance. Had never seen her like that before. She had been on jobs with us before. After all that went down, she just took off on her horse. Said she needed time to cool off.

I’m worried about her. Worried she may do something stupid.

Arthur felt stuck. He wanted to go after her, search for her to quiet the horrible thoughts running through his head; but he knew Kris, and she would not be pleased with him not honoring her agency. She did tell him she wanted to be alone, and he had to respect that.

But he couldn’t shake the bad feeling crawling up his stomach. Many years on this Earth had taught Arthur that gut feelings were usually right, and he ought to listen to them, lest something horrible happen.

The man closed the leather bound journal and put it back into his satchel, going back to tormenting his fingers and bouncing his leg.

The camp around him felt normal. Well, at least from a surface level: while people lined up for their last bowl of soup of the day, Kris wasn’t there, her bedroll next to Karen’s unusually empty for that time of the evening. She used to sit there, legs crossed, to chat with the blonde, telling her about her day, discussing a book one of them had been reading.

Arthur could almost hear her voice now, a ghostly echo from his evanescent memories. When he felt hopeless, when that familiar, deep melancholy came back to torment him, he’d look over at Kris’s cot, seeing her precious smile, hearing the distant murmur of her voice, or glancing at her angelic face as she was deep into slumber, and it would comfort him.

His nerves were wracked, so he snapped the journal back open and closed his eyes in a mighty focus to remember miss Blake’s every feature, freckle and scar, so he could transfer them onto the page. There she gradually appeared, a cloud of dark hair under his last entry, taking the shape of a young woman with every stroke of Arthur’s pencil.

The drawing looked pensive. The dark eyes stared back at Arthur’s, that familiar tinge of austerity making his cheek flush automatically, like she was there in the flesh, staring him down. The outlaw instinctively looked up from the journal, half expecting to find her there, arms crossed, a questioning look in her eye.

Instead, Arthur met Charles’s eyes. He had a feeling the man had been staring at him for quite some time. He nodded his head in a quiet greeting.

Charles got up and took a few steps in Arthur’s direction, a concerned frown painted on his face.

“Something bothering you, Arthur?”

Morgan quickly closed his journal as the man approached, wishing to keep the pages away from prying eyes. He sighed; Charles was exceptionally observant, so he had noticed he was agitated. No point in pretending he wasn’t.

“It’s Kris, isn’t it?” the silent outlaw took the words out of Arthur’s mouth.

A pause, shame gathering on Arthur’s cheeks. “I’m worried about her.”

“Want me to go out looking for her?”

Arthur floundered, indecisive. The evening was turning into night, the moon risen almost halfway in the sky. It was a cloudy night, all the stars shrouded in a milk, stormy sea. The thought of any woman having to spend the night alone in the wilderness made him shudder. But this was Kris… He was determined to avoid that from happening.

He had just opened his mouth to accept Charles’s offer, when they both heard the familiar gallop of a horse approaching camp. They both snapped their heads towards the sound, waiting in trepidation.

‘Please be her, please be her...’ Arthur’s mind chanted, heart pounding in his chest.

The horse that appeared from behind the vegetation was white, which was promising: Kris’s Cloud was a white roan Nokota. Sure enough, the woman who dismounted from it was Kris Blake, tiredly dragging herself into camp. She glanced at the two men staring at her and promptly looked away, heading straight for the campfire.

“Thanks anyway, Charles. You’re a good friend.” Arthur’s tone was way lighter as he patted Charles on the shoulder, grateful.

She didn’t look well, but she was alive. And back in the gang, where she was safe.

The only people still sitting in front of the fire were Uncle and Sean, drinking and exchanging stories. They greeted Kris, but she did not react.

“Jesus,” Sean commented, as clueless as ever on when to shut up, “you look like death.”

She ignored him. The Irish feller thought it so unusual, he almost got worried. The two used to banter endlessly with each other, giving in to the slightest provocation, hot-headed as they were. He and Uncle exchanged perplexed looks. Sean silently pleaded with him: if someone could get her to talk, it was him. But Uncle, in spite of his compulsive lying tendencies and quick wit, had at least the years’ experience to know that, when a woman doesn’t want to be spoken to, you oblige.

He silently gestured for the youngin to follow him, and they both left for a nearby table, leaving Kris alone at the campfire.

Arthur saw the opportunity to go up to her and did not waste it. The relief of having Kris back had emboldened him.

He sat on the log right in front of her. “Good evening, miss Blake.”

The girl looked up at him for a brief second, as if to make sure it was him. Then she looked back down at the embers.

“Hi, Arthur” she droned. Her dark eyes reflected the flames back at him, crackling at the rhythm of her internal turmoil.

Kris’s under eye circles were darker than usual, hair tangled into a matted mess, old coat covered in grass and mud. She had a smudge of dirt on her right cheek. She kept her hands concealed in between her thighs for warmth.

“You look rough” Arthur blurted out, trying to sound worried and failing spectacularly. He bit his tongue, cussing himself out.

Kris didn’t seem at all offended. She just flatly convened:

“I know.”

That wasn’t like her at all: she was usually much more fiery and reactive to comments on her person, known to get angry pretty easily. Arthur was reminded of that time Sean had told her that ‘at least prostitutes try to look put together’ and Kris had almost made his remaining teeth fly out of his big mouth. That little show amused him so much, that he had reported it word for word into his journal, complete with a drawing of her punching Sean.

It really pained Arthur to see her like that. Under all that aloofness hid a tremendous pain, one she was desperately trying to keep hidden. He saw it in her eyes, which were red, like she had just been crying. The mud on her face was streaked, further convincing him that was true.

He finally gathered enough courage to ask her the burning question.

“What happened back there at the stead?”

For the first time that night, Kris made eye contact with him. His skin sizzled under her steely gaze, and he had a feeling he would regret those words, too. But once she noticed the genuine worry in Arthur’s eyes, her features softened up a bit.

“It wasn’t my first time killing someone, mister Morgan. But…”

A big exhale, a long pause. She hugged herself, as if the cold of the night had just now settled in her bones, making her shiver.

Arthur stayed still and silent, patiently waiting for her to continue, repressing the urge to go find her a blanket. It was like freezing in place to avoid startling a deer during a hunting trip; she had never opened up to anyone in the gang, that he knew of. A part of him felt honored that she chose him to be her confidant.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

The deer ran away, spooked by its own thoughts.

