#pens over swords

[brahmaninandigam]

And when the bleeding stops, and the cuts get healed, the scars become a story of Bravery. Of how they've survived the cruelty of the Swords. 

So I decided. To pierce hearts with Words.  Wounds, invisible. Healing, Impossible!!

[blueskittlesart]

foxboy has been forcibly made ambidextrous due to blueskittles' forgetfulness

all characters are ambidextrous when im writing them (< guy who doesnt know the difference between left and right)

[genericpuff]

vent post

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

here! Have a sketch of sun :D

[always-a-joyful-note]

The thing about ORV that makes it so compelling is that they really took "the pen is mightier than the sword" seriously. Which is concerning because YJH kills a LOT of people with that sword and Han Sooyoung is the wielder of the pen....

[deleetrix]

Traitor!

[volivolition]

19 and 26 for the handwriting ask meme? ^^

hi anon!!! ^^!!! for you for you <33

[breitzbachbea]

Will my heart stop pounding?

The dark of the staircase, no light in the terraced house's corridor, all doors closed as he left them. Outside, he could hear Colin drive off.

"I'm sorry you have to do this," he had told him, embarassed, as he sat on the backseat. "You have better things to do."

"Oh, it's no bother," he had told him, Antrim accent thick. "I'll gladly keep you safe."

Keep him safe while he fooled around. Aye, that's all this was. Fooling around. Feeling alive. Make the seconds left on this earth actually precious.

It was burnt into his mind, Michele lascivous among the sheets, on his side, so deliberately covering his lower half while he showed off his chest. Sweaty and ruffled from their frotting, shifting, bodies never close enough to satisfy the ache.

A shudder ran through him. Thank God, Soph was in Armagh.

"I'm going to be cold here," Michele said. "Wither like the trees outside."

"It's not September yet," Harry had replied while he buckled his belt.

Only the rustle of sheets. "I am gonna miss you."

"Only for a few hours," Harry found himself reassuring what had to be described as his lover.

"Already too much. I'll lie here in the morning and still remember your body next to me, only to find a cold and empty spot." All said in a tone that did not betray true, deep sadness. All a ploy to get him out of his clothes again and under the covers. A Siren call.

"I don't want to cause trouble, that's all, Michele." He did walk over to the bed again, crawled onto it to kiss the man. And by god, what a kiss, what a sweet experience to have the other linger on his lips, suck in the bottom one, taste him with the tip of his tongue and oh so gently release him. "Your hotel's too fancy for that."

Michele made a sound of disbelief at that, something between a purr and a tut as he ran his fingers through Harry's hair, oh so slowly and deliberate. "You don't care for trouble to get what you want, Signor O'Connel."

"Aye, I do a bit," he lied. "I've also got other stuff to do tomorrow before our meeting. You know that, Darling."

"I do." Michele breathed against his lips, Harry's heart pounded in his ears. But Michele only sighed and Harry swallowed, able to rip himself away. Only then Michele said: "One last kiss goodnight, per piacere, carinu."

Could not deny him that. Of course not. Head tilted, their lips matched perfectly, as he pushed his tongue into Michele's mouth to let it linger, let it flick against the other's, let it be some all too temporary unity.

Finally off the bed and almost at the door, he heard: "Buonanotte, Beddu. Sogni d'Oro. Dream of me."

Harry was weak in his knees as he leant against his front door, eyelashes fluttering and heart hammering worse against his ribcage than a rival during a Hurling match.

Michele huddled into the sheets, the dull golden eyes half-open, deep and perfectly tanned skin glowing against the white sheets. The curve of his body underneath them, outline of flesh and bone, soft skin, a beautiful soft, giving, round arse, those supple thighs, the waist he just wanted to lay hands on --

He sucked in air through his nose and tried to ground himself, deep and irregular breaths through his mouth. God, when was the last time he'd been so alive? The last time someone had been so burnt into his mind's eye? Hannah, perhaps, but he had not once allowed himself to indulge in that. Forbidden, wrong, pointless it had felt.

He stumbled up the stairs and clung to the railing. Doing shit, his hole. He hoped he would catch any sleep at all, his bed so empty and cold. It was the end of August.

