#purple and green is good and I WILL die on this hill

[thesecondface]

year 3 phd here we go baby

on the other. just came back from the lake district (field trip with the undergrads) and the lecturers leading the trip all brought me back samples of lamprophyre while I was traipsing round and sliding off hills in the rain (i love nature... nature does not love me. lamprophyres in a space both entirely accessible yet uniquely deadly for the likes of me). absolutely devastated by this sweetness. what good eggs

[familyvideostevie]

you have me, you have me only

joel miller x reader you get (minorly) injured on patrol. joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a jesse cameo, joel being joel, all that good stuff. | 4.2k a/n: part of the just and just as verse. not too soft but not too angsty, either. just another day after the end of the world, you know? thank you @mrsmando for your eyes on this! <3

___

"Almost there," you mutter. "Fuck."

The icy winter wind dulls the stinging in your palms to a numbness. The leather gloves you've had for half a decade stay tucked in your pockets. You don't want to ruin their lining with dirt and blood.

"How's the head?" 

Jesse pulls up alongside you in a trot. The adrenaline from your patrol-gone-wrong pulses heavy at the top of your spine, your vision sharp and the whole world a little too loud around you as Jackson comes into view at the bottom of the hill. Your head, like the rest of you, throbs.

"I'll live."

He scoffs and his horse snorts as if agreeing with him. In truth, you're more pissed than injured, though it certainly looks like you lost a fight. Jesse's cheekbone will no doubt bloom purple tomorrow and his lip is still bleeding sluggishly. His jeans are splattered with gore, same as yours.

"Thanks for back there," he says.

You shrug and wince when it pulls at the skin of your side where you fell. 

"You, too," you tell him with a grimace. "That was quick thinking with the brick."

You like him -- he's good at his job and he's a good friend to Ellie. You know Tommy and Maria are not-so-subtly training him to run this place someday if he wants to. As a patrol partner, you can't ask for much better. He knows all the routes and he's a good shot and his mom knows everything there is to know about everyone in town and sometimes he passes tidbits on to you.

But knowing your shit doesn't mean a damn thing in this world, sometimes. You can still get ambushed by infected on patrol and it can still fuck up your day.

He waves you off. "I just can't believe an elk chose our station to fucking die in."

"Tommy is going to shit himself when you tell him," you laugh. It pulls at your ribs. God, is there any part of you that didn't take a beating?

"He'll just be pissed he wasn't here."

Your horses reach the bottom of the hill and Jesse hesitates, the green scrap of cloth in his hand. The red one indicating an injured party peeks out from his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the clinic?"

"I'm fine," you say firmly. "I can patch up at home."

He eyes the cut on your forehead and your scraped palms but caves under your glare and waves the green flag.

"Joel makes the same face," he mutters. "Ellie does, too. Freaky."

The gates open and you grunt when you get off your horse, palms back to stinging.

"Joel's two expressions are pissed and annoyed," you say. “Not hard to pick one up.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead and it comes back tacky with blood. "Fuck."

"I don't think you'll need a stitch." Jesse holds his hand out for your patrol rifle and pats the neck of your horse. "I'll debrief and get these guys settled. You go home."

Normally, you'd protest. But you really just want to take a hot shower and sleep for twelve hours, so you nod and shoulder your pack carefully.

"Make sure you tell Tommy about beating a stalker to death with a brick," you call over your shoulder. "He'll be impressed."

Jesse laughs.

Snow crunches under your boots on the way home. Fuck, you're exhausted. The adrenaline fades with each step and the aches become sharp pains. There aren't too many people out today on account of the cold but you nod and wave, ignoring the double takes at the blood on your clothes.

It'll be a pain in the ass if you can't patch the ruined knees of your jeans. Maybe you can convince Joel to carve something for the woman down the street who can sew better than anyone in town. Finding new pants is damn near impossible.

You’re practically dragging your feet by the time you reach your house. The mailbox labeled Miller, the wind chimes gently swaying on the porch, all of it puts you at ease. You made it home.

The porch steps groan as you climb them and the front door opens from the inside as you reach the top. Joel steps out, hand still on the knob when he looks up and sees you. His eyes widen.

He was on patrol today, too. You left at the same time but he had a shorter route and must have gotten back a while ago.

"Are you coming to meet me?" you say with a grin that's genuine despite the way your body pulses with pain. He does this sometimes -- milling around the gate, chatting with people on the wall as he waits for you to return. You never really feel like you're home until you see his face.

Joel does not smile back. His eyes rake over you the same way he surveys a room, cataloging all of the important things. The gash on your temple, the rips in your jeans, the way you're favoring your left side. The blood, too -- it's everywhere, you're sure. Palms, knees, collar. Jesse helped you wipe your face before you rode back so that you could see without blood in your eyes, but you must look pretty fucking rough.

"Jesus," he says. His hand twitches like he's going to reach for you. "You okay?"

"I'll be better when I'm not standing out in the cold."

His nostrils flare and he heads back into the house, you on his heels. You dump your pack and sit down heavily on the bench to take off your boots. Joel beats you to it, lowering to one knee with a slight groan, fingers working at your laces.

Normally he'd ask how patrol was, how Jesse did, if you saw anything interesting. Instead, his cheek twitches like he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He unties your double knots with practiced ease and his silence fills the entryway of your house.

In another life, the sight of him on one knee would set your heart aflutter. As it is, you want to run a hand through his hair and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. You know him and this is how he handles it -- he chews on blame that doesn't belong on his shoulders until he can fix it.

"I'm fine," you say softly. You open and close your hands, resting them on your knees. You got most of the gravel out but there's dirt and god knows what else embedded in the tender flesh. Joel pulls off one boot with a firm hand on your calf and then the other before finally looking up at you.

"You wanna explain...this, then?"

His hand waves up in your general direction. There's no tremble in his palm but his brows are furrowed, his shoulders set in that way of his, like he's bracing for bad news. You have a rule about not lying to each other. So if you say you're fine, you're fine. Achey, bloody, and gross, sure. But you made it home in one piece and now you'll let him take care of you and he has to be okay with that.

But you don't mind reassuring him. He worries, and you know the feeling.

You shrug and fail to hide your wince. Joel wraps a hand around your ankle and squeezes lightly.

"I've had worse," you say. "I'll tell you about it if you patch me up."

He softens a little and sighs. It won't do anything to remind him that he can't go back in time and stop you from getting hurt. Joel knows he can't fix everything, can't keep everyone he loves away from harm, can't save the world. Won't, if it comes at the expense of the people in his heart.

But you can give him something to do -- a way to make it better. You could probably bandage your hands and your forehead and the rest on your own but it'll help him just as much as you if he does it.

Life in this world is a constant give and take. You have to be okay with some things, with cuts and bruises and ruined clothes if it means you survived. There's no safety, not anymore.

"Alright, c'mon," he says, standing with a groan. "Upstairs, 'fore you bleed on the furniture."

He holds out a hand for you to stand but you show him your mangled palm. Joel clicks his tongue and grips your forearm gently instead as you rise.

"Gotta clean that," he says.

"That's the plan." You leave your coat and pack behind in a heap and head for the stairs. "A hot shower sounds so fucking good right now."

Joel stops you with a hand on your elbow and you turn on the bottom step. He traces the cut on your forehead with light fingers and you try not to wince.

"Shower," he says.  "I'll patch you up after." His tone leaves no room for argument.

You ghost your fingertips along his jaw and smile at him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Miller, sir."

More tension melts from his shoulders and he rolls his eyes at you. You laugh all the way to the bathroom, even though it hurts a little.

It's been a while since one of you returned from patrol with any sort of injury. Winter means the hoards are sluggish and easy to track and tends to keep groups of people from coming to the valley and making trouble. Today was bad luck and could have been much worse.

You both know how quickly all of the good in your lives can be snatched away. Everyone does.

But you just can't dwell on it. Joel knows it, too, and letting him fuss over you in that way of his will remind him. You're home. You're okay.

You leave the bathroom door cracked as you shower under the gentle spray. Your various injuries sting but you manage to clean the scrapes on your knees and hands and wash the blood from your skin and hair, the water rusty brown as it swirls around the drain. 

Joel knocks when you're almost done and the hinges groan when he steps into the bathroom.

"Leavin' you clothes," he says, voice raised so you hear over the spray. "You okay?"

"Still alive," you call back. "Almost done."

The water starts to turn lukewarm so you switch off the stream and drag back the curtain. Joel is nowhere to be found but he's left you loose shorts so your knees are exposed and a big, faded graphic t-shirt that you brought home for him as a joke last year as well as fresh underwear and warm socks. You gently pat your skin dry with an old and scratchy towel and do your best with your hair before sliding them on. 

Joel knocks again and this time he has the bag with all of your first aid stuff in his hands. The steam from your shower rushes out into your bedroom and you shiver.

He jerks his chin at the counter. "Wanna get up there?"

You haul yourself up with a groan and he stands between your knees, arms crossed and head cocked.

