#more tags that should be added will be here

[miaqc1]

Already left a comment about that. Reposting here.

Why a dislike button in the first place? It's useless. What Ao3 need is a way to teach newcommers how to tag. More relationships tags like Squidgeworld & superlove archive do (Queerplatonic, Non Binary, VS etc). A way to filter works by "media" category (image, podfic, text, video). More archive warnings as well.

In other words, Ao3 should take a page of FF.net and others archives to improve. Adding new relationships types and archive warnings can't be that hard to do.

'ao3 needs a like and dislike button'

what you need, my algorithm-rotten minded friend, is a grip

[lawsbbygirl]

LAWLULAW FIC RECS PART 2

Link to part 1: here I finally got around to making a part two. I've read many fics since, and down below I'll link some of my favorites. There's a massive amount of incredibly talented writers in this fandom, and every day I feel so grateful to be a part of it, so please, don't take my recs as gospel, and look for fics yourself too. There are many amazing works that I've definitely missed adding, or that I haven't even read yet. I trust you all to shower the authors in kudos and positive comments! As a side note, I also write fics for this ship, so if you want to read my works, you can do that here!

Completed works:

Sating Hunger by xairylle 5,336 words, M "At the end of the day, even with all the major blunders that almost cost him his life, Law decided that this alliance had been worth it. Until he fucked it up by not being able to hold himself back from kissing Monkey D. Luffy." i will follow you into the dark by koudai 14,822 words, T "In the aftermath of Luffy’s and Blackbeard’s fight at Laugh Tale, Law dies as he performs the Perennial Youth Operation, to save Luffy’s life.

we've got blood and honey (getting high and getting some) by Trashgalore 11,158 words, E LawLu. Wound fucking, blood play, masochism... need I say more? Absolutely delicious. Easy Come, Easy Go by traszka 3,312 words, Gen "So, not-ally," Straw Hat strikes up again, "are you gonna kiss me, or what?" in your darkest hour (you belong to me) by Jien_o 4,555 words, E LawLu. Absolutely love this one... morally dubious pre-ts. Jien serving us a delicious meal as always. i’m a saint living in sin by corasonrie 4,340 words, M Human!Law, vampire!Luffy. Beautiful prose in this one.

Broken Hearts by Dragon_Falls 33,943 words, M Canon spoilers. "After retreating from Blackbeard, Bepo takes Law to the Thousand Sunny for help. Law is so broken that he doesn't even realize that the virus from the battle has returned. He now has to deal with his grief and a new body that he hates." Here Cums Peter Cottontail by Alte 13,802 words, E LuLaw. Ridiculously horny encounter between bunny hybrid Law and a hungry Luffy. Read the tags! Ice Ice Baby by killyhawk 9,265 words, E Hockey AU of my dreams. Fireflies by Martilla 63,531 words, E LuLaw. Old man yaoi AU. Absolutely adore this one. on every candle (i wish for you) by Minniaa 6,941 words, E LawLu. Luffy makes Law's birthday a million times better. So hot! Fog by Oh_Whoa 9,244 words, E LawLu. "Zoology professor Law hitches a ride on the Thousand Sunny." This one is so effortlessly hilarious and delicious. Obsessed with it! hanabi by quackquackcey 4,840 words, E LuLaw. "A lazy sunset at the beach, a stroll through the summer festival, a dash amidst hanabi—their feelings finally connect." Beautifully written omegaverse. Pirates Don't Have Love Stories by Kyrathel 19,617 words, E LawLu. Mpreg. "Luffy gathers a crew and battles with his gender identity." I love this fic so much and have reread it several times. Read the tags! We Should Get Rid of our Innocence Together by vomsa 44,109 words, E Switch. This one is such a fun story of our boys losing their virginities to each other. Humor, delicious smut, and just a great read! ᚴᚱᚢᛘᛘᛁ by MisuAnonimasu 10,589 words, E LawLu. Viking!AU of my dreams! The whole series is a fantastic read. like sunshine and marigolds by fallflowers 42,182 words, E LawLu. The perfect childhood friends to lovers fic. you're not just a human being (you are art) by orphan_account 3,127 words, E LuLaw. Law grows his hair out and Luffy has a crisis. So cute! The Doctor is Snowed In by Anonymous 35,867 words, E LawLu. "Wherein Luffy learns a little more about his anatomy and tests the patience and bond of his newly formed alliance while stuck in a cave on Punk Hazard." I love this fic SO much. and we'll have a spring wedding by Killyhawk 4,895 words, M "A 40-year-old Luffy appears on the Thousand Sunny with unexpected news." AMAZING READ. One of my faves for sure. Logistics by ST_Osmanthus 4,241 words, E LawLu. "The alliance succeeded. The mission is over. It’s time to go." This one is so fun! A Good Man Is Hard To Find by Masked Deuce 29,566, E DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Serial killer!Law and cannibal!Luffy. Read the tags. Love this one so much. Tea'sing All The Way Through by Camafeu 274,600 words, E This fic made me experience every single emotion that exists. I have no words other than this is a MUST read! Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response by DidntThinkofAName 9,302 words, E LawLu. "Luffy sees Nami fiddling with a pair of tiny transponder snails and begs her to let him try them out. Things get out of hand.

Or, the one where Law does ASMR." I'm so obsessed with this fic, I could read it a thousand times. I shine only with the light you gave me by bokkuroo 5,766 words, E LawLu. God of Death Law and God of the Sun Luffy. Very sweet and spicy. Treats by Rainy_atw 6,124 words, E LawLu. "Luffy gets golden-retrieverd." This is so fun and hot, OBSESSED. Lavender's Blue by Cooknumber3 33,850 words, E LuLaw. Cinderella/fantasy AU with fantastic worldbuilding.

Ongoing works:

After the Fall by Minniaa 4/? chapters, E LuLaw. Beautiful AU based on the Icarus myth. Sun King by Newmoondust 1/? chapters, E Roman empire AU where Luffy is a gladiator, and Law is a priest. Gorgeously written and I'm so invested only one chapter in! a scripted empathy by lances 2/8 chapters, E Law is a serial killer and Luffy is an underground fighter, but that's not enough to explain how riveting this fic is. Unique and captivating! Hold My Heart, it's Beating for You Anyway by 7raffy_law 5/? chapters, E LawLu. My absolute favorite vampire fic. Beautifully written with an engrossing plot, and fantastic characterization. shadow rises (and you are here) by shishiswordsman 8/11 chapters, E This author is one of my absolute favorites, and this fic makes you feel despair, sorrow, pain, but also flickers of hope masterfully weaved inbetween. The angst is spectacular, and the bond between Law and Luffy and how it's written takes my breath away. Of fans and filmstars by N_Moonbreeze 6/? chapters, E Switch. Pornstar!AU that hits the spot. Love this author's writing style and this fic in particular has me in a chokehold.

Don't Assume by Kyrathel 14/? chapters, E LuLaw. Fem!Law. This fic is so much fun to read, with delicious smut as well. "Luffy meets Law online playing a game. He isn't really what he thought she was..." Curiosity Killed The Cat... But The Hot Wolf Doctor Brought Him Back by vomsa 15/? chapters, E Such a fun and yummy omegaverse fic. Absolutely adore it! until you're mine by Jien_o 7/? chapters, E "Luffy has a stalker." All of Jien's fics are worth subscribing to! This one has me on the edge of my seat.

[peepawispunk]

The Last First Date

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Reader

Summary: You agree to a blind date on Valentine’s Day, hoping it will make your friend relent and stop setting you up. Your expectations for a forgettable night couldn't be more wrong.

Rating: E

Warnings/tags: unprotected sex, thigh riding, Javi Gutierrez talks you through it, enthusiastic consent, creampie, drug use and drinking

3.1K

Happy Valentines Day to @80ssong who was my recipient for the Valentine’s exchange!

My masterlist

A blind date on Valentine’s Day had to be the worst idea you’d ever heard, and you’d told your friend so when she’d begged to set you up with someone. 

“Cmon, it’s been fucking ages since you dumped Derek the Dick. I promise you, this guy is worth the effort.”

“I don’t know.” You pulled a face. “A blind date on Valentine’s? There’s so much pressure on that.”

“Girl, you’re overthinking this. Just trust me on this, this guy is 100% your type. If you don’t like him I’ll never ask to set you up again.” 

“Fine. But if he sucks, you owe me big time.” 

“Trust me, he doesn’t.” She’d said with an air of certainty that almost reassured you. 

-

So here you were, on February 14th, wearing your best “date” outfit. The colour was your favourite, and you’d even had your nails done to complement it. Some lingerie worn underneath added to your confidence, but that was just for you. There was no way you were going to sleep with this guy tonight - the last blind date you’d been set up on was a disaster from start to finish, and you had little faith that tonight would be any different. You’d accepted the setup when your friend had pushed the point, but only so you could agree that this was the last time you’d let her set you up. 

This guy seemed so excited about planning the perfect Valentine’s date when you were texting him to plan your evening, offering up a few different ideas for things you could do. It was kinda cute; you’d never seen a guy put so much effort into planning a date before, and you hadn’t even met the guy yet.

The bar was literally on the floor with guys these days, though…

You’d settled on a screening of Dirty Dancing at the rooftop cinema near Hollywood Hills, and your date had told you he’d take care of the booking for it. The movie choice had surprised you, but you weren’t complaining - it was one of your favourites. 

You told him you’d text him when you got there so you could find each other. He’d let you know that he’d be wearing dark green, but with how busy it would be there tonight you’d agreed that it would just be easier to find each other when you got there. 

You stepped out of the Uber, pulling your cardigan around you as the chill hit your skin. You moved towards the entrance of the building, pulling your phone out of your purse to text your date. 

Hey, just got here. I’m near the entrance.

You locked the screen, looking around to see if you could spot anyone in green.

A young guy wearing a lime green pair of jeans… hopefully not.

A woman wearing an emerald coloured maxi dress… definitely not, unless there had been a huge miscommunication.

A man stood near the door, wearing black slacks and a dark green button down, a dark jacket draped over his forearm… you could only be so lucky. His hair was dark and fell in soft looking curls, the shade matching his dark eyes. He had a nose that could make a roman statue jealous. He was looking around, much the same as you. 

Must be looking for his partner. No guy that looked like that stayed single for long. 

His eyes met yours for a moment, and you felt your skin heat, looking away. You should be looking for your date, not checking out this stranger. 

You looked down at your phone again, finding a new message. 

Hi. I’m by the door. I’m wearing a green shirt and black pants.

You looked up, meeting the man’s eyes again. 

No fucking way. 

No one else matching that outfit description was nearby. Your date must be this man. You lifted a hand in an awkward wave, and his eyes lit up, a smile stretching across his face.

You started walking towards him, and he headed to you, meeting you in the middle. 

“Hi! Are you Ella’s friend by any chance?” He asked, voice warm yet hesitant.

“I am,” You say happily, free to admire him a little more now you knew that he was your date. You tell him your name.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I am Javi.” He introduced himself. You walked together to the terrace, taking in the view and exchanging small talk to get to know each other.

“I hope you don’t mind - I booked the loveseat option. It seemed like the most comfortable seating.” He explained, and you shook your head, smiling. 

“Not at all! That sounds perfect.” 

“Good, that’s good… Would you like to get a drink?” 

“Sure.” 

You lined up together at the bar, getting a round of spicy margaritas, finding a table near an outdoor heater to chase away the chill of the evening. 

“Have you seen the movie before?” You asked, sipping at your marg and watching Javi across the table as he tried his drink. 

“This is delicious,” he said, his lips curling into a smile as he savoured tha taste. “Sorry, yes, I have. It’s actually one of my favourite movies. I’m a bit of a movie fan.” He admitted with a wry grin. 

“No way, it’s one of my favourites too! It’s practically a comfort movie for me at this point.” You were pleasantly surprised that he valued a romance movie - in your experience, men usually treated romance like a lesser, “female” genre. It was refreshing.

“Oh, me too.” He admitted conspiratorially. “They don’t make romance movies like this anymore.” 

“They really don’t,” You agreed, “I haven’t seen a good romance or romantic comedy in years. It’s like Hollywood collectively decided it wasn’t worth trying anymore. I wish someone would write one like the classics again.” 

Javi nodded in agreement. “Exactly! The whole genre has been reduced to those made-for-Netflix movies, it’s lost something.”

You nodded in agreement, enjoying his passion for the topic, and you wondered suddenly if he was in the film industry or just a big movie fan like he’d said.