Arthur shifted in his seat, leaning forward and lowering his tone into a soft, reassuring murmur.

“I’m not really one to pry, miss. But it seems like, whatever it is, it’s eating away at you. Maybe you’d feel better if you talked about it” he suggested, giving Kris a patient smile.

Arthur knew what it was like to harbor a painful memory, and he wouldn’t tolerate anyone nagging him to just blurt it out, like it was no big deal. Because it was.

Seemed like maybe he got through to her, because the woman was not evading his stare anymore. Her half lidded eyes slightly widened, and she began chewing her lip until it bled.

Kris would have never admitted it, but if Arthur’s presence alone was enough to comfort her, his patience was a balm that, while healing her wounds, made them sting unbearably. She could feel them open up and bleed into the grass again, like when they were first etched onto her body.

The silence lingered, heavy and sacred, like standing in a graveyard.

“When my parents died,” Kris finally took the leap, her voice hoarse from hours of silence, “I wound up on the street. Until this... man took me in.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat, then continued.

“He treated me well enough. Gave me a private education, expensive clothes. Until I turned 18.”

Arthur felt disgust crawl under his skin, sensing where this was going, and all the implications of it.

“He was grooming me to become his wife. On my birthday, he proposed. Asked me to bear his children.” Kris’s eyes glazed over. She let out a shaky sigh.

Her voice was starting to break, but she quickly corrected the course.

“So I ran away,” she cleared her throat, suppressing all emotion, “but he chased me.”

“He chased me down the street, and he caught me in an alley. All I had on me was a knife, so-”

Kris stopped abruptly, her eyes focused on the ground where the lumber was almost all the way consumed, ashes gathering up in tiny gray piles. Her breath hitched as she felt the cold handle of the kitchen knife coil around her hand, like it was molded to hold it. Her hands were marked with warm, arterial blood. It pooled around her feet, dampening the flames as it spilled onto the ground, settling under Arthur’s boots. Staining them.

“I didn’t even think… I just...”

Suddenly, her lungs felt too heavy, making it too hard to breathe or speak. She kept staring at the big puddle of blood underneath her, unable to move. Frozen to the spot, mouth slightly ajar. Chest locked, suffocating.

It was impossible to tell how much time had gone by, when she found herself in Arthur’s embrace. He was down on one knee, one hand cupping her nape, the other gently rubbing her back. The blood on the ground was gone, Arthur’s boots were clean. She was no longer holding a knife.

“You’re safe, now” he whispered against her cheek. Kris melted into him, the warmth and pressure slowly taking her back to the present, breathing air back into her lungs.

She wasn’t alone anymore. No, now she had all those people taking care of her. And she got Arthur, and he was special, and he was there, comforting her. She leaned into his shoulder, resting her head on it.

“Thank you” she whispered. Arthur hummed in response and, much to Kris’s dismay, let go of the embrace. He stayed down on one knee, on eye level, to make sure she was feeling better.

When he was met with a coy smile, he got up, contented.

“If you’re up to it, we could go into town tomorrow” he offered, wiping the dirt off his pants.

“Buy you some new clothes, have a drink at the saloon. What do you say?”

“I’d like that.” Kris grinned, finally having something to look forward to. She was in dire need of forgetting that shitty day.

Arthur wished her a good night, then retired to his cot near the weapons wagon. Before going to sleep, he wanted to sketch for a bit: he didn’t want to forget the smile Kris just gave him.

Instead, the Kris that resided on those secret pages was beaming, safe, and she would remain so forever.

[kichikichiko]

Just a quickie ♡

YALL ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT IM DUJSJCKSJD.

Theres not enough sub wanderer fics around here istg⁉️

Anyways be kind to me and my first smut work because I am a fluff writer by heart👹👹

Tagging my lovely @hitomisuzuya because shes my fellow wanderer lover 🫶🏻

Written by a minor! Just block if ur uncomfortable😁

Sort of public sex, sub!wanderer x gen neutral! Reader, hand job, idk whatelse to write, not proofread

♡♡♡♡

"You idiot! What if we get caught here! Ah! Mmhm~"

Wanderer covered his mouth, when a not so innocent sound came out of his mouth.

"Thats fine by me" you answered honestly, too focused on painting his pretty neck with kisses and hickeys. "Let's just make sure its an enjoyable show for those who caught us"

The chances of getting caught was high, considering there isnt a lot of private alleyways in sumeru city, but you made the most of it.

Wanderer covered his mouth anytime a whimper or moan of his was deemed "too loud" by his standard.

But that only riled you to take his arms up and pin it above his head.

"Youre doing this on purpose. I fucking know it, you horny bitch" he whimpered, trying to get his arms free before the inevitable comes to play. He acts all high and mighty and doesnt help with his big ego. But it all comes crumbling down the moment you trap him between your arms.

"Aw but you like it though wanderer" you teased, a smirk plastered on your face. "Especially when I do this" you started grinding your knee up to his growing erection, making the man whimper louder.

More soft moans and whimpers escaped his mouth before you stopped. Causing Wanderer to look at you and frown.

"Why'd you stop? You could have at least get it over with and we can finally go home. Hurry up and do it again before I-" his sentence once again got interupted with you suddenly placed your hand on his chest, and slowly drag down to his erection, and under his pants.

"What are you doing?!" He demanded an answer, his race growing red by the minute.

"What does it look like im doing?" You gently circled your finger around the tip of his cock before wrapping your arm around it and started pumping it.

"Oh archons- no- mmhm~ a-ahh~!" He started moaning louder . "(Name) please dont stop! Please dont dont dont!" Babbling nonsense got you riled up more and started pumping his cock faster.

"Wait- no - stop! I think im gonna cum" he started squirming, hands still above his head trying to get them free

"Didnt you say I shouldnt stop? Why are you complaining now? Come on, cum for me my dear" that only made you pump his cock faster than before, catching wanderer off guard and made him release a loud moan and cum all over your hand.

Wanderer plopped his head on your shoulder and twitches anytime you toy with the tip of his cock.