"What're we dealin' with, here?"

You look down at your messy palms and rattle off what hurts.

"Cut on my forehead, bruised rib, probably, fucked up hands and knees, and..." You look up and find Joel running a hand down his face. "That's it."

"You sure?"

You glare at him. He glares back. His eyes drift to your forehead gash.

"Cut could use a stitch." 

He's still tense, you can tell, probably will be until he wakes up tomorrow and you're still next to him in bed. Until the wounds turn to scabs turn to scars. Maybe not even then.

"I think I've had enough cuts over the years to know what needs a stitch."

His eyebrows rise just a little bit, turning his expression from interrogative to exasperated, but he knows better than to tell you to do something when you’ve set your mind against it.

"They're offerin' medical degrees on the Creek Trails, now?"

"Joel."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Let me feel your ribs."

You raise your arms a little and he slides his palms under your shirt and up your torso, pressing gently as he goes. Braless as you are, he brushes the underside of your breast, and your breath hitches. His eyes are soft with quiet amusement but he doesn't tease you.

"Your hands are warm," you murmur. He reaches the place on your side that took the brunt of the impact and you hiss.

"Sorry," he says. "Doin' real good. Deep breath for me." You obey and he withdraws, satisfied.

"Nothin' broken," he says.

"Told you."

He hums and pulls out the precious few disinfectant wipes from your first aid kid. You can get Joel to do a lot of things just by asking, but arguing with him about wasting supplies on you never works. He washes his hands in the sink and glares are you like he knows what you’re thinking.

"Forehead first, then hands, then knees," he says. "Okay?'

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. He grips your face with gentle fingertips to keep you still.

"How was your patrol?" you ask him.

He makes a noise low in his throat that's halfway to being a laugh.

"C'mon," he says. "You don't want to hear about mine. I know you're dyin' to tell me what happened."

The alcohol wipe stings as he swabs at your forehead and you tense. Joel's thumb rubs slow circles at the corner of your mouth and you press your knees into his hips.

Funny how you've had broken bones, been stabbed, shot, pretty much everything over the last twenty years but it's the small stuff that hurts the most. Stubbed toes, sliced fingers, alcohol wipes on shallow wounds. Some things just don't change.

"Okay," you say. "Well, you'll never believe it, but a damn elk decided to die in the station where the logbook is."

You tell him how you and Jesse rode up and saw the blood trail immediately and heard the moans and groans. You kept the horses on the other side of the fence and checked the first floor and the overlook, but the elk had weaseled its way under the collapsed staircase.

It smelled like death, rust and decay heavy in the air. The animal must have died just after the last patrol.

But it wasn't the problem. It was the group of Infected it attracted -- two runners and four stalkers. You have no idea where they came from but, since you were on patrol, the priority was eliminating them. The runners were easier, although one of them was responsible for the gash on your forehead when it managed to push you into the wall. You and Jesse cleared them quickly, one bullet each.

You thought you got all of the stalkers. One of them was munching on the carcass and went down fairly easily with your good aim. Jesse helped you clean your forehead so you both could clear the passage to get to the upper level and sign the logbook. The corpses went over the side of the station into the forest below. The Infected had eaten so much of the elk that it wasn't too heavy, though you both were sweating and dirty by the time you finished.

"Lemme guess," Joel says. You open your eyes as he carefully pulls the wound closed with two butterfly bandages before he gestures for your hand. He holds your wrist gently and tilts your palm side to side, looking for dirt. "There were infected inside the station, too."

"Look at you," you tease. His eyes flick to yours for just a second, intense as always. "It's like you were there."

"Smartass," he grumbles. The disinfectant stings on your palm, too, but you keep talking and keep your gaze on his face.

"Jesse climbed the rope up to the control room first but had to fend off a stalker at the top so he didn't see when another one grabbed my ankle and pulled me down mid-climb, which fucked my hands. The fall is how my rib got bruised and I tore up my knees fending it off."

Joel's cheek twitches. He wraps one of your palms in gauze and turns his attention to the other.

"Fuckin' hate those things."

"Me, too. When I got to the top, finally, Jesse was tugging a pipe from the head of a corpse. There was one more -- it jumped out of that supply room on the side, the one where Ellie found a bong, once, I think. I dodged it but my gun jammed and my hands were bleeding."

"Should've been wearing gloves."

You tap his leg with your foot and ignore him. Not taking your bait about the bong means he’s still pissed. "And then Jesse killed it with a brick."

"I taught him that," Joel grumbles.

He ties off your other palm and as soon as he's done you frame his face. Joel allows it, allows you to stare at him for a few seconds like you're memorizing him. You're telling the story like it was a fun adventure -- and it was. You're plenty capable and he knows it, too.

But you were scared. You don't tell him that right now, instead grounding yourself in the man in front of you. His hands are rough and dangerous to most, but tender and careful to you. The broad, firm line of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit.

The gash on the bridge of his nose, the lines at the corners of his eyes. His beard, greyer every year. You swipe your thumbs along his cheekbones and he sighs.

"Lucky me," you say softly.

You lean in to kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. His wide palms rest on your bare thighs and he kisses back with a kind of desperate firmness, as if he's proving to himself that you're real. That you're here in front of him, under his hands, in his care.

Joel drags his lips along your cheek.

"Knees," he says.

He steps back and releases your thighs with a squeeze. He treats more of your torn skin, a frown back on his face.

"I do want to hear about your patrol, by the way."

He shrugs. "Not much to tell," he says. "Didn't even get to shoot anythin’.”

You swing your foot back and forth, tapping the side of his thigh with every pass.

"But you had the nice route," you whine. "Tell me what the lake looked like."

"Quit distracting me," he grumbles.

"Like you don't have the steadiest hands in all of Jackson," you say softly.

He snorts. "Are you flirtin' with me?"

"I'm always flirting with you, Joel Miller."

You lied to Jesse earlier -- Joel has hundreds of expressions. He just keeps most of them for you. For Ellie, and Tommy, too. You know every one of them by now.

The look on his face now says he's thinking about kissing you again, maybe just to shut you up.

You grin at him. "Tell me about your patrol, now, seriously. Unless talking and using your hands at the same time is too much for you."

He smirks back. "Think we both know that ain't true."

"Now who's flirting?"

Lazy heat curls in your belly but fatigue stops it from turning into anything. Joel must see that in your eyes because he simply taps your chin with a knuckle and starts talking.

You start to slump as his Texas drawl wraps around you. He tells you how the lake was still, how he and Astrid saw bear tracks but no bear. How he found a tape for Ellie that he's going to give her tomorrow, how he wore his gloves today like you've been telling him to.

Some people might say that Joel is a man of few words. You thought he was the quiet type when you first met him, another stoic survivor in a world that demands hardness of everyone. But not shy, never shy. Just...waiting. Watching.

He and Ellie can shoot the shit for hours -- a dynamic they've fallen back into easily enough since they started spending time together again. He's funny, he's clever, he's annoying as shit when he wants to be.

And Joel is quite the storyteller. If you had to guess you'd say it comes from having to entertain Tommy when they were kids, from getting Sarah into bed on his own over and over. Keeping Ellie occupied, keeping her talking when things were scary and hard and fucking awful.

It's just another way he takes care of people.

"Still with me?" he says. You realize your eyes have closed. When you open them you find Joel looking at you with tenderness and a spark of amusement. The tense line of his shoulders is nowhere to be seen. "All done. Tired?"

"And hungry."

He washes his hands and throws away the various wrappers and blood-stained wipes.

"Sure you're awake enough to eat?" he teases.

You roll your eyes at him. He laughs.

"Joel," you say, catching his elbow. "Thank you."

"C'mon, now."

He looks like he wants to argue with you for saying it but reaches for you instead. He traces the cut on your forehead just like he did at the bottom of the stairs, brow drawn again. You can't tell what he's thinking as he drags his thumb down and around your eye, cupping your cheek fully for just a breath before releasing you and stepping towards the door.

"I'll heat some soup."

Dinner is quick and quiet, your energy sapped from you to the point of exhaustion. Everything aches, despite Joel's thorough care. When he suggests turning in early you don't protest.

He takes longer than you to get ready for bed. You slide under the worn duvet and wait, trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your bruised ribs throb in time with your heartbeat and when Joel finally turns off the light and gets in bed next to you in his threadbare sleep pants he practically hauls you into his embrace.

You go willingly, tangling your legs and laying your head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You press your palm to his chest, fingers threading in the coarse hair. His heart thuds and it grounds you.

"I didn't get any good gossip off Jesse," you whisper. "On account of the whole surprise-infected thing."

He yawns. "S'pose it's a good excuse."

"Can I tell you something else?" you whisper. "A secret?"

Joel hums, lips brushing your temple as his hand snakes up your sleep shirt to press against your lower back.

Even though you know each other down to the bones, some things remain inexplicable. Parts of your pasts that linger in the darkest parts of you, the parts that stay shrouded until the moments like this. You don't have to be brave in the quiet hours of the night, entwined with him as you are. It's the safest place you'll ever be. Safe enough that you can crack open and let Joel in, let those steady and worn hands keep you together.