You sat in comfortable silence with each other for a moment, each sipping at your drinks and making fleeting eye contact. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” You asked.

“Uh, actually, I’m a writer.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! What kind of writing?” 

“Screenplays, actually.” 

Your suspicion was right, then. 

“Well then, maybe you can write the next big romance.” You said, making him grin. 

“Not a bad idea,” He agreed. “What is it that you do for a living?”

You told him what your work situation looked like currently, and what you’d studied, which led to you both discussing your goals and plans. You found that you had a lot in common. When you asked Javi if he’d written any screenplays you might know, he confessed that he wrote Nic Cage’s last big blockbuster.

“No fucking way, that was you? I loved that movie!” 

“Oh, thankyou,” he held a hand to his chest in sincerity. “It was a lot of fun to write. Nic and I are great friends now, and the movie is actually a retelling of how we met.” 

“But the movie is wild!” 

“Yes, it was an eventful week.” Javi said wryly, finishing his margarita. “Shall we get another drink and then find our seat? The movie will be starting soon.” 

“Sure, but I’m going to need you to tell that story later.”

Javi grinned, promising he would, his hand finding the small of your back as you headed to the bar. This time you ordered some warm mulled wine to help keep you warm, taking your drinks with you to the theatre area. 

The theatre was open air, on the rooftop of the building, a large projector screen set against the backdrop of the city lights. Outdoor heaters were evenly spaced around the seating, and there were stacks of blankets and cushions available at the end of each aisle. 

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here.” You admitted, taking it all in. “This is so cool.” 

“It’s actually my first time here too, a friend recommended it to me.” Javi said, grabbing a blanket with his free hand as you both headed to your seat. He hesitated for a moment, standing by the stack, gesturing to the pile in askance. “Would you like your own or would you like to share one?” 

“I’m fine to share if you are.” You said, a flirtatious smile pulling at your lips. To be honest, you’d be a little disappointed if he didn’t want to share. You were looking forward to a reason to be closer to him. 

“Definitely.” He smiled, setting his drink down on the side table to unfold the blanket. 

Soon, you were both tucked under the blanket on the loveseat, sipping at the mulled wine and waiting for the movie to start. 

The movie started playing, and you felt yourself relax into the seat. “God I love the soundtrack for this movie.” 

“You like the classics? Me too!” 

“They just hit different.”

“I get exactly what you mean.” 

You settled in to watch the movie together. Javi wasn’t big on talking during the movie, which suited you just fine - you hated when people talked during movies, especially in a cinema. 

Javi was attentive, though. He noticed when you were getting cold, offering for you to come closer and share his warmth, lifting his arm in invitation, careful not to let the cold air under the blanket. 

You took him up on it immediately, scooting closer, and he slung a warm arm over your shoulder, holding you to his side. He smelled so good, and the feel of his warm, solid body against yours was making it hard for you to pay attention to the movie. At least you’d seen it enough to know it by heart anyway. 

“Is that better?” He murmured quietly into your hair, and your skin tingled, a trail of warmth buzzing down your spine.

“Much.” You smiled up at him, longing to press a kiss to his jaw, and digging your fingernails into your leg to rein the urge in. 

----

You walked to the parking lot together, hand in hand, giggling like teenagers as you passed his vape pen back and forth. He’d invited you back to his place to watch another movie, and it was probably a line, but you found you didn’t mind at all. He’d texted his driver (he had a driver?!) to let them know that he was ready to be picked up, and you’d decided to wait outside together, away from the crowd near the building. 

He’d long since draped his coat over your shoulders, despite your protests that he’d be cold without it. “Not to worry, cariño,” He’d reassured you with a cheeky wink. “I run hot.” 

When the car arrived, you’d been happy to realise that it wasn’t a limo, just a large SUV. Javi was obviously wealthy, you’d gleaned that much since you met him, but it showed in the quality of his clothing and accessories, it wasn’t something he was flaunting tackily. 

He held the door open for you, making sure you were comfortably inside before closing it for you and rounding to the other side. He greeted his driver warmly, instructing them to head back to his house, which he’d told you wasn’t too far away. 

When you got back to his house, he led you to a room with soft, comfortable couches and a small bar. You made some drinks together, and Javi put in an order for some takeout while you found a movie to watch together. 

You settled on an easy-to-watch comedy, something you didn't have to concentrate on, so you could talk more. So far, you had to admit that your friend had done good with Javi. He was friendly, funny, and downright gorgeous. 

When the moment presented itself two movies later, as you were both rummaging through the walk in pantry for some movie snacks, you didn’t hesitate to kiss him. He was looking down at you, his eyes flickering to your lips and betraying his thoughts as your close proximity became evident to you both. Your manicured hands rested on his forearms as you stood on your tiptoes, craning your head to kiss him. 

A gentle peck quickly turned passionate, and before you knew it you were pressing his broad shoulders up against the shelves, helping him out of his button down and sliding it down his arms. 

“Cariño are you sure?” He murmured against your lips, large hands squeezing your ass, pulling you against him and holding you against his throbbing length. 

“So sure. You?” You trailed kisses down his collarbone as you worked the undershirt from where it was tucked in under his slacks. 

“Very.” He groaned, his large hand tilting your face up to kiss you again. “But I don't want rhe first time I fuck you to be in this pantry, nena. Let me take you to bed?”

“Yes, please.” Your desperation bled into your tone, and your skin heated.

He chuckled lowly, lips pulling into the most gorgeous smirk you'd ever seen. His eyes darkened with arousal, pupils blown, and he leaned down to claim your mouth again. His tongue performed a skilful mimic of what he hoped to do to you in bed, slipping past your lips to taste you and chase your moans. 

“Don't worry, nena. I've got you.” He promised, grinding his cock against your belly one more time before he was leading you to the bedroom hand in hand. 

Too eager to waste any more time, you both stripped off quickly, surging back into an embrace as soon as you were bare. His skin was hot against yours, his hands burning a trail across your body as they squeezed and cupped at your flesh, pinching your nipples into peaks and palming at your ass. 

You grabbed at him, too. Hands running down toned arms, grabbing at broad shoulders, pushing the firm globes his ass, drawing him to you. He sat down on the edge of the bed, encouraging you to climb onto his lap, straddling his leg.

His cock was weeping, leaving a sticky warm trail of arousal on your belly, and you were sure you were doing the same thing to his thigh, chasing the friction as you rolled your hips. You took him in-hand, thumbing at the slippery wetness at his tip, circling and spreading it as you retracted his foreskin to trace his frenulum. 

“Fuuuuck.” He growled, thrusting up into your hand. “You're soaking my thigh, nena. Are you ready to soak my cock? Come for me and you can have it.”

“Yes, fuck.” You moaned, and Javi's mouth pulled up on one side, a smug look on his face.

“Oh, you can come from this, can't you?” He realised, grinning. “Yeah, you like this, don't you.” Large hands slid up your sides, skimming your ribs until he reached your tits. Clever thumbs rolled your nipples, providing dual stimulation as you rode his thigh to completion. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck…” You chanted, chasing your release. “Need to to fuck me.”

“I will, nena. Just give me this one first. You're close.” He grunted in your ear as you slipped a hand down to gather some of your slick, using it to lubricate your palm and returning it to his cock. If he was going to tease you, you were going to return the favour.

One of his big hands left your side, reaching down to grasp your wrist. He held your gaze, dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief and arousal as he brought your fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. 

"Come for me.” He murmured against your fingers, tensing his thigh to provide you with more friction. 

The gentle, filthy encouragement had your arousal spiking exponentially, and faster, easier than you'd ever come before, you were soaking this gorgeous man's thigh and hoping he'd fuck you raw.

“Fuck, Javiiiiiii.” You cried, legs shaking and cunt weeping as it squeezed around nothing. It was still your best orgasm in recent memory.

“That's my girl.” He praised, kissing your neck and shoulders as you came down from your high. “You still want my cock?” He throbbed heavily against your belly, and you nodded. 

The spell was broken momentarily by talks of health and contraception, but then you were sinking down onto him raw, his bare cock nestled against your cervix as he bottomed out. 

“Fuuuck.” It was his turn to groan as he slipped into the hot, wet grip of your cunt. His patience for the slow, teasing pace you'd set lasted for a minute at most before he was laying back on the bed, rolling you both and pressing you into the mattress. 

He rolled his hips like a man that knew how to dance as well as he fucked; his rhythm smooth, confident and thorough as he pushed your leg up, opening you to him more. His clever fingers focused on your clit as he chased another orgasm for you. 

“Javi, please, ‘m so close.” Your voice was almost unrecognisable, garbled and strung with tension as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night, holding you on the edge until you keened desperately. Then, you were dragged over the edge with him, both of you frantically seeking out each other's mouths as you orgasmed simultaneously, the sensation of coming much more intimate and intense when it was a shared experience. He rested his forehead against yours, frantic kisses turning soft and tender as you both shook with aftershocks.

----

Afterwards, while finally having that snack, you had a question for Javi. 

“So, has that ever happened for you before?”

“I can't say that this is something I usually do…” Javi admitted, his neck and ears dusting with red as he flushed. 

“Me either. But I meant the whole simultaneous orgasms thing.”

“This was a new experience for you?” He sounded surprised. 

“Well, yeah. I've heard it’s super rare.”

“Cariño, your past lovers have been wasting your time, then.”

“Yeah, I think you've ruined other men for me with that.”

“Good. How about we go and ruin them some more, hmm?” He smirked, tugging at the undershirt you wore, white, oversized, and his. His fist curled in the fabric, bunching it up to pull you in for another kiss. 

You were panting by the time you parted, breathing heavily as this gorgeous man pressed you into his kitchen counter. 

“Yes, Javi. Take me to bed.” You agreed lacing your hand with his.

----

Loathe as you were to admit it, your friend had done well with this setup. You probably owed her a fruit basket or something.

[deadbeatbirdmom]

Happy Valentine's Day my fellow RWBY fans. This should be a day focused on love. Which is why I'm going to talk about something that's been troubling me for a while. This isn't about any single post, and I'm not singling anyone out. I'd put this under a read more cut but I think it's important enough not to do that. Scroll down for TLDR and a poll.

One of the common courtesies of tumblr etiquette is: don't tag hate with things like a ship tag or character tag. Or should be common, but let's face it, it's more like uncommon.

A good chunk of tumblr users who I end up blocking are those who post hate in tags like the 'Bumbleby' tag, or 'Yang Xiao Long' tag (it'd be the 'RWBY' tag too, but I don't often go there and rarely post in it). No, it's not toxic to block people, it's how you control your tumblr experience. It's how I avoid seeing hate, or try to.

But there are some tumblr users who I don't want to block but also end up putting hate in the tags: some of my fellow fans. It's not intended the same way as those who do it out of spite, but the end result is the same: your fellow fans end up seeing stuff they might prefer not to.

There's another rule, an old one that predates tumblr: don't feed the trolls. Don't give them attention. Please delete anon hate rather than answer it, although I definitely understand how trolling trolls can be fun. Just please don't tag it with the main tags or you'll do the anon's work for them if it's hate about a ship or character.

I see all too much fan art around that gets far less engagement than posts trying to fight back against hate (and unfortunately share the hate at the same time, especially when it's something from elsewhere like reddit or twitter). If you like the art, don't only hit that heart button, reblog it too!

RWBY fandom isn't dead, but we do need to do our part to encourage artists to make and share more art. Likes alone don't help the art get in front of more fans. I don't think everyone looks in the tags to find art, some will rely on those they follow reblogging art. This goes for sharing fic too! And giving fic writers comments (and kudos on AO3).

This is an appeal to keep negativity out of the main tags. I'm not saying you can't post whatever you want, just when it comes to tagging: please spare a thought for your fellow fans who are incredibly tired of negativity. If all else fails, maybe include a tag that can be added to filters? 'Wasps' for posts about Bumbleby hate, maybe?

I don't know about anyone else, but if I wanted to see hate and get angry, I'd be on twitter or reddit. I check tags here on tumblr to find fan art, and to see fellow fans talking about how much they love RWBY and its characters and ships, and find interesting theories and analysis.

I'm also not entirely sure how tumblr works with followed tags and words mentioned in posts. Do untagged posts still show up if the word appears in the post? Does that mean breaking the word with a backslash or something to avoid it showing up? I don't know, perhaps something to consider.

TLDR: please don't feed the trolls and don't tag hate with main tags. Show RWBY fan artists and fic writers some love and reblog their posts, and comment on fics!

One last thing: a poll to find out if I'm an outlier and posting hate is actually normal in this post-twitter world.