"Lets continue this at home shall we? Im not done with you yet wanderer"

It was gonna be a long night indeed

♡♡♡♡

[mothnem]

Scout's Guide to Building a Merc Team: Part 8- Soldiers

Scout: Hello Viewers! Sorry about the editing of the last one, Demoman stabbed me and I spent the night in the medbay. Sniper was nice enough to edit it and post it for me though so it wasn't late! I should watch it and see if any Spies show up in it. But enough about that! Soldiers! Every team needs one! They keep the team running! They're just... completely insane. Yes. Even compared to... some others of your Merc team.

Sniper: If you say so.

Scout: I do say so. Now, the best way to catch a Soldier, is to use their mating call.

Engineer: Oh good lord.

Medic: If you have less than two eyes you are volunteered!

Demo: WHY YOU!

Scout: I DON'T CARE WHO DOES IT!

Heavy: So Pyro could do it?

Scout: No. Engie would kill me.

Engineer: Darn right I would. But Demo, you're his best friend. So you have to do it.

Demo: I hate all of you, so much.

Demo is now standing outside, his shirt missing and he's painted red, white, and blue. His expression is one of pure annoyance.

Scout: Okay! Now start yelling!

Demo:.....

Scout: I SAID START YELLING!

Demo: OH BEAUTIFUL AMERICA! AMERICA IS THE GREATEST COUNTRY EVER! AMERICA IS... continues to yell about America.

Scout: Now, any second we should hear the call of the Soldier. It sounds like...

Soldier: SCREAMING EAGLES!!!!! Falls from the sky because of a Rocket Jump.

Demo: OH BEAUTIFUL FOR... Solly! How are you?

Soldier: I'M DOING MAGNIFICENT! I HEARD THE SOUNDS OF PEOPLE CHEERING ON AMERICA!

Demo: That was me.

Soldier: AND A MIGHTY FINE JOB YOU WERE DOING MAGGOT! LET'S KEEP THIS UP!

Both go back to shouting America's praises.

Scout: The good news is, we don't have to ask Soldier to join! He'll stick around Demoman from here on out! Tune in tomorrow to see if we have finally, caught us a Spy.

Spy appears behind Scout shaking his head. His face split with a mischievous smile.

[ardienothesieno]

OC Writing

idk im bored and procrastinating and the guys wont get out of my head

uhhhhhh tw mildly suggestive

lesbian robot and their cool girlfriend have a conversation and some not-so-cool shit happens

angst angst angst angst angst--

They were interrupted from their writing by the sudden entrance of someone into their chamber. They dismissed the screen hovering in front of them, spinning towards the access shaft to find--

"Hey Ash," Fireflies said, head poking out of the tunnel.

If Ashes from Above had been built with a mouth, they would be beaming. They slowly released the zero gravity in their chamber, gently lowering Fireflies to the floor, and brought their puppet in close. Fireflies laughed, grabbed the sides of Ash's face, and booped the tip of her mask against their forehead. "Morning, love."

Ash let out a giggle, and threw their arms around her. "You haven't come to visit for 4 cycles! I was starting to get worried." "Your overseers follow me constantly! You could have checked in any time." "I did!!" Ash huffed. "But you said you don't like being watched all the time, so I tried to leave you alone. Mostly."

They pulled away from the embrace, wheeling away to hover over Fireflies. "So what brings you to finally break your solitude?" They teased. "Ran out of groceries? Wanted to come lecture me on my lack of work as of late?" "Am I not allowed to just come talk to a friend?" "Friend??" Ash kneed Fireflies in the side of the face (gently) and spun away to a higher height. "We're just friends now, you say?" Fireflies laughed. "Sorry. Best friend." Ash scoffed, causing Fireflies to laugh even harder. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Best of best friends who is such a bestest best friend that I commit unthinkable karmic sins for them." "Better," they responded, looping around their mechanical arm in mid-air.

"But seriously, why today? I thought you usually took the first of the week to paint." "Um. Usually, yes. But, I, um... I... I'm just having a bad day."

Ash stopped spinning and immediately brought their puppet up to her, reaching behind her head to unclasp and gently lift off her intricate golden mask. Fireflies did look more tired then usual. Dark circles surrounded her drooping eyelids, and her lips were dry and cracked. Ash took her face in their hands, tenderly. "...Is this about Blanket?"

It had been a little over one year-cycle since the mass ascension, when their friend and Fireflies' cousin A Blanket, 32 Stitches per Row had ascended with the majority of society. Ash had tried to convince him to stay behind. They had tried to convince all of them to stay behind. Only 152 of their citizens had listened. Who had trusted in Ash's abilities to care for them after the collapse of society. And they were doing a mighty fine job, if they were to say for themself!

"I... Sort of. It's partially about Blanket, but there are some... some other things." "Do you want to talk about any of it?" Fireflies looked away, pursing her lips. "Maybe later." "Can I do anything, then? To make you feel better?" "Just... sit. And talk to me. Please?"

And so they did. They curled up with Fireflies in a corner of their chamber, Fireflies fidgeting with a pearl, Ash talking about everything that had happened in the past 4 cycles. They talked about their conversations with Lingering Fog and Smoke upon Droplets of Rain, their ongoing argument with East of Eden. They talked about how Calling Voids had been rambling about philosophy in the group channel, and how it had gotten so annoying they had to mute it. They talked about their remaining citizens, and all of the weird things that they had caught on their overseers.

"I've noticed some people acting a bit strange. Not noticeable enough to be a concern, but a good portion of my inhabitants have been... quieter, lately. Some of them have been visiting the temples more often. I know it's irrational... but I do worry that some of them intend to ascend sometime in the near future."

Fireflies tensed, hand curling around the pearl in her grasp. "I... will admit that there are... rumors." "Rumors?? Of people wishing to ascend????" "Yeah. Some... some people have been talking about how you don't have the resources to keep the colony going. That we need to ascend before it's too late and we all starve to death." "But that's nonsense!" Ash cried, sitting up straight, Fireflies sliding off of their lap with a grunt. "Did no one read my sustainability proposals?? I have solutions for all of that!! There are enough stores to last two and half year-cycles, and I have plans for when they run out! Purposed organisms, to hunt lizards and other wild creatures in lower altitudes! Factories that could be repurposed into greenhouses and mills! I have everything planned out, and backup plans for if those plans don't work!!" Fireflies grabbed Ash's hands, lowering them and squeezing gently. "I know, I know love, I'm sorry. I trust you. I know you'll keep us all safe. But not everyone has the same faith in you as I do." "I just don't... I've worked so hard..." "I know. I know. I'm so sorry. It's going to be okay." "Should I rewrite my proposals? Make them clearer, make my ideas more palatable? Make sure there's nothing I missed, that I can keep everyone happy and alive and safe and--" "Ash!" Fireflies grasped their hands tighter and yanked their attention to her face, her dark eyes, the small stripes on her snout. "Shhh. It's okay." There was a beat of silence. "Promise me," Ash whispered. "That even if everyone else leaves, that you won't. That you'll stay with me until you can't anymore." Fireflies paused. "I... okay. Yes. I- I won't leave you behind, Ash."