"I was scared today," you say into his neck. "When the stalker dragged me off the rope. I panicked, I --"

You don't tell him how your initial thought when you hit the ground was of him, how you closed your eyes tight and thought of your name from his mouth, of his smile when you come through the door. The stalker had its bony fingers digging into your ankle and you wondered if you'd ever feel Joel's hands on you again.

Death will come for you sooner or later and when it does it'll be Joel's face that you hold in your mind before it all ends.

But today, you kicked death until its stupid fucking mushroom skull caved in.

Joel presses his lips to your temple. You can feel his heart beating faster, as fast as yours. It's the only thing that betrays his own fear.

Wounds in this life often go deeper than the skin. When Joel comes home with bloody knuckles and shuttered eyes it's one thing to stop the bleeding, to bandage him and get him to eat something. It's another to hold him, to coax out the story, the fear. To follow him downstairs when he has a nightmare, to look for him in every room. It's all part of what you do as partners, as lovers, as people in this world. You take care of each other.

Neither of you can fix a lot of things. But you can ensure the scars heal into something light, something you can barely see.

You can hold each other in the dark.

"Scared me, too," he rasps. A secret for a secret. "Lotta damn blood."

You kiss the underside of his jaw. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Joel pulls you closer, somehow, mindful of your side.

"Rest, now," he says. "You ain’t goin' anywhere."

It's a command, a promise. You hum your agreement and let sleep drag you under.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[daenystheedreamer]

faith dashboard simulator

💙 maidenlover Follow

its actually so faithphobic that so called "friends of rhaena" have appropriated maiden devotion... it sexualises a very personal relationship with a real facet of the seven that many of us have ACTUALLY DEVOTED OUR LIVES TO

⚢ rhaelissatruther

girl you forgot to private your likes you're one of us

💎 mothermaidenhoe

🕯️traedwyfe Follow

🎶 red orange yellow green blue indigo purples in the sky

summer's in the air and baby, seven heavens' in your eyes 🎶

#the rainbow faith #rainbow not rhaena #laena of dell rae AKA the lady bard #dollaette #coqaette #faithofthesevenedit #please i'm a star #septa urge #lady manipulator #light acaedaemia

⚔️ knightofthefaith

FUCK they're sending me to be the septon of the night's watch... girl you know what they do to sexy slender wide eyed septons like myself!!!

#PRAYING theyre sexy murderers not uggo ones... manifesting

⭐️ brideofhugor Follow

No. You know what? F*** Y'ALL.

As many of you know I have recently been assigned to a certain castle in the stormlands and have been aiding the maester in reorganising the large library.

I just found several illuminated manuscript of an er*tic nature detailing s*xual acts of septas and septons. Including one of Hugor (blessed he be) Himself.

I don't expect much of you SINNERS (we all know of the recent poll circulating...) but sexualising those who devote themselves to loving only the gods... and crucially making the choice to remain celibate in this mission... the audacity. Enjoy the Seven Hells!

🫦 swordinyourstar

im gonna go to a septry fuck all those bald brothers so hard the hair in their tonsures grow back cos my seed is THAT strong

#why are they called holy brothers if im not supposed to fuck their holes

🔘 old-friends-senior-seven-septry-deactivated-101AC

I just want to get dicked down again =/

🌠 faith-struggle-posts

official faith struggle post

🌟 starrysepta

i do finally feel at home finally out of my noviciate and as a full septa of the faith but they do NAWT tell you how catty your sisters will be... they sent me to a motherhouse in the WESTERLANDS just outside of lannisport 💀 if another one of these fake bitches tries currying favour with house lannister im gonna get myself sent to the silent sisters.

🌟 starrysepta

beheading myself omg another suspiciously blonde-haired green-eyed hill surname haver has joined the noviciate please mother above get me reassigned to the vale id rather risk getting stolen by a mountain clansmen over having to deal with this whore

#girl he's not gonna legitimise you #and she's having an affair with the laybrother too but like whatever im not a lickspittle

🪽 rivermaiden

the mother of my motherhouse 100% got dicked by our local lord back in the day maybe now too and its ruining my life. she keeps speaking in metaphors about the warrior entering the maiden and its making everyone soooo uncomfortable. AND he's the lord of a certain castle in the riverlands stars with h ends in arrenhal and i swear he's bringing the fucking demons into our sept everytime he visits

#cryyyyingggg i survived the riverlands for one-and-twenty years only to die of blood curse cos knights love chasing septa pusswah omg cant have shit in the riverlands

🌈 septa-septon-suggestions Follow

forever hoping that the light of the seven will one day shine over all westeros ✨

🍁 hearttreehugger Follow

don't go near any weirwoods bitch im watching you 👁️

[evilminji]

The House of Mysteries is Arguably Sentient Right?

(O.O ) I sit here... contemplating the... WEIRD Ghosts Danny might come across. The true Haunted Houses. Planets. Theaters. Boxes bigger on the inside. Living ships and A.I.s, Etc.

All things can die. If the house of mysteries is someday utterly destroyed? Is that not death? If the Planet and Green Lantern Mogo is broken to pieces like non-sentient Krypton was, has he not perished?

Do they not stand equal chance of become Ghosts?

Are.... Are Haunts even created? Or are they a symbiotic ghost relationship? The dual fulfilling of Obsession. A house, properly haunted and taking care of someone. And a Ghost, watching TV or organizing stamps or living out the fantasy of their Perfect Life.

All behind purple doors.

Houses are demolished all the time. Or lost to war or disaster. An old enough house? Enough people living and dying in it? Could arguably start to accumulate ectoplasm. Become, not sentient, but a touch more. And in dying? Like any animal, leave behind that Idea of who they were. That ALMOST and Instinct.

Certain places though? That are alive? That have seen far too much death? They seem to carry over. Castles and long burned libraries, coliseums, and frozen hills. The places life was lost, over and over or all at once.

Floating islands from long dead planets.

I bet we could find Kryptonian flora on some of them. If we looked in the right area. It must be a strange mix. Down right bizarre. Facing just about anything and wondering if it's sentient.

With Ectoplasm? It could be.

But at the same time? Imagine the RELIEF? Of, after the stress and fear of dying, waking up CHANGED, somewhere new and alone... searching desperately for something, anything, to ground your self? The relief you'd feel... when a door seems to drift right into out of nowhere. Just? Gentle bonk.

And yeah, it's purple. Looks like every generic door that's ever been. But? It has this VIBE. Like you're staring at the door to your first shit apartment, but it's YOURS and YOU paid for it and you're... you're home now. You open it.

And it's like some crammed every inspo board you ever had and all the parts of every room you ever loved, together. Familiar, new, and best of all? NOT a vast swirling green void. You drift inside.

If you're like so many ghosts? Probably never leave. Why would you? It's spooky and loud and crazy out there. Everyone's nuts. In HERE it's nice. No fights, art and food the way you like it, time feels muted and far away...

You only really snap OUT of your happy Vibe Sesh with your House Haunt when someone intrudes.

There us probably a whole flip side of the Zone that we never really see. Haunt politics. Competition for the really GOOD Ghosts. Haunts that don't want a ghost because they are waiting for somebody who may or may not come.

Other fuckin MOGO'S. Seriously. Sentient planet. That may be rare, may even be the sole example IN THEIR UNIVERSE, but the Zone is Multiversal. Literally Infinite.

Which means there ARE at least a handful or more of SENTIENT PLANET GHOSTS. How do you?? Cope? "Oh this is my buddy, the PLANET EARTH." But possibly BIGGER.

Fuck that's a lot of Ectoplasm. Thank Zone their Obsession's are usually "Be Prosperous Planet" and "orbit and protect this Star, which is sentient and my frient".

Oh? They forgot to mention the SENTIENT FUCKING STAR? As in giant ball of fire and death? Whoops! :T

Don't worry! THEIR Obsession is their planets! It's a full circle thing. Just leave that little system alone and they won't annihilate you and everything you've ever loved! Easy.

Lookin a little pale there, your Majesty. You need to lay down?

(And to think, all this... because Pariah's Castle got into a literal land war with other castles over who gets the New King.)

(Accusations of being a Greedy Bitch were thrown. Suggestions to Get Good and stop being A Loser Crybaby were offered. Somehow, there were cannons? Danny is still unclear but has been told under NO circumstances is he to step foot in ANY ghost building until mediators can be brought in. It could be seen as declaring a preference.)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe

[invisiblequeen]

For @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants 's BC Challenge: May I Introduce...Kip Kreutz?

Name: Kip Kreutz

Age Group: Young Adult

Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: Heterosexual.

