#not tagging the others they r barely visible

[meowfountain]

thing i made for the jacknjellify video !

[the-kr8tor]

yk that post about reader babying hobie? can you write it the other way round too?

YESSS part two!!! Ly thank you for requesting! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, R is wearing makeup, CW suggestive, CW food mention, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You come home to a dark flat, save for a lamp in the doorway, you can barely make out the shapes of your furniture. Bones aching, muscles screaming out from fatigue, you trudge the small space towards your shared bedroom. Not even bothering to put your shoes in their proper place, or even turn on the lights. Shoes haphazardly tossed somewhere, you leave it to future you to take care of.

Wondering where Hobie is, worry is etched on your face with the tiredness from today. But the emotion is washed away when you spot him snoring on the bed. A singular sock on his foot, you see your oversized jumper on him with the words that says ‘I survived London!’ on it. Checkered pajama pants on his legs, arms hugging your pillow and his cheek squished in between. His comfortable attire makes you jealous while you're still in your work clothes, all grimey from today. You could kiss his sleeping face but the heaviness in your bones says otherwise.

Blinking the tiredness away, you stand on the carpeted floors, wondering if you should even dare to wash up before slithering under the covers and over to his arms. You could go shower but you're afraid that you might collapse on the tiled floors with how your legs are about to give out from under you.

You must've been standing for a while since Hobie sensed you. He sits up, one eye open, sleep still clinging to his lashes as he scrunches his nose at your weird stance.

“Are you my sleep paralysis demon?” He jokes, voice deep and hoarse from sleep.

“What?” You barely understood his words. “Hi,” tone wavering, you still smile at him. “Sorry I woke you up, go back to sleep.”

“You just got home?” You sluggishly nod. Hobie's already standing up to meet you on your rooted spot. Hands rubbing softly on your arms, he's jolted awake when he sees your heavy eyes fighting the urge to stay open. “Go to bed—”

“I need to shower.” You whine, not from what he asks but the annoyance that you still have something to do before you could melt into the covers.

“Do that tomorrow, I don't mind.” Hobie reluctantly releases your fatigued form, footsteps quiet as he opens your drawers for fresh clothes. “Change into these and get into bed.” When you don't move to take the pajamas, he guides you gently towards the shared bed, hands slowly making you sit on the soft mattress. “I'll take care of you, please? Do it for me, yeah?”

You almost falter at his sweet words, he knows exactly where to pull your heartstrings. “You'll be sleeping next to a smelly me.”

“I always sleep next to a smelly you.”

“Hey—” you say with a weak laugh.

“Kiddin’” he squishes your face in his warm hands. “change and lie down, I'll handle your face.”

“What's up with my face?” You touch your oily cheek, “do I look that bad?”

“Never, love.” Hobie presses a careful kiss on your forehead. “Never.”

You hum into the kiss, eyes closed, you barely register the fact that he has left your side. The bathroom light almost blinds you, the rushing of the water from the tap is a lot louder at night, making you huff quietly at the sound.

As you change into clean clothes, Hobie readies everything he needs to take care of you. He was ready to tuck you into bed but he comes back to you with the blanket drowning you. Your eyes are the only thing visible, nose kissing the fabric, fighting the urge to sleep. You blink rapidly, fingers waving at him.

“You look fuckin' adorable.” He says into the dark room, save for the lamp on the bedside table. You look like you're about to meld into the bed.

“Hmm, even though I smell?”

Sitting next to you, he lifts the blanket away from your face to get a proper look at you. “Let me check.” Suddenly leaning down, he sniffs dramatically at your neck, the tip of his nose tickles your neck. Giggling, you weakly push him off. He raises his head with a lopsided smile. “Nah, not really.”

“Really?”

“Just a bit.” He clearly jokes.

“Aww, maybe I should just shower.” You begin to sit up, faking that you took his words seriously.

“Y/N.” With gentle hands, he lays you back down.

You laugh, “I'm also kidding.” Spotting your makeup remover wipes next to his leg, your heart grows a hundred times bigger. “Oh”

Hobie takes the crinkling packaging, opening the sticky flap before he grabs a wet wipe. You watch him do it all with a soft smile and tender eyes. Hand splayed on his thigh, you let his warmth seep through you as he gently and expertly wipes the makeup off your cheeks.

“You're a natural.”

“I've got a good teacher.” He says, breath fanning your moist cheeks as he leans closer to you. “‘sides, I started using them too after a show.”

You fake a gasp. “So you're the one using them all.” Poking his pajama clad leg, you press and push until his smug smile turns into a playful grin. Hands warm, he rubs the wet wipe near your eyes, careful of poking you. “Wait, I don't remember showing you how to use them.”

“Why do you think I watch you do your routine every night, hm?”

“Because you love me, dummy. And you're smitten.” Your voice is hoarse but saccharine. He taps your eyelids, prompting you to close them. The wet wipe is cold against your skin but his warm palms grant you reprieve.

“That too,” Hobie confesses like he hasn't a thousand times before. “I was also curious about all the goopy shit you use.”

“Hmm, yes, goopy shit is the right term.” You relax fully, his free hand cages you in, it's placed on the side of your head for leverage. “Make sure you get my eyebrows.”

“Of course, love.” He indulges you, lips quickly pressing sticky kisses on your now clean cheeks. The tender act has your arms inching closer to his waist, enveloping him. “Just close your eyes, I don't look good from this angle.”

“Impossible. You know that's impossible, right?” You crack one eye open to see him tilt his head like he's chastising you, but his smile says otherwise.

“Close your damn eyes.”

“No.” You giggle out, closing your eyes. He pretends to rub harshly at your brow bone.

“Brat.” Hobie sighs, not from exasperation but from the sheer sweetness in his chest.

“Love you too.”

He hums before whispering back an ‘I love you’ that's only for you to hear. Your ears pick up the sound of the package crinkling. A new wet wipe is now gently being rubbed on your soft lips.

“Your lips are dry, did you drink any water today?”

“Mm-hmm, does tea count?” You pout so he could properly clean your lips. He's concentrating, eyebrows knitted, tongue poking out from the seam of his lips.

“I'm guessing you didn't eat much today?”

“I did,” you pop one eye open to see him frown slightly. “I really did! I ate a sandwich.”

“Just one? For the whole day?”

“...yes.” Your eyes glaze over from the sheer sleepiness.

Hobie cradles your moist face, his own incredibly close to yours that you grow cross eyed at his big brown eyes. “I'm gonna make you breakfast tomorrow. A big fuckin’ one that’ll have you full until the weekend.”

“I thought you were about to take a bite at me.” You chuckle, hands holding his face, nails gently cleaning the sleep off the corners of his eyes.

“Keep doin' that at work and I'll actually take a bite out of you.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, Hobie.”

He rubs his nose to yours, the makeup remover rubbing off on his skin. “Sleep, or I'll take a bite right now.”

“Lay down with me?” You ask quietly and sweetly whilst patting the space next to you.

“Love, I have shocker’s gun in my workshop, the day I say no to that grab it and shoot me because that ain't me anymore.”

“So dramatic—” Hobie plops himself atop you. “Next to me not on top!”

“You weren't complainin’ last time—”

“Hobie!”

[bloody-teared-angel]

Once again, I came across a defense post for St*las in the 'anti' and 'critical' tag and boy, do I have some thoughts.

The post screenshotted a post about the OG Paranoid DJ song 'Look My Way' and the tags underneath, defending St*las. Let's get into it shall we?

(DO NOT SENT HARRASMENT TO THIS PERSON!! I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR!)

Stella and Octavia Deserve Better. There. I said it. They deserve better than to be written as a two dimensional a*usive spouse so the se* ab* would look better, so the writers could have an excuse to make it seem he is not in the wrong, his daughter deserves better than to be brought up as a plot device for his man pain.

Stella and Octavia deserved to have a mother and daughter relationship on screen, Stella deserved complexity since she's in the same boat as S*las if not worse.

Now, onto the person's post.

When did Stella destroy his stuff? When did she r* him repeatedly? From what I remember, they did it until Stella became pregnant then from what I remember they barely touched each other.

Until it was made in s2 that Stella was a* for Stolas to look good.

In s1 Stella threw an Imp at him which I think is justified, after what he did to her. When you think about it, Stella carried the brunt of it.

"Oh, the sad little owl was a* so it is ok if he neglects his own daughter, uwu."

Bollock.

Does it explain his actions? Yes. Excuse them? No.

No child should ever be caught in the crossfire. Especially one that is still at a vulnerable stage. St*as openly flirts with his booty call in front of her, doesn't listen to her until Octavia gets visibly upset or runs away, only then he starts to care.

It's easy to call S*as the better parent when we have no one else to compare him to.

I have no idea where this person was going with this, if it was reversed we would treat the woman in the scenario the same, since (if Blitz was a woman we will go with that) she would still se*a* someone else, who was doing it for the sake of feeding her daughter and employees.

TLDR: Allegedly, the VA for both Stella and S*as said, that the two are going to have complex relationship, which was hinted at Loo Loo Land but got discarded in favor of melodrama and woobification of S*as.

*snorts*

Good writing, my ass, Miss Medrano said on multiple occasions that she has no idea where HB is going, she writing things on the go and the fanbase is also influencing her fanbase due to how much she is in kahoots with them.

So um. You are telling is not to engage with media. At all. We are not allowed to criticize the show, is what you are telling us.

Fun fact, most of the people who are criticizing it are ex-fans or still fans that are still holding out hope that the show would get better.

And guess what, people would be wasting their time by watching the show so the people who were invested at LEAST want to finish S2 so their time would not go to waste.

PS: I was one of the fans. I enjoyed s1. I came to love Blitz. And I hate what the show is doing it to him.

We are not doing anything to you. We are using the appropriate tags, we are staying in our lane, you are the one who posted it into 'anti' and 'critical' tags, that's going exactly against what you are saying.

We can engage with the media we consume, weather we love it or hate it.

[aquaquadrant]

How would htp!Tango go with the bit from Limited Life episode 4 when he's running from everyone?

How would it be different from the actual scene?

(not canon to HTP ofc because the timelines don’t match up but HEY i like angst)

"tango!" skizz calls desperately, peering out over the ocean. he could’ve sworn he’d heard tango’s voice when he came this way, but the range of amplification their voices get from the proximity mod can be a little tricky sometimes-

“skizz?”

tango’s voice crackles out of skizz’s communicator; he must be in range, after all. but skizz doesn’t relax just yet. crouching by the water’s edge, he scans the waves intently. his grip tightens around his axe.

"alright, where are you, dude?" he asks, voice low. he keeps the horizon in his periphery; he can just barely make out the horde of yellow names off on the distant shore, digging and searching for tango.

“r- right below you.” tango’s voice is shaky; probably from the adrenaline. being hunted by almost the entire server isn’t exactly a picnic. “where- is impulse with you? or- or etho?”

skizz shakes his head, even though he knows tango can’t see it. “no dude, they’re running interference, okay, but it won’t be long before the others see me over here.” he swallows. “you gotta let me kill you.”

there’s a brief silence.

“okay.” tango’s voice is barely audible. the tone of it gives skizz pause; that sounds like more than just nerves. “okay, o- okay, fine, i’m- i’m fine with that.”

“are you?” skizz asks, his brows furrowing.