Ash stared at Fireflies before slowly nodding and slumping back against their arm. "Let's... talk about something else. Anything else." Fireflies whispered, snuggling up to Ash's shoulder. "Anything?" "Anything."

Ash thought for a second. "Um. I have a routine maintenance check today? My two remaining mechanics should be going through my structure around now, and will send me any repair orders that need to be executed in the future." "Mmmm. Anything else?" "My overseers have reported 72 yeek sightings over the past 20 cycles." Fireflies chuckled. "That is pretty random." "You said anything."

They laid there for several minutes in silence, enjoying each other's company. Quietly holding each other close. Ash received 17 alerts while they were lying there with Fireflies, of which they all ignored. The only thing more important then this moment would be something completely catastrophic, like a system failure. And the chances of that happening were so slim...

They were beginning to think that Fireflies had fallen asleep when her citizen drone beeped and she sat up with a start. They turned away as Fireflies opened her messages. One of the main rules of their relationship was privacy. Fireflies didn't want Ash peeking through her private conversations and files, and Ash didn't want Fireflies wandering through their memory complexes without permission.

"I. Um. P-probably have to go soon." Ash turned back to Fireflies, and noticed how panicked they looked from reading whatever message they had gotten. "Are you okay?" "Yeah. Uh- yeah. Just... have to go to a meeting. Sort of. It's... complicated. I don't know." Fireflies looked more and more stressed with each passing second. "...Alright. You should probably get going then." "No!! No, I- I have a few more minutes," Fireflies blurted, grabbing Ash's hands again. "...Besides, there's something else I want to do first." "Oh?"

Fireflies pressed her lips to Ash's face. "Oh..." Fireflies laughed, breathily, and wrapped her arms around Ash. "It's been too long since we did anything like this." "Agreed," Ash whispered, burying their hands in Fireflies' hair-tentacles and pulling her forehead against theirs.

Another alert popped up. They dismissed it.

Fireflies made a small noise and pulled Ash even closer, pressing them against her. Her breath was warm and fast on Ash's artificial skin as she frantically whispered, "I love you. I love you so much, Ash. I love--"

- - -

13 Fireflies Amongst Falling Leaves let out a sob as Ash's puppet went limp in her arms. As the chamber lights went out. As the structure around her shuddered and went silent.

She clutched the avatar of the person she loved as the machinery that made up that person deactivated. As the temperature around her started to drop. As Ashes from Above died.

And Fireflies cried.

Her sobs were broken minutes later by a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Hundreds of Birds Trapped in a Vortex, one of Ash's mechanics... and the ringleader of the shutdown.

Ash had been right in their suspicions. A good portion of people were worried, and wanted to ascend. Almost all of them did, at that point.

Many of the remaining citizens had spent the last hundred cycles working on raising their karma. Slowly packing things away, shutting down factories and machines, desperately trying to avoid Ash's notice. It would break their heart to see them all to leave, the ringleaders had said. It was kindest for them not to know, the ringleaders had said.

Fireflies was told to distract Ash while the mechanics shut down their systems. And here she was, Ash's puppet lying dead in her arms.

She would have stayed. If they hadn't made the decision to kill Ash when they left. She would have stayed with the iterator she loved until the day she died.

She had no choice, now.

"I'm sorry," Vortex whispered. "I'm so sorry, Fireflies. It was the kindest thing we could do." He grabbed her arm and pulled her to standing, Ash's body falling to the ground with a clang. "Come on, we should get going." "I-- but--" "They're in a better place now, Fireflies. Perhaps we will meet them again in the Great Beyond. Come along now." "W-wait."

Fireflies twisted out of his grasp and stumbled over to Ash's body. She knelt down and shakily removed her scarf, wrapping it around their neck. Their hands trembled as they reached up to slide Ash's metallic eyelids shut. She pressed one last kiss to their forehead, choking out a goodbye to unhearing sound sensors.

Fireflies stood back up and walked over to Vortex, who was standing by the main access door.

The rest of the city was waiting in the mines, ready to venture down to the golden ocean at the bottom of the world.

13 Fireflies Amongst Falling Leaves left the puppet chamber of Ashes from Above for the last time.

Goodbye, my love. I'll see you in the Great Beyond.

[chrissiepop]

Hey girlie! Wanted to share a fun fact with you! My grandmother was a beautician years ago and worked in a salon too. She told me one time she had a customer that got her hair done and her nails painted red....and then proceeded to run her still-wet nails through her hair without thinking. Messed up two things in one go 😆

So do you have any fun or crazy stories about customers?

Oh man that poor lady!! As silly as it is, Nail polish in the hair is such a pain to clean up! 😫 Speaking from accidental experience.. 😳

But to answer your question, that has to be a tie between two stories.

Now this one was... Kinda on me... But it was my first gig around here so cut me some slack! See this poor sweet boy comes walking in, [I'm talkin... 10-11] who came in with no parental super-vision and requested to bleach allll his hair platinum blonde, right? Says he wants to look just like Billy Idol and is willing to pay extra to get it spiked up too. So I'm happy to help him out, thinking this was something ran by a guardian who's checking out some stores nearby... And just as I'm finishing up nearly half way dine putting buckets of bleach into this kids scalp, some woman STORMS into the salon and immediately starts freaking out.

The kids terrified, I'm terrified- I can't tell who she's screaming at, me or the boy it'sbasically a bunch of gibberish leaving her mouth. Oh God we probably looked like a couple deer in headlights. 🤦‍♀️ it was so embarrassing!!! And I felt so bad watching this little fella being dragged out with half his hair brown and the other half damn near white.