Life State: Non-occult

Hometown: Hopewell Hills, San Sequoia

Current Town: Sable Square, Brindleton Bay

Occupation: Vet Surgeon

Traits: Self-Assured, Perfectionist, Dog Lover, Animal Affection, Nature Hobby

Bonuses: Practice Makes Perfect, Cat Lover, Loyal, Animal Whisperer, Cringe

Aspiration: Friend Of The Animals

Likes: Electronica, Alternative, Hip Hop, Blue, Green, White, Pet Enthusiasts, Dancing, Photography, Fitness, Comedy

Dislikes: RnB, Metal, Classical, Purple, Yellow, Pink, Argumentative SIms, Handiness, Mixology, Programming, Baking

Misc.: The scar on his face came from a cowplant his friends dared him to approach at the end of the school year. He loves taking pictures of the pets that come into the Vet as well as the shelter next door. He raps cringey rhymes to whatever animal patient he's working on, and for some reason, it calms them all right down.

Gifts: A Framed Photo Of Sentimental Value, A Knitted Hat From His Grandma, and an article of hipster/rocker fashion clothing from ThriftTea

• Flirting with other contestants? No

• WooHooing other contestants? No

• Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs? Only Flirting

• Flirting with the host? Harmless Flirting Only

• Changes to traits via gameplay prompts? Yes

• (Humans Only) Becoming an occult? Anything but a vampire

From the moment he was born, Kip Kreutz was a sucker for animals. The family pitbull, Ozzy, would let Kip rest his little body on him, play with him in the backyard and nuzzled his nose when Kip cried. The stray black cat who everyone called Whiskey introduced him to the unique nature of felines, with her insistent grooming and nudging away from possible danger. By the time he was in high school, Kip was firmly on track to live as an Animal Photographer and die a Dog Boy in a nice San My apartment. But was not to be.

Whiskey was hit by a drunken driver and pronounced dead at the scene, serving as the only possible consolation. The death left Kip reeling with shock and grief, but Ozzy turned catatonic, sitting or lying on the rug staring out the window, refusing to eat or drink. The few times he was moving, he did so slowly, with tense legs that trembled going up and dow stairs. When Kip took him to the vet to see what was wrong, the doctor in charge gently explained to him that it was time to say goodbye. It took two months for him to truly receive that message and lay down, gazing into Ozzy's eyes until the moment his flame was blown out.

This was the moment Kip changed his whole plan from artsy photographer to Vet Surgeon.

And he's pretty good at it too. He's solved almost everything, from the common cold to the life-threatening diseases you only read about in books. The pets all love him because he gives them snacks and raps to them while he works on non-surgical cases. Catarina Lynx calls him, "Kip Doolittle." No one knows why he hugs the pitbulls a little tighter or scratches behind a black cat's ear for longer than he should. But they do know that he is keeping the domesticated and the wild happy and healthy.

He lives alone. No cats, no dogs. No girlfriend, and only work friends are from the clinic. As fun and affable he is on the outside, when he gets home, he is only half as fun as a near-recluse.

But don't be alarmed. He is still a joy to have as a roommate (incessant cleaning), and even better as a boyfriend. Ladies...

WHAT DO WE THINK, @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants ?

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

✨Tragon !✨

Trans...dragon..It's funny, right ?- Also, I know it's a wyvern...Dragon sounds better...

It's pride month, so it was the perfect occasion to finally make a dragon, yay ! It's also my first time making something akin to a dragon (technically the second time,, but the first one is truly horrible), and even if the proportion are still a bit out of place, it could have been worse. It's also my first time doing custom wings, but I'll talk about that in more details beneath :}

Also, it needs a name ! I’m really bad with names, but I would gladly take suggestions ! (And here is an alt picture, in its natural habitat-)

Anyways, details/closeups under the cut !

None of these picture below are edited, because it's exam period- Enjoy the green backgrounds :}

I have to say, before any other comment, that I made the body way to heavy for the two poor sockets of the legs. The position above is the only one where it's actually standing upright. Also, my stock of pink and rightly-shaded blue was much smaller than originally anticipated, so I would have done a bunch of tings differently, if it wasn't for that. Still, I was lucky to have that many curved blue pieces for the top part. Well, all of the ones with purple diamonds on them have been forcefully taken from a small Elves dragon, but it was worth it (I also really enjoy the purple here, it contrasts nicely).

All of the joints are mixel socket joints, except for the knees, which are just hinges. It gives a lot of movements, from the tail to the jaw. Even if these are limited, it gives it a wide range of positions (even if, realistically, it won’t change it much from the one I gave it). Still, it can sit ! (Including small trans flag)

The pointy scales on the back are some of the only elements which aren’t directly attacked to the body : one 2*2 plate holds them down, and a modified 2*1 under the plates keeps it from sliding in any other direction, so even with little connections, it doesn’t budge. I really liked these angular pieces. To keep them from being too repetitive, they are only connected to each other by one stud, with a small angle, which gives them a slightly "round" effect.

The tail here is not really complicated, it's just a bunch of socket joints linked together with curved tiles on top (one of the sticker is backward, and it's unnerving, but it's not my fault and I can't risk changing it...), with white arch pieces underneath. Not sure of why I added these in the first place, but it looks cool. And of course, the end of the tail is a big heart, because it simply fits the vibe, doesn't it?

Of course, I can't forget what is the most important, and what makes this creature as cute as it is ! (It is cute, and if that is the hill I have to die on, I will.)

The green background doesn't show it well, but the flame offers a good contrats with the rest of the head, and brings the eyes there first (instead of all the mistakes present). Because there are a bunch of these.

I spent nearly as long on the head as all the other body parts cumulated (except for the wings), because making something detailed yet small enough to be a good head is tough. I actually started from the top (for the piece with the sticker, more exactly), instead of the bottom, like I usually do, in order to get an idea of scale (because I already knew I wanted the jaw to move, and for that I needed to see how big it would be). Then, I did the back to quickly have a neck connection point, to see if it would fit. Because the neck is larger under the connection sockets, the socket of the head is actually pretty high up, but the colours are practically aligned so it works well.

Then, the next thing was the eyes and the spikes. The spikes took me a hile to figure out, because without the rest of the head, they looked kinda dumb, but it does bring the head together when everything is in place. Then the eyes : on the small dragon I took apart, there were these blue tooth pieces which I used to get some texture above them, so that they don't look flat, and then, I connected them to the center connectors of a 2*4 plates. That works well in placement, but I ran into the issue of what would be around. If I didn't do anything, there would be two gaps, which would look terrible. Instead, I stuck two 1*4 tiles in these gaps, and since the tooth pieces are around either side, they don't move - well, not much, they still produce a shaking sound when I'm moving the head.

Then under these plates, I directly have 1*4 pink bricks, which stick out behind the head. At first, it was a problem, and I had nothing else to replace them; but they actually restrict and hold the neck, so that even if the head is technically a bit too heavy, it remains in place.

The actual teeth are modified 2*1 plates, four at the top and four at the bottom. To keep them with such a small gap (and to attach them to either sides of the jaw) I have use modified 1*1 plates with a ring. There is a single one at the bottom, and then underneath a few cut 2*1 and 2*2 curved tiles to make the jaw triangular; and two on top, one which connects it to the head and one with holds the snout (which is using a cheese piece and another one of the blue tooth).

So, custom wings ! It isn't actually complicated, if only a bit tedious. Here below is all that I needed to make them :

As you can see, it's not much. Most important, of course, is a good, solid sheet of paper, and a cutter (precision cutter is better, in my opinion, but anything works). To make things easy (or if, like me, you don't know how to draw properly), you can take a basic lego wing, and trace the outline and where the holes go. I would advise only doing a single, blank one, at first. Once you have your proto-wing, you can start to make the actual frame it will be attached on. I chose to use bricks above it to act as claws, but you can use socket joints, like in most sets. The advantage of using plates is that the overall look is better, but if you want overhangs like I did, you have to get the holes really close to the edge of the wing.

Once you have your frame, trace where the holes would go on it ! (if you used a wing model, it might be easier, but it could also not fit, which is why you make a prototype first). To make holes just the right size, I would advise first cutting squares (easier than circles) at just the right size, then scratching the edges with the blade of the cutter. Once it looks good, try to fit an axle inside. If it just about fits, and can rotate, it's good ! Otherwise, just remove it and scratch again.

When that's done, test if it can correctly fit on your frame. Once that's done, you can either make two wings with that pattern, or simply make another copy. I personally made two new from my first prototype because it took me a while to figure out exactly how to place the holes.

Finally, once you got two wings, you can finally add whatever you want on them (easier when they're not actually on the frame, although that should've been obvious), and you're done :}

I went for a really basic thing, but technically, any shape is possible. I'll likely use it again someday, because it's quite fun !

And of course, the bonus picture, since you’re here ! I like the symbolic of this (also don’t pay attention to the tentacles).

I actually really wanted to get rid of this castle (which was gifted, not exactly desired, although I must admit it’s really well designed), and well. Now, it’s gone, and in its place lies the dragon…and my horrendous crab, too.

[alienssstufff]

i luv ur dr art recently @_@ if you don't mind me askin who are ur fav dr characters design wise (not personality/story?)