[madebymaryssa]

Some artists I follow on Instagram are moving over to Cara, largely because of their policies regarding AI*, but also because they have a combination of 'portfolio' and 'social media-style' layout options, and because (like AO3) they are volunteer-run rather than a For Profit company where every other post is an ad.

Some Instagram artists are also jumping ship over here to tumblr, since this site is infamously unmonetizeable and therefore has not yet faced the same degree of interference.

*It's a bit more nuanced than a flat ban: AI-generated content is not permitted on Cara until such time as the Training Data is regulated so that only public domain content and consenting artists' work can be used. Should AI-generated content becomes permissible on Cara in the future, it must be labelled as such so that audiences can still easily filter to find human-created artwork. Cara encourages the use of Glazes and other protective measures by artists wishing to guard their art against being scraped as Training Data. Artwork shared on Cara is automatically tagged as 'not permitted to be used for AI training data', although there is a disclaimer that any image shared over the internet cannot be 100% protected from bad-faith actions; a comparison was made to how locking a door cannot stop a sufficiently determined person from forcibly breaking in.

now that trump has tiktok, twitter, facebook and insta in his pocket, get ready for a massive wave of internet censorship. one of trump's greatest weapons has always been misinformation; it's going to become harder and harder to spread facts and criticism going forward. posts that aren't made invisible will be magically ignored by the algorithm. dissidents will have their accounts deleted and voices erased.

this is a suppression tactic. this is another stage of fascism.

[bullet-prooflove]

Could you please do a Mike Franks with prompt 15. “I fell for a boy who could never ever let me walk home that way 'Cause you gotta be safe”?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @clarasmoon @star017

Prequel to:

Life Lessons (NSFW) - Mike and you don't play the games other couples do.

Count To Five (NSFW) - Mike comes home to a naked woman in his bed.

Pool House (NSFW) - You and Mike steal a moment alone at the LA Law Enforcement Conference.

Shirt (NSFW) - Mike turns up to a crime scene to find you wearing his shirt.

Love Is A Strong Word - Mike confesses his feelings after a disagreement.

Baggage - You confront Mike after he says another woman's name in his sleep.

The Written Word - Mike's world is turned upside down when he discovers a letter written by Violet before her death.

The Way of the World - There's a reason Mike's been teaching you all those life lessons.

There has always been chemistry between you and Mike, right from the first moment he stepped into one of his crime scenes and discovered the old NIS liaison Barry Gilford had been replaced.

Truthfully he wasn’t sad to see him go, the position was a power game to that asshole. He’d withhold support or information, using it instead as a bargaining chip. You are much more amenable and if he’s honest a lot easier on the eyes too.

Over the months he starts to like you, really like you. You used to be a master of arms before you left the Navy because it was too structured, you have your own C.Is you’ve cultivated from that time and an insight into the inner workings of the military that comes in handy on his cases. You’re smart too and wicked funny, the kind of humour that makes him laugh despite the gruff front he tries to enforce. You give him a run for his money and Mike, he hasn’t experienced someone who can do that, not for a long time.

It comes to a head over drinks. The team are celebrating the closure of one of their cases, he’d invited you along because without your invaluable expertise they’d still be dead in the water. It starts with the accidental nudge of his knee against yours under the table, he tilts his head to apologise but you have that look in your eyes.

Mike, he knows when a woman’s attracted to him, he can feel it on a visceral level.

Next it’s his arm around the back of your chair, an invitation you take to shift closer. The scent of your perfume floods his senses, something light and floral that reminds him of Texas in the spring. He drinks it in as his thumb traces a light pattern across your shoulder. Your hand comes to rest on his thigh and it feels like electric dancing under his skin as your fingers trail up the inner seam of his jeans. He spends the next thirty minutes struggling to follow the conversation as he adjusts the woody in his pants.

When he offers to walk you home you both know where this is heading, all that tension, all that build up, it feels like he’s about to combust as you link your arm through his, setting off into the night.

“So now you’ve walked me home, what’s next?” You ask as you stand on the doorstep toying with the keys in your hand.

You look so tantalizing in the glow from the street lamp, teeth biting your lower lip as you look up at him through those dark lashes of yours.

“I should take myself home like a good boy.” Mike says, his voice rough as his hands coming to rest on your hips as you lean in close.

“But you’re not a good boy are you Mike?” You tease, your fingertips chasing over the buttons of his shirt.

“No.” He says, his mouth brushing over yours. “No I ain’t.”

Love Mike? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[tulip-room]

blush - tobio kageyama || wc: 1.1k || genre: fluff || masterlist || tags: he fell hard, 5+1, just a two paragraph bit of angst, happy ending, yn our confident queen, hinata there to help the plot, shy kageyama

syn. a little blush here, a little blush there, a makeup artist and an athlete fall in love. it's only so many times kageyama can see them before he loses his mind. someone beats him to it though

i.

the first time she meets kageyama tobio is for an ad for some curry brand. he’s not hard to work with and he doesn’t try to make conversation and make her job more difficult. that’s all she notes about him and doesn’t make an effort to look further in to him.

ii. 

he’s glad that it’s her doing his makeup the second time they meet. all of the other makeup artists he’s had to deal with for various ads or interviews always want to talk to him more than he wants to. the process takes much longer he’s noticed if they talk and he just wants to go home to get the makeup off of his face. it never feels good on his skin, too sticky and heavy.

“hello again,” she says with a smile. she’s brought less product this time and he appreciates it. 

“hello.” he watches her as she goes about cleaning everything and using disposable applicators to apply the minimal product to his face. he can't help the twitch when she puts concealer under his eyes.

“not like makeup?”

“feels too heavy.” she hums in response and nods as she searches through her bag for something. “i can use water-based products instead. they should feel lighter on your face.”

“okay,” he does admit it feels better. not as sticky and heavy. they don’t talk again after that.

iii.

the third time he begins to believe that it’s not a coincidence. but he can’t complain much when she’s gentle with applying what needs to be done and he’s found himself wishing she would talk to him more.

who keeps asking for this? does she keep asking to be the artist for all of his shoots? “do you like makeup?” that’s a stupid question, why would she do this for a living if she didn’t like it?

“yes,” she replies with a small laugh. “all done.” there’s a smile on her face that has his breath hitching and he’s not sure why. 

he brings it up to hinata and glares at the laugh he receives. “you like her.” he can hear him over the crude speakers of the phone. 

“idiot, i don’t like her. i barely know the person.” he scoffs and realizes hinata won’t be of any help in this. 

“trust me on this, i know you’re bad at feelings but you definitely have a little crush.” hinata can’t hold back his small bits of laughter through the sentence though.

“idiot.” with a click he hangs up the phone and finds himself staring at the wall. did he like her? they’ve met three times and he likes her? that seems ridiculous. 

he calls his manager five minutes later requesting her for all of his appearances.

iv. 

surprisingly, the next time they meet he isn’t sitting in her chair and she doesn’t have her makeup bag with her. it’s at a local diner and her booth is right across from his table. she gives him a smile after realizing it is him and he nods his head. 

he tries not to look at her but he hasn’t seen her look so…relaxed and free before. the actions she takes don’t look practiced and meticulous. he watched her putts around with the straw wrapper and almost knock over her glass of water with an inkling of a smile on his face. 

“do you want to sit with me?” he finds himself asking over the silence. 

“why?”

“i don’t like having lunch alone.” that’s a lie, he’s perfectly fine with eating alone. 

“okay, i don’t like eating lunch alone either.” they eat their lunch in silence and kageyama pays even though she tries to refuse. 

“you can pay next time,” an unspoken promise. 

v.

when he visits japan it doesn’t feel the same. maybe he’s grown too used to the structure of italy. the sights, the language, and the people. his heart yearns for italy on nights he sleeps in his childhood bed. it’s become uncomfortable and bulky compared to his bed in italy. as much as it hurts, japan doesn’t feel like home anymore. 

his friends are there…mostly, some have gone off across the world in their own ways. his family is there, his old coach is there, the place he got rejected for the first time. his first kiss was there, his first volleyball game. japan was his beginning but it feels like a coat that he’s grown out of but is still made to wear when the weather grows cold. it will always be warmth but not enough for him to stay there. 

he returns to italy two weeks later and the first thing he does it run to the beach and just watch the waves. italy is warm and italy is his home now. “funny seeing you here,” his eyes flutter open and behind him he sees her approaching him. “haven’t seen you recently, i thought it was my turn to pay?”

that’s another thing japan didn’t have. it didn’t have her. “it is.” she sits down beside him and they look at the clouds.

“where were you?” her voice feels as gentle as the waves. wearing down slowly at his resolve. 

“visiting japan,” he sighs and brings his knees down from his chest.

“most people would say visiting home you know.” she remarks with a small smile.

“japan doesn’t feel like home anymore.” she hums but doesn’t push. “i think i’ve been gone too long.”

“that happens…are you upset about it?”

“i’m…not sure.”

“that’s okay, do you want to get some lunch?”

“yeah, i’d like that.”

vi.

they’ve been meeting more frequently. numbers were exchanged and texts sent later than either should be up. quiet smiles at their phones between practice and appointments. it’s two months before he sits in her chair again. before the lights hit his face and the bag she carries with her is set down on the vanity next to him. 

his cheeks feel warmer than they used to. has she gotten closer? when he closes his eyes he can feel her breath and the soft touch of her fingers as she applies product to his face. “you’re really pretty tobio.” he feels his breath stutter a little bit. 

“thank you, you are too.” 

“might need something to cover the red on your cheeks.” oh…could she tell? “if you like me, you can just say so. i like you too.”

it takes a moment for the words to wrap around his brain. “i do. like you i mean.”

“i know,” she cleans off her pallets and throws away the applicators. “this is where you ask me on a date.”

“will you go on a date with me?”

“i would love to. be ready by six.”

hi ave <3 i hope you enjoy this !!! it’s your present for valentine’s day because i love you so much <3333 if you guys want to see the other things im writing today go here, it will be updated throughout the day <33

taglist (gen fill out this form) @hiraethwa @hatsukeii @cherrysurf @cheriisae @darthferbert @localgaytrainwreck @lale-txt @szyvrue @wyrcan

[vunblr]

A Hand in the Dark

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Dark Content: Attempted suicide. Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Canon-Typical Violence.

Summary: In a brief moment of lucidity, Soldat makes a choice. And some choices echo across time, shaping the future in ways no one could predict.

Word Count: 2.6.k.

notes: Please read the warnings carefully, and if I’ve missed any, feel free to let me know. More tags will be added in the future.

Somewhere in the 50s

She walked along the edge of a cliff, her silhouette painting a dark curve against the greyish stones below. Her steps were measured, as the soft crunch of her heels against the dirt was nearly swallowed by the distant crash of waves against rocks and sand. She reached a cluster of tamarisks swaying in the wind and slowed her pace, unaware that just beyond the low brush, hidden in the shadows where stone meets sand, lurked something -someone- watching.

Soldat was still as the grave, crouched while carefully working a sliver of debris free from the intricate servos of his metal palm. He should ask for gloves next time. Not that he had the right to ask, but still.

He was waiting for an extraction, new orders, and something else he couldn’t remember well. His senses were sharpened to notice even the slightest movement in the dark. So when he heard footsteps nearing his position, his body reacted before his mind did, and his hand went without hesitation to one of his weapons, narrowing his focus.

Then the moon, free from the grasp of passing clouds, bathed the landscape in pale light. The woman wasn’t looking at him.

She was close now, near the very edge of the cliff, and her eyes cast toward the endless stretch of water before her. Without hesitation, she lowered herself down, letting her legs dangle dangerously over the precipice, curling her fingers over the stone as if testing its strength. She exhaled, slow and deep as if the weight of the night itself rested on her shoulders.

The Soldat watched, tense.

A no-witnesses order has been ingrained in his brain, a silent rule that dictated every interaction -or lack thereof- with strangers. He was to remain unseen, but this woman… she hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. She didn’t scan her surroundings. She wasn’t looking for anyone. She simply was there, existing in the same space as him but entirely unaware.

So he stared.

It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, really.

For a long while, she didn’t move beyond the occasional tilt of her head, or the slow rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed in the salty air. Then, with resolve, she stood. The moonlight caught in the strands of her hair as she reached up and pulled out the pins holding it in place. One by one, they slipped from her fingers and disappeared into the earth at her feet. The scarf wrapped around her head came next, caught instantly by the wind and carried away into the night. He tracked its movement for a moment before his gaze snapped back to her.

She removed her shoes, letting them drop carelessly to the side.