“i…” there’s a shuddering exhale. “i don’t- i’d rather it be you, if- if i’m honest. the others, they might…” he breaks off, making a distressed sound in the back of his throat. “y- you know.”

there’s definitely something wrong. skizz’s heart is starting to pound, but he keeps his voice steady. “alright, yeah. this is gonna stick it to them so bad.” he lifts his communicator up and peers through its lens. “can you give me a quick tag, buddy?”

tango doesn’t reply, but skizz sees the flash of a gamer tag beneath the ocean before it vanishes again. tango’s not taking any chances, apparently. not that skizz can blame him.

“you’re pretty deep underwater, dude,” skizz informs him regretfully. “and i don’t- ugh, i don’t have my stupid shovel.”

tango inhales sharply. “i- i can’t- uh, can you…?”

“okay,” skizz murmurs. he knows tango won’t be harmed by water like a real blaze, but it’s uncomfortable even on the best of days and that’d be a lot to ask of him right now. “alright, i’ll come to you. stay put, okay?”

“okay,” tango whispers.

“there a hole for me, buddy?” skizz asks, putting his axe away.

“yes.”

“alright.” skizz straightens up, folding his wing tightly against his body. even one wing will cause a lot of drag underwater and he’s already not looking forward to soggy feathers. “i’m on my way, just hang on.”

taking a deep breath, skizz dives into the ocean.

salt stings his eyes as he swims towards the sand at the bottom. it’s darker down here than he’s expecting for midday, only the faint glow from his halo allowing him to see. he starts digging as soon as he reaches the bottom, hoping he’s in the right place. he’s acutely aware of how long he can hold his breath for and the last thing he needs is a stupid drowning death to steal even more time from him-

a figure enters his field of vision, making him jolt. it’s scott, his freshly yellow timer barely visible in the deep. still holding his breath, skizz equips his axe.

scott actually rolls his eyes. “i’m not gonna kill him, don’t worry.” his voice carries well underwater, and he doesn’t seem to have trouble breathing. must be due to those recently acquired gills of his.

well, that’s fortunate. skizz nods quickly and puts his axe away before resuming his digging. to his surprise, scott floats down next to him and starts helping, his webbed fingers making easy work of the sand. after a couple seconds, they’ve cleared enough sand for skizz to see a hold in the underlying stone, with a faint light beyond it. lungs burning, skizz dives for it.

he makes it through right as the first damage hits him, head breaking through the water with a gasp. kicking against the current, he finally emerges from the ocean. gravity once again takes hold of him. he flops onto the damp stone floor quite ungracefully, his wing heavy and pulling him slightly off-balance.

skizz hauls himself to his feet, dripping wet and catching his breath, and looks around the cave tango’s carved out for himself. it’s tiny, with just three blocks between them, and lit only by the glow of tango’s blaze rods. they’re redder than usual and roaring with flames, whirling above his head in agitation- the way a blaze spins before it starts shooting fireballs.

tango himself doesn’t seem to be doing any better. he’s crouched against a corner, his arms wrapped around his knees, claws digging into his skin. his pupils are blown, so much so that it almost makes his wide eyes look completely black. his chest is rising and falling rapidly, and the noise that comes with each breath sounds disturbingly like a blaze. his mouth hangs slightly parted as he pants, lips drawn back to show his sharp teeth- like a wolf does. but there’s no ferocity in his expression; just sick fear.

altogether, the sight sends a chill down skizz’s spine. it’s like he’s looking at an animal; a cornered, terrified, wild animal. there have been things in the past tango’s reacted strangely to, sure, but skizz has never seen it this bad before. god, he wishes impulse was here.

“hey, tango,” skizz says softly.

for a moment, tango just stares at skizz. then his eyes dart to the side, to the hole in the stone. belatedly, skizz realizes what’s got tango so concerned.

“scott,” he calls carefully, keeping his gaze on tango, “just uh, just stay out there, okay, dude?”

a dark shadow passes by the hole before vanishing. “you’re fine, just get on with it!”

skizz swallows. he stays where he is. “tango, buddy, you okay? talk to me.”

tango’s gaze cuts back to skizz. “is martyn…?”

“no, no martyn,” skizz assures him.

tango takes a shaky breath. “i killed him,” he says hoarsely. “he- he’ll want revenge. and- and the other yellows- you have to kill me, before they find me. skizz, please.”

“hey, hey, hey, it’s alright,” skizz soothes, despite the way his heart feels like it’s twisting itself into a knot. he never thought tango would fear the other players so badly; these are his friends. “you got it. what do you- uh, how do you want me to do it?”

“TNT?” tango asks quietly. “if you light it…”

“alright, yeah, i got some TNT,” skizz says, rummaging through his inventory and pulling out a block of it. “here, uh- you wanna just take that?”

warily, tango teaches a clawed hand out and takes the TNT. he sets it down right in front of him, flush against his folded knees.

“tango?” skizz prompts gently, pulling out his flint and steel. “i need to hear you say it, buddy.”

tango shudders. “do it,” he whispers, turning his face away. “you can kill me, you- i- i just want it to be over.”

“okay, thank you,” skizz murmurs, taking a cautious step forward. “that’s right, dude. after this, it’ll all be over. i’ll come find you at spawn, okay?”

“okay."

“i’ll see ya there. now, count to five for me?"

tango swallows. “one…”

skizz lights the TNT. the sound of sizzling fills the air as the TNT starts to flash.

"t- two..."

putting the flint and steel away, skizz turns and dives back through the hole, into the ocean. tango's voice still sounds from his communicator.

"three..."

kicking madly, skizz swims towards the surface, where scott is waiting.

"four-"

BOOM.

skizz breaks the surface, gasping for breath. he glances back down and sees a new crater at the bottom of the ocean, water and sand churning into a froth. treading water with one arm, he holds his communicator up and looks at the chat.

Tango blew up.

scott gives skizz a sidelong look. "i know how hard it is to let a teammate kill you," he says, his voice low, "but that seemed..."

"scott, buddy," skizz says tiredly, heading for the shore, "keep this between us, will ya?"

~

[cinebration]

The Darkling’s Shadow (The Darkling x Reader) [Part 3]

After days of waiting, you are finally sent on a mission—alone with the Darkling.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

Tagged: @don-daygamerz​, @weallhaveadestiny​, @kaqua​, @sinful-wxrld​, @ashdab2611​, @ultarviolence​, @chodingcreature​, @demonenotturno​, @crowssixof​, @mxacegrey​, @dreamlandcreations​, @s-r-reads​, @byulsrecs​, @peleksstuff​, @seraferna​, @imtherain​, @vexedvalerie, @rayrlupin, @peakyispunk​​​

Warnings: mention of blood and gore

Gif Source: chailame

Boredom set in quicker than the mud could dry on your boots. Five days had passed since you had last spoken to the Darkling, let alone glimpsed him in the camp. No new orders had been issued, not even from the Darkling’s right-hand Heartrender, that dour Ivan. The disdain rolling off the man had hardly concealed his fear when showing you your new quarters, his eyes glancing furtively at the white embroidery on your kefta.

At the edge of camp, your tent could only accommodate one person and their bare necessities: an elevated cot and a desk that doubled as a chest. A small wash pot perched precariously on the table beside a lamp low on oil.

“Such luxury,” you had muttered, earning a venomous look from Ivan. He left before you could dismiss him.

Stripping out of your soiled kefta, you washed your hands and forearms in the bowl until the water turned pink and bits of gore floated in it. Dumping the bowl outside of your tent, the water splashing more mud onto your boots, you seized the first person walking past, a woman approximately your age but visibly older from years of war.

“Who do I speak to about washing?” you asked.

The woman gestured in the direction she had just come and hurried off.

Retrieving your kefta, you strode through the camp until you located the washing station. Several Grisha worked diligently around a large pot of water, scrubbing furiously at blood-stained keftas and clothes. They glanced up as one as you approached, took one look at your kefta, and immediately stepped back to make room for you.

You took your time washing the kefta, allowing everyone to gawk at you. You hadn’t yet washed your face or changed out of your clothes, displaying the blood prominently for passersby to see. Whispers swelled around you in a wonderful chorus of fear and disgust.

The soldiers only glimpsed you at meal times in the days since.

Less is more, you reminded yourself each time you collected food. You refused to sit with the other Grisha, keeping to yourself and your tent.

By day three, you caught whispers of the Bonecrusher.

A vicious grin split your lips.

~~

Grisha abilities dictated that you must, at the very least, see a person to apply your power against them. Your training, however, honed over years of concentrated practice, allowed you to sense the bone structures of people beyond your visual capabilities. You could not affect their bones, but you could sense them, could visualize the person’s movements.

Lying on the cot on day five, staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, you passed the excruciatingly slow hours sensing the presence of others scurrying past the closed flap of your abode. Red, blue, and an occasional purple flitted across the thin gap revealing the world beyond your quarters.

The Corporalki were braver than their Etherealki comrades, venturing close to your tent in an attempt to glimpse you. Their skeletons moved furtively but with intense curiosity as they skirted past. One had an old injury in their femur where an inexperienced or perhaps poorly trained Healer had clumsily re-stitched the bone together. Another suffered from a hairline fracture in their collarbone.

A new figure several tents over strode toward you with purpose. After the fourth step, you recognized it as the Darkling.

A thrill shot down to your toes.

Throwing an arm over your eyes, you feigned sleep until the entrance to your tent flapped open, a dark form silhouetted in the entranceway.

“Come,” he commanded.

Unfolding yourself from the cot in no great hurry, you plucked up your kefta from its place across the desk and slipped into it as you followed the Darkling out into the cloudy morning.

All eyes tracked you both as you returned to the Darkling’s tent.

Again it was empty.

Pleasure unfurled in your chest. You wrestled to keep satisfaction from showing on your face.

Sweeping around his war table, the Darkling plucked up a map and spread it out atop everything else. You drew near, scrutinized the map’s depiction of Northern Ravka.

He tapped a fort along the Fjerdan border.

“Ulensk,” you murmured. “I know nothing of it.”

“I expected as much.”

The faintly smug note of his voice pricked you. “If I had grown here in Ravka, I would not have the ability I now possess.”

“You could have been with my army ages ago.”

“As a mere Heartrender with no greater skill than those here.” Shaking your head, you let slip the iron control in your vice, allowing scorn to bleed through. “How you teach Grisha here is abominable—keeping them constrained by senseless ideas of division. Do you think the Black Heretic thought along the lines of convention? No. How else could he create the Unsea?”

You glanced up to meet the Darkling’s gaze, expecting to see displeasure writ large on his fine features. Instead, something inscrutable livened up his eyes. The tendons in his neck were taut, as though his throat strained against him.

You frowned, unsure what to make of it.

Swallowing thickly, he forced his attention down to the map. “The Lantsovs believe the fort is sufficiently defended, but I have reason to believe there are weaknesses there.”

“Structural or…personnel weaknesses?”

“You and I shall find out.”

Quelling the excitement blossoming in your chest, you mused aloud, “If this is meant to be a stealth mission, how many soldiers are we taking with us?”

“None.”

You fixed the man with an incredulous stare. Rising to his full height, he met your gaze levelly, eyes slowly arching in challenge.

“The forest,” you muttered, sweeping your hand over the map, “is an ideal place to ambush and hide a body.”