[kiss-anon]

Life update/why crocheted plush clone pictures have temporarily stopped for a while.

For anyone that doesn’t know, back in November my family had a sudden loss of my uncle and now I’m helping my dad with emptying, fixing, cleaning, and going through the house he lived in, which my grandparents lived in for many years before they also passed not so long ago. The house needs a lot of work, I can’t even begin to describe it. We put in a lot of work up until late January/February then had to stop for various reasons. I had some time for myself, so I made the plush clones.

Now, we’re back to working on the house. It’s… overwhelming to say the least. Every room and even the yard is also very overwhelming on their own. Think along the lines if neglected hoarder house with multiples of big furniture items. The majority of the work is up to me and my dad. Also, for anyone that doesn’t know, I compete in a weightlifting sport, and I have a competition next month that I’m trying to train for at the same time.

So I will unfortunately not be able to make many more plush clones and take pictures of them consistently. I’ll do my best to post some, I enjoy making things for them and sharing that with you all! I shall be lurking, though!

Thanks for reading this far!

Pen and Sword, my dears!

Love,

💋 anon

[hearty-an0n]

card spread for the game: page of swords, knight of pentacles, nine of cups (reversed)

[betrayingcrown]

/ the barnabas brainrot is real and its so so bad

[reineyday]

it’s been long enough i’m making an executive decision that we all need to go reread the tgi fridays infinite mozzarella sticks article

[invincibledc]

IMAGINE (baby al ghul-Wayne twins)

Damian is in his play pen, having a you sword mean while you are in your own play pen. Damian is actually on punishment, his punishment? Being away from you. Damian looks through the fences of his play pin, getting angry with a huff as he sees you frowning. Dick was out doing his day shift at the police station, Jason was in the library of the manor meanwhile Tim was watching the two trouble makers. Tim starts to notice Damian getting fussy with a red face of angry on his brown skin. You noticed too as you babbled the words “baba…” that’s when Damian snapped and started to scream. Scream and scream. Alerting the tired boy who got up quick to calm down the small boy who seemed to slap Tim’s face.

100% attack, 0% damage mostly as Tim just sighed. You started to cry as well, not liking the loud sounds of your twin crying. Damian cried louder at your cries. He started to kick his feet in his onesie, Tim wanted to coo the boy to sleep. But it wouldn’t work. So Tim had to put him beside you.

Immediately Damian stopped crying, tear stains his chubby cheeks as he lays his head on your small lap. Huffing. You stop crying as well. Getting tired from crying yourself as you blink slowly. You lay down with your stuff toy as Damian just keeps his eyes wide. Staring at Tim, daring him to take him away from his twin.

Tim awkwardly calls Jason over for his turn to watch the double trouble. Tired of feeling the baby’s glare on him as you sleep peacefully.

[modawg]

guys i know we all talk abt how sally would react to percy’s tattoo but like

what abt his scars from tartarus😟

like could you imagine the last time you see your son yk he’s got some cuts and scars but he doesn’t wear a shirt when he’s swimming maybe he wears a muscle tee on occasion maybe sometimes on hot summer days when the AC doesn’t work he doesn’t really wear a shirt at all bc he’s at home with his family and he’s a teenager who gives af

then he’s gone for like 7ish months and when he gets back suddenly everything’s different he’s always covered up never really wanting to show off and you don’t really understand until he’s sleeping on the couch and his shirts a little disheveled so you walk over to fix him up and put a blanket on him and maybe take a pic bc that’s your son and you notice smth pinky and puffy on his skin so you lift it up a little further and he has claw marks stab marks deep cuts everywhere

up until this point you leave everything up to him what he wants to tell you when he wants to tell you or even if he ever will tell you

he wakes up screaming having trouble breathing he sobs into your arms when you go to his room and even when he falls asleep at the dining room table while attempting to study he wakes up holding the closest pen to him like a sword

7 months of his life blipped away and this is how he comes back :( like that’s so sad

added angst

[marinetteplztakeabreak]

> Okay but what’s the point of the fun glitter pen if Tomoe can’t even read it 💀 gotta make that note out in braille