Then, she looked down. Just for a moment.

Her hands went to the small buttons of her polka-dotted dress, undoing them with deliberate slowness. One after the other, until she reached the last. Then, with the same eerie calm, she reached for the hem, lifting the fabric inch by inch to pull it over her head.

The Soldat furrowed his brow.

His brain could be fried, scrambled, conditioned beyond repair, but even he understood this was no place to dive.

Not unless your intention was to snap your neck against the jagged rocks waiting at the foot of the cliff.

Once in nothing but her baby-blue cotton underwear, she kneeled, folding the dress with care.

She swallowed. Her hands rested on her folded dress, fingers brushing over the little watch she had set beside it. It ticked on, indifferent, as if time itself did not care that she had run out of options.

How did I end up here?

She was to be married. Not by choice, of course, her choices had never truly been hers to make. The arrangement had been finalized in the sitting room of her childhood home, discussed over brandy and cigars, her father’s laughter booming as if he had won something. She had sat still, hands folded in her lap, pretending not to notice how tightly her mother gripped the armrest of her chair.

She had heard the whispers before, the rumors of what happened to his first wife. How she had become frail, withdrawn. How she had fallen down the stairs one evening and never gotten back up.

Her protests had been ignored. Her fears dismissed. This is how things are, darling, her mother had said. You’ll be taken care of. You’ll have a home, security. You’ll want for nothing. But she already wanted for something. She wanted out.

She had tried. She had run. But a woman alone in the world was a woman without a home, without money, without safety. She could not sign a lease. She could not open a bank account. There were no jobs that would pay her enough to keep herself afloat. The doors had been locked before she even reached them.

And now, she was here.

Her bare toes curled against the cold stone of the cliff’s edge. The wind tugged at her, inviting her forward.

Behind her, unseen in the shadows, the Soldat exhaled slowly through his nose, flexing his grip against the ground.

This was not a place to dive.

A sob.

And then another.

Her shoulders trembled, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as if struggling to hold herself together. The sound was raw, torn from somewhere deep, a kind of grief that had no audience and expected no comfort.

Oh.

So that is what this is.

Soldat recognized it instantly. He had toyed with the concept more times than he would like to admit, or so he thought. He wasn’t sure. His mind was a fractured thing, full of gaps and half-formed memories, but this felt familiar.

Wanting to end it.

Wanting it to end.

His body, however, had never cooperated. His hands had never moved to the handler of the gun, the blade of the knife had never pressed near his pulse point, even when the desire burned hot and frantic in his chest. Even when he swore he would, swore he could. Something always stopped him. Some command buried deep in his brain, some instinct woven into his very bones.

But this woman?

She was free.

She could just-

Another broken sob, and his brow knitted.

Something about her despair unsettled him.

He did not understand why.

Or maybe he did.

He had once cared. He was supposed to care. It was buried somewhere deep, under layers of orders and conditioning, but it was there, flickering like a dying ember in the hollow of his chest.

Silent as a shadow, he pushed through the brush, weaving between stone and sand. The movements were precise, automatic, a predator closing in, but for what purpose, he wasn’t sure. He only knew he had to get closer.

Then, as if sensing something, she turned. The wind caught in her hair as she met his gaze, her face illuminated by the silver glow of the moon.

Dark, disheveled strands of his own hair kissed the edges of his vision, brushing against the shoulders of his dirtied tactical vest. He knew what she saw, a ghost of war, dressed in black and steel, tired, vacant eyes staring out from above a mask that concealed the rest of his face.

They looked at each other in silence.

Somehow, her lack of reaction surprised him. No scream, no flinch, no frantic scrambling to get away.

Then again, she had nothing left to lose.

Before he could stop himself, the words tore from his throat.

"Ne prygay."

It came out rough, rasped from vocal cords that had little use for him besides screaming in the last years.

She tilted her head, not understanding the words, but recognizing the language.

And then, to his bewilderment, she chuckled.

A small, cynical laugh, breathless and edged with something bitter.

“A commie?” she mused, as the amusement curled faintly at the corner of her lips. "Look, buddy, I don't understand what you are saying, and I don't have anything useful for you to say, so..." Her words were light, almost careless, as if she were waving him off.

Soldat narrowed his eyes, watching her closely.

Then, he took a step forward.

The shift was subtle, but immediate. The momentary sense of detachment she had wrapped around herself -the numbness that had made this night feel inevitable- cracked.

He was close enough now that she could see him properly, the way his shoulders tensed, and how his hand twitched as if caught between action and restraint. The wind pulled at his hair, displaying the sleek black mask that covered the lower half of his face, clinging to the sharp planes of his jaw, molding to the contours of his face with ruthless precision, letting only his eyes on display, clear blue, watchful, and impossible to decipher.

For the first time since she had stepped onto the cliff’s edge, she felt something other than resignation.

Uncertainty. He fucking disrupted her state of mind and now, she wasn’t sure anymore.

She had nowhere to go. No home, no future, no escape from the fate laid out before her.  And now, the only choices she had were the rocks and the sand below, or be caught by this russian spy with haunted eyes and a voice like rusted metal. This ghost who had emerged from the shadows, stepping toward her with God knows what intentions.

"D-Don't come closer. I told you, I don't have anything useful to say to you," she pleaded, her voice shaking now, a tremor that hadn’t been there before.

He wanted to say more, wanted to force her to stop, but the words tangled in his mind, slipping between languages that didn’t fit together. Russian. English. Commands. Ghosts of things he had been told to say, taught to repeat. None of them were right.

So he did the only thing that made sense.

He stepped forward.

She shifted at his advance tensing her body and suddenly, her feet slipped, and the gravity claimed her.

Well, it was her first intention, after all. A little less sophisticated than she had planned? Yes. More dramatic? Sure.

The wind tore past her as the world tilted before her eyes. The jagged rocks below rose to meet her, and she came to realize that this was it.

Then-

A blur of silvered motion, faster than thought, faster than she could react. The commie.

He threw himself after her, cutting through the air with unnatural force.

She barely had time to register the impact of his arms wrapping around her before he twisted their bodies midair, moving like a goddamn cat- no, like something deadlier, something trained to survive at any cost.

He turned, forcing himself beneath her just as they crashed onto the unforgiving rocks below.

----

The first thing she felt was warmth.

A slow, creeping heat pressed against her cheek, coaxing her from unconsciousness. Then came the sound, seagulls, shrill and relentless as their cries cut through the rhythm of the waves.

She blinked. Slowly.

The sky above her was too blue, the kind of blue that felt almost offensive when everything else in her life had gone so dark.

Her body ached, a dull, insistent pain radiating from her limbs, but nothing sharp, nothing unbearable. Her skin stung in places, scraped raw by the rocks and sand, but she could still move. Nothing felt broken. Everything was in its place.

She exhaled shakily and pushed herself up onto her elbows.

What was she doing there?

Then, it all came back to her.

And… -her stomach twisted- the russian spy.

The engagement.

Her decision.

The cliff.

Had that been real?

She had downed nearly an entire bottle of brandy before coming out here. Maybe her mind had conjured something -someone- to stop her, some absurd figment of a guilty conscience. Maybe she had slipped and somehow survived, waking up in the aftermath of a drunken, failed escape.

But then she saw it.

Blood.

Plenty of it.

Dark smears soaked into the rocky surface a few feet away, stark against the pale stone.

She inhaled sharply, touching herself. Not mine.

Slowly, carefully, she shifted onto her knees, before pushing up to her feet. The sand clung to her bare skin, and she could see a hint of her dress still where she had left it, impossibly out of place in the scene around her.

And then-

Something gleamed beside her in the sunlight.

A piece of metal plate, half-buried in the sand.

She reached for it without thinking, brushing her fingers over its surface. Slick. Warm. Bloodstained.

Stainless steel? Titanium?

A piece of him. She didn’t made him up after all.

----

The night was cold, the kind of damp chill that crept under clothes and clung to skin. The drizzle had started just as she stepped off the bus, little droplets of rain prickling her skin, an irritating, persistent drizzle that only made the ache in her feet worse.

Perfect. Just perfect.

She sighed, tucking her hands into her pockets, quickening her pace.

She should have taken the longer route. The safer route. But her feet ached from standing all day at the bookstore, and the exhaustion -and hunger- had won over common sense. She turned down the side street, cutting through the narrow alley beside her building as her mind drifted to her imaginary dinner.

Then she stumbled.

Her toe caught on something solid, and before she could react, she was sprawling forward with a sharp gasp, hands scraping against wet pavement.

Not something. Someone.

She sat up quickly, with her heart pounding, turning toward the dark shape on the ground. A man, half-curled on his side, motionless.

It wasn’t uncommon these days to find people slumped against walls, barely conscious, victims of a world that had only gotten harsher. A decade ago, she would have gasped and called for help immediately. Now?

She hesitated.

She should still call an ambulance. Should, at the very least, check if the poor bastard was alive. With a sigh, she squatted near his head, reaching out to check his pulse, gripping her phone in her other hand, ready to dial.

But as she reached for the man, she noticed that something was… off.

She looked closer.

Jaded combat gear. A tactical vest that was stained darker in some places. The matted hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and grime.

And then she saw it.

The dim glow of a streetlamp caught on something metallic, a steely glint that sent a jolt through her chest. His sleeve had torn at the seam, exposing a forearm that wasn’t flesh.

Her stomach dropped.

She had seen that arm before. Recently, in grainy, shaky news footage filmed from above as three helicarriers plunged into the Potomac. And if her suspicion was right… she had a piece of that very arm tucked away inside an old floral pouch in her closet.

A chill that had nothing to do with the rain ran down her spine.

But instead of walking away or calling the authorities, she reached out, hesitating only for a second before pressing her fingers lightly to his throat, searching for a pulse.

Warm skin. A steady, sluggish beat beneath her fingertips.

He was alive. Hurt. Unconscious. Vulnerable.

Dangerous.

----

"Did I ever tell you about the time I met a commie spy, dear?"

"Yes, Granny. A couple of times now," she answered, adjusting the pillows on the hospital bed.

"I meant it when I said he gave me a second chance, darling. So when I'm gone-"

"Don’t say things like that."

"Don’t be dramatic now, I didn’t raise you like that." Her grandmother’s voice was firm but warm. "When I’m gone, I want you to look in the second drawer of the kitchen. Pull everything out past the rails. There’s a crocheted pouch there, with a sunflower. I want you to have it, darling. Don’t let them throw it away."

Next Chapter

dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[rahuratna]

Oh wow! Granted, I'm new to BG3 fanfic, but this was the first take on this concept I've actually read, where Astarion comes across someone he's known from the life he had before vampirism.

I truly appreciate when OC's/reader characters are so well developed and fleshed out. The description of their relationship before just hit me with this wave of nostalgia for young love. Ah. The sweet headiness of late nights, shared secrets and stolen afternoons. Imagining Astarion in this way just adds more pathos to his character, because in-game we don't get a lot of information on his early life. This somehow adds to the reader's perception of just how much he's lost, in terms of the life he should have had.

I love the banter you set up between them, the way they fall so easily into it. I'm always hooked when a writer gets a characters voice RIGHT and that's definitely what you've achieved with Astarion here. He's charming, facetious, mocking ... right up until she starts singing and, oh boy, I can almost here that crack in his voice that occurs when he's being earnest and he asks her to come into the light.

He forgot to kiss her goodbye on the night he was murdered. 😭😭 Please. Why.

And when they escape and she examines his face, well, that part hit hard too, because she actually has memories of him to COMPARE this to.

All in all, I really like these two as a couple already. Your Tav/Reader is smart, fully connected to the world around her, well-rounded and very distinct in her personality and link to Astarion. She also seems hella fun, while still having a level head, and a great deal of maturity that comes from experience, a really good foil for Astarion.

I will absolutely be reading the next chapters when I get a chance! So I'm adding that to my reblog tags here, so I can find it again!

Songbird in a Cage

Spawn Astarion x Female! Reader Oneshot (4k)

Summary: You've been thrown in jail, and its there that you meet a dear old friend of yours. This first part can stand alone, but the second will be 18+ fair warning.

@clericblood and I have been going insane in our dm's over writing ideas, and this one we just went nuts over. Here is their fic! :) Hope you enjoy both!

Part Two

Things are only getting worse each day in Baldur’s Gate. People are disappearing. Murders in broad daylight. Enver Gortash suspiciously rising to power, and his Steel Watch becoming a menace to society. You’ve even heard rumors of a mind flayer or two being seen in the sewers, and in the old windmill outside of town. People are becoming restless, and even trying to flee the city, but most choose to ignore it all.