The next one was actually a certain blondie who I forced convinced to let me touch his hair up! Listen love him to death but that hair was so matted it was KILLING ME!!

I decided to let him in one night after doors to finally clean up whatever bird nest that mane of hair was, and let me tell you it was such a wonderful process... Even with him pinchin me, trynna splash me with water and spray me with hair products half the time. I swear it was like I was cutting his arm off when I washed out his hair [I had to try not laughing he sorta looked like a wet cat!]

But I got it all pretty for him again, blown out and fluffy and nearly DRENCHED in hairspray, and I think I did a mighty fine job if I do say so. He even left me a little 'tip' for the nice service before leaving.~ 🤭

[door2door-official]

🥪 Order up! 🥪

Welcome to the official blog for @stardestroyer81’s what-if 90s cartoon, Door2Door! This will be a space for me to post all kinds of content relating to Door2Door, from character designs to script snippets to fully rendered screengrabs!

If you'd like to read more about Door2Door's overall creation, feel free to check out this post from my main blog, wherein I detail every aspect of its conception!

Taking place in the year 1997, Door2Door stars twenty year old possum Gigi Dempster, who lives in a rather ramshackle, podunk town in Vermont called Bendersville. After sending numerous job applications all over town with no word back, she finally lands herself a delivery driver position at an unassuming locally-owned sandwich restaurant named Dine ‘n Dash. With no prior experience in the art of crafting a mighty fine sandwich or running a delivery route, Gigi is strapped in to experience the whirlwind of a first time food service job firsthand, and in an unpredictable town like Bendersville, quite literally anything can happen.

• Character cards featuring a standalone 'cel' of each character, a brief bio and a handful of fun facts!

• Hand drawn cels, painted backgrounds, and faux screencaps illustrating what Door2Door would look like on the air!

• Full episode scripts, as well as small script snippets!

• Got a question for a character? Submit it through the ask box and they'll personally write back to you!

• And other miscellaneous posts!

Below is an ongoing list of all the characters in the Door2Door world, be it main, secondary of tertiary! Click on a name below to be redirected to their character card!

• Gigi Dempster - The Delivery Girl • Gwen Caruso - The Secretive Cashier • Carl Luntz - The Wisecracking Custodian • Mr. Hartley - The Sandwich Master • ?????

[undercurrent-ink]

Old traditions (2)

Tonight is going to be a firework lit time for Wendy and the rest. I have to tend other matters during it all. Oh it's going to be grand as well. We've been waiting for a long time to proceed further. I'd have to thank those gullible agents for spouting off freely; I'll just have to use the truth poison later on them.

My companions will be entertained. We'll get our power once again. I'll never give up till I rot away! It's my job to aid my family underground. Honor, loyalty to our dethroned king will forever be held high!

~

Kimono walked over to two fuzzy creatures under moonlit skies. One was like the night herself with the other being lackluster.

"Ebony," The Octoling's gaze landed on the lackluster one, "Tabby. I hope your research is going to be useful."

"Of course it is! Besides, your pod is tanked and ready."

"Oh~" She rushed over to a large tank, her hands touching the glass. Five large bodies looked back with love and loyalty.

"Make me proud. You got this." Kimono leered at a lever.

Electricity danced along the surface of water.

"Release them." Kimono obliged.

Five bodies shot into the new body of water, going depths deep; waiting. A familiar silhouette grazed along. Seeing nothing out of the norm, The Great Zapfish entered for a good cool off. Swimming along with a free sense of comfort swirling around they couldn't see or prepare for what waits.

A brush of a dosal fin sent the Zapfish fleeing taking to the skies only for sharp teeth belonging to a green, purple war painted, sea wolf, penetrate through thick scales, dragging them down while wailing a cry of pain to their people. Harpoons anchored to muscle with a red hue in the night.

Caught off guard.

5 to 1.

All or none.

Attack after attack.

Zap after zap.

Whaling of mercy after whaling of mercy.

The Great Zapfish floated up to the surface. Spent.

A net dragged them to land.

Body ridden with bites and harpoons.

Fins mercilessly torn to fine, blue dyed, ribbons.

"Big catch!" Yowled out Ebony.

Joy was splattered by a snap of a fan with yellow surrounded blue eyes roared in command.

Kimono looked at The Great Zapfish, "Take it away. Cover everything up. Make it like magic."

Tabby and Ebony bowed, "Yes ma'am!"

~

The morning sun shined on the glorious shrine castle waking up all own are morning hunters. Teams of turf warriors and their Flagdolls converse, except for one team and their Flagdoll. Training was a must. Perfect balance of mind, body, ink must be maintained and focused.

"Alright everyone, go eat."

"Finally!"

"Will you wait up!"

"You better hurry or it'll be all gone!"

"Hold it right there Ms. Hue!" Kimono walked over to the Octosquid, who was trying to sleek by like an eel, "You and I have some arrangements. Come."

All she could do was let out a sigh. She followed along side with Kimono.

"Back straight. Tail arched." Wendy listened and followed the younger Octoling's orders.

"I see you've grown use to appearing mighty. Now, to pamper and rehearse. Our time approaches."

----------------------[Tags]-----------------------

@new-squidbese-fattoon and @laylayeh

And anyone else!

[>:3 hehehehe. Don't you want to see the Great Zapfish go ape shit? Also I know it's been a while so I decided to finish this one up.]

[soullistrations]

First Lines

I was tagged by @mithrilwren to share the first lines of my last ten fics! Thanks again for tagging me! I....really have not written a lot so my last ten is most of my fics. also included the two fansongs I uploaded bc...poetry right?

Recipe for Disaster (Sanji and Zoro get kidnapped by fine-dining pirates)

“That is not a fucking loquat.”

2. War Paint (double drabble about sokka, suki, and eyeliner. i'm sensing a dialogue theme)

“Ow!”  “If you weren’t fidgeting, I’d be done by now.”

3. coordination (and other 'c' words) (Sun Xiang/Jiang Botao/Zhou Zekai threesome fic. They have sex. For teambuilding reasons.)

Sun Xiang is beating himself up again. He’s doing a good job of hiding it — he has his head down, scribbling notes as Jiang Botao shares his observations on the day’s scrimmage. Nobody’s noticed the tightness around his eyes, or the grimace when Jiang Botao praises him for breaking free of the others’ encirclement and rejoining his team’s formation so quickly. Nobody, that is, except Jiang Botao.