LOVE when people ask me stuff like this yes - i'd gladly <3

Only included DR, SDR2, NDRV3 - we'd be here forever if it was the entire franchise. Also only accounting for their ingame default outfits

The placements on each tier is deliberate, the closer the character is to the top of that tier, the higher they are. I judge them by: >Prominence of the Talent, its practicality >Relevance to the character's identity/personality >Colour and aesthetics :]

[ramblings undercut]

[S-TIERS]

Like Gundham for example is an S-Tier design as it ticks all above boxes whilst still in a school uniform. The Four Dark Devas are important to the design, they go with him everywhere and the 5 of them are a UNIT which shows his strong connection with animals. I love the bandages and the eye-scar as it has a double meaning that indicates yes he works with animals (they can be rowdy), but as a character Gundham builds onto this detail using these scars to create this dark angsty facade. Aesthetic-wise by his hair he has a unique character silhouette, and I like how his purple is made the focal point by the blacks and whites of his uniform... both reinforcing the villain-facade and highlighting the importance of the Four Dark Devas.

Similar reasonings for the other Top 2 of Souda and Miu this time toppled with the strong yellows and pinks in their design. It's eye-catching and easily conveys what their talent is. (I really wish they kept Miu's promo-art backpack into her regular sprites, imagine her emoting with 4 arms isn't that awesome >:] )

Honorable mention to Impostor (Twogami) as well. While the regular Togami design is... mid. I really appreciate how contrasting Impostor's colours and accessories are down to the necktie and poses! Like yes they are impersonating Togami, but their values and personality as a person are not the same. The deception of Togami's dark clothing vs honest white suit of the Impostor's. Impostor fucking CLEARS regular togami any day on all accounts I will die on that hill.

[GOOD CHARACTER DESIGN]

A lot of the talent indications on this tier are more subtle in compare to S-tier but they get the job done and they do it in a pleasing way (I like the colour palettes on Chiaki, Mikan and Ibuki for example). Like I loveeee Sonia's uniform especially for it's simplicity. And yet the design still alludes to the Princess talent by elegance in the bow, the brooch, her crowned braid and how the shape of her skirt resembles that of a puffy princess gown. I also think the reds in the design like Snow White are a cute touch!

To me, Sonia should be the standard in what a Danganronpa design SHOULD be in accordance to detail.

[BAD CHARACTER DESIGN]

[ie the Green and Blue tiers] Reasoning why I put them here mainly because of wasted potential, either too basic (in a sense it doesn't tell much about that character) or not practical in any way for their talent... I HATE Ryoma's stripe leggings ik he went to prison but the execution of the concept looks awful.

And I hate Akane's and Sakura's outfits particularly cuz you KNOW why they made those skirts so short and I hate that. We could have gotten awesome gymnast of martial artist outfits but no......

I added Kiibo in that bottom tier because structurally even as a robot he is a visual nightmare if you're an artist trying to draw him. Especially when most of his suit is different shades of black and complicated chest cavity. And I despise the way that it looks like these robo-plates are attached on top of what looks like fabric long sleeves and pants as if the designer was too scared to fully commit to him being a robot. He is NOT 3D-optimised and he is NOT animator-friendly I'd throw up if I ever had to deal with him.

[p1325]

Here's the list of the movies I used: - Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, In a Violent Nature, Robot Dreams, Am I Ok?, Bad Boys: Ride or Die, Hit Man, I Used to Be Funny, The Watchers -Ghostlight, Inside Out 2, Treasure, Tuesday, The Bikeriders, Green Border, Janet Planet, Kinds of Kindness, Thelma, Kneecap -Trigger Warning, Daddio, Horizon Chapter 1, A Quiet Place: Day One, Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F, MaxXxine, Fly Me to the Moon -Longlegs, Sing Sing, Touch, Twisters, Deadpool & Wolverine, Didi, Cuckoo, Borderlands, Good One, Space Cadet, The Killer -Trap, Oddity, Alien: Romulus, Close to You, Blink Twice, The Crow, The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat, They Listen -My Spy: The Eternal City, It Ends with Us, Despicable Me: 4, Descendants: The Rise of Red, I Saw the TV Glow, Back to Black, Mother of the Bride, Unfrosted, Find Me Falling, The Tiger's Apprentice, Kill -Fall Guy, The Idea of You, The Strangers: Chapter 1, If, Atlas, Touch -A Family Affair, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, Tarot, The Fabulous Four, My Old Ass -Young Woman and the Sea, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, Possum Trot, The Instigators, Babes, Exhuma, A Sacrifice, The Image of You, Ultraman: Rising, The Good Half, Lee, Fancy Dance, The Front Room, Rebel Moon: Director's Cut -One Fast Move, Lumina, Jackpot, Emmanuelle, Clear Cut, The Last Breath, Skincare, Place of Bones, Emilia Perez, Watchmen: Chapter 1 -The Killer's Game, Bookworm, Wolfs, Harold and the Purple Crayon, Longing -You're Cordially Invited, Mother Couch, Latency, Firebrand, The Count of Monte-Cristo, Boneyard, Transformers One, You Can't Run Forever, Speak No Evil, Saw XI, Under Paris

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- #fanvidfeed #movie #mashup #summer #2024 #viddingisart

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Song: Summer Mashup 2024

Artist: BradMash

[fallenangelofsalt]

Whiteboard Fox Stuff

Heart Shaped!!

(The stuff under the cut is most of what I drew) (Contains spoilers for Influencer Arc!!!)

A comic reminded me of equestria girls so now I really want Green to get music-based mind control powers. We haven't seen what the staff can do with a jukebox yet.

Green's singing Under Our Spell btw.

Purple should get a trident. As a treat.

Purple Gold Doodles

Hollowheads HC

It's a bit too blurry to read the first one, but basically, TSC's hands are long and detailed, as in pretty close to a human hand anatomically, to make it easier to draw and do other artsy stuff, like playing music.

TCO's hands and fingers are pretty thick and strong, made for punching and gripping and not letting go, good for fighting.

Victim's are soft and round, their body more like a ragdoll than something meant to live, the perfect punching bag.

TDL is sharp all over, built for speed and stabbing, killing rather than fighting.

Oh and TSC is the tallest. Period. Only MT is taller than him and I will die on this hill.

Green Screen! BTW I'm not the one who came up with tape hair, I just thought it was a neat idea. They give off "classy rich actor at a movie award" vibes to me, at least when I draw them.

My Greenzilla design! It's probably because of the music but the animal I associate with Green the most are birds, so I thought, well, dinosaurs are actually birds but mostly associated with lizards, so there's no reason why Greenzilla can't be a giant bird.

Bonus Purple chilling on their talons because I really like g/t.

Old version. I wanted his tail tip to look like the play button. Didn't really like how the face turned out tho. I still love how the legs turned out even if they're a bit too bird-like for this first draft.

...Can you tell I made him bigger?

[stars-n-spice]

Ask game! 6, 20, 30, 38 pls 🌑

Of course! Thank you for sending the ask :D

6: Which Batcher would you want to be your coworker at your irl job?

I am unfortunately unemployed,, lmao. Technically a full-time student and a housemaid so if we're going off that then I would say I'd want Echo to be my 'coworker' because I think he'd be more than willing to give a helping hand (or scomp, lol) when and if I should need it. But if we're talking like what I hope to be doing in the future which is whatever thing that has to do with screenwriting, teaching, or creative writing; I'm going with Tech. I think Tech and I would get along very well because we're both on the spectrum and we could just like parallel play and be cool with just that.

20: Which Batcher has the 'weirdest' taste in music?

Unrelated note, Echo is a k-pop fan and I'll die on this hill (and he's a Broadway fan). I think the person who has the 'weirdest' taste in music is probably Tech and I say 'weirdest' in the sense that he will listen to whatever genre. He simply does not care. You shuffle his liked songs and you feel like you're having a stroke. It's a mix of old dad rock that Hunter and Wrecker enjoy, it's the punk and emo shit Crosshair listens to, there's some old/first-gen K-pop in there, he listens to Los Panchos and Vicente Fernández. County? Sure, why not? He's a big fan of Beyoncé. He knows all the words to Rap God. He listens to Broadway songs and game OSTs. Omega makes him listen to those fan songs of video games. Catch him crying and listening to Mitski at 3 am in the morning. I could go on and on.

30: Tell me a random headcannon you have about Omega.

A random headcanon I have about Omega is that she has a good night routine. Like the book "Goodnight Moon" before she hits the hay she says goodnight to anything and everything. Of course she starts out with her brothers–"Good night Hunter. Good night Echo. Good night Tech. Good night Wrecker."–Then she goes on her personal items and Gonky–"Good night Lula. Good night trooper. Good night Gonky."–Then the ship and surrounding things–"Good night Marauder. Good night stars. Good night planets."–and then when everything is said and done and everything is silent she'll stare out into space and whisper, "Good night Crosshair."

38: What color do you associate with each Batcher?