Not you. 

You’ve always had a knack for music. You’ve been playing songs in the winding streets of the Gate for years. You even still perform at the Elfsong Tavern some nights. You decide to turn to the peoples’ ear with sweet unsuspecting melodies about the corruption and dangers happening beneath their noses. At first, it seemed to be working. The right people are noticing, and word is spreading about the odd goings on. And, you’ve been able to make a bit of coin in doing so. The Elfsong and its patrons have always been good to you. 

Now, there’s talk in the streets about a small band of adventurers that have caused quite a stir. Among them, a pale man with white hair who killed a clown at the circus in Rivington. Some people say it was a provoked attack, some say he lashed out after a bad joke on his own behalf… But when the fighting was over, some claim the body of the clown had transformed into a grotesque monster. You have to giggle to yourself about the whole thing. 

It stirs a memory of an old friend you had years and years ago. Another man who also had white hair, and too had a hatred for clowns. You’d teased him about it mercilessly back then. Even  dressed up as one, makeup and all, just to get a rise out of him one night. How he screamed and how you laughed, clutching your sides after jumping around a corner and spooking him half to death. 

That was over two hundred years ago, and you couldn’t believe it had been so long since you’d last seen your friend… He’d died tragically, too young. He’d been practicing law, and was murdered, you always suspected, by a mob he’d been at trial with but there was never any final pinned cause. 

He always came to the Elfsong on nights you were performing, said your voice was like a siren song luring him there. He’d drink, listen to you sing, and try to forget about the mountains of paperwork waiting for him back at his office. You were both so young, and naive; gods how you missed him, even now. 

This troupe, however, is gaining attention, and you are thoroughly intrigued. You start to sing songs about the group, calling them the Heroes of The Gate, here to save the city from the rising horrors.

‘These heroes though fearless be

Must also be cunning and witty

Though their actions bring some glee

Others find them quite shitty’ 

“Eh… could be better. I’ll work on it later.” You tuck your small notebook away in your coat pocket, and walk home from the park. You always did your best writing there. 

It’s only a few days of your little performances in the square when the Flaming Fist gets word of your little musings and performances, and you’re abruptly taken to Wyrm Rock Prison- quite a harsh punishment for someone just singing songs…

———

“What am I even in for? You can’t do this, I’ve done nothing wrong!” You demand, as your shackles are let loose, and you’re thrown into a damp stone-wall cell. The only light comes from the torches lining the edges of the cell block, but even with the small bit of glow, you can see illuminated beady eyes staring back at you from the edges of the darkness. 

Oh gods, you shiver. Rats. 

“That’s what they all say… ‘Let me out, I’m innocent!’ Or, ‘please I’ve got a family!’ But I know your type, troublemaker. You’re trying to cause unrest amongst our citizens.”

“I was just singing songs! You have no grounds to keep me here!” You plead through the bars, gripping them with both hands, if only you could pry them apart. 

“Tell that to the Archduke Gortash- the order to put you in here came directly from him. Now, shut it! Or I’ll cut out your little tongue, see how well you sing after that.” The guard snarls and turns on his heel. 

‘How the hells did my songs reach him? I must be more famous than I thought… Though, I should have made a fair bit more coin if that was the case.’

Alone, you retreat back into the far corner of your cell. Curling your knees up to your chest, you rest your head and softly hum to yourself to try and calm your racing thoughts. Surely you won’t be in here for long… right? That’s what you tell yourself anyway. You try to block out the sounds of small scurrying feet and hushed squeaking. 

———

The loud clanging of metal on metal wakes you with a start. Your mind scrambling as your heart jumps in your chest, pounding painfully against your ribs. 

“Meal time.” Through a small gap on the floor, one of the guards pushes a plate of bread and a cup of water towards you. 

Food… Your stomach twists and you leap towards the plate, snatching the bread and chewing greedily. It’s impossible to tell how long you’ve been down here- there’s no sunlight to indicate the passing of time. They give you water every couple of hours, but measly scraps of food- once a day. Maybe… when they remember. 

“Please, sir, what day is it? How long have I been down here?” You beg the guard.

“You’ve been here for five days. You have another twenty-five before you can leave,” he leans on the bars and gives you a look. “but, I could always arrange for you to be let out earlier, on account of good behavior.” He gives you a greasy sort of smile and a wink. He looks like he hasn’t seen a bath in weeks. Smells it too.

You’re not desperate enough to have any sort of ‘arrangements’ with a man that smells like he fucks mud covered pigs and likes it. 

“I’ll take my twenty-five days, thanks.” You sneer.

———

At every meal, (can you even call a simple roll of bread a meal?) you ask the guard what day it is. 

And on day thirteen, you hear them bringing another prisoner down into the depths. You feel your stomach drop and your neck grows hot and slick. What if they put that person in here with you? What if they’re a murderer? What if they’re a lunatic and they try to hurt you? You silently pray that they stay the hell away from you. 

You busy yourself with humming a tune from your childhood, and you feed a few of the rats some crumbs you’d saved from your last ‘meal’. Though terrified of them at first, they’ve grown to be your only friends down here. One even brought you three hair pins, like it was trying to thank you in its own rat way. Sweet little thing. 

Whoever is joining you down here is putting up quite the fight. Feet scraping against the stone floor, voices shouting, and a slew of curses exchanging between it all. They throw him into the cell across from yours, and you try not to be nosy by staring. But gods help you, you were never one for subtlety. Even with your elven eyes, the dark down here is unforgiving. That, and because of your lack of sleep and other basic needs, you can barely see into the other end of the cell. It’s a man, definitely. You only heard men shouting at one another when they brought him in.

When the two guards finally shove him in and lock his own gate, you turn your head and ignore them, hoping they forget you’re here and don’t bother you. At least for a while. That filthy flirtatious guard has come to you twice more since the first time, each time smelling more foul and rancid. Really, does he have something against bathing? 

A few minutes after the guards have left the man to rot down here, your eyes wander across the way, just to try and sneak a look at your new ‘housemate’. 

“What are you staring at?” His voice growls, making you jump a little. 

“Sorry… I’ve been alone down here for nearly a fortnight. The guards and rats aren’t much for company or conversation.”

“I see.” He sighs. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long do you have to be down here?”

“A month.”

“You’re halfway, you’ll be fine.” He snorts, dismissing your agony and loneliness with a wave of his hand. You can barely see his face, but not enough to make out any distinguishable features. His eyes though, they’re almost glowing in this awful dim. 

“How long do you have?” You ask softly. 

“Five years, but I suspect I’ll be out much sooner, should my friends actually gather the brains to help me.” 

A long moment passes by before you try to fill the awful silence permeating the air. 

“There’s rats down here by the way. They’re mostly harmless but I’d be wary and sleep with your shoes on. Had one nibble my toe the first night I slept.” You offer, in the hopes of making more conversation.

“Hah! This isn’t my first time being locked up with only rats for company.” He scoffs, and you almost think you recognize something in his voice. Like a memory of a dream- foggy but still… there. 

“Frequent prison cells do you?” 

“In a way…” 

Well that’s awfully vague. 

“What are you in for anyway?” He asks. 

You clear your throat before boldly telling him, “Singing…”

He barks out a short laugh. “…Singing? Come off it.”

“Well, that’s not the full extent but that’s what it comes down to.”

“A songbird in a cage…” He teases, and again there’s a flicker of something you recognize. 

“What were you singing about, little bird?”

“I, uh, I was singing about the times. The unrest, the Steel Watch, Gortash- I was trying to get the truth out, without getting into trouble.” 

“And that worked out very well for you, didn’t it?” His reply drips with sarcasm. 

“What about you? What are you in for?” You ask. 

“I threatened a few people, illegally snuck into the city with my companions, and I killed a clown.”

“I heard about that, that was you?” 

“I see my fame precedes me. Yes, that was me.” He chuckles dryly. Gods, why does his laugh sound so familiar? “So, you’re a performer, then?”

“Yes. I sing at the Elfsong some nights, if you’ve ever been there. I’d recommend it, if you haven’t.”

“Mm. I know it, it’s a uh, old haunt of mine.” 

The guard comes back and gives you your second ration of water for the day. A small silver cup with enough water to just wet your throat, and not a drop more, and hells- how you ached for more. 

Hours pass, and boredom burrows deep into your skull. You fiddle with the laces on your boots, tying and untying different knots over, and over again. As you do so, you hum to yourself, faintly, so as not to disturb your new neighbor. 

“I know that song…” His voice echoes across the way. “It’s an old elven tune from the Heartlands.”

“It is. You have quite the ear.” You remark, looking up.

“Will you sing it for me?” He asks softly. Never one to shy away from a crowd, you clear your throat and sing out loud the words.

‘For even in death will I find you,

I’ll kiss your cheek and sigh,

Had time been kinder to us,

I would have never said goodbye

You danced in the grass,

I sat under a tree,

You took my hand, 

and said dance with me

How I wish to dance with you now,

And hold you close to me,

I’d never let you go,

If only, if only’

Your voice echoes off the stone walls, and only the slow drip of water is your applause. 

“Sorry, my voice is a bit rusty-”

“Come into the light, please..” He urges, softly desperate.

You look across to his cell. There he stands against the bars, his face pressed between them. The man you fell in love with over two hundred years ago. The same white mop of curls, the same devastatingly beautiful face you could never forget. His eyes searching for you in the darkness.

“Astarion?” Your heart leaps to your throat. 

Your legs move before you do, standing and propelling you to your own cell bars. You press against them and stare out. 

It is him. 

Have you gone mad? Are you dreaming?

“It’s you…” He breathes. 

“H-how? You’re dead! You died!” Your eyes prick with tears and your throat closes up. How can this be happening?

“I did..” He replies sheepishly. 

“But then how-?” Surely this can’t be real.. Can it?

“I… I fear that might take some explaining.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going anywhere…” 

————

He tells you everything, starting from the very beginning, when your lives were torn apart so abruptly. How he was beaten, left to die in the streets. He was on his way home after watching you perform. You had a few hours left in your set at the Elfsong, and needed the money from performing. You’d told him to hurry on ahead and you’d meet him at his townhome. 

He recounts how he’d forgotten to kiss you goodbye that night, and he’d regretted it every night since. Centuries had passed, and the fact he didn’t kiss you goodbye, that has stuck around in his skull like a blood stain on a white shirt. Your heart shatters hearing him speak about how he’d met his demise. It’s like he’s died all over again… 

He takes small pauses to swallow, steadying his voice; when he continues, he tells you about how he was turned, how he was kept in Cazador Szarr’s estate, locked up and beaten, and kept alive by feeding on rats of all things. It takes every ounce of courage he has to tell you about the people he lured back, but his voice reveals the pain he’s carried all this time. The shame, the guilt, the utter self loathing. The hatred he carries for himself and his master. 

Stretching your arm out from between the bars, you reach for him and he immediately does the same. Your fingertips brush against one another, just enough to feel his cool touch. 

He’s real. This is all real.

He lets his arm fall and you stare at one another. The silence between you two saying more than words could at the moment. Gods, how your heart aches to hold him, to kiss his face and feel his arms wrapped around you again. 

“Why didn’t you ever come find me after you were turned?” Your voice quivers, and heat burns your eyes as you try to keep your own emotions in check. 

“I was so afraid that I would hurt you. I… I didn’t want to find anyone from my life before. I was dead to you all, and I thought that was better than coming back as a monster.”

“You’re not a monster.” You choke, a tear spilling down your cheek. “I missed you so much…” You whisper, the tears now threatening to drown you. 

“I… I missed you too. Every single day, I’ve missed you.” His own voice is soft, but still dry. “There isn’t much I remember from my mortal years, but you… I remember how I loved you.”

“Can I ask you something?”  

“I’m sure you have many questions. So, yes, go ahead.” He smiles softly. 

“How come we never crossed paths over the last two hundred years? I mean, I never left the city. And if you’ve been here, well, and in the Szarr estate... Surely, we would have seen each other just once?”

“I kept to the shadows, and the seedier places of the Gate. Being a spawn, I couldn’t go out in the sunlight. Though, now with my tadpole, that has changed-” 

“Wait, tadpole?” You ask puzzled. 

“Oh, yes. I didn’t get to that bit. You believe me with everything I’ve explained thus far, yes?” He asks with a snarky grin. 

“I do. Why is this next part just utterly insane?”