4. Reignite (one of two songs on this list--this one is for Zhang Jiale, and though the sound mixing on the track really sucks it's one of my favorite things i've made)

Is this all there is? Six years, and I’m going out with a whimper, not a bang - and here I thought we’d be eternal

5. burning up (for you, baby) (Caleb/Essek, the M9 have a beach day and Essek gets a sunburn)

The successful completion of a world-saving quest calls for a week in the sun: relaxation, rejuvenation, relocation (while the heat of Trent’s still-ongoing search dies down). With amulets slung over bathing wraps and under wide-brimmed hats, the Mighty Nein make their way back to Nicodranas, pay their respects to a grateful Yussa, and hit the beach.

6. The Way Back Home (ostensibly a collection of SPN songs I've written over the years...but i've only posted one so far)

I once saw you looking at the stars and you told me they were friends that you once knew. Well, I've been looking at the stars Wondering if one of them is you, Wondering if one of them is you.

7. because you're by my side (a very ampersand-y Chu Yunxiu & Su Mucheng fic where cyx has seasonal depression)

Thursday was phone call night. It always had been, since just after the first Season Four match between Misty Rain and Excellent Era, when Chu Yunxiu insisted on showing one of the only other girls in the league the best spots to eat in Suzhou. That next Thursday, Su Mucheng had called to complain that Chu Yunxiu had ruined her on jianbing, because how was she supposed to find any that tasted as good as the ones they had last weekend? And ever since then, it was a weekly tradition.

8. even if we're just dancing in the dark (lookit i was jamming to the song of the summer before it was cool on tumblr) (jk but this one was a lot of fun) (it's a magic au where Zhang Jiale gets rescued from prison by Ye Xiu)

Ping! Twenty-eight. Ping! Twenty-nine.

9. pics or it didn't happen (oh my god this fic was so long ago) (Outsider POV fic where Baozi opens a knock-off McDonalds and chaos ensues)

Happy’s Brawler spotted working at McDonald’s knockoff! Posted by ExcellentAutumnLeaf at 23:48 L-O-f*cking-L, it looks like Team Happy’s finally collapsing under the weight of its own shamelessness!

10. i am no icarus (I invented so many Italian nobles for this fic) (Princess Isabella and Countess Livia get together to upend the balance of city-states in Northern Italy.)

Vicenza had clearly spared no expense when it came to decorations, Isabella thought, watching the streets of the city pass by the window of her carriage with a sardonic eye.

This was a fun look back, thank you! I'm tagging @bisexualshakespeare, @granny-griffin (hi this is theetwinkleboy) and anyone else who wants to participate!

[pinturas-sgm-aviacion]

1945 02 Rover Patrol - Richard Taylor

After D-Day in June 1944, and the capture of Germany's U-Boat bases in northern France, Hitler ordered his remaining fleet, and particularly his submarines, to bases in Norway. Occupied by the Germans since 1940, the Norwegian fjords, with their narrow inlets and steep mountainous backdrops, offered unique protection; however submarines departing and returning to Norway from their oceanic operations immediately attracted the attention of RAF Coastal Command. Operating from two airfields in northern Scotland were the Banff and Dallachy Strike Wings, their sole purpose was to attack all German shipping along the Norwegian coast, and they fought a bitter and dangerous campaign against Hitler's once mighty submarine fleet. Heavily defended by shore batteries, Flak ships with terrible firepower, and marauding Luftwaffe fighters, the Mosquitos and Beaufighters of Coastal Command came under intense fire during almost every sortie they flew. Powered by two big Merlin engines, fastest of these fighter-bombers was the sleek, all-wood highly manoeuvrable two-seat Mosquito. Armed with four 20mm cannon, four .303 Browning machine guns, and with eight 251b solid armour-piercing rockets, this graceful strike aircraft packed a lethal punch. Typically, sorties began in the dark, with pilots flying loose formation at 50 feet across the North Sea, to arrive over the target area at first light. Then, the ever-present barrage of defensive gunfire as pilots hurtled past sheer cliff faces, twisted and turned through narrow sounds, and dived in pursuit of their prey. Suddenly, from the quiet peace of early dawn, the still air was shattered by the roar of Merlins, rockets, gunfire, and explosions, resounding off mountain sides in a deafening cacophony of battle. And within minutes they were gone, leaving a trail of smoke, twisted metal, and another nail in the coffin of the Third Reich. Richard Taylor's painting presents a fine study of a lone Mosquito FB MkVI of 143 Squadron, part of a larger formation of the Banff Strike Wing, high over the Norwegian fjords on an armed rover patrol to seek out enemy surface shipping and submarines, in February 1945. The beauty of the early morning sun, glinting on the snow-covered mountain-tops, contrasts with the menacing job in hand. Bravery, inordinate flying skills, and determination were a prerequisite for the crews of Coastal Strike Command.

[harrison-abbott]