“Yes, it is.”

You let a smirk pull at your lips, opting for silence. The Darkling’s gaze lingered for a moment longer on your face before he snapped up the map, rolled it into a tight cylinder, and made a sharp gesture of dismissal as he turned his back to you. “We leave at dusk.”

And travel under cover of darkness, you thought, heart hammering deliciously in your chest.

[acerathia]

Trick or Treat? TRICK!

@solerate viccccccc, here u go, elf kakashi hueheheh, also, i did almost mention the size difference bc u r small hehehehe

You're desperately looking for a travel companion, and it seems like you've just found one.

wc: 1.0k

cw/tags: elf kakashi, mention of fantasy racism, reader literally just picks him up bro like a wet kitten, fantasy setting,

Since forever, you have always wanted to go on a big adventure, to travel through the world and to discover new foods and games. And no matter how much time passed, this dream did not change, rather it became more developed, more thoroughly planned. The only thing you still need is a partner, someone to travel with, to build trust and a relationship with, because there’s nothing better than to share your joy with another person. Even if you have no idea where to get someone willing to travel around without a proper goal, and how to convince anyone to just start wandering around with you. But you decided to try nonetheless, so you tried asking around, asking the people you know if they might know someone willing. But nobody ever had the slightest idea about anyone. They only suggested you ask the guild, but you don’t want to do that, you don’t want to spend money for such a measly thing, and you wanted someone who really wanted to be there to be at your side. 

So, with no other option, you make your way into the closest pub, hoping to finally meet someone open to your idea. If this doesn’t work, well, you would need to think of something new. 

With a sigh, you take a seat and let your eyes travel amongst the masses, trying to discover someone sitting all alone, just like you. Only it’s a bit different, isn’t it? 

Finally, you spot a hooded person sitting all alone in the corner of this place, and you immediately know why: from that spot every possible exit is visible, and you cannot be surprised from behind. But you shrug, you have no malice, so why try to sneak up on them in the first place? 

After a couple of steps you stop in front of the table, leaning forward to press your palms against the table. “Hello there, mind me joining you?” you ask, and still sit down without waiting for a response. 

But he doesn’t seem to actually mind, as he barely reacts, aside from shifting his focus towards you, and you’re able to discern a dark eye, while the other is hidden by a patch. Half of his face is hidden behind the shadow of a cloth. He seems to have seen quite a bit, but what can you say, more experience is better for your endeavors, supposing he does join you. 

“So, you’re alone, I’m alone, let’s make a deal,” you almost wince when you realize the possible implications, so you make haste to continue explaining your plans for the near future. “You see, I plan on being a traveler, but I still need a companion. What do you say? Me and you, going on the adventure of the century, wouldn’t that be amazing?”

A sigh as he leans back, his gaze hovering all over you, probably calculating whatever worth or trust you might have, so you smile, while also trying your best to not look like you can’t do anything on your own. 

*Fine. Meet me tomorrow at the backdoor.” With these words he just stands up and exits the building, leaving you all alone to process what just happened. 

And once you do, you can’t help but let out a celebratory ‘yes’. You did it, you managed to find someone to join you for the biggest adventure of your life, the only and first adventure of your life, but hey, aim high to get the best results, or something. 

You hurry back home to finish the last preparation for the next day, barely able to fall back asleep after it, the nerves making your body feel too jittery. Yet you manage to finally take a bit of rest. 

The next day, you make your way back to the pub and go around it, heading for the backdoor he had mentioned yesterday. To your surprise he’s already waiting there, leaning against the wall with the hood low on his head. And the closer you walk to him, the more you realize how well built he is, even with the cloak hiding the definitions of his body, his broad shoulders tell you more than enough. Still, you’re not intimidated, rather this makes you more excited as his experience will definitely help you in the long run. 

You walk up to him and greet him with a good morning. He returns the greeting with a more causal one, before he decides to speak up again. 

“I wanted to clarify something first before we actually head out…” he explains before pulling down his hood, revealing strands of pure silver, almost like the moon had given him this glow as a present. Silver hair, something common within the volk of the elves, and then your eyes snap to his ears, to his pointed ears, poking out of the strands of hair. 

With this, you realize why he had been alone, and why he revealed this to you just now. Some people have some sort of twisted prejudice against elves, one you just don’t understand, even if you never had met a real elf before. That doesn’t change your opinion one bit. He trusted you with this knowledge, and you won’t break his trust. So, you do what you always do.

“Oh, I love your hair. I don’t see a problem. Rather I’m excited to finally start, come on!” you grab his hand and start dragging him along, grinning widely at the prospect of exploration. 

His fingers clutch a little tighter at yours and if you had turned around you might’ve seen a smile twinkle in his eyes, even if his face remains hidden for a little while longer. 

This is the beginning of your journey, one filled with joy, excitement, a blooming trust, and most importantly, more than just being companions, maybe even more than friends. And maybe this adventure won’t be the greatest of the century, but it is the greatest one to you, one you will never forget.

[iwonderwh0]

Connor’s rig guide

Okay, in the first part I talked about some basics of manipulating objects in Blender, now it’s time to look at them again within the context of Connor’s rig.

Note: I just realised there were a minor mistake in a rig. Fixed in ver. 2.2 (same link)

Click on Main_Rig object (from outliner or directly from clicking on it in the working area), check that nothing else is selected and go to the pose mode. Here you’ll be able to finally pose the character. You can move and rotate bones around just the way you would do any other objects in blender. 

Tagging you, my dear rig-testets, here: @middleofnothing @detroitbecomeonline

How to reset position/rotation/scale

Let’s say you moved it in some ugly way and want to reset it back the way it was in its “default” position. For this you need to select the bones you want to reset (or just select everything with A) and press

Alt + G - to reset position

Alt + R - to reset rotation

Alt + S - to reset scale (although I don’t know why would you scale bones)

Bone Layers

For this specific model I used bone layers to separate bones into groups according to their purpose and/or layout. What it means is that rig is divided into a few categories that can be hidden/revealed for convenience.

Blender has a system of built-in layers for armature (32 of them in total), which looks like this

I marked “actual layers” with green, because those are the layers we actually use and so-called “pointlessly repeated layers” jare ust a mirror of those we have above for the purpose of locking them (to restrict any changes we could accidentally make), which if you ask me is fucking retarded, there are better ways to visually represent it 

Anyways, we can reveal what’s inside them by clicking on them (just ignore what’s in a purple box, pretend it doesn’t exist), we can select multiple of them by holding Sift or deselect by clicking on them again (while holding shift). White circles represent that the layer has something inside and isn’t empty. Filled white circle indicate that the active bone(s) (the one(s) we have selected atm) are inside this layer, or, if nothing is selected it means that the last time there were, it was on This layer.

As you can see, by default those layers look weird and there’s no way to name them, which kinda ruins the purpose of layers. That’s why we won’t use them, and instead use free plugin “Bone Manager”, if you have my blend file, you should have it working already and it looks like this:

You can already see right away how much more user-friendly it is, doesn’t even requires explanation, as you can see all you need to know intuitively. It’s basically all the same layers from before, but displayed like they were actually made for people. 

To see this window, you should be inside pose mode. From there you can find it in the left corner of the working area under the tab “Bone Layers” like you can see on the screenshot. If you don't see that, then hover your cursor above working area and click N on your keyboard to show/hide it (or find this small arrow and click on it)

In regards to this specific rig I used 19 layers in total, you can see all of them below. They were mostly made for my convenience while rigging although I tried to rearrange them in a way that would be convenient for posing

(you can rearrange them if you want, it doesn’t affect the way any of those bones function, it’s purely for visual representation)

About those layers in detail

“Face original controls” - as the name says, it’s face bones from original rig. Not all of them though, I put “Tongue”, “Lips Upper (orig)”, “Lips Lower (orig)” and “Eyelids_orig” on separate layers, although they are all technically just face original controls. You’ll probably struggle to see them if you try to switch to them now, but it’s because bones are displayed as barely visible wires atm, I’ll explain how to switch it to other types below. 

Other layers that contain original controls are

“Helper Deform (orig)” - those move small parts of the mesh, but I don’t think they’re really useful or helpful, more like confusing and messy. You can try tweaking them around, but I suggest to ignore this layer. This layer exists because I was afraid to delete something just to find out it was actually really important later on. Maybe those bones Are helpful, idk, try it.

"Tie”, “Jacket” and “Shirt” are also just original bones that are responsible for cloth. For now I don’t yet possess the kind of black magic wisdom it takes to know how to rig clothes in a meaningful way, so it’ll probably be a frustrating experience to try to manipulate those. 

“Some pointless garbage” - originals bones that were there, but doesn’t do shit. Ignore it.

“Face custom controls” - a set of controllers made by me in an attempt to make usable face rig. It’s not comprehensive and only have controllers for eyes, eyelids and eyebrows (I got frustrated about the state of the mouth and haven’t finished it. Eyes and eyelids requires improvements too, but huh, better than moving each individual bone from original rig, which btw you can still do instead of/in addition to using controllers) This layer looks like that:

For eye individual controllers you’d want to rotate them instead of moving (double-click R after selecting them to rotate freely)

I realise now that eyelids move a little too much along with the eyes. I didn’t know the shit I was doing when I started this mess, so I’d probably managed to do it better now if I were to do it again.

Eyelid(s) controls:

You’d think that they’re responsible for upper eyelids, but actually no, not exactly, instead they are linked to the action of closing/opening the eyes and as you can see, lower eyelid moves along slightly (just like it does in the game. I tried to replicate the way it happens)

I tried to do the lover eyelid controller at some point as well to allow for the squinting(there are also wrinkle maps for that), but it is one of those things I haven’t yet done after realising that it is easy enough to break those eyelids already as they are now...Maybe later

And finally, eyebrows, which are probably the most interesting and complicated piece of this rig as they’re the only controllers that I managed to actually link to dynamic wrinkle textures, the ones I can’t shut up about. Each of those controllers are, just like eyelids, linked to the action (frowning/rising eyebrows depending on if you move them up/down or left/right from the nose. Or you can actually do both and see in-betweens of all kind of mix of the two), you can see it more clearly as skin around the corners of the eyes moves slightly(up) as well when frowned. I can dedicate the whole other post explaining exactly how I managed to do that, there’s A LOT to say, it’s absolutely ridiculous how complex it is under the hood. I spent maybe a week researching dynamic-wrinkle concept in 3d and I still can’t wrap my head around how cool it is.

Okay, that’s all for the face. 

But before moving on, a few words about what I have already mentioned about how you can use original controls to achieve more/other face expressions and actually pose mouth that I completely abandoned for custom controls.

If you switch to one of those layers with orig. controls, you’ll see something like this:

You can see those tiny dots that indicate those controls, but maybe they’re too small to be seen easily.

For this reason, you can switch the way they look to something else, instead of wire, you can do it here (generally you’ll use Stick or Octahedral if not Wire, ignore others)

Below is an example of how it looks like when displayed as Stick. I added a custom bone for the jaw just so it’d visible at all times, so it won’t be affected.

Okay, moving on to those next layers 

Now finally about how we can move the body. For this purpose there are two different ways to bend those arms/legs and those are known as Forward Kinematics (often shortened to FK) and Inverse Kinematics (IK).