“Well... Yes, actually.” He replies. “About five months ago I was captured by mind flayers and infected with an illithid parasite- a tadpole. This has interrupted the connection between myself and Cazador, and has broken some of the vampire rules for me. For the first time in so long, I am living. Truly living.”

“It's true then- the illithid invasion is real.. Hah! Wait- how have you not grown tentacles yet and become a squidface?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. 

“One of my friends, another person that was captured, she has a prism that has been protecting us all from changing.” He explains his entire journey here, through the Emerald Grove and the Goblin camp. Then the Underdark, going through the Shar temple, fighting against shadows and an Orthon. Shadowlands, Rethwin Town, the Harpers... All of it. Up until arriving in the Gate and being thrown in jail. It takes hours, but you don’t care in the least. Hearing him, his voice again. You could listen to him read out of one of his old law school textbooks, and you wouldn’t care about the boredom. 

“We need to get you out of here then, if you really are going to save Faerun.” You smile at him, and sigh, “Any ideas of how we can do so?”

He sighs in reply, and he looks up, contemplating an escape plan. “If I had something small, I could pick the lock. But-” he looks around his small cell. “I have nothing. Anything over there, darling?”

“Would a hair pin work?” You ask, sliding the few pins from your hair, allowing your bun to fall out and drop around your shoulders. You pass them through the bars to him,his log fingers just barely able to snag it from your own. 

“Yes, that’s perfect.” He takes it and puts it in his pocket. “I’ll start after the guard comes by next.”

“Makes sense... How did you learn how to pick locks anyway?” 

“When you’re locked in chains as frequently as I have been, you learn by necessity.” He retorts. “I’ve been doing all of the talking. What have you been getting up to all these long years?”

“Oh, nothing exciting. I still perform at the Elfsong most nights, and in the square too. I live in my own house, I have a cat. I’ve actually had twelve cats over the last two hundred years...” 

“Twelve??” He laughs. “Any other loved ones in your life, or are they all pets?” 

“If what you’re asking is ‘do I have anyone else in my life’ the answer is no, not as of late.” You snark with a half smile and raised brow. Though so much has changed for both of you, it feels so good to be talking to him again; instead of talking to his headstone and pretending he could hear you. 

“That truly baffles me. How has no one swept you off your feet and smuggled off with you away from all of this?”

“Oh, others tried but I never really clicked with anyone over the years.” You reply casually. It’s a half truth. You certainly have loved many other people since you and Astarion were together, and you almost married one of them. But, something inside your heart never let go of him. You could call it sentimentality or hells, even puppy love, but you truly never did find someone else that understood you and loved you the way he did. 

“But, what about you? Did you ever find true love?” You ask and you hate yourself for even doing so, but you hate waiting for his answer even more.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. I had many ‘lovers’ but even calling them that is too generous. Dalliance is probably more accurate.”

“I see..” You nod, a bit of relief filling your heart. 

“How often do the guards come by?” He asks, trying to look down the corridor. 

“Not too often, when they remember anyway. But, what do we do if we can actually escape? We can’t-”

“Done.” He pushes on his gate and it swings open, and he immediately sets to work on your side. Your heart races in your chest as you watch his nimble fingers push and fidget with the lock. Standing just on the other side of the bars, you catch the faintest hint of citrus and herbs. He still has that same smell to him, and now your heart races for different reasons entirely. Memories and old feelings come rushing back to the surface, bubbling and spilling over the sides like a pot of water left on the stovetop. When your own door finally opens with a screech, your heart drops to your stomach. 

“Shit, that was too loud!” You panic. Astarion grabs you by the arms, pulling you from your cell. He twists one of the gold bands from his fingers and places it on your own index finger. 

“This is an enchanted ring, it has an invisibility spell in it, it doesn’t last very long, so I need you to stay right by my side, and don’t make a noise.” He holds your hands so delicately and you nod your understanding. “That’s my girl.” He gives you that same wicked grin you had once fallen in love with, only now it’s much sharper you notice. He moves your thumb over the ring and makes you squeeze it against your finger, instantly making your hand vanish before your eyes. You look down at where your feet should be, and there’s nothing. Astarion follows suit and dissolves into the air. You feel his cold hand pull you to his side and you shuffle on tiptoe down the hall, careful as to not make a single noise. It's not a particularly wide corridor, and when the guard passes you, Astarion pushes you against the wall, and presses his own body to yours, so as to give the other man a wide berth to walk around the two of you. 

This is so weird... I can feel his breath on my face, but he’s just gone.

The second the guard passes the two of you, he snakes his arm around your back and continues to usher you out of the prison. Past two snoozing guards and around the ajar front gate, softly padding up the steps, and then finally out into the warm afternoon sun. He doesn’t stop though, not till you two are hidden away in a side alley near the Flophouse. You feel him guide you to the back of the small building, and push you against the wall. You let out a sigh as the spell wears off seconds before his own does. 

His face is much closer to your own than you would have expected, so much so that you’re sharing the same air as you try to catch your breath. The two of you can’t stay here though, you’re still far too close to the prison, and surely they will come after you any moment now. That doesn’t stop you from letting your eyes drink in his face. He’s still just as handsome as you remembered him to be. But there’s dark circles under his now crimson eyes, and his face no longer holds the lively pink it used to. Despite the circumstance, you can’t help thinking about his lips, and how much you want to kiss him. 

“We need to keep moving.” You murmur, inches away from his face looking down at you. 

“Always the sensible one.” He grins. He clears his throat and steps away from you. “Sorry, I forgot myself for a second there. But you’re right we, uh, we should keep moving.”

“We can hide out at my house for the night, and then we’ll figure out how to get you reunited with your friends.” You smile at him. 

“Lead the way, darling.”

Borders by @thecutestgrotto

Thanks for reading! - Tilly <3

[senkuideas4all]

Senku Fic Recommendations

Same with the other recommendation post, these are just a bunch of xSenku fics that I found in Quotev and AO3. I’ll be adding more soon once I finish scrolling though the whole Ishigami Senkuu/Reader tag in AO3. Surprisingly not that hard.

Most of these haven’t been updated in a while so yeahh. And some of them also have fonts for titles so I suggest you search the author instead.

Quotev

Yk what? This will be in a diff post entirely. I don’t really feel like sorting through all my Quotev fics yet without the motivation from a few other fics’ updates.

Archive of Our Own

Before anything, I just want to say that you should probably read the tags and warnings before actually reading the books. Also, it might be better to just read the whole Ishigami Senkuu/Reader tag.

Sunrise by KaigaraX (so well written but I think I remember the author saying that they’re over the fandom)

Stardust by AstroStars23 (really slow updates but highly recommended)

An Educated Guess by ScarletsService (I cannot stress this enough, this fic has loads of explicit themes that may make someone uncomfortable, but it’s in this list for a reason. also found in Quotev)

Binary Star by fairyringtaxiservice (can be found in Tumblr and Wattpad)

EMOTIONS: Ishigami Senku by KaigaraX

2/2 - i.senki by DearFuhua (can also be found here in Tumblr)

Guns For Hands by IWillBeTheEndofYou (it has explicit content, so you have been warned, but the romance is good)

Workhorse by stealyrcharm

Unsung Songs by SakuraMochiis

Every single one of 2karukaru’s books

[gremlin-girly]

Grem's 20 Characters with 20 Questions for 20 Tropes Challenge

In celebration of 250+ followers (thank you all very much!!), I wanted to do a type of writing challenge. So here is the 20 characters with 20 Questions for 20 tropes Challenge!!

You can really tell this is my first time making something like this - why the hell did i pick such a long title lmao??? I do love a bit of silly fun tbh so here we are

I should also point out that regular postings (like the Green Collection, Sun, sea and sirens AND whatever long fic wins this poll will still be posted regularly!)

How to play:

You have to be 18+ to play :)

Tag me @gremlin-girly and use the tag #grem's 20 questions so I can read, reblog and tag fics onto the masterlist! If I miss a fic, please remind me either by tag in the comments or dm!!

Pick a character (or characters) from the list below, a question and a trope.

You can pick any number of questions and tropes but there must be at least one of each. (E.g. no character + Q2 ; it would need to be character + Q2 + Trope 4 OR however many tropes/questions you wish to use)

Either send in a submission (✨️) or send me a request (🍑) with your question(s) and trope(s). E.g. Caracter(s) + Q__ + Trope ___

The fic(s) you enter/request can be fluff, smut, angst - whatever you want! (As long as they are tagged accordingly and if you want to know what I will NOT include/write you can find them in my blog rules here)

Make sure you tag your work accordingly (trigger warnings, content warnings etc.)

There is no word count limit but any work over 250 words needs a wee "read more" section

I am being silly and saying you can request/submit an unlimited amount (but beware!!! I will be reading/writing these so they may take time to get through them)

Submissions will be open from the 14th of February to the 30th of April 💕

Your work will be added to the Grem's 20Qs Masterlist and shared accordingly 😉

Happy writing! I'm looking forward to see what comes out of this 💕 if you have any questions please message me and thank you all again 🥰

Navigation | 20qs for 20 tropes Masterlist

The 20 Characters

Chris Evans Characters

Ari Levinson

Lloyd Hansen

Jake Jensen

Curtis Everett

Ransom Drysdale

Steve Rogers

Johnny Storm

Andy Barber

Frank Adler

Pete Brenner

Sebastian Stan Characters

Bucky Barnes

Nick Fowler

Chris (Destoyer)

Lance Tucker

Sheriff Lee Bodecker

Blaine (Hot Tub Time Machine)

Mickey Henry

Other Characters

Loki

Baron Helmut Zemo (Daniel Brühl)

Logan Howlett

The 20 Questions

1. "Do you think sharks get sad about their representation in the media?"

2. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

3. "How much have you had to drink?"

4. "Why do you insist on wearing that?"

5. "Why do all of my problems lead back to you?"

6. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

7. "Will you stay as far away from as humanly possible please?"

8. "Welp... looks like this is it. How do you wanna do this?"

9. "Please tell me you remembered to turn off the oven?"

10. "Sweetheart? Sweetheart?"

11. "What time do you call this? "

12. "Do you taste as pretty as you look?"

13. "What are we going to tell the others?"

14. "Are you trying to die?!"

15. "What, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck is that?"

16. "How the hell did you get up there?"

17. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

18. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

19. "I love you. You know that right?"

20. "What have you done to me? I used to be scary and now I'm all gooey inside."

20 Tropes

1. Only One Bed

2. Soulmate AU

3. Enemies to lovers

4. Cowboy AU

5. Grumpy x Sunshine

6. Dad/Brother's/a relation's Best Friend

7. Mutual Pining

8. Meetcute

9. Supernatural AU

10. Fake dating

11. Arranged marriage

12. Amnesia

13. Second chance

14. Forced proximity

15. Opposites Attract

16. A/B/O

17. Mafia AU

18. Time Travel

19. Sex Pollen / Fuck or die

20. 5 + 1 things

No pressure tags for some moots who may enjoy ☺️

@steviebbboi @stargazingfangirl18 @mrs-elsie-barnes @brunchable @late-to-the-party-81 @brandycranby @bigtreefest @vunblr @mercurial-chuckles @stellar-solar-flare @ronearoundblindly @misscherry-26 @buck-star @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

[lonewolflupe]

Happy Valentine's Day from Fives! Read messages below the cut

To: @queen-of-mandalore

Thank you so much for being my friend and someone to bounce fic ideas off of. You’re such a great writer and I can’t wait to see how your fic progresses. Happy Valentine’s Day, my friend!

From: Misty 💙 ( @tealmisthams )

To: @snarkyfina

I just wanted to say thank you so much for your support of my writing and for joining me in my love of Five-soka. 💙🧡 Happy Valentine’s Day, my friend!

From: Misty 💙 ( @tealmisthams )

(Note from Lupe: I'm sorry for adding the '-' in 'Five-soka', but I didn't want to get this post filtered!)

To: @tealmisthams

Misty!

Please accept some Fives as a token of my gratitude for your lovely friendship <3 I'm at a bit of a loss for words (ironic, given my messages are usually paragraphs long) to express how truly thankful I am for our wonderful chats, character analyses, Fives and Ahsoka fangirling, Severance theories, and for all the writing support. You are an incredibly talented writer and truly have a gift for balancing angst with really sweet/tender moments. You always manage to do it just right and I am always inspired by what you create and how dedicated you are to working on your writing while balancing everything else in your life. TEACH ME YOUR WAYS!

Thank you for all the wonderful works you've created for the fandom and for your friendship. I'm always excited to get a notification from you.