Ooh, this is a fun one! Honestly, my answers are super basic, but eh. For Hunter, it's red, mainly because he's the squad leader and one of the main colors of the squad is red so automatically he gets that. While he does look good in teal, I think red's his color. For Echo it's a deep blue, mainly because of his time spent with the 501st but also because it's a calming color and Echo is just someone you'd want to be around to feel calm and safe. For Wrecker it's yellow; the color I associate with any positive/bubbly character for obvious reasons, but also it's my sister's favorite color and she's the sweetest person ever so I think it's a fitting color. It's a warm color and I'm sure he gives warm hugs <3 For Tech it's oranges/browns. Typically I tend to associate purple with 'smart' characters because of Donatello from TMNT, but orange/brown is just a more fitting color for Tech and I can't really describe why. Maybe it's the s2 armor? For Crosshair it's green because of his Imperial armor and I guess also because it symbolizes growth? In a sense? Also it's not one of my favorite colors, lol. For Omega, I associate her with teal colors. Something like the ones on her outfit from S1 but also because I love her so much and teal is my favorite color as well.

Here is the ask list if ya'll want to send me more asks ^^

[ace-of-garlic-breads]

Animaniacs Headcanons

I recently came upon my 5 page Harry Potter HC google doc so I thought I would do it for one of my most recent Hyper fixations

- Hello Nurse Mindey and Katie Kaboom's Moms Sister - the mime creeps Wakko out, - Slappy basically adopted the Warners as her grandkids - all the Warners share traits with the animals they described themselves as in the "what are we" song - Wakko is partially colour blind - they also shake themselves dry after swimming, gating rained of etc - Dot sometimes can't handle water - Dot's claws grow the fastest and the longest out of all the Warners - Yakko bounces when happy - Yakko has really sensitive hearing - Wakko has pretty bad sensory issues, but they're calmed by their hat, - when having a but of a sensory overload Wakko tucks their ears into their hat to cancel out the noise - the Warners have a three teir bunk bed, and whever Dot can't sleep she usually alternates on which brother she goes to for comfort - when it's Yakko, he usually tells her a story and sings a song - and When it's Wakko they usually just Let Dot sleep in their bed and provides sufficient hugs - Wakko has read the whole Riordenverse multiple times - and Wakko hot Dot to read them too - Yakko is not much of a fantasy book fan but - Wakko is ambidextrous - Wakko is really good at physically demanding tasks - Yakko is the Brains of the trio, Wakko is the Brawn and Dot is the Beauty - Wakko prefers Skirts to pants - Dot goes out with Wakko to buy dresses, skirts etc, - Dot and Wakko act like twins, since their only one year apart in age they just treat eachother like twins (people also ask them if they're twins and they just say yes, cause it's funny) - Dot is really good at embroidery, cross Stich etc, and she makes little things for her siblings - Wakko and Dot once went as Dipper and Mabel for Halloween (Yakko went as Grunkle Stan) - sometimes all three Warners just pile on top of each other on Yakko's bed and sleep there - Hello Nurse is Basically the Warner Sibs mum - Minerva and Hello Nurse have a bit of a thing goin on (crack ships my beloved) - despite being severly lactose intolerant Yakko just doesn't care, he'll eat cheese, chocolate etc - on a separate Halloween Wakko and Dot dressed as Leo and Piper - Angelina fell first William fell harder - if the Warners were humans they'd be half British and half from Warnerstalk (Germany) and have Vertiligo - Angelina is German but has an American accent (VC Taylor Swift) - William is British and has a British Accent (VC Weasley twins) - Angelina is an only child and William has two siblings - Dot loves Musiums - after Pink Dot's favourite colour is yellow - Yakko's favourite colour is Lavender (this might be canon idk) - Wakko likes alot of the cool colours like blues, greens and Purples - Yakko is dog shit at math and I will die on this hill - Wakko is actually really good at it and helped write the Multiplication song - Dot is semi tiktok famous - Yakko gets into random fights with people on Twitter? X? idk anymore - Wakko streams of YouTube and Twitch - the Warners have a pretty big YouTube channel - Wakko is a really good cook - Dot can't cook for shit, she has burnt Water for Spielberg's sake - all three Warners love the Owl house - they dressed up as both the Blight kids (Y: Ed, W: Em D: Amity) and the Noceda kids (Y:Hunter, W:Vee,D:Luz) - Wakko has a mild Cat allergy - -all the Warners are Ace - Yakko is Pan, Wakko is Aroace and Dot is Bi -Wakko is Non-binary & uses They/them Pronouns -Yakko is a Demi-boy & uses he/they pronouns - Dot is the only Cis Warner Sibling (you could say that she's the Warner Cis-ter) -Hello Nurse is a Lesbian - Dr Scrach'n'sniff is Trans-masc & Gay -Hello Nurse & Dr Scrach'n'sniff co-parent the warners

[monarch-of-weird-girlboy-nation]

@auroraofthesun1

Diary of a teenage Christian girl

(Front page)

This diary belongs to GRACE ADAMS

I promise to pray, everyday!

Monday 1st August 2024

Dear diary:

I never use this thing, but since we’re at Bible camp I’ll have a lot of time for journaling. So here are some facts about me:

Im Grace Mercy Adams.

I have 8 siblings

I am a Pentecostal Christian

I’m 13 years old

I love Jesus more than anything. More than my own life. More than my parents. More than humanity itself. I would pull the kill switch on humanity, on myself, for Jesus

If I had to pick a way to die, I would chose to die a martyr, in the most painful way possible

I am in the choir

I play volleyball

I’m chaste and pure

I’m a good Christian girl through and through

I’m writing this on the road to Bible Camp, with Esther napping on my shoulder. Her eyelashes are… well they’re so nice when they flicker in her sleep. And so is her hair. She always complains about how boring it is, just plain brown, but I don’t know. There’s something about it… and her green eyes. She’s captivating, I know that much. But enough about Esther; I talk about her enough in this diary as is! Well she’s my best friend.

(Did best friend in purple because it’s her favourite colour, and mine is blue, so we compliment each other nicely, don’t you think diary?)

Well, I’m off to Bible Camp. It’s super far out, but that just gives me more opportunities to take pictures and appreciate the Lords creation. It’s my first time at Bible Camp, and I’m excited. My youth pastor says that I’m one of the most devoted young ladies in the church and will serve well, which is great. Our youth pastor is called Thomas and he likes to speak in a loud voice about end times. The end times are probably my greatest fear… sometimes I’ll be at home alone (which rarely ever happens, I have a lot of siblings) and I’ll be scared that everyone else got raptured and I got left behind. But that’s normal.

We’re singing songs now, go tell it on the mountain.

Go tell it on the mountains

Over the hills and everywhere

Go tell it on the mountain

That Jesus Christ is born

Youth pastor Thomas says that’s our call to evangelise and do missionary. He says that if we don’t evangelise, it’ll be on us if a lot of people go to hell. Hell and end times. Those things scare me the most I think.

I’m also scared of sin, which links back to everything, scared I’m gonna mess up. I’m slightly scared of God…,I respectfully fear the Lord. I’m not scared.

Esther is awake, so now I get to see how her green eyes hit the sunlight, it takes my breath away every single time. Esther has nice eyes. She’s looking at me writing this

‘You have nice eyes too. They’re blue. And you have nicer hair than me. Your white blonde hair makes you look like a pretty lamb’

That’s what she’s saying. She’s so seeet, and we got stuck in a loop of complimenting each other.

‘The only lamb here is the lamb of GOD!’ I said, half jokingly, half not. And we kept on singing.

Ok, we’re here! It looks really nice, gotta unpack and then move into rooms. I’m in a room with my sister Divine and Esther and Felicity Sam’s and Ruth Lampert. Good group. Gotta go unpack!

Forever the Lords,

Grace

[danganronpa-ship-tourney]

Propaganda

Ougoku

Ohh I could go on about this ship for YEARS, the two are such a good duo! Kokichi brings out the best of Gonta's character and Gonta brings out the best in Kokichi's. Their designs are literally made to go together, big small, brown white, purple green, skinny muscular, long hair short hair, its IDEAL character symmetry that you normally only see in love interests. Plus the angst of the two? How they were friends but it only ended so horribly? The parallels between Peko and Fuyuhiko in their trials as Kokichi screams out as Gonta is taken away in anguish? The way the two had so much going on in the background of the two constantly talking and planning and bantering, the two were friends and I will die on this hill. I love them so much, I want them happy together.

Naesuke

Sometimes you just need a good 'ol hate ship. Makoto is so funny in hateships local man can forgive anyone except you because you're just such an asshole. I love it, I think they two should fight more and kiss about it.

[indigo-flightly-falls]

hi shakign you you cannot just tell me you have a 3rd life fundy and purpled au and not tell me abt it I KNOW you said it's not fleshed out yet but if you wanna talk abt I'd be so so normal abt it I swear /nf (I'm the homocrafting bkog btw this is my main)

:0 helllooo!