In this rig there are separate layers for them called

“FK CTRL” and “IK CTRL” , for forward and inverse kinematics accordingly.

Forward Kinematics is when you pose bones one after another in a rigid way. From bottom to the top. In this rig they are color coded with green.

Note: a little update made to the rig after those gifs were made — now finger bones are in the FK CTRL layer. Used to be on DEF layer before

Inverse Kinematic (IK) is the other way around - you move the last element of a chain and all the bones before that move accordingly. You can further adjust the position of the chain by using “pole target” (in the gif below you can see how it works. It help you rotate elbow or knee) I made IK controls yellow.

This rig is switched to IK by default, so if you try to move green bones of arms or legs it won’t move. I’ll explain fow to switch between IK/FK in a moment.

“Root“ layer contains two shapes. One of which is the circle around where the character stands on the ground - if you move that it’ll move the whole character

Another shape is the words “Some settings” above the head. If you click on those and go into item properties menu, you’ll see that there are a buch of switches there:

Eyes_Follow_Head - whether or not eyes move along with the head if you rotate it or stay focused on eye controller.

FK>IK_Hand_L - switch left hand from FK(if set to 0) to IK (if set to 1)

All the remaining ones are just the same, but for the remaining hand and legs.

Layer “Torso” is quite self-explanatory. Just move/rotate things around to understand what they’re doing and you’re good to go.

And...It seems like I’m forgetting something really important as if there’s a lot more to tell about, but HUH. I don’t remember what is it exactly and if I figure it out, I’ll update this post.

Oh, right, about other layers. Those are mechanical layers responsible for things to function properly and those layers aren’t intended to be touched so if you don’t know what you’re doing DO NOT TOUCH OR CHANGE ANYTHING in those layers. Which are “Eyelids”, “Follow-Eyelid”, “DEF”(this one contain original bones btw, but don’t touch it if you're tot sure), “MCH” and “IK”

Lemme know if you have any problems/questions/suggestions/fic recommendations or if you want me to ramble on about some specific thing in rigging(or 3d in general), like the way I made those controls for eyebrows, or how to create your own controllers. Or...you got the idea.

And if you use this rig for your renders, mention where did you get it from (I wonder who that could be about?) ;^)

[sebdoesthings]

The Knife in His Coffin (Geralt/Roche) - Full Chapter 1

Link to Ao3

Chapters: 1/21 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Vernon Roche Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Vernon Roche Additional Tags: Spoilers for The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings, retelling of chapter 3, Slow Burn, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Canon Compliant, -Ish, small deviations from canon, Missing Scene, Extended Scene, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Pining, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, rape mention, Not Beta Read, Hopeful Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Loc Muinne (The Witcher), Team Dynamics, R&R

Summary:

Triss was a sorceress, more than capable of escaping or killing Letho if push came to shove, and while Roche was exceptional among humans, he was, in the end, just that. Human. An ordinary human with extraordinary skills and training. But against Dethmold, well… Geralt had chosen Vernon Roche once before, and deep inside, he knew he would do it again.

In just a few weeks, Vernon Roche has lost nearly everything that was dear to him. He’s lost his king, lost his men, and is about to lose his country, too. The only thing driving him now is a burning desire for revenge, and he will cross mountains to get it. With Ves left behind for safety, there is only Geralt by his side on the arduous journey to Loc Muinne - and they are about to realise that a lot can change in a week when it is filled with nothing but silence and each other’s presence.

Full First Chapter (Continued under Read More)

The journey to Loc Muinne had something haunting about it, and it wasn’t just the importance of the summit that was scheduled to take place there. In fact, neither Geralt nor Roche had much interest in it at this point. Too much had been lost, too much blood spilled, staining their hands.

No, the ship was haunted – not literally, but by the emptiness of the space where the last time they’d boarded it, there had been if not laughter, then at least people filling all its corners. Now Zoltan was in Vergen, Dandelion on the way to Oxenfurt, and the corpses of the Blue Stripes burning on a pyre Geralt and Roche had erected. The Witcher could still see columns of smoke in the distance, but he wasn’t sure whether one of them came from the ashes remaining of Roche’s unit. Regardless, the stench would cling to Geralt’s clothes, skin and soul until his dying day.

It was only a handful of people now. While Geralt and Roche had been in Vergen, Ves had picked up a few scattered layabouts in order to man the ship, though they spoke little. It was eerie, to see a crew so demotivated and quiet when usually songs and laughter would be carried across the ship in tandem with the sounds of labour. But there was only the howling of the wind in the sails now, and the croaking of a few drowners on the river’s shores.

Vernon Roche had barely spoken a word since they’d set off earlier that day. Once so opinionated and vocal, he now stared at the horizon in the wake of the ship, even though Geralt knew the smoke must not be visible to his eyes anymore. Gone was the drive that had propelled him towards Vergen, towards that room carved into the rock. Gone was that drive that had guided his dagger between Henselt’s ribs.

Roche suffered, that much was plain to see – there was a tension to his expression that outmatched all the hardness he’d shown in the past. Seething rage and abysmal sorrow lay just beneath his skin, going deeper even than after Foltest’s death.

Geralt stepped up to the helm and past Ves at the steering wheel. She gave him a look in passing, and he didn’t quite know how to interpret it. Leaving her behind, Geralt stopped next to Roche. The man didn’t move even an inch.

“You alri—”

Geralt didn’t get to finish, as Roche abruptly turned from his spot and walked away, down the stairs and into the captain’s quarters. Geralt stared at the empty space where he’d lost sight of him, and Ves sighed.

“’S no good talking to him,” she said, and her voice was tinged with uncertainty and sadness. Geralt stepped up to her, and when he came to a halt, he could see her hands trembling as they clutched the wheel. There were glistening streaks down her cheeks, and her eyes were bloodshot. “Not when he’s like that.”

“Might’ve figured,” Geralt mumbled and leaned his elbows on the railing overlooking the deck.

Only a handful of their sailors were at work, one busied himself with a tangled rope, another scrubbed at the planks, but the rest huddled together playing dice or chatting quietly. The wind was harsh, and the spray blowing up onto the ship cold.

Geralt peeked over his shoulder at Ves. “Anything to be done? Or is it a case of the waiting game?”

“The waiting game, most like,” Ves said. “But I’m not sure how long you’ll be waiting for. I’ve never seen him quite like… well… that. And he raged something fierce when they found you in the solar at La Valette castle.”

“Not surprised…” Geralt thought back to what they’d seen in that tent. He’d felt his own heart drop at the sight – after all, he’d made friends with the Blue Stripes. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed the tattoo on his neck. But for Roche… he couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for him. To see his entire unit executed while he was away, and to feel not only responsible, but downright at fault for their deaths was…

“Don’t dwell on it,” Ves said, seemingly reading his thoughts.

“Can you tell me about them?” Geralt asked, lifting his head from where it had slumped between his shoulders. “The Stripes?”

“Met them yourself.” Ves shrugged. “Fought with them, got drunk with them, went to a brothel with them. Not much more to bond over with soldiers.” The way she talked, it sounded dismissive, but Geralt could hear the tension in her voice.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Ves didn’t respond, and after a while, Geralt turned around, leaning his back against the railing. He crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture he’d discovered came naturally to him.

“What about you?” he asked. “You holding up?”

“What’s there to hold up, Geralt? I’ve been raped, my closest friends got murdered, my king is dead, and my commander’s damn near losing his mind over all of it,” she snapped. “If those elves hadn’t ruined me as a girl, I’d be worried the only thing I’d be holding up soon would be a bastard child.”

Geralt’s chest constricted. He wondered whether she would know it was Roche who’d killed Henselt once the news of his death spread. Right away, he knew with certainty that she would.

“Right… Sorry.” he shook his head when he realised it was the second time in a very short while he’d said the word. He pushed off the railing and started down towards the stairs before pausing, half turning back to Ves, and then deciding against whatever had been on his mind and continuing on. “Gonna get some food.”

The first day of their expected three-day journey came to an end without much of a silver lining. It was dark and grey outside, and there was a light drizzle coming down. Geralt, Ves and Roche met in the captain’s quarters to eat dinner, but even though the selection was good considering their hasty departure, none of them seemed especially pleased to be there. Roche chewed his food with broiling anger, which Geralt hadn’t previously thought possible, but his grimace definitely let him know he’d prefer to sink his teeth into a certain mage’s throat instead.

Ves attempted to start a few meagre conversations, but Geralt could barely remember them the moment they slipped away.

The food tasted like ash in his mouth, and every time he took a bite, he was reminded of the funeral pyres they’d erected for the Blue Stripes. Geralt hadn’t thought Roche would want to lose any time after they’d learned Dethmold had slipped away to Loc Muinne, but he’d insisted on returning to the Kaedweni camp. In that moment, Geralt knew he’d gotten a vital glimpse at the man by his side, and it made the whole situation even more devastating.

“I’ll sleep below deck with the crew,” Geralt announced when he’d finished his food and stood from the table. Roche and Ves looked up at him with surprise.

“You can stay here,” Roche said. “There’s enough space.”

“Need some time… alone,” Geralt muttered and briskly vacated the room. Behind him he could hear Roche’s raspy voice as he walked away.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?”

“Well if you weren’t such a sulking grouch all day—”

“Oh so now it’s my fault? He can sleep with the lads if he wants, what do I care? He’s a grown man!”

Their voices, despite the increasing volume, faded into the background as Geralt descended below deck.

The Percival had once held all of the Blue Stripes and more, and was still haunted by their presence in the hammocks that hung limply between the beams, too many to occupy. Geralt stalked through the room, ignoring the sailors as he went, and flung himself into one at the very back, turned towards the curved interior of the ship’s belly. Right about now, he would’ve been glad for amnesia.

Roche and Ves finished their meals in silence once their immediate outburst regarding Geralt’s departure had blown over. Afterwards, Roche eyed the book sitting on a pile of things they’d shoved aside to make space for plates and cutlery. The History of Loc Muinne Through the Ages of the Vrani, Elves, and Humans. It was horribly dry, and so Roche turned instead to packing his pipe while Ves pored over the map she’d moved to her bed for the meal.

He took a drag, and the smoke filled his lungs, briefly dispelling the raw emotion that had been clawing at his insides all day. As he held the smoke there, the image of his Stripes dangling inside that blasted tent flashed before his eyes again. The mud caked onto the worn soles of Pinto’s boots, the hood torn from Silas’ head to fit the rope, the striped mask Finch had always worn to cover his harelip stomped into the dirt beneath his feet.

As a choked sound forced itself up Roche’s throat, he coughed, the smoke suddenly burning his lungs. He thumped his chest with his fist – more forcefully than need be – and squeezed his eyes shut, but the images would not blur and the memories not fade.

He remembered how the Stripes would whoop whenever he joined them for training; how he’d spent long evenings studying their strengths and weaknesses to build a solid formation. Experienced again the frustration he’d sometimes felt when they had turned loud and rowdy the night after a successful campaign while he sat poring over his report. Now their laughter filled up his head, but only silence met his ears.

Where he had just been clutching the medal around his neck, now his fist slammed down onto the table, rattling the plates, bowls and bottles left from their meal. On the bed, Ves flinched hard and whipped around to stare at him wide-eyed. When she saw him bent over the table unmoving, she let out the breath she’d been holding.