Sending you much love (and to Sable/Mabel),

Mimi (and Fives, who inserts a few winking emojis here)

From: @aknightreaderr

…

To: @tealmisthams

I don't know you very well but you made the mistake of being nice to me (tagging me in a tag game) and you ain't getting rid of me. You're my beloved mutual now.

From: Kote ( @kotemf )

To: @aknightreaderr

To my dearest editor,

First of all, I know you might be disappointed in receiving a Valentine's message from me instead of from a certain sensitive (sensible? sensory? sensational? serious?) sergeant, but he was unavailable. Believe me, I tried, but a certain.. biting child got in the way, so I couldn't reach him. So I get an A for effort and you get a F for Fives!

Jokes aside (although I know Hunter is no joke to you), I'd like to thank you for your service and your friendship (and your patience). I know I can be a real handful, and so do Echo and Rex and Fox and probably a few (million) more. But after everything I put you through (fame included, of course), you're still sticking with me. And I really admire that about you.

Just know you are loved and appreciated around here. Rex just said how lucky I am with you as my editor, so I called him Captain Obvious.

Wishing you lots of love (Echo just added: wish her lots of love 😏)!

From: Fives

…

To: @aknightreaderr

Hi! I really love your blog. Your writing is incredible and it always makes me laugh. Also Ask Fives is a brilliant idea and you write it so, so well! I really admire your ability to write crack.

You were also the first person on Tumblr to tag me for a writing challenge or a tag game, I don't really remember what it was anymore but thanks. It meant a lot. It's an honor to be able to call you a mutual.

From: Kote ( @kotemf )

To: @lonewolflupe

Lupe, bestie!

It’s ya boy Fives. You really thought that you could hide behind this event and share the love and not receive any back? YOU ARE WRONG!

How do I love LoneWolfLupe? Let me count the ways. Actually, I won’t count the ways because that would take all of eternity and it’s not that I don’t have time for that, but I think I might lose my voice (RIP).

Lupe, there is no one quite like you - equal parts kindness, chaotic (which makes me shed a tear bc you get the Domino Twin vibes), creative (a writer AND an artist? The galaxy is shaking in its boots), and encouraging. Your selfless nature could melt the coldest heart (maybe I should get you to talk to Rex when he won’t let us go to 79s because we’re ‘a handful.’ I know you could sweet talk him out of it. And also because if you don’t come with us, then where is the party?)

Always keep your head raised high and take life a day at a time. You are more than capable of achieving anything you can dream on the timeline that suits YOU (Echo said that was cringe life advice but please know I speak from the heart).

But truly Lupe, I’ve never met anyone so generous and supportive as you. Thanks for all you do for us clones (and the earthlings). We always have your back! *insert lots of winks here and a hug and also Tup says hi*

Happy Valentines Day 💙

LIVE LAUGH LONEWOLFLUPE,

Fives

p.s. I wrote you a poem which is from me and Echo but he didn't write it

From: Fives

Roses are red

The 501st is blue

LoneWolfLupe

Oh how I love you!

(Note from Lupe: shedding a tear again as I re-read this whilst preparing this post. I appreciate you so much, thank you for this message <3)

...

To: @lonewolflupe

your positivity and passion is radiant! you uplift and spread love to so many. for you to make events (like this one) is so sweet

every interaction i've had with you has been nothing short of lovely and i hope so many more can feel it too <3

From: @littletroggo

(Note from Lupe: Thank you so much for your kind message, I appreciate it so much! <3)

Heart divider by @/saradika-graphics

[alyssumlovesthecosmere]

ack

of course i accidentally reblog before continuing my rephrasing. @jewishgay4il sorry about the double tag but here goes. So as I said in my post - the places where weirdness will happen tend to be around the outliers to the calendars that aren't set in stone - ie chesvan and kislev, that don't follow the 19 year pattern

the 19 year pattern of when we add a leap month is set in math at least as far back as raban gamliel (masechet rosh hashana) and was only set into stone during the time of the rambam (i'll happily talk about the history after shabbat, but for the sake of time, i'll talk about the leap month)

the leap month is adar, and always adar, always on the specific years (3,6,8,11,14,17,19) which means that year 19+1 will look pretty much the same with regards to the gregorian calendar as year 1 will. Same for year 19+19+1, and same for year 3, 19+3, and 19+19+3 - which means any year that's a leap year? 19 years later will also and always be a leap year. That cannot change, as the hebrew calendar is a lunisolar calendar and as a lunar one loses ~11 days a year and has to correct itself to the solar calendar by adding a month every two to three years n(other notable lunisolar calendar is the chinese calendar, while the muslim one is fully lunar - which is why ramadan and other holidays "wander" around the season. Judaism is an originally agrarian religion but also one that sees an import to the lunar cycle and as such we correct our lunar calendar to make sure the chagim fall in the right seasons!)

However. While the leap month cannot change, cheshvan and kislev are not strictly 29 or 30 days, and as such they're the bitches that throw our beautiful gregorian+jewish birthdays off (no i'm not salty what are you talking about), in addition to that, the gregorian calendar has a day that it adds, and that somehow throws the beautiful match off (i'm not sure how but it sure fucking does something there for those few months between kislev and march (originally i wrote february but since the leap day is the last day of feb it's actually march that's the start of the normalcy)) As such, if you're unlucky enough to be born between kislev and march, you'll experience such fun things as your perfect 19th birthday being off by two days (on the other hand, i experienced beautiful matchiness on my 11th birthday, while everyone born after end of february, and i believe also before kislev, did not)

Before I go for shabbat, I'll leave you with the wiki for the lunisolar calendar so you can read more about the gorgeous math that underlines our calendar, and wish you a happy and peaceful shabbat:)

ETA: I forgot to add that the kislev-march problem only happens if your birthday-that-might-line-up is on the leap year, otherwise nothing should change

According to the Chabad Rabbi for my school the Hebrew Calendar is on a 19 year cycle so this year both my English and Hebrew birthdays are on the same day.

Today is my Birthday

[karaokebearwithal]

Pal'mier!

Okay okay okay, this took a while but I finally finished the ref of my new Githyanki Oc: Pal'mier! Thanks to @des-no9 for answering my anon ask :3 it helped a bunch with firming up her backstory :)

Some Fun Facts: > Her fighting style is a mix between Muay Thai and Capoeira > The symbol on its clothes is a reference to her name sake, a palmier (type of pastry) > Lost her index finger to frost bite

I don't have a definitive subclass for her yet but I do have backstory and lore™️! under the cut.

Okay so the story is that she was the first batch of gith kids hatched from a freshly formed creche on the material plane. It was in a very treacherous and wintery mountainous area, hard to reach harder to leave. Not many people in the immediate area.

Pal'mier hatched as a fat young baby, way larger than her peers and was instantly singled out by the varsh to grow up to be some sort of unstoppable gish soldier. However it got older, Pal never really grew into a desirable githyanki soldier. She struggled to wield weaponry, never grew as tall as her kin, her ears never developed to stand on their own so it had to tie them up so that she'd fit in more. Pal'mier grew to be a massive disappointment for her creche and was singled out by her creche mates to be picked on and bullied and used as a sparring partner (punching bag) often. Until one day her Sa'varsh instructed her to go out into the harsh wintery wilderness and survive for 2 days and if it came back and survived, Pal would get Vlaakith's favour. As sort of those githling trips they make the kids do to either die or become strong.

So Pal lept at the oppertunity to prove herself to her kin and left straight away only for like a freak accident to occur and an avalanche wiped out the whole creche hours into the challenge. In the shock of it all, Pal'mier decided that it was a sign from Vlaakith herself that Pal is actually the chosen one destined to be her right hand and her fave most special little githyanki in the world. So Pal'meir spent the next tenday wondering the mountain range before passing out from exhaustion and frost bite. Pal is then found by a monestary of monks (i haven't firmed up which its random for now) trying to save a child left lying in the snow all pale and frozen. Pal reacts as any feral gith child would when surrounded by istiks and fights them the whole time on it. But over time as she grows up to become a full adult she learns to live with them, their fighting styles and what a loving family is like <3 Then some time after that its abducted by the Zathisk and the BG3 plot happens :3

I'll be doing some oc question lists later but feel free to ask and send any questions about Pal'mier!! And also tell me about your githyanki oc so then ours can be friends : 3€

[dreamsicle262]

Dead Plate AU Information

This is a masterpost detailing my AUs for Dead Plate, which may soon become their own fanfics—if given enough time—since I plan on trying to write out a few. There's a lot of text so be warned: there's a long post underneath the cut. I tried to describe character designs when necessary because there's currently no images like character sheets/references yet. Hopefully I'll get there. This post might be edited if I have more AU ideas, or if I add pictures.

As a note beforehand, I do have a headcanon involving Vincent not having a sense of smell, since being able to taste goes hand in hand with being able to pick up on scents. If he can’t taste things, then he likely cannot smell anything either. This headcanon remains consistent with him in these universes, unless stated otherwise.

Vampire AU

Dead Plate, but Vincent is a vampire. That’s pretty much what this AU is.

At some point prior to the events of Dead Plate, Vincent got turned into a vampire. He has only been dealing with it for a short amount of time, and his fangs have been taking quite a while to grow in. He didn’t really think anything of it at first. He still couldn’t taste foods, his appetite generally remained low, and he usually didn’t experience hunger very strongly.

He does murder Manon still. It’s during this time that Vincent is suddenly aware that he’s able to smell blood. Naturally, he figures that if he can smell blood, then he might be able to taste it. However, he doesn’t drink any of Manon’s blood to test this; whatever she has to offer he’s not interested in. It’s at this point that his plans have changed, and figuring out if he can actually taste something aside from nothing at all becomes his main priority. The whole ‘cooking with love’ thing is put off to the side for the time being. This could be attributed to him being selfishly inclined.

It's only when Rody accidentally cuts open his finger the next day that things change, and he actually does take the opportunity he’s been given to taste test his blood. As expected, this is an awkward situation for the both of them afterwards.

I haven’t fully decided on where I’d like to go with this AU to make it any different from the main plot of Dead Plate, but maybe an incident happens during the dinner party or something. I’ll figure it out when I actually get to writing the potential fanfic for this one.

There are no design changes for this AU aside from me giving Vincent fangs. He looks normal otherwise, and his fangs aren’t visible when his mouth is closed. There’s general vampire lore that I use that’s different from what’s usually expected of vampires but that probably doesn’t need to be elaborated here. I’m always open to questions on my AUs for further clarification though.

Florist + butcher AU

Rody is a florist, and Vincent is a butcher.

Vincent wasn’t able to open up a restaurant in this AU, but was content with opening up a butcher shop instead, still providing quality service to his customers in the process. Despite his shop being popular, it isn’t as large as it could be. In order to not put as much pressure on himself, he does have a few employees managing the shop’s orders, which mostly consists of providing custom cuts of meat or preparing special deliveries since his business is still a fairly big deal. Vincent himself mostly deals with the actual butchering in the back, instead of serving customers directly. He’s very picky about where he sources his products from, only accepting offers from places with a track record of animals raised to be high quality. Sometimes, this makes his store’s selections limited, and because it takes time to get new shipments in occasionally due to the distance, the products rotate every two days. Vincent lives above his business.

Rody is a florist, having managed to open up a store by saving up enough money to rent out an available building right next to Vincent’s butcher shop. He did this in order to cope with his break up, and to hopefully impress Manon and get her back. Since he’s managed to start his own business, it’s working out for him, surprisingly. Even if his business is for her sake and not his, at least he’s making progress with some personal growth and success. Rody still has a few issues with sourcing his products if he can’t grow them himself, but is otherwise doing okay. It is due to this reason that he is unable to deliver flowers, and majority of his customers are walk-ins instead. The only exception is if they happen to live nearby and he can reach them that way with his bike. Some of the flowers he sells come from his rooftop garden, which is contained within a greenhouse so he doesn’t go out of business every winter. His new apartment is below this garden, but above his flower shop. It is still considerably messy, but he tries to make improvements where he can.

Manon never had a rebound with Vincent, and was only aware that Rody had opened up a flower shop when he happened to get an advertisement in the newspaper and she saw it. Since then, she has opted to stay in contact with him, and occasionally visits like she used to. She lives somewhat nearby both stores. Given how Rody is making personal progress instead of being too self-sacrificing for her, she’s been trying to encourage him to invest more into his business instead of worrying about her all the time. It’s worked a little bit so far. Sometimes, Rody gives her nice bouquets of flowers that have meanings behind them since he knows quite a lot about flower language now.