So as I'm writitng this I'm realizing this is much more fleshed out then I thought lol

Okay well then. The basics of the au go as follows:

Sometime after the whole Purpled-killed-Slime deal, he meets up with Fundy to really think about what they've both been doing. And realize that they need a break, badly.

So, now they are faced with the challenge of breaking out of the Dream SMP! I don't know exactly how but between my headcanons of Fundy being God-adjacent and Purpled being a Watcher, it shouldn't be too hard to get out :)

They actually land in Hypixel for a bit, which offers them a chance to rest and save up some money for food and stuff! It is here they realize a huge problem. Because they are both still minors (I headcanon Fundy as 16 and Purpled as 17, going on 18 when this happens), they can't make a world for themselves without parental consent.

So they turn to trying to hack into anarchy servers. Which can only go wrong.

They end up hacking into 3rd Life in the end, thinking it was just another anarchy server, and because again, Fundy is God-adjacent and Purpled is a Watcher, they somehow get in.

Fundy spawns in the forest, not all that far from the refugee group (the place that had to giant phantom attack), and has to explain to everyone that 'yes I hacked in but only because me and my friend need a place to stay for like four months until he turns 18 sorry again please don't kick us out.'. The group decide to let him stay if Grian agrees.

Purpled meanwhile, spawned in the desert! He quickly find Grian and also explains what's going on, but more... harsher? He doesn't know if this is a whitelisted server but if it isn't then he's gotta be harsh. Grian decides to take a vote with everyone, and they agree on letting the kids stay. What harm could they do?

Fundy ends up tagging along with Martyn, and yes that means he meets Ren. He ends up solidly on the side of Dogwarts, protecting it with his lives.

Purpled ends up following Grian to the desert due to him sensing that Grian is something like him (he never learned what a Watcher was, so this is basically his first time meeting another one). He's loyal mostly to Grian, and would probably betray Scar with ease.

However. Then fucking session four happens. After a good few months of peace and quiet, Grian fucking blows up three people. Two of which Fundy has already made very clear he would kill for. Purpled wasn't exactly happy to have blown people up, but he'll take any kind of kills he can get.

Fundy actually loses his green life after this, at that time when everyone gathered at the top of the hill. Scar accidentally pushes him off. When Fundy respawns, his body had changed. It's not uncommon for the players of life games to have changes to themselves, whether it be hybrid features or limbs being weird. Fundy however, loses an eye and grows wings. Neither of which he takes well.

Purpled is shocked at what Scar did, and almost goes for him, only stopped by the 'no killing on green' rule. However, he does start doing bounty hunter work again. Good server to try to get back into the swing of things.

Before it was late summer and everyone was still having a good time and now it's mid fall and Ren's made Martyn kill him and the Red Army is assembled and Joel's doing his own thing and people are dropping like flies. Purpled's first death happened during session five, and included a hoard of zombies and a very large pit.

And then the little raid Etho does on desert duo happens. Only this time, he had Fundy with him! Does it change anything? No. They both die.

And now Fundy's down his let arm, which makes it much harder to fight, and the anger at being weaker then the rest of Dogwarts make the bloodlust simmer beneath the surface.

Purpled meanwhile is trying to decide on the best way to proceed. Should he stay in the desert, with Scar, who killed one of his best friends? Or should he go live with Joel, and have an easy way to make more bounty hunter kills? He ends up making the choice once he's on red, killed by a stray TNT trap in the woods. He'll live with Grian for now, but if Scar does anything, then he'll leave.

And then sessions 7 & 8 happen! Oh joy! Purpled's out during session 8, near the beginning when attacks are random and on whoever's in your way. Fundy dies in the final battle of Dogwarts, shortly after Etho and by the exact same method.

They end up back on Hypixel and it takes them a few minutes to actually talk to each other. Because, after all, they really just hacked onto a whitelisted server and... what, found that people can be kind? That the Dream SMP was an odd one out? How does one exactly reshape their worldviews in such a short amount of time? And they still carry the scars. Fundy's still got his wings, and is down an eye and an arm. And Purpled's unable to fly after his wing got badly torn down the middle.

No matter what they think, the current situation is making a world for themselves. Or that is the problem, until Ren and Grian message Fundy and Purpled respectively.

Grian messages Purpled because he Knows the kid's a Watcher, and an untrained one at that. His power could be deadly if Purpled's not taught how to control it. He offers Purpled that chance to come to Hermitcraft, just for a little bit, to learn about his powers and how to protect people on servers.

Ren reaches out to Fundy because the kid's one of his soldiers, and Ren's not resting until he knows all of his soldiers (his family), are safe. He offers to let Fundy onto Hermitcraft, for many reasons but the most prominent one is so he can get Doc to help make Fundy a new arm.

And the kids go to Hermitcraft. And they promise to themselves they'll only stay for a month or two. And then that turns into three, and the into six. And suddenly, they've spent almost an entire year on Hermitcraft, and they don't really want to leave anymore.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

a/n: so uhh i know this isnt anime, but i wrote it while a little manic and it turned out okay so i wanted to post it :D enjoy! ao3 link here

Pairing: Gascon/Meve/Reynard

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: smut, drunk sex, mfm sex, double penetration, no beta we die like men, spoilers but only if u squint

Word Count: ~4k

Plot summary: Gascon has always found Meve to be a singular sort of woman. When faced with a difficult choice, she always finds a way to change the game and pick an unexpected, unprecedented option that reminds him of her earned queenship. Similarly, Reynard (Meve's loyal friend and advisor) is the most steadfast and honorable man that Gascon has ever met; it gives Gascon great pleasure to rile Reynard up just to see how far that patience and goodness goes. However, now that things between the three of them have hit a plateau, it is not often that Gascon finds himself surprised by them; he knows him, and they know him.

In matters of the heart, however, Gascon manages to be surprised by them still on one fateful, very drunk evening of respite and revelry.

(Set before the end of the game while still on campaign at a peasant's wedding feast)

There were benefits, Gascon supposed, to stopping in at every town and leaving no good deed undone from Lyria all the way to fucking Nilfgaard. One, naturally, was to tip the karmic scales back in his favor; but another was that, on occasions such as this, when a peasant festival or nuptial celebration was to be had, who wouldn't invite the do-gooder queen and her merry lot of dagger-happy fools to party alongside? And Gascon, a lover of revelry and all other earthly pleasure, was more than happy to take a load off to drink some free ale and eat some free vittles instead of endlessly pursuing this death march of Meve's.

There were problems, though, too, with remembering what it was like before the campaign— and one of those problems for Gascon specifically was simply the cessation of movement for long enough to remember to be alive. From his perch on a log next to a pretty woman who was nattering on about something or other about the bride and groom, Gascon could see miles and miles of green, rolling hills, fertile and full of plenty. The sun was on its way out, the golden hour of the evening finally waning into purple twilight, and as a bonfire and lanterns were lit, a fiddler drew up his bow and began to play alongside pipers and little drummer boys. It was a beautiful evening, full of light and laughter and all the things that made life worth living, and now more than ever, Gascon wished for a home he could truly call his own.

He had not had such a place for many, many years. 

Across the way, Meve and Reynard were speaking lowly, their heads bowed together in a moment of shared intimacy. The queen and her second-in-command rarely found a moment alone, but when they did, Gascon was usually lurking close enough to witness; watching them, he felt oddly like a voyeur, as though he should not be seeing what his eyes beheld, though it was never more than this— a simple, emotionally charged moment. If their usual pattern were any indication, it would only be a second or so before one of them would back away, drawing the line and leaving things unfinished between them.

Melitele help them— Gascon was dying of blue balls just watching. 

As Gascon had predicted, Reynard drew back after a moment; but then, something unusual happened. Meve reached out and grabbed his hand, saying something that Gascon couldn't hear, and Reynard bowed respectfully before allowing bright, vibrant Meve to pull him over to where the peasants were dancing. Together, Meve and Reynard began to dance as well, each smiling in the arms of the other, and Gascon found that they were nearly too painful to look at in their joy.

Truly, he didn't know which of them he was more jealous of— Meve, who was held steady by the strong, calloused hands of a kind, honest man, or Reynard, who was touched softly by a bloody-handed conqueress, a queen stronger than most kings and hair of spun gold. Separately, they were stunning; together, they were impossible. Gascon wanted to be between them, beneath them— he wanted— he wanted. 

Gascon threw back his tankard. He must already be too deep in his cups anyway— might as well finish the job and make his way back to his tent. The girl sitting next to him made a squeal of surprise, and Gason nearly made a bid to take her back with him— she had blue eyes and gold hair, after all, and Gascon's imagination could work wonders with that— but when he stood without explanation, she didn't demand anything or command him to explain himself, and it ruined the effect for him. Meve would never allow him to walk away without dismissal, and if he'd ever tried, Reynard would have stood between him and the door, a solid mass of muscle and steel, strong and steady. 

Fuck. He really was far down in his cups. 