Roche rubbed a hand over his face and into his hair, pulling off his chaperon and coif. With a sigh, he dropped them on the chair next to his own.

“I’m… sorry, Ves,” he pressed out.

When he looked up at her, he found he couldn’t make sense of her expression. For the longest time now, they’d been able to read each other like a book. It simply came with being commander and second-in-command. And now, just as Roche realised he didn’t know what was going on in her mind, he could tell she fared similarly. And it worried him more than he wanted to admit even to himself.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Roche took in the room. There were three narrow cots in the back, almost touching each other. They’d shared the cabin up until now, and had done so for as long as the Percival had been the Stripes’ vessel, but now the air seemed too thick to breathe, the spaces between the cots too small.

“Do you want me to leave for the night?” Roche asked, glancing at Ves.

She frowned, staring at a spot in the air just next to his face. “You’re the commander, you’ve a right to sleep here.”

“But I’m not asking as your commander, Ves.”

Finally, their eyes met, and she blinked a few times rapidly. Her shoulders slumped and she curled in on herself, forearms coming to rest on her thighs. Her gaze flickered over Roche’s face and then disappeared as she closed her eyes.

“No,” she said softly. “I don’t mind.”

Ves rolled the map out on the table and looked over her shoulder at Roche. He’d only just gotten up, and judging from the disgruntled look on his face, he hadn’t slept much.

“I’ve sketched out a potential way up to Loc Muinne for us,” she said. “Come have a look.”

Frowning, Roche fiddled with the cuff of his shirt. “You’ll stay here.”

“What?” Ves half turned towards him, one hand resting on the map, fidgeting with a corner.

“I’m only taking Geralt with me,” Roche said and finally looked at her.

“You’re replacing me.”

It was moments like these when her age really showed, and it was eye-opening each time. Roche took a step closer and clamped a hand over the Blue Stripes badge on her sleeve.

“You’re my second-in-command. No one can replace you. Which is why I need you here. Alive,” Roche said, eyes boring into hers. “The Summit is in little over a week. You’ll remain for three, and if I’m not back by then you’ll go to Vizima.”

“You can’t just expect me to sit still and twiddle my thumbs for three weeks, Roche,” Ves said, balling her fists and leaning forward, but her vigour soon faltered. She swallowed thickly. When she continued, her voice was very quiet, and she stared at the ground between them. “I need you alive, too, you know? When— when Henselt released me into that tent, I— I thought wherever you, were they’d killed you too.”

Roche’s throat closed up, and he squeezed her arm.

“I didn’t know what to do, I— it was as if I was back in the Scoia’tael camp, after…”

Her voice petered out, and a tear fell from the tip of her nose. When a sob broke from her throat, Roche pulled her close, and she fell against his chest, digging her nails into his back.

“But you’re not there anymore. And you’ll never be there again,” Roche said, and her hair swayed with his breath. “We can’t change the past, but we can change the future, Ves. Which is why I need you present to do that if all else fails.”

Ves hiccupped and wiped at her eyes as she stepped back. “What would you have me do… in Vizima?”

“If discussions at the Summit fail, Temeria will most likely be divided up, but our people won’t surrender. There will be uprisings. Riots,” Roche said. “Make sure they have a leader.”

“What does that mean, Vernon?” Ves asked, letting out a concerned breath. “What the hell are you planning?”

“Whatever it takes,” Roche said and turned to face the map. “Now show me that path you found.”

“Geralt, can we talk?” Ves asked the Witcher, who stood at the helm of the ship, leaning against the railing and doused by a misty spray of Pontar water.

He looked at her over his shoulder, but didn’t move. Behind her, Roche strode across the deck. They’d begun the day shut away in the captain’s quarters, and once they’d finally emerged onto the deck around midday, Roche had begun barking orders at the sailors to keep them busy.

“What is it?” Geralt asked and pushed away from the railing.

Ves took a glance across the ship and then motioned towards the captain’s cabin with her head. Geralt frowned, but followed her inside.

“I need to ask you a favour,” Ves said, sitting down at the table. A bowl of green apples sat on it, and she picked one after circling her hand above it in deliberation.

“Uh-huh?”

Taking a bite of her apple, Ves let several seconds run by as she chewed. When eventually, she lowered the apple and cradled it in her lap, she slumped a little in her posture. “Can you look out for Vernon on the way to Loc Muinne? I’m worried he’ll be too impulsive in his thirst for revenge, and there’s a lot of dangerous people among the nobles gathered there. He can be too trusting sometimes. Believes in promises being kept once given.”

Geralt shrugged as he stood there in the middle of the room, crossing his arms. “Know him better than I do. You’re his right hand, making sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid is basically your job.”

“That’s why I’m asking you. I’m doing my job.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to Loc Muinne, Geralt. It’ll be just you two.”

Geralt hesitated and lowered his arms. He scanned Ves, but couldn’t detect anything unusual apart from the concerned expression on her face.

“Why? Didn’t think you’d ever leave his side. Do you need a doctor?”

Ves shook her head. “I’m not sick – or pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t. Henselt’s just another nightmare to add to the bunch, I suppose…” Geralt knew there were things she left unsaid, though he decided not to press her. “But orders are orders, so I’m to stay behind with the ship.”

“Roche ordered you to stay?” Geralt’s frown deepened.

“Mhm. This morning. Talked about defending his interests if… if he didn’t come back, I assume. He was vague. Geralt, I think he might be planning some sort of suicide mission.” When she looked up, Ves’ eyes were wide and glistening in the low light. “Just… look out for him. Talk to him.”

“No use talking to him when he’s like this. Said it yourself,” Geralt said, raising a hand in emphasis.

“Eventually, he’ll need to, and I’d prefer if you were there. He trusts you, Geralt.”

“Not so sure about that.”

“Oh, please,” Ves said. Her voice dropped, all warmth gone from it in an instant. “I’m not in the mood for rebuttal or denial. He wouldn’t have let you escape the dungeons of La Valette castle if he’d had even a shred of doubt about your innocence. He trusted you – trusted you didn’t kill his king, because it made no sense, and trusted you wouldn’t run away after leaving the gates of the castle.”

Geralt let a bout of silence pass without interruption.

“I didn’t, back then. Trust you, that is. Vernon ordered us onto the ship with no explanation, and I didn’t question it. It’s not my place. But when he revealed his flimsy plan, I told him what I thought of it. That we couldn’t trust you, couldn’t be certain of anything. I wondered whether you’d influenced him with one of your Signs, even though I didn’t quite know how they worked at the time.” Ves looked at Geralt from bloodshot eyes cast in dark shadows. “I thought he’d lost his mind, Geralt, but he was right. He saw the big picture when I couldn’t. I think… I think he might truly be losing his mind now. Don’t let it happen, Geralt. I might be his second-in-command, but you’re his friend.”

“Don’t they say Vernon Roche has no friends?” Geralt asked, and gave a grim smile when he remembered the saying he’d picked up some time ago. “And if each of his friends came to bury him, Roche would have to do it himself.”

“Apparently, it is enough to put a knife into his coffin and he will succeed,” Ves continued. “Put a knife in his coffin for me, Geralt, will you?” Geralt huffed, considering her for a moment before turning to leave. “See if I can spare one.”

Read the second Chapter on Ao3

[the-kr8tor]

could i get garlic cloves and a ❣️ for hobie? r is trying to sneak him somewhere as a bat. or maybe sneak him out of animal control or smth? -@thesevenofstaves

YEEESSS MORE VAMP HOBIE!!! I wrote this with IPOB in mind, I hope that's okay! Thank you, bestie 🩷

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown X fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3 k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Set around my vampire Hobie series (In pursuit of blood), CW blood, mockumentary AU, Wwdits AU, Fluff!

In Pursuit of Blood fic

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

“So yeah, that's how I found out that my great aunt was a succubus—” you stop talking suddenly, blinking, eyes roaming around the walls of Hobie's mansion. The camera crew follows you as you look under the couch and even peek inside the grand piano. “Do you guys fucking hear that?”

The camera shakes its head. You look at it weirdly, “you could just say no, Jason, like a normal person—” you gasp, “there it is again!” You frantically move books from the bookshelves, making the crew dodge oncoming hardbounds. “Is this a prank? Am I getting punk’d right now?!” You scream, footsteps heavy as you trudge along the big living room, tossing and turning things around. “Hobie! Where the fuck did you put the speakers you mythical bloodsucking straw!”

You suddenly straighten up, finger scratching your ear, eyes turning from confusion to amusement. “Oh you fucking idiot!” You guffaw, palm slapping your knees in laughter. The crew look at each other, not knowing what to do when their subject turns cuckoo. “Okay, I'll—” you breathe for air, tears in your eyes as you laugh. “I'll save you, you big ancient baby.” Nodding, you roll your eyes, “fine, I'll be subtle. No explosions, yep…wait not even a little? I bought this new thing from amazon— yeah okay, bye! Close the fucking link I don't want you in my brain!”

Your shoulders sag, smiling at the befuddled camera crew. “Good news I'm not crazy! That was Hobie talking to me telepathically and he— you know what, I should just show you what he wants.” You beckon them over to the front door while you put on your jacket and take your keys. “It's called the mind gift,” based on the producer's eyes, you already know that she was about to ask you the question. “You get old enough, you start getting different abilities. Don't ask me how, that's just the way it is with vampires.”

The camera hard cuts to you driving in your new kia. In the corner of the shot you can see the camera man's hand gripping tightly around his seatbelt as you drive recklessly, like you just learned how to drive yesterday. Or you just knew what a car is.

“Relax,” you say, smiling sweetly at the camera even though you pass a red light. “No one's even on the road this late at night. So calm down.”

Hobie's voice once again appears in your mind, ‘hurry up, love, I think this chihuahua next to my cage wants me. And it's not the hunger type of want.’ You snort at his comment. ‘Please? I'll make it worth your while.’ he says with flirty undertones, making you roll your eyes, cheeks warm.

The camera visibly shakes. The mic picks up a faint ‘I’m gonna die.’ The crew following behind you with their own van can barely keep up with you. They pity Jason right now.

“Okay, listen.” You start, the car is zooming past the road beyond the speed limit. “Hobie wanted to hunt some poor rich sap but,” there's rapid honking around you, “something happened, he wouldn't tell me exactly what, so he had to get out quickly and turn into his vampire form. Now animal control caught him at the park because he was too hungry to return to his form.” The car suddenly screeches to a halt, making Jason the camera man almost fly off his seat.

You park your car at an animal control center, the camera zooms in your determined face. “Operation: save my idiot vampire roommate has begun.” Your head quickly swivels towards Jason who seems like all the colour on his face has gone. “Don't fuck this up for us, Jason.” You point at his still chest.

You exit your car with the slam of the door. The rest of the crew follow closely behind you as you enter the animal control center with an uncanny smile that has the front desk worker perturbed.

“Hi, this might sound weird—”

“What's up with the camera crew, lady?” The man asks, blinking away the bright lights, weirded out by the whole situation.

“Oh, we're making a documentary.”

“About what?” The man brightens up, subtly fixing his hair with his hand.