Joe Linton

I knew Joe Linton ages ago, when I was back at art college, oh – nearly forty years ago now. Blimey, to think it’s that long ago, when I was still thin and semi-beautiful, fresh and idealistic. Joe and I were students in the same year. He did film and I did fine art. We met in the gardens of the campus. Through friends – I remember the first time I saw him, on the bright grass by the back of the old kirk. Was a pretty campus that I still get nostalgic over and Joe was handsome too. He asked me out. Being only the second boy ever to do so, and I said yes. And for six months we were in that disorientated state of love; couldn’t be separated for longer than a night. I was mean to him. I found him arrogant, about his artwork. His movies. Because he was – proud and confident about his material. He’d show me his short flicks. And I slandered them, because I didn’t think he was that good, and because I wasn’t a good painter myself. He didn’t seem a ‘great man’ to me, either: I thought those were silly things to dream about, artistically, even though I was only 21 myself, and despite paintings supposedly being my passion. My slandering hurt Joe a great deal. But he stuck with me, after I said I was sorry. And that planted another six months onto the relationship. Throughout which Joe drank a tremendous amount of beer wine and whisky. I dunno how that didn’t kill him. Plus, I hated alcohol. My Dad was a big drinker – and the whiff of booze triggered all these girlhood insecurities – and I kept asking Joe to stop. I told him if he didn’t quit then I’d leave. Threaten to leave: “Alcohol or Me!” I would declare. So Joe figured out ways to hide his boozing. But I could still smell it. Around the same period, my own studies were deteriorating, and I wasn’t doing well with the fine art course. The tutors didn’t like my stuff. And I passed second year with a C grade overall, which I was mighty angry about. Whereas Joe got an A. Ha! What a bastard – was my thinking at the time – how he can tan the beers all he wants and still get an A! A top grade for his crappy films! And I said this to him one night. On the phone. Not in those exact words. What I said was even worse and I’m ashamed to repeat them even as I reminisce as a sixty-something year old woman. I hung up. On Joe. And the next day tried to call him, to apologise. He didn’t pick up. And I found out through another friend that he had slashed his wrists, and was taken to A & E by his flatmate. Joe survived and was stitched up. I was too selfish and guilty to go and see him in his ward. Then I broke up with Joe. And, following that, cut him off as best as I could. Until he stopped trying to contact me or continue a form of friendship. Yes, I was a complete cunt to Joe Linton. In my third year I did a placement in another city. And Joe’s course was only three years long as opposed to my four: so in my 4th year I didn’t have to fret about seeing him around. And I tried to lose interest in him. Until a couple of years later, after I had graduated. Where I saw his name in an arts magazine. He’d directed a film. And when I looked on his social media accounts, I saw that he’d already made films before that. They were being shown in festivals. Short flicks. Interviews and lots of hooray likes and support from friends. And I thought it was cool and was glad for him. And then when he was 28 he made a full feature film. I mean, proper. As director. It became famous across my home city. And then nationally. A jumble of years after that there was a follow up, and he was appearing on the radio and TV and newspapers, etc etc, all over the joint. I started to get jealous. Or, I already was envious, and didn’t appreciate hearing his name. Because I was now in my thirties, and had stopped painting quite some time ago. I worked a shitty office job. My artwork had never gone a single valid adventure. I had some sad oil paint tubes shut away in a cupboard in my flat, and that was it. And, well: the rest of this story is basically that. This. Joe Linton became a very successful film director. And, me? I never became anything. I eventually met another man in my dull office joint, and we had two kids together, and soon I’ll be a grandmother. That’s all I ever did with my life. I have no name. Do you feel sorry for me? I certainly don’t. If anything, it was thoroughly deserved – considering how mean I was to Joe, back when he was so young. And I often think how easier it would have been (as sick as this is to admit) if he had bled to death that night, after I attacked his artwork. Because it would’ve erased all of that envy and threat that I’ve felt for the 40 years that he has only kept succeeding with his cinema. What I do hope, is that I’m not such a horrible person anymore. I try not to be. There have been a few moments where I’ve thought about getting in touch with Joe again. Just to say Hi. But, it would be too odd. Sometimes you have to leave Time as it is – for Time is way too vast and beyond our mental abilities as mere people. There are other times I wish I’d never met Joe Linton. I never tell people he used to be my boyfriend. People would just look at what I am now, and simply think, ‘Oh well.’

[twistedisciple]

Starter for @cursedbluebird @sweetroyalberry @arcaeda @breidabloom

The stench of sulfur was back again, a fine perfume over a more nauseating one: the syrupy sweet of not just one decomposing body, but an entire room full of rot. A low ceiling of earth and stone pressed down on it as if to keep it locked inside, like a crypt, or a mausoleum, erected to hold the dead in a world of their own. Or to promise that the living that had stepped foot into this forbidden realm would soon join them, barred from any visible escape. If the poisonous air did not corrode the physical body, then the mind would go in its stead and finish the job. The stagnant silence in dim-lit dark whispered futility; death would soon wake to grant them mercy.

The rattling of a dozen heavy, rusted chains heralded its arrival, and from bones and rotting blood rose a creaking giant painted in the palette of twilight and bruises, leaning heavily upon a massive, rusted cleaver for leverage. The stale air stirred with it, perhaps for the first time in centuries, and the stench of death swelled like a wave to crash over the party of breathing trespassers. Hunched beneath the ceiling, its tumorous back mere inches from mold-dusted earth, it turned deep-socketed eyes and a false smile of lipless teeth soundlessly toward them. A challenge, albeit a patient one. To the dead, there was no such thing as time; it was the living that had to contend with its relentless flow.

Death had grown to be something of an old friend, perhaps not for all of those who trod the fallen path, but for Griss, who had seen the faces of his own companions (however tenuously they could be called such) on bent and bloodied bodies, who had marched alongside an entire army of them like an imposter, who knew one day that his lord would call him, no longer satisfied with blood, to make devotion’s ultimate sacrifice, and who flirted with it, teased it, taunted it to take him sooner, it was always there. A ghost. A goal. A god. A lover. The dark did not scare him quite like its absence did. He bared his teeth back at it, eyes aglow with elation like the shimmer of fresh blood in lamplight.

“First a wedding. Now a funeral,” he cracked the silence with a sharp, one-note laugh, echo swallowed up by the wet walls and congealing floor. The absurdity of the joke elicited no reaction and the giant stared back with vacant, cloudy eyes. At least the tuxedo was gone - before Griss had managed to stain it, too - and what he wore now was more akin to his usual attire: cloaked but bare-chested, spiked cilices around wrists and ankles reminders of the inferiority of mortal flesh, and a leather-bound book in his left hand. A quick run through its ancient pages revealed lines of text similar to Nova’s, but there was something sinister about it, too. Something hungry. Only one way to figure out what.

Griss 10/10HP critically hits (auto) Golden Lich 15/15HP** with Aureola [Rolls: 12 + 4 = 16 & 5 + 4 = 9, -8/2HP + 8/2HP = -8HP; Golden Lich 7/15HP**] Griss loses -2HP from recoil [8/10HP]

Two blasts of light exploded in quick succession, one after the other, throwing sharp shadows behind the hundreds of bodies that covered the floor. Striped and smoking with black burns, the giant staggered back. With its skeletal hand, it carved grooves through the multicolored fungus growing over the wall, and opened its cavernous mouth in a mighty roar.