@frizzielizzy

Didnt clarify this before but the note isn’t even for tomoe’s benefit it’s for The Public so they know there’s A Warrant… ladybug is just high key blackmailing tomoe on main but its fine because paris is a totalitarian state run by an absolute monarch (mayor) and bustier is like “yeah ladybug’s right you should treat your kids with love and respect” so the police arent allowed to stop her. I love ml

Now that Félix is on Team Miraculous and has the Official endorsement of Ladybug, what if he just, got a warrant from her or whatever. Idk if that’s the right word. But like. What if he showed up at Mme. Tsurugi’s front door in full Argos gear in broad daylight and was like “hello, I’m here to pick Kagami up for a silly little school theater date! Off to paint some sets and be goofy and fun!” And if Tomoe tried to be like “no get away you villain, you bad influence” he could be like “actually i have a permit” and it’s a note in glitter pen that’s like “Kagami is allowed to have fun and kiss her weird little peafowl boyfriend whenever she wants to. Also we can easily implicate you with hawkmoth’s crimes we have plenty of evidence we’re just holding it back out of hope you’ll be nicer. do not test us. i will know if you say anything mean to kagami i have eyes everywhere you had better treat her like she’s precious Or Else. look what happened when gabe mistreated adrien. XOXO ladybug” and then like a string of hearts in various glitter pens. I think that would be worse torture for tomoe than simply putting her in jail. And it would be fun. For me

[beloveds-embrace]

The club was packed, music pumping loud enough to shake the walls. Neon lights flickered, casting colorful patterns over the crowd. You and your friends were tucked away in a booth, a lineup of empty cocktail glasses crowding the table. Your cheeks were flushed, your grin wide as you leaned forward to make yourself heard over the noise.

“Okay, hear me out,” you said, propping your chin on your hand. Your voice was just loud enough to carry to the bar. “Men? Objectively hotter when they’re naked and oiled up.”

Your friends burst into laughter, but you looked at them seriously, waving your hand for emphasis. “No, no, I mean it. Like… you ever see those Roman gladiator movies? Tell me they wouldn’t look a hundred percent better if they were shirtless, shiny, and- oh!- a sword in hand. Maybe some sandals.” Giggling, along with your friends and knocking back another drink- unaware of your audience.

“Seriously,” you continued, clearly on a roll now. “Take any man in this club right now. Slap some oil on him, get the shirt off- instant upgrade. Like, boom. Ten out of ten. Better if- if they are big boys, you get me?”

One of your friends wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, though another was eagerly nodding along with you. “What if they’re hairy, though?”

You sighed dreamily, face in your hands. “Then they’re rugged. Sexy lumberjack vibes. Just got- gotta make sure the oil isn’t flammable if they’re near candles.”

You leaned back, sighing dramatically. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. Clothes are fine. But there’s just something primal about a shiny, shirtless-“

“Excuse me,” a man- big, Mohawk-ed, hot- interrupted, suddenly standing next to your table, grinning ear to ear. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but did I hear somethin’ about shirtless, oiled-up men? Because, lass, I feel personally attacked.”

Your friends gasped, and you blinked up at him, realizing only now that the four absolute units from the bar you’d seen earlier were all looming near your booth. Mohawk looked like he was enjoying himself far too much, while two others were trying (and failing) to keep straight faces. Dude with a mask, meanwhile, stood with his arms crossed, unreadable except for the faint shake of his shoulders.

You squinted at Mohawk, not quite processing his words. “Who are you?Are you volunteering?”

“Name’s Johnny.” Johnny barked out a laugh, leaning against the edge of your table. “And only if you promise to rate me a ten outta ten after.”

Your friends dissolved into laughter again, and you, emboldened by the alcohol, smirked up at him. “You bring the oil, and I’ll bring the scorecards, handsome.”

“Well,” Johnny said, straightening up and giving you a wink. “You’ve got taste, lass. I’ll give you that.”

“You know what else I got? Your number,” you grinned, standing up on wobbly legs and offering him your palm and a pen you procured from who-knows-where. “Write it, big boy!”

“How about you give me yours?” Johnny winked at you, steadyinh you. Oh, his hand was wonderfully big and steady. “This round of drinks on us, too, yeah?”

And well, who are you to refuse? Especially when you do believe he can be a full ten out of ten naked and oiled-up?