“Uh…” you look at the crew for answers, they're not helping with their empty looks. “...About bats, yeah, bats. We're from national geographic actually.” You hear Hobie in your head ‘national geographic? Really, love? You don't look like the Steve Irwin type. Although, you'd look good in some khaki shorts.’ Blinking him away, you continue to convince the man. “And one of our bats escaped from their enclosure. You see that man over there?” Raising your finger to point at Jason, you accuse him as he stands there awkwardly. “His name is Hobie,” Hobie's laughter in your mind echoes. “And he's an idiot y’know, he's a nephew of our director so we just had to take him in. You get me?”

The man in the front desk nods, judging ‘Hobie.’ “Yeah, I know the type.” He whispers to you. “We have someone like him here too.”

You nod in understanding. “They're not the brightest, right?” Hobie's cackling laughter buries deep in your mind, almost making you laugh too. ‘you're making me have it, huh?’ Jason frowns at you while he zooms in your apologetic face.

Tapping the desk, you smile at the man again. “So! Our bat, please?”

“I'd ask for papers like usual but I'm too lazy.” Now it's you judging the man. “If you can get him from the back yourself without getting rabies then you're free to take him.”

“Yeah, okay.” You shrug, and you hear Hobie breathe a sigh of relief. Opening the doors, you're greeted by a dozen small animals, all angrily calling out to you. “Wow, this reminds me of my cousin's room!”

Your eyes roam over the cages, looking for a familiar bat. The producer points at a bat on your right, she has her hand on the lock but you stop her midway. “That's clearly not him. Good try though.” The bat squeaks, lunging at the cage, almost biting the producer's hand.

Hobie's voice calls out to you, then you see a black bat with large wings rattle its cage. That's Hobie alright. “Aww,” you tease, “is it just me or you look extra adorable right now?”

‘Open the bloody door!’ Hobie telepathically screams at you, continuing to rattle at his cage. Squeaking angrily. You guess that he's starving now that he has tossed being sweet.

“In a minute.” You say, pulling out your phone to take numerous pictures of him. There's selfies of you with the angry bat, and even a group picture of the crew and bat Hobie. With one final click of the camera, you finally open the cage.

Hobie comes flying off towards your face, clinging to you, claws holding on to you and his tiny bat body covering your entire head. ‘Thank you, lovie.’ He says in your mind, his tiny fanged face nuzzling you sweetly. The camera crew takes numerous angles of the whole ordeal. ‘Take me home, ‘m hungry.’

“Will you let go of my face first?” Your voice is muffled by his fuzzy bat body.

‘nah, you're too comfortable.’

“No blood for you then.” You warn, and it works as he reluctantly moves over to your shoulders instead. ‘Fine,’ he grumbles, squeaking disappointedly.

Waving goodbye to the front desk who again stares at you all confused, you have successfully rescued your idiot vampire roommate. Placing him on your passenger seat, he shakes his head when you coax him into turning back to his form.

Jason records from the backseat, eyes flicking from you and the agitated bat. He knows exactly what's about to happen.

“What am I supposed to do? Let you drink from me again?”

There's a bout of silence, and then Hobie the bat nods his tiny head.

With a huff, you give him your hand to bite into. “One sip, Hobie, enough to turn you human.” He nods, mouth opening to take a bite. You look over your shoulder towards the camera. “Cut the fucking camera, Jason.”

Hobie sinks his teeth into you just as the camera shuts off. But not the mic though.

[the-flaming-nightmare]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you for the tag @anewkindofme! The snippet you gave for the next chapter of "The Little Monkey" was super freaking cute, and I'm so pysched for the full chapter! 🧡❤

I've been working on Regressuary in advance, and today I started working on day 9, so here's a snippet from that:

Sam made his way down to the hospital's emergency center. He'd been paged to reset the ankle of a Little who supposedly broke it from a nasty fall he took running around in the house. He hated having to reset broken bones on Littles. To see their innocent little faces contort with fear when he brought the needle out to numb them, never failed to break his heart in two. It was just another aspect of the job, though. He just had to suck up his feelings and get it done.

As the doctor drew closer to the closed curtain hanging from the ceiling that shielded his patient from prying eyes, he slowed his pace when he heard the conversation happening from behind it.

"What did I tell you about this, Jack?"

"Uh... um, th-that m'too old for baby things l-like lovies, stuffies and blankies."

"Stuffed animals and blankets, Jack."

"R-right. Stuffed animals and blankets. Sorry, Mr. Alter."

Stopping just a couple feet away from the curtain, Sam's brows furrowed in a mixture of unease and confusion as he listened.

That... wasn't a normal conversation between a Caregiver and Little. Like, at all.

Deciding to file that away for later, the doctor smoothed out his features into a casual smile. He grabbed the curtain and pulled it aside, revealing the two occupants. A little boy with short sandy blond hair sat on the examination bed with his legs hanging over the side, still dressed in his pajamas, ankle visible and bruised all to Hell. Standing next to him was a stern looking man just a couple inches shorter than Sam with short dark hair, brown eyes and a beard.

"Hello! I'm Dr. Winchester. I assume you're the Caregiver?" Sam asked, directing the question to the other man.

"Foster Caregiver. Michael Alter," he responded, reaching out and shaking the doctor's hand. "And this is Jack. Introduce yourself, Jack."

Jack met Sam's gaze with a timid smile. "Hi, Dr. Winchester. My name is Jack Kline."

"Hi there, Jack. It's very nice to meet you. Though, I am sorry it's only because you're hurt."

Jack shrugged. "It's okay. It's all my fault, anyway."

Sam just barely managed to keep the smile on his face. Something about the boy's response made that uneasy feeling in his gut heighten.

"Well, I'm sure it was just an accident, peanut. Accidents happen all the time. Right, Mr. Alter?" Sam looked over at the man with an expectant look.

Mr. Alter gave a tight smile. "Yes. Although, maybe next time we'll listen to the grown-up in charge when they tell you not to do something. Hm, Jack?"

A flinch. It was barely noticeable, but being a doctor for almost two decades, meant developing a keen eye when speaking and looking over patients. Maybe Sam was being overanalytical, but he didn't think so. There was just something about this guy and the dynamic he had with this kid that didn't feel quite right.

If y'all wanna do it too, I tag @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard and @thegoeticcleric

[puppyluver256]

[Image Description: Proton, an admin of the revived Team Rocket, with his Koffing. Proton is a man with light skin, short teal hair, and teal eyes. He is wearing a black beret, a black jumpsuit with yellow accents and a big red "R" on the chest, a white turtleneck barely visible under the jumpsuit, white arm-length gloves with red accents and matching boots, and a belt made of silver squares. He has his left (viewer's right) hand on his hip, the free hand holding a red and white Pokeball out toward the viewer. Beside him is his Koffing, a purple spherical Pokemon with a white skull and crossbones marking on its surface. It is spewing out small clouds of yellowish gas. The two are at the bottom of Slowpoke Well, a location in the Pokemon games that take place in Johto. The walls and floor are made of dingy dirt and stone, and there is a somewhat sizeable boulder on the left of the image. End ID.]

-----

“Humph... Team Rocket was indeed broken up three years ago. But we continued our activities underground. A small obstacle like you won't be much of a problem for our mission. I advise you to be very afraid of what is to come!”

Oh no, what's this?! Look like it's time to prepare for trouble and make it double! The admins of the revived Team Rocket are making their appearance, starting with Proton, who totally won't make you watch him glitch up any games because that's the wrong Proton XD

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~Likes are appreciated, but reblogs are greatly preferred as they let more people see my content! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

Team Rocket, Proton, Koffing, and other Pokemon concepts © Nintendo/GameFreak Artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

[ao3feed-thehobbit]

Scintilla

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/6kqTQpL

by Lord_Westley

(N.) A tiny, brilliant flash or spark; a small thing; a barely visible trace Love is a curious thing. Some love without reason, and others love for strength

Words: 297, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Other

Characters: Elrond Peredhel, Legolas Greenleaf

Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Reader, Elrond Peredhel/You

Additional Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Fluff, Brother Legolas, Teasing, Friendship/Love, Mutual Pining, Hope

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/6kqTQpL

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Scintilla

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bAIyFzD

by Lord_Westley

(N.) A tiny, brilliant flash or spark; a small thing; a barely visible trace Love is a curious thing. Some love without reason, and others love for strength

Words: 297, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Other

Characters: Elrond Peredhel, Legolas Greenleaf

Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Reader, Elrond Peredhel/You

Additional Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Fluff, Brother Legolas, Teasing, Friendship/Love, Mutual Pining, Hope

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bAIyFzD

[haikcuute]

I posted 1,727 times in 2022

That's 566 more posts than 2021!

12 posts created (1%)

1,715 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ princess-of-purple-prose

@ soft-cheek

@ ootasspine

@ taizi

@ unfilteredflare

I tagged 309 of my posts in 2022

#mp100 - 40 posts

#sxf - 7 posts

#my art - 5 posts

#yeah - 5 posts

#hxh - 5 posts

#naruto - 4 posts

#:] - 4 posts

#holy shit - 3 posts

#yeah. - 3 posts

#inuyasha - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#had a version of this where the lines were yellow and it was even harder to look at which i kinda wanted but i ended up liking this better

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Was looking at my ao3 stats and somehow my word count (49,662) is barely 100 away from my total hit count (49,788) and thats just a fun coincidence thats definitely not going to last haha

On that note im posting again possibly today or tomorrow so im gonna break 50k words on this accound which is exciting

5 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

#4

[ID: digital are of reigen and serizawa from mob psycho 100. They have their arms over each other's shoulders and are smiling, reigen is holding up a peace sign and looking forward while serizawa is looking over at reigen. It is colored in flat, highly saturated colors. The background is a dark pink, reigen is orange, and serizawa is purple. The whites of their eyes are left uncolored. End ID]

Gay people.

6 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#3

[ID: A digital colored drawing of Donnie and Leo from rottmnt, Donnie is crouching with his feet far apart and his knees at right angles. His arms are in a similar position as his legs out to his sides, and he is squinting and frowning intensely up at Leo. Leo is on his tip-toes, T posing and leaning over Donnie with wide eyes and a closed-mouth smile, slightly menacing and also silly. The background is a blurred screenshot of the lair. End ID]

Stanced the Fuck Up

9 notes - Posted December 8, 2022

#2

Anyway this is a Klapollo song

37 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

[ID: Two digitally drawn and simply colored pictures of Reigen Arataka. The first image shows him leaning against his desk in his office and gesturing with both hands, with a speech bubble above him containing a screenshot of a text post by comfytaire that reads: "feelings r like boogie boards. u can try and push em down under the surface but they will always and very instantly come right back up and slam u in the face. i think aristotle said that"

The second image shows Reigen standing in waist high water flailing and being knocked backwards as a boogie board splashes out of the water in front of him and slams him in the chin. He is blurred from the motion and his visible eye is drawn as an x. The boogie board is labeled "28 years of repression" and there is text above Reigen that says "100% knockout!" in all caps. End ID]

@ princess-of-purple-prose i was inspired

53 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[dbgmode]

[In view of the possible/hopefully-not pending death of cohost! and the relatively low activity level of (every/relevant) tag(s) over there, I just today set up the blog I namesquatted years back today; I am now ... probably gauchely piggybacking on this second-most-popular, more relevant post in this tag to hope to give this any reach; forgive me. I started to Blaze this shit but uh that also would be unexceptable tryhard shit... and worse! ]

a close read of the lyrics/video of "Cheerleader" by Porter Robinson

... the irony of immediately, spontaneously spending several hours doing is extremely not lost on me (and crossposting only deepens)....