Golden Lich 7/15HP** hits Griss 8/10HP with Echoing Groan [Roll: 14, -3HP - 1res = -2HP; Griss 6/10HP]

Griss lifted his arm to shield his face, but the magic cut him all the same. His wrists bled beneath their bindings, new lacerations opened across his chest and torso, but the red was so bright and beautiful that for a moment it mesmerized him. He laughed as if in a daze. His own blood. Finally. Finally. Finally. Finally. Expurgation for the rite of death.

His allies no longer existed in his world, if he had them at all here at the final frontier. Dropping his arm from in front of wide, unseeing eyes, he fervently dragged another spell from the pages of his book, almost impatient, almost desperate. The cilices dug their spikes deeper into flesh, and the blood ran thicker, spilling to the ground beneath his feet in loud drops.

GALEFORCE: Griss 6/10HP critically hits Golden Lich 7/15HP** with Aureola [Rolls: 20 + 4 = 24 & 16 + 4 = 20, -8/2HP + 8/2HP = -8HP; Golden Lich 0/15HP**] Griss loses -2HP from recoil [4/10HP]

“HAHAHA! This is the moment I’ve been waiting for!” The dream was forgotten. The illusory nature of the realm, the exercise, the monastery, all shadows behind a manic haze. Lord Sombron called him. One final sacrifice. His body would be his.

The giant fell to its knees with earth-rumbling weight, catching itself with the cleaver plunged through a mountain of decay. Then with groaning, popping joints, it thrust both its hands into the ground, releasing a blast of miasmic smoke.

UNBEATEN: Golden Lich recovers HP [15/15HP*] and gains +1 magic and +2 speed Golden Lich 15/15HP* uses Living Death Griss 4/10HP loses -3HP and is inflicted with UNDEAD [Roll: 4, 10/10HP]

The world fell away. Griss felt himself falling with it, through a hole, down a well, deeper and deeper, giggling, laughing, praising his god with incoherent prayers, grateful, terrified, crying — what of Lord Rafal? Lady Nel? — still laughing. Praying. Praying. Praying.

He stopped falling.

The world was a distant square far above him, like the mouth of a well or some deep cavern. All he could do was watch, vaguely aware that what he saw was still through his own eyes. But his body was no longer his.

So this was how it was.

And for perhaps the first time in his life he was afraid of the dark, because the dark here was a yawning void enclosed around him. Because for the first time in his life there was no pain. No salvation. No god. Only himself in infinite nothingness. And there was nothing he could do about it, trapped and helpless, behind the eyes of a puppet.

Sisyphus [Team 12 Gold Round]

[sitp-recs]

hi :) i simply adore your blog and your fic recs are so spot on, you’ve made me fall back in love with drarry and hp. I rly love reading a fic before I go to sleep but I end up picking a 70k word one and end up staying up much longer than I wanted to so could you possibly recommend me any fics max 15k words, with a happy ending pls i need the cuteness to help me sleep 🥰 Thanku so so much xx

Hi anon! Thanks so much, I’m thrilled to know I had a small part in making you fall back in love with Drarry, that’s amazing! And what a mood lol I used to pick long fics before bed too, it’s a mighty trap 😂 I’ve read many short fics in the last year so I decided to go for these delightful and not-as-popular shorts, with excellent build up and happy endings. Perfect bedtime reads in my opinion! I got a bit too excited with this list so I’ll call it 31 Bedtime Reads! One for each day of the month ;) enjoy!

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (2021, M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

oxygen by @maesterchill (2020, T, 4k)

Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (2017, E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

Harmony (Left-Handed Melody Remix) by mindabbles (2010, M, 5.8k)

He is the last person Draco was expecting, but then again, this is not a place Draco ever expected to be.

Vintage by momatu (2017, T, 7k)

Of all of the vineyards, in all of the regions, in all of France, Draco's blasted editor sends him to Potter's...

Our Ordinary Days by Lomonaaeren (2012, M, 8k)

Two men, both fathers of sons, meet in a bookshop. And the rest is the kind of history that doesn't make history.

Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (2015, M, 8.4k)

Harry Potter apparently wants to talk to Draco about something, but odd events keep getting in the way of that conversation – and bringing them closer together.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (2010, E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

Blind Date by JosephineStone (2016, T, 8.6k)

Draco’s been working with Harry for years when another one of his relationships goes stale. He has to be married within a year, and though the WizNet has burned him in the past, Draco finds a new possibility in man as desperate to marry as he is.

Stories in E Minor by @huldrejenta (2014, E, 8.7k)

Draco has found his place in the Muggle world. He's got his music, he's got his neighbours and he is content. Until a certain someone from the past enters his life again.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 8.8k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (2018, M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

The Interest Here by disapparater (2015, T, 9k)

Draco has his own morning show on the wireless, which he loves; an ambitious assistant, whom he needs; and days in The Tea Shop, where he relaxes. He also has a new caller on the show, whom he finds bloody annoying.

Tidings of Comfort series by @blamebrampton (2012, G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (2020, E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart by orphan_account (2015, NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too.

Adventures in Truth and Texting by @fluxweeed (2020, E, 11k)

Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing.

fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (2015, NR, 11k)

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (2011, E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

Cold Like Fire by QueenofThyme (2012, M, 12k)

Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was.

What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (2018, E, 12k)

Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (2018, E, 12.6k)

Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

The Year of Non-Magical Thinking by whiskyandwildflowers (2018, E, 13k)

“I don't know what I'm going to do, Potter. I'll think of something. So will you. But this is my journey to self-actualization," Draco managed to smirk. "You can fuck off and get your own."

Evolution by @potteresque-ire Pie (2013, M, 13k)

Draco Malfoy was condemned to live a Muggle’s life for his three-year probation. His wand was locked away, and he was forbidden to set foot in Wizarding Britain until Hermione Granger secured a job for him in the Aurors’ stock room.

Plan Alphabet by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2019, T, 14k)

After realizing that his feelings for Harry were unfortunately real, Draco embarks on a foolproof—yes, Longbottom, foolproof—plan to woo Potter.

Countdown by dysonrules (2013, M, 14k)

When the Wizarding world is plagued by random outbreaks of Dark Magic, the Ministry assigns Curse-Breakers to assist Auror teams on their missions.

All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (2015, G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (2020, T, 15k)

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (2014, E, 15k)

Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by @punk-rock-yuppie (2019, T, 16k)

Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.