Plot-wise, Rody will be staying in his chosen location near Vincent's butcher shop until he has enough money to relocate, but during that time he will get to know Vincent more due to their close proximity to each other constantly. Vincent, while originally annoyed by Rody's presence, starts to become intrigued by him and wants him to stay just so he can observe him some more. Of course, this leads to problems when he catches wind that Rody will be leaving soon, and is later told by Rody himself that he'll soon be 'out of his hair' in another month or so.

In response to this, Vincent starts sabotaging Rody's business by messing with stuff regarding the building (electrical cables, etc etc) and killing off his most frequent customers in order to cook into meals for him as potential bribery to stay. All of this negatively impacts Rody's business, especially financially, so he has to remain where he is longer than expected. He doesn't even know that Vincent is killing his business (quite literally) right next to him.

Design-wise, Rody wears an outfit similar to his casual clothes, but with his shirt buttoned up. His undershirt is a faded mossy green. Over his shirt, he has a dark brown apron with small, white floral patterns embroidered at the bottom to make it more noticeable. He also has an upper left pocket in the apron that he uses to tuck one flower in every day. It is usually roses of varying colors, but can be other flowers that mean love as well. Sometimes, his hair is tied back in a small low ponytail.

Vincent's design remains relatively the same, save for a kind of yellowish apron that goes over his outfit as well, and a pair of black gloves. His apron used to be white, but, given the nature of his work, it ended up giving it a look similar to old and yellowed book pages. It definitely has a few stains on it, but that comes with the job.

Manon retains her usual design. Can't improve perfection.

Zombie apocalypse AU

I had the vague idea for this AU, and @dollsteaparty helped me out with some other bits.

This AU is after the Table for One ending.

The zombie apocalypse happens and Rody primarily remains in his apartment during the beginning of it. He doesn't dare leave, and he doesn't even bother to look outside. The prospect of it scares him shitless, and for good reason. However, at some point he starts running out of food, and he can really only think of one good place in order to stock up. This forces him to finally venture out of his safe haven of his apartment and go back to Vincent's restaurant.

Unfortunately, Vincent is undead by this time, and isn't in a very good shape. His mouth is all fucked up and generally looks kinda like that one doodle in the upper left corner of a page by one of the devs that looked like it was based on a game or something. To make matters worse, he regained his ability to taste when he got turned in the first place, but his jaw is weakened and he can't bite down as well as he'd like or move it as much as he wants to most of the time. He can taste just fine but can't eat well, which has the expected side effect of pissing him off greatly with how ironic it is. Other than that, he's pretty well put together as a zombie, aside from the obvious ravenous behavior and poor muscle control that comes with being one in general.

When Rody does find Vincent, he's in the freezer room, and while Rody is strong enough to hold him off, it quickly becomes annoying to have to do. Eventually he's able to come to a compromise with Vincent, since apparently he's able to be reasoned with even in his current condition. Rody stitches up the sides of Vincent's jaw to the best of his ability to make it look more normal, but his handiwork isn't the best since his hands were so shaky. He was just nervous about them being near Vincent's mouth and the possibility of being bitten that comes with that.

The two then enter a relationship of forced codependency due to Vincent wanting to reopen his bistro even though it's the apocalypse since he's dead set on continuing business as usual and he can finally taste food, and Rody needing a safer place to stay where there's a food supply available, not to mention weapons. In fact, Rody's return helps the restaurant reopen, since beforehand people were too scared to enter the place, and they didn't even know it was technically still functional. It's still clean and everything too, because there was no way in hell Vincent would let his bistro fall into ruin.

The place becomes tense neutral ground where no violence is permitted in the dining area, and people are advised to use their best manners. It's a fine dining establishment and they will act accordingly. Both alive and undead customers show up, but now there's a sign outside the bistro that has a set of rules that everyone has to abide by if they wish to live. Besides, Vincent is capable of either reasoning with or even outright threatening other undead people if they don't act nice to their living counterparts while inside or around his esteemed establishment.

No one can have their weapons out or in view, customers cannot fight amongst themselves, no one except for staff are allowed in the kitchen, don't ask about the screams coming from the freezer, no one is advised to make sudden movements like running (something about predator drive and sudden movements making even valued customers look like prey), no one is advised to send the meals back to the kitchen since they most likely don't want their scent on it (they'll be associated with the food and have to be killed anyways), and if anyone has a problem, they can take it up with Vincent personally in the freezer. True to his word, Vincent still doesn't serve human meat... to his human customers. Any undead customers will usually be consuming human meat in their dishes because they can actually appreciate it.

Rody is the only one allowed to serve the customers in the dining area because all of the cooks working for Vincent are also undead, with the exception of the one cook that was fired since they got rehired. They help to desensitize their undead coworkers to a human in their midst, and also are a familiar face, so they have a lower risk of getting attacked. The zombified cooks and their fear of Vincent overrides any instincts that they might have as zombies, so he's capable of keeping them in line and certainly isn't afraid to enforce his rules in the kitchen. Both Vincent and his employees are in a much better preserved condition than any zombies outside the establishment due to them having access to a functional freezer. Also, Vincent does still pay whoever works for him. Vincent's apartment just upstairs has largely not been used in awhile, so that is where Rody stays, along with people who are looking for a safe place to stay for only one night. Vincent gets oddly upset when there's guests and Rody has to stay with them, but he does know it's for the better. Rody is also responsible for going on resource runs for cleaning supplies or ingredients, and for also stitching up the cooks when necessary.

Speaking of the cooks, sometimes they are put in the freezer on meat hooks as a form of solitary confinement for messing up very badly. They look miserable through that window in the freezer room door and Rody can very clearly see them when this does occur. That one human cook isn't stabbed with the meat hook and is usually just tied to it instead. If Rody gets the same treatment, he is usually tied up and left to sit on the floor for awhile, but typically doesn't remain in there for long since he either has to serve customers or Vincent deems his expression too 'unpleasant to look at' and lets him go anyways.

Character designs aren't too different aside from Vincent looking a little messed up in regards to his jaw, and Rody looking a lot more unkempt.

I also don't know where I'm going with this AU and if I particularly want Rody to be zombified or not... but I did think about a scenario where that would happen, as a treat. He would be turned by Vincent personally if he was dying somehow, and he'd probably try to get to his heart to eat it first before Rody turns completely. Something about wanting to taste what love really tastes like since it's his heart... and for Rody, laying his heart bare (literally in this case) and being able to love in such a way that it practically seems like he's serving his heart on a platter. Very big fan of the character design and what it could mean or show about him. Also I think Rody should lose the ear he lost in the actual game too. Just because.

As for that one human cook, Vincent would probably just get another cook to make them into a zombie if they were on the verge of death. They're not worth his time.

Plushie platonic soulmate AU

(Disclaimer: I actually am not fond of soulmate AUs in the traditional sense (aka almost exclusively romantic in nature) so this is platonic. Vincent is aspec to me in some way to begin with, so there's that too.)

During his emotional turmoil following his break up, Rody receives a mysterious plushie at his doorstep that looks like someone he’s never met before. He doesn’t know who sent it. This plushie is Vincent, but Rody doesn’t really know that yet. He’s heard of him since he’s a world renowned chef, but he’s not very familiar with his appearance. Either way, he reluctantly decides to keep the plushie, before eventually discarding it after it keeps showing up in his kitchen despite him putting it on a shelf somewhere. Also, his utensils seem to move in different places every day, so it’s creeping him out. It’s during this time that he’s looking for a job, but doesn’t take up the opportunity to work for Vincent, and instead opts for a simple fast food job. The Vincent plushie keeps showing up despite Rody’s attempts to get rid of it, so he just gives up and lets it remain in his apartment. One day, he wakes up to a fresh lemon tart, but no evidence that it was baked using his kitchen, especially since he doesn’t even have the ingredients to make that dessert. Beside it is the plushie, sitting there innocently.

On the other side of things, Vincent also receives a plushie of Rody that appears in his apartment one day on his living room table. He simply discards it, uncaring of where it came from. However, it keeps appearing again and again and it’s frustrating him to no end. At some point, he mutilates it with one of his knives, then trashes it again. When it comes back just as new, he puts it in plastic packaging and tosses it out of his window into the alley. When it returns yet again, he finally gets so fed up that he shoves it into the oven and sets it on fire that way. The plushie ends up coming back again and Vincent just puts it on his desk in his room, unwilling to mess with it anymore. He has no idea who the plushie was supposed to be because he’s never seen anyone like that before in his bistro. On top of this being strange, he also feels the strange urge to hide this plushie from Manon, since he doesn’t want her knowing that he has this. It’s unnatural and out of character for him to have something like that when it doesn’t serve any real purpose.

At some point, Rody and Vincent get to find the other person with their plushie counterpart and are both left thoroughly confused as to what it could mean.

Character designs for this AU do not vary.

Vincent forced therapy AU

Funnily enough, this AU came to me in a dream with one vague scene, and then it just went from there after discussing it with @vinylbiohazard. It's also exactly what it sounds like.

This AU is set after the Best Served Hot ending.

Vincent somehow survives after his restaurant was set on fire, but does have severe burns and some blood loss. The only reason why he doesn’t have severe blood loss is because the wound on his neck was cauterized by the flames, so it ended up not bleeding as much anymore. There’s still the glass shards that needed to be dealt with, though, so he does still need medical attention. One of the luckiest factors in this is how his restaurant was running out of cooking oil anyways, which is one of the reasons why he was even able to get out in the first place before his exits were blocked off.

Whenever the information of his bistro burning down becomes public, the general assumption of what happened is that he had been drunk, suddenly ‘snapped,’ and then tried to commit suicide while also taking his business with him. Essentially, his life is ruined, because he doesn’t seem too stable to the general population, and the media is having a field day with headlines. He does end up in the hospital trying to recover, and he’s not permitted to speak much for a while so his neck can heal. He technically still can since his vocal cords weren’t damaged, but it’s best that he doesn’t talk for some time. His neck is still in bad shape, but it could have been worse; the wine bottle that he was stabbed with narrowly missed the major veins and arteries in that area. By the end of everything, he does heal enough to look relatively normal, aside from the burns and scar tissue.

During this time, Rody is laying low at his apartment. He never comes out with the truth regarding his missing ear, and everyone just assumes that he lost it in an unrelated accident for being clumsy. While he would ideally like to stay away from the food industry, he does end up finding another job at a fast food place. When he learns that Vincent is still alive, he’s initially still upset, but since he’s had some time to cool down following the incident, he mostly just feels horrible. After all, he had expressed some concern about Vincent losing everything if something were to happen to his business. While not ready to approach him about it in the direct aftermath, Rody decides that he will try to talk it out with him at a later date.

As it gets closer to the day where Vincent can be released from the hospital, Rody shows up to talk to him, or, more accurately, speak his mind. He can talk to him without being interrupted, so he’s taking his opportunity to explain why he was so upset and why he acted the way he did. Adrenaline and trying to make rational decisions don’t mix well. Vincent has to sit there and listen to Rody rant for a little bit, all while he’s still not supposed to speak. At some point a nurse asks if the two were friends or something, and Rody has to awkwardly go along with it and say yes. Vincent is probably grumbling to himself mentally as this occurs.

Unfortunately, since Vincent’s apartment was above his restaurant, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go but Rody’s apartment following being released from the hospital. Rody’s not too happy with it either, but he’ll manage. In fact, he’s the reason why Vincent even gets to go to therapy in the first place. He’s the one to suggest it.

Vincent keeps taking Rody’s knives in his apartment because he doesn’t use them, they’re sharp, and he’s been considering killing Rody off anyways from being forced to live with him for so long. He has to keep getting them confiscated by Rody due to this. Whenever he’s scheduled to have therapy, however, he brings at least three knives with him and keeps them hidden. He doesn’t actually get to take them into the room where he’s supposed to have a therapy session and he has to begrudgingly give them all back to Rody beforehand. He may have been fully intending on using them to murder the therapist. It doesn’t look good for him, but he essentially has a mentality similar to ‘I’ve lost everything so why does it matter what I do now?’, so he doesn’t care.

There are no design changes for Rody in this AU, but Vincent has a few. There’s scar tissue on the right side of his neck from being stabbed there, as well as burn scars. There’s additional burns on most of his upper torso and arms. Any other burns aren’t as major, and most of them on his body healed over. In the hospital, he had bandages on over these while they were still healing.

[harryzroze]

concept art macaque >:3

concept art + weird doodles + ref for the second mask :3

I thought it was cool how the concept art looks like 2 faces a little because of the way it’s being ripped off so ayeee sneak a lil angst in there