(a self-xpost from /r/porterrobinson: from cohost! Deluxe edition! ( peppered with a few additional links for the chosting tumbling crowd)

[...snip...]

{The cheerleader archetype also steps specifically onto both American high school "teen movie" archetypes, and (given the use of mask etc.) probably the interpolation of that in anime I am less personally familiar with. [a big reach, but I would contend there is some possibility that there is an invocation here also of like ... homestarrunner absurdist prior art: teen girl squad, trogdor?]. (cohost and tumblr exclusive addendum!: also like ... the idea of the cheerleader as specifically the victim of masked killer in a slasher-film, here (probs not for the first time) directly-inverted.)}

Video "text" (scene by scene, interpretation-biased description):

Cast (in order of appearance):

frame-story fangirl (FSF) (or possibly femmeboy?) - sits alone in bedroom. implied a high school student.

we have what I'm not-not gonna call 2021 MGK Porter. Idk at this point if this is to be understood as being identically the "Porter weston Robinson" of the broader album cycle or is more constrained to this video. I also used the phrase "cringecore porter" elsewhere, and while I think that applies metatextually, not as much in text.

this is NOT nurture porter. nurture porter had long blond hair and wore loose-fitting clothes. nurture porter was into upright pianos, acoustic guitars, and wide-open spaces.

this porter is un-blonde, plays analog synths and electric guitar. he is on the floor of his bedroom or studio, and while outside is there in the window, he does not go there.

of not no consideration is whom I'd call "nurture Together porter" (also "happy fiance Porter" => the man is allowed to be a person outside of aesthetic choices, but I'm not gonna ignore it either). That man (who first appeared at Second Sky 2022) wore a lot of cardigans and cable knit sweaters, and had brown hair that he kept pretty short and neat. Who we see here is both not that guy (see all the "my chemical robinson comments" and yet is closer probably too that guy than he is to either early nurture era guy, late-worlds anime sadboi, or fuckboi [though ... ])

clothes:

His pants look kinda like his shirt in Get Your Wish, as well as somewhat like beetlejuice (... the musical?) and other ~harlequin figures.

The sweater is somewhere between the styles preferred by nurture-Together porter and late-worlds porter.

Shoes are ... kinda fancy? (cf. bare-feet in Get Your Wish).

His colors are red, white, AND BLACK. the cheerleaders for the most part are just red and white. (by contrast the porter from "scene 8" on is pointedly black and grey)

doll cheerleader. possibly specifically the sort of doll used for practicing pose drawing? or doing doll fashion?

other psudedo-human cheerleaders (whom we can probably assume include frame-story fangirl)

additional porters, introduced in scenes 5 - 8, no spoilers.

Scene 0 :

FSF sits alone in her room, doing her best to embody the cheerleader persona, but needing to remove the mask at least a bit to eat. it is unclear whether their hair under the mask is not visible or if it is also styled like the wig

[P.S. posted as reddit self-comment "I also missed the scene 0 important detail, that the candy is literally a chibi-porter-u head (gummy? gusher)"]

Scene 0.5:

hyperspace/cyberspace tunnel - "going down the wire", bubblegum pop logo

Scene 1:

Meet this porter. he jams alone in fairly-large room (synths, some guitar, room is inside but painted like sky. It is lit as fluorescent drop ceiling. Doll cheerleader vibes. You can see (cartoon) outside (invocative of some specific past work, maybe flicker, maybe easy; probs others), and you can also see [same size, eyes on him] ... bubblegum cat (FSF also has a cat).

zoom out through pixels of screen

Scene 2:

Karaoke amongst the cheerleaders. "Perfect!" and other text on screen invokes rhythm games as much as socializing karaoke. Everyone pretty much is signing. One has maracas. There isn't any food or booze.

Porter walks out of (behind) screen and seizes stage mic, at least initially the cheerleaders stop singing to fangirl instead.

Scene 3:

Someone (we can presume FSF) plays with a character creator, and creates (in miniature) dragon Porter. Next she builds a chibi doll of him. (Is this her OC/custom? or did it already get merchandised by e.g. Funko). It briefly stop-motions before exploding into

Scene 4:

Porter is very pop punk now. He has grown the dragon wings and tail. Both the makeup and the pink/silver confetti do remind me of _specifically_ "Tickets to my Downfall" MGK (and perhaps "congratulations" Post Malone?). Though with the blue of the walls (which sometimes have cliffs that are very "Language" video), also is evocative of a common color palette of nurture tour.

Scene 4.5 [intercut]:

FSF is literally playing out this scene in doll-house form, dropping the confetti on her figure. We see the city models preceding the next scene; she is taping this with a gorilla-podded point-and-shoot ; she is not in frame. Next to the porter-room is another much more "normal" doll-house, it doesn't match this room but ... it might have at some point? (it actually is the room from scene 8, but ... I didn't realize that when I wrote this, and neither can the first time viewer)

she picks up and moves figure to the city

Scene 5:

Dragon porter become Kaiju/Rampage porter. Doll cheerleader is here and hyped, and immediately gets stomped.

Scene 5.5:

Reality break. Kaiju porter has breached containment and is outside of FSF's window. She is initially ambiguously scared or excited but approaches the window

Scene 6:

Kaiju porter eats FSF (who is an even smaller less detailed doll/figure to him), this immediately makes him sick, probably dead. Intercut is cartoon chibi porteru (where? in the mouth/GI of kaiju porter? in the brain?)

Scene 7:

meet hot air balloon chibi porter. Note that there is someone in the basket. In wide, she does not appear to be a cheerleader, but also use of binoculars makes it unclear. In close up, she absolutely is.

The body of pom-pomed cheerleaders (who we did meet briefly earlier intercut in scene 4-4.5) form a landing target(?) with the pom-poms, briefly striped, but then chibi face.

Scene 7.5:

Once we have entered the mountains (of Sad Machine?), Porter of Scene 1 is running from but likely spotted by hot air balloon porter and his basket's occupant. The size scale is implied flipped now from scene 5-6. He seeks refuge in a doll-house-ish safe house

Basket radios to ground and her landing target is gone in pursuit/seige of porter

Scene 8 [bridge]:

FSF returns (un-eaten) to her bedroom and sits down on bed out of frame; zoom into new doll-house which is also interior of safe house. Mid-zoom, FSF removes their mask/wig, but we do not see them without it

Here porter sits also on bed, in largely undercoated (but for much smaller version of pink cat in frame), vaguely sky-blue (but no clouds, no cliffs) bedroom.

Arrangement of synths and guitars lightly suggests that _if_ this is understood from Porter's perspective rather than FSF's that he is maybe been sitting alone in dark-ish on bed the whole time.

Outfit is different from every earlier scene as well; fairly generic, but also (to me) kind of evocative of Virtual Self concert dress specifically

In wide shot, there is no one at window. In close up they press against it.

Scene 9 [chorus]:

cheerleader headbutts in and they precede to fuck up his bedroom, synths, one piece of art, before one of them tackles through the drywall

Scene 9.5:

One cheerleader is briefly alone in the scene 1 room, cat art becomes cartoon and jumps from frame, gives chase (to whom? the only one we saw enter this room was a cheerleader);

brief passage flanked by cheerleaders. shit gets trippier

Scene 10:

tracking shot down a sky space tunnel (scene 0.5) in which Porter of Scene 8 jams while a cheerleader (FSF?) and Scene 1 Porter both get spun around. Cat falls down center of that tunnel until camera is obscured.

Scene 11:

chibi porter (dressed like scene 8 porter but with the legs of dragon-doll-porter) is pursued by now giant doll cheerleader, while cheered on by roughly-same-scale dolls and video walls of selves. Also seemingly some holographic-projection cheerleaders who are holding a synth in way that almost suggests they might be playing it (keytar style) but its backwards so ... probably smashing.

Giant doll cheerleader catches and eats chibi porter. Whereas we saw the vore of scene 6 in silhouette, so we don't know how FSF felt about it. Here we dolly zoom on chibi porter who honestly: fuckin thrilled. (in start contrast to terrified expressions in the rest of scene 11)

Scene 11.5:

We (the camera) follow him down, but he is gone from view quickly. the gullet of doll-cheerleader is the cyberspace tunnel of scene 0.5 except that by strobe it is also explicitly the wall of FSF's bedroom. Not for nothing, but the effect is also Windows 95/98 maze screensaver at those times.

Scene 12:

Scene 8 porter crowdsurfs on the cheerleaders hands. Intercut flash jump-scare-ish (but no, cause context) face closeups including:

the pigeon from the window in scene 2

scene 8/12 porter's face

scene 8/12 porter wearing a cheerleader mask

low poly cgi cheerleader

real fast blinks on what probably is just porter's face in even closer-closeup, but might also include un-masked FSF? (I'm kinda loathe to do the frame-by-frame look that would tell me that or no)

Scene 12.5:

oops, crowd surfing porter became a chibi porter pinata, which is ripped apart by the hands of the cheerleaders, splling out hard candy and rock candy, like FSF had in scene 0.

Scene 13:

a single very quick, extreme closeup of FSF's candy bowl

So yeah... I don't want to over-explain (my over-description), but ... relative scales, who appears to control whom: you probably get it.

---

Video paratext:

The description on youtube here is extensive liner notes style credits. Contrast that to the overwhelmingly self-promotional and (few) lyrics description of last music video release ( do-re-me-fa-so-la-ti-do)

or the major credits and lyrics of most early nurture stuff.

I'll grant that this is a more involved production, probably, but also - I think taken with the late-nurture move to a live band show & what we think this album is about, it is both an artistic and a practical decision that this says

I DIDN'T MAKE THIS REMOTELY BY MYSELF

---

release context:

It's a Porter Robinson album first single. It is tone-setting intentionally. He (et al) picked "Sea of Voices" largely cause it was the furthest thing from (for example) 100% in the Bitch / the State - and indeed a big (if smaller, to me) contrast from Language, Easy, Say My Name.

Ditto "Get Your Wish" is not Sad Machine or Lionhearted. And pointedly it is less that aesthetic than even Something Comforting is (Look at the Sky ... idk)

So here, we are doing distortion, we are doing fairly simple analog synth patches, we are doing singing in largely-unprocessed voice. But hey, also, in the bridge, we are doing acoustic guitar - nurture porter isn't actually gone. [Also, while the arrangement works well, I think, there is an amped up section contrast that - in the context of the promotion so far to me - reads as "I know only one part of this is good for tiktok"]

This song is ... about the same things as Get Your Wish. It has a very different outlook on it. but its that, again.

So ... take that as you will.

🌈📣

---

metatextual P.P.S

posted as self-comment:

Not to suggest this is any more than happy/unhappy accident (or possibly emergent from user behaviors?), but YouTube does want to auto-play the most meta-textually appropriate thing next:

And the existence of that piece of ~fanon single art did at least passingly occur to me as relevant to Scene 0 / the frame-setting of this video.

[Additional context: this song, "A Sound for Lonely People" was a demo leaked following either the hacking of Porter's dropbox or the loss/theft of a laptop containing it. No finished version of the song was ever released (and its not clear that that was for lack of "done", lack of desire, or it being a mostly-for-self / private work of art)

His discouragement at this (and other?) leaks is a thing brought up both in both:

the "anachronistic video essay from 2028" about his disappearance on March 1st 2024, which he posted on February 29th. (but then instead dropped an album announcement. Whether there is any intention to go through with any back-scrub is tbd, but there has not been within the first 3 weeks. I might have over-reacted and yt-dlped 69gigs of stuff about it)

the tweet / 𝕏 post feigning(?) such discouragement yesterday

following the "early" release of the song to streaming services in only japan (and not other countries in the same time-zone) for a few hours( or less?)

a thing that could certainly have been genuine data entry confusion, etc. but also is speculated in the context of other album promotion to have potentially been intentional

The most popular youtube uploads of this use imagery of a person or people sitting alone in bedrooms, much like Cheerleader (twice) does]

❤️ 🍬 🫀

"to eat or be eaten"

Porter Robinson - Cheerleader

[roadkillxd]

18, cis male. What about Kurt having abandonment issues? Sometimes the reader has to remind him that he won't be abandoned, comfort him, something like that, this wouldn't be in a controlling way. They are roommates, and Kurt has a crush on the reader. Someday, the reader starts to get suspicious when he hears his name from Kurt sleeping, and to confirm if that is really true, the reader decides to talk to Kurt. This is when the fun begins. Go crazy with the kinky stuff.

Sorry if this isn't as kinky as you wanted. I didn't feel like it fit the vibe. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

↪ 2054 words — 18+ / SMUT — tw for minor somnophilia.

Content tags — cis male bottom reader / cis male top Kurt / inexperienced Kurt / experienced reader / loss of virginity, wet dreams, frotting, fingering, masturbation, penetrative sex, anal sex.

You’re sitting beside Kurt in bed, backs propped up against the pillows. He’s gently bumping your foot with his own as you two watch a movie together, an empty bag of popcorn discarded on the nightstand as the film draws closer to its end.

You readjust to lessen some strain, breaking your only point of contact with him to crisscross your legs, leaning forward on your elbows as the final scene plays. You don’t miss how Kurt glances over at you and frowns, just barely visible in your peripheral.

He remains quiet, not even looking at the movie anymore as he begins to pick at a loose string on the hem of his shorts. You sigh softly through your nose, grabbing the remote to switch the TV off. You shift to face him, but he keeps his head down.

“What’s going on with you, man?” You ask, voice low. 

Kurt looks up at you, eyes a little wide and nervous, brow furrowed. He scoffs an ingenuine laugh.

“N-nothing! See?” He gives a forced, awkward smile. “Just peachy!”

You roll your eyes.

“Kurt.”

He frowns again at your tone, looking even more dejected. He shrugs and looks away. It’s a long moment before he finally speaks again.

“I–I…I have—I had a lot of friends, you know?” He lies. You nod anyways. You know how he is. “But you’re the o-only one that’s… stuck around this long. And I guess I just…”

Your eyes widen a bit as it clicks. With how he always behaves so goofy and optimistic and almost obliviously confident, it’s easy to forget how insecure he is, especially when it comes to his relationships. You scoot closer and place a hand on his bicep, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Kurt, I’m not going anywhere, okay? I care about you,” you urge, giving him a soft smile.

“R-really?” He asks. It hurts your heart how small and disbelieving his voice is.

“Yeah, man. I’m always gonna be here for you. You’re stuck with me, now.”

He laughs, almost a giggle, flushing and turning away to fidget with the loose string again. Back to his goofy, awkward self. His bangs fall into his eyes as he smiles.

“O-okay, okay. Cool. Sor—mm, uh, sorry. Uhm…” he stutters out. 

You sigh a soft breath of relief. You glance over at the clock and groan at the time, flopping back onto the mattress. Kurt seems to take that as some sort of cue and begins to shuffle off of the bed before you reach out and grab his wrist.

He startles, looking back at you with a bright red face.

“You can sleep in here if you want. No biggie,” you shrug, casually offering. Your stomach flutters when he gives a small nod and climbs underneath the covers. You’ve always thought he was so pretty, but he never really seemed to show any interest in other men. You knew you couldn’t have him, but it was nice to pretend sometimes, laying in bed beside him.

You fumble behind you to turn the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. 

“Night,” Kurt whispers, shifting to curl up further into the blankets. You smile and murmur a small ‘night’ in return. You don’t manage to fall asleep for a long time. Instead, you stare ahead at the dark shape Kurt’s body forms in the shadows. You listen to his breathing even out, followed by the occasional cute little snore. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, but your eyes are starting to burn a bit, your eyelids heavy. You’re about to flutter into sleep when Kurt’s voice snaps you awake again.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, his voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah?” You groggily respond, trying to peer through the dark to see his face.

You get no response for a long moment. You sigh, about to fall asleep again when another noise startles you. Kurt softly moans, followed by your name again. You catch how his hips shift forward under the blankets. His fingers grip tight at the bedsheets as he starts to pant. Your eyes widen in realization, your face flushing.

You hesitantly scoot closer to him, barely letting your fronts brush. He immediately bucks his hips forward, beginning to grind against your leg. You groan low in the back of your throat at his eagerness. Your left hand comes up to cup his cheek.

“Kurt, baby, wake up,” you urge, voice just above a whisper.

He awakens slowly, eyes fluttering open. He blinks against the darkness, letting out a small whine at your body pressed to his, his cock hard and staining the front of his briefs.

“I’m s-so sorry,” he gasps out, about to shift away from you. You move your hand from his cheek down to his waist, holding him still. He looks back up at you, the moon shining against his wide, wet eyes. “Wh-what’re you…?”

“Do you want this?” You ask, hot breath blowing across his parted lips. Your faces are so close. Your thumb is rubbing little circles against his hipbone. He hesitates for a long moment. You can make out his eyes fluttering closed as he nods.

You smile, ducking down to capture his lips with your own. You kiss him slow and sweet, giving him time to adjust. He’s messy—inexperienced—but he kisses you fervently. Small, throaty little noises escape from his lips. You pull him flush to you, the both of you groaning as your clothed erections brush. 

His hands move from where they’re tucked between your bodies down to your hips. He gently pushes you back, carefully keeping your lips locked. He finally pulls away, panting, on his hands and knees above you. You smile and he laughs softly, disbelievingly. 

“I’m not…I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, nervous. 

You pull him back down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Have you ever had anything inside you, baby?” You ask, testing the waters. He shakes his head, then grimaces.

“I, well, uhm,” he clears his throat awkwardly, hips shifting. “I tried a-a…finger. Once. But it…hurt. So.”

You nod, snaking your hand down between your bodies to toy with the hem of his shorts, slipping your fingers beneath the waistband to grab his cock, giving him a few dry tugs that have him whining and burying his face against the crook of your shoulder.

You feel an incessant amount of precum leak from his cockhead, slicking up his cock as you stroke him slow and steady. You feel his prick twitch ever so slightly and pull away, grinning at the petulant whine he makes.

“How ‘bout you fuck me instead?” You murmur against his ear, using your hand to push his shorts and briefs down, using your foot to get them the rest of the way off until he’s kicking them away entirely. 

He moans and nods as his cock springs free, slapping wetly against his tummy. You quickly shuffle out of your own underwear, splaying your palm at the base of his back to pull his body down against yours, frotting your cocks together. 

He produces another small puddle of pre, the hot wetness feeling like bliss against your dick. You fumble with the bedside drawer to pull out a bottle of lube. Kurt’s too busy grinding against you to notice, clinging tight to your shoulders and whimpering. 

You slick up your fingers, arching your hips up ever so slightly to reach down, slipping two fingers into yourself. Your body gives easily to the intrusion and you moan, head thrown back as Kurt begins to suck and nibble at your neck. 

He begins to make these panting whine, hips stuttering before he comes between the both of your bodies, smearing cum across your stomachs as he continues to rut. You groan at his endurance, surely a result of being so pent up. He doesn’t even soften, just continuing to buck against you like he’s starving for it. 

You work three fingers into yourself, stretching them wide apart before deciding you’re ready. You gently tug at Kurt’s messy locks with your clean hand, prying his lips from your throat. He groans, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“C’mon, baby,” you coo, shifting so you can hitch your hips up against the top of his thighs. “Fuck me.”

Kurt glances down between the two of your bodies, seemingly apprehensive. He sits up straight, resting one of his hands on your hip, the other gripping the base of his cock to steady himself. The fleshy head of his cock presses against your hole and you involuntarily moan. Kurt lets out a little gasp at the noise, gaze flickering to your face. 

“Don’t gotta go slow,” you smile, letting out another breathy moan as he starts to press forward again, “you’re gonna feel so good inside of me, Kurt, baby, fuck.”

Kurt moans, low and drawn out as your hole gives to the intrusion, the head of his cock popping into you with a wet squelch. He gives you no time to adjust—not that you need it—before he’s pushing all the way into your wet heat.

He has both his hands on your waist now, slowly beginning to roll his hips up into you, gradually picking up his pace. 

“I-it’s so… you’re—” he gasps, hips bucking particularly hard before he pulls back out and begins to slam into you with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass as he moans. “Warm. A-and tight.”

You laugh breathily, getting caught on a groan. You have your arms above your head, arching your back until his cock rubs over your prostate on each thrust in and each pull out. Your hole is dripping with lube and precum. You reach down to take your own throbbing prick in hand, stroking it in time with Kurt’s harsh thrusts.

He pants above you, sweat dripping from his hairline and into his eyes. His hips are starting to falter, his body tired. He locks eyes with you and you give him a vicious grin, wrapping your legs around his body to pull him flush into you before using the leverage to flip the two of you.

You both gasp at the change in position, Kurt’s cock sinking that much deeper into you with the new angle. You quickly begin to rise until just the tip is inside of you before you’re dropping back down, doing your best to maintain a steady pace despite how your thighs burn in protest.

He stares up at you, enraptured. Starstruck. His mouth is slightly agape, small little moans and breathy noises escaping from past his lips. He’s pushed up slightly onto his elbows, deliriously rocking his hips up into yours as you bounce on his cock. 

Your own dick jumps with the movements and he watches it hesitantly, his face evening out a bit as he seemingly comes to a decision, reaching out to wrap his hand around it. The moan you emit makes his brain buzz. He begins to stroke you, rubbing his thumb over the head on each tug upwards as you’d done for him. 

“I love you,” he gasps out. You groan deeply, feeling your prick twitch in his hand.

“Love you, too, Kurt, oh God—”

He comes nearly without warning, the only sign being the hitch in his breath. He keens loud and long as he finishes, filling your sore, used hole with his hot seed. You can almost feel it spurt out inside of you, warming your insides. You moan at the sensation, hunching forward as you come only seconds after him, painting his belly in even more release.

You take a moment to catch your breath. Your eyes flutter open to see Kurt staring up at you, doe-eyed and mouth agape. You chuckle and lean down to kiss him, whining at his soft cock slipping from your hole, his cum swelling at your entrance as it begins to dribble out and down your balls. 

You lay your weight onto him and he grunts, cringing at the tacky feeling of cum drying between your stomachs. You shift slightly to move to the side and he wraps his arms tight around you. You smile against his throat.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kurt.”

“O-okay,” he murmurs, and then, after a long pause: “I know you aren’t.”