The journey from Gascon's log to his tent turned out to be a perilous trek. In truth, Gascon was probably too drunk to be standing (he'd started drinking at noon, after all, and had hardly slowed), and well— every tent begins to look the same, after a while, a logs are bloody hard to step over when you can't tell how high to lift your leg. After a good few minutes, though, he managed to find a tree to piss on and a tent that was most likely his own, and he collapsed on the floor, certain he was going to regret getting so drunk on the morrow.

As it happened, though, Gascon was to regret getting so drunk much, much sooner than that.  

As Gascon lay quietly, feeling sloshy and almost sea-sick from the spinning world around him and his belly full of liquid, the flap of his tent opened. Standing in the entryway was Meve, tall and regal and lovely, looking down on him with a soft smile that made his tummy do a little flip.

"Forgive me, Meve," he slurred, propping up on his elbow. "I'd stand, but I think I'd puke if I did."

Meve laughed— a low, hearty sound that came from the throat. 

"Don't worry, Gascon," she told him fondly, "I just thought I'd look in on you so you wouldn't drown in your own vomit. Give me a moment, and I'll fix up your sleeping arrangements to where you'll be comfortable."

"You don't really need to…"

It was useless. Once Meve put her mind to something, she meant to do it. As the queen busied herself with fluffing and ruffling about his pallet, Gascon took it upon himself to watch her body as she worked. Goddess above, she was lovely, all long limbs and lovely eyes, and wiry strength— Gascon wanted to touch her ankles, kiss the bend of her knee, he wanted to—

"There," she said, putting her hands on her hips in satisfaction. "All done, Gascon. Do you think you can make it over there by yourself, or shall I carry you?"

Meve's eyes shined with her jest, but Gascon knew he wasn't going to make it to the fine little nest she'd made for him. Still, though, he couldn't bear to make her carry him, so instead, he said,

"I appreciate the thought, Meve dear, but the ground here is passing comfortable for my old bones. Come, sit— you'll see what I mean. It's fine ground, this is. You'll like it."

Laughing, Meve humored him, kneeling in front of him. Gascon managed to pull himself upright enough to be face-to-face with her, and he was hit at full-force by the shining of her eyes.

"You're right," Meve told him, sharing his breath. "It's fine ground indeed."

Gascon was confused. When had they gotten so close? Why were Meve's eyes half-lidded? Fuck, was she about to—

"Gascon, Your Majesty," said a familiar voice, and Gascon started. "I brought the water you asked me to—"

Reynard stopped mid-sentence, and Meve turned to him with the most guilty expression Gascon had ever seen on a woman— and he had seen many guilty women. Reynard wasted no time, though. As ever, he shrewdly calculated the situation and sacrificed himself for the good of others.

"I see." He cleared his throat. "Pardon my interruption— I shall impose no longer."

Oh, the poor sod. Even blind drunk, Gascon could see the pain in his eyes. Gascon wanted to take it all away from him, take it back, make it better— but what could he possibly do or say to unbreak a man's heart?

"Reynard, wait," said the queen, commanding and desperate. "It isn't— this isn't— I didn't come here with the intention of—"

Reynard held up his hand.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Your Grace. You're a woman as fine as any, and you've been campaigning many a hard day. It is only natural that—"

"You misunderstand me, Reynard." Oh, she was truly suffering now— and it was all Gascon's bloodly fault. "You are as you ever were— a steadfast friend, patient and wise and honest. On the most trying days, under the beating sun or in pounding rain, you are my buckler, the shield that fends off the swords of my enemies. You are dearer to me than I can measure."

Gascon looked away then, drunkenly ashamed— he should not be here, he should go, a quip and a laugh, and he could be away, away, away— 

But Meve was not finished.

"And Gascon— my, my, what a man you are. So full of laughter, and full of secrets; you are the hunter in the night, the wolf that prowls and stands before my doorstep, a warning to those who would dare to cause me harm." 

She reached out to him, blue eyes shining. Her hand, though rough and calloused against the stubble of his cheek, was so tender that Gascon wondered if his face might crack from the pressure of it.  

"You are the blade in the dark that protects me when all else 'round me sleeps," she told him, the rasp in her voice like fingertips up his spine. "Gascon… you are the darkness in my own heart."

She paused then, swallowing thickly, and with azure eyes bright with tears, implored,

"Don't make me choose between the two of you. The thought of losing either of you— I cannot bear it. My shield and my blade— I need both in equal measure, else I shall die as surely as Melitele hears me now."

Gascon was gobsmacked, for once rendered speechless— but Reynard, ever the dullard, bowed his noble head and spoke, as ever, with the most foolish, most honorable cop-out imaginable:

"You need not choose, Your Grace. I— I overstep. I am your subject, and you my commander— any, er, relationship that might occur is— well, it's hardly appropriate." 

Though Reynard's words were strong and sure, Gascon had an eye for weakness. Even as Reynard was trying to preserve the heart of the woman he loved, his heart was breaking. No— he was breaking his own heart so that she would not have to, in order to spare her the pain of it. 

Stupid, noble bastard. He was a stronger man than Gascon. 

"I will forever be your friend and ally, Your Grace," he continued, bowing lowly, respectfully. "I am entirely devoted to you; nothing could dissuade me from my task, or from our lasting friendship. Gascon is a fine man, and handsome— not that you need my approval, but—"

He swallowed dryly, his eyes sliding to Gascon in a way that felt fragile, like an alchemist's incendiary concoction in a delicate demijohn.

"But you have it. I could not have chosen better for you myself."

"Reynard," the queen breathed, her eyes wet, glistening, and her closest adviser turned away, unable to contain his own emotion. 

Oh, bloody fucking hell. Gascon was going to have to bloodly fucking walk. 

Gingerly, he rose to his feet, swaying slightly. Without his usual grace, he made his way one foot in front of the other to where Reynard stood, head bowed in deference and shame. Noticing the shadow Gascon threw, Reynard looked up, and suddenly they were close— eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose, too close— and Gascon boldly placed his hand on the back of Reynard's neck, sliding his own calloused hand into soft salt-and-pepper hair. 

"Reynard, you fool," he said, his eyes drifting to the other man's lips even as they shared a breath. "As ever, you don't have a single clue. You're going to make our queen cry."

Slowly, almost teasingly, he smiled, tilting his head, requesting permission. Reynard, slow as ever, made a strangled noise, and then their lips touched, dry and soft and warm. Gascon grinned, then chuckled as Reynard kissed him back.

"Sweet goddess," Meve breathed behind them, and Gascon laughed into Reynard's kiss, pulling the other man closer to him until they were flush and his half-hard cock met Reynard's full, muscular thigh. Reynard's hands, resting til now at his side, traveled upwards to touch Gascon's back, and Gascon shivered.

"Don't you see?" Gascon sighed between kisses, holding back a groan as Reynard squeezed his waist. "This is so much easier, isn't it? Easier than the fighting, than the pining— our queen needn't choose. Does she not deserve the both of us? Is she not worthy of both our worship?"

Reynard pulled away, and for a moment, Gascon feared he'd overstepped or somehow given offense— but then he saw Reynard's pupils blown wide, his eyes dark with desire, and Gascon's heart thumped painfully in his chest for an entirely different reason. 

"You talk too much," Reynard told him, and Gascon swayed, too drunk to take such a statement and stay standing. Reynard, ever the gentleman, caught him by the waist, steadied him, and Gascon thought he'd never wanted to suck thick, knightly cock more than he did in that moment.

"Well, I see you lads have been keeping something from me— again."

When Gascon looked back, Meve was smiling wryly, but there was a brokenness to it that shamed him. 

"Never," he insisted gently, prying himself from Reynard. "Meve, love— I swore to you, never again."

"Hm."

The queen, it seemed, was unconvinced. 

Well, that was alright. It wouldn't be long before Gascon could feel his face again, and even drunk, he'd been known to be very convincing when he wanted to be. 

With as much dignity as he could muster, Gascon took Reynard by the hand and led him to where Meve sat, long, lovely legs drawn up against her chest, guarded, defensive. Awkwardly, he lowered himself to the floor, pulling at Reynard to follow, and placed a hand on one round knee, stroking it softly with his thumb. Wordless, Meve dropped her head to her knees, hiding her face, and Gascon could feel the wetness of her unshed tears finally break loose from her eyes. 

"Oh Meve," he said, "Oh, darling— don't cry, love. We've got you. We're here."

The queen stayed that way a few moments, and Gascon let her. He said nothing further, only stroked her back with one hand and petted her hair with the other. Reynard, equally silent, knelt apprehensively beside her; from his expression, he wanted desperately to touch her, but wasn't sure how, or even if he could. Meve was his queen, his sovereign, his highest power— to Reynard, Meve was sacred, more than queen, more than woman. 

That would not do. Meve was all that and more-- but she was a woman, and that side of her deserved to be touched, to be loved like a human, not aestheticized, not objectified. Slowly, Gascon reached out, allowing Reynard time to process the motion, and when Reynard did not stop him, Gascon placed Reynard's hand on Meve's shoulder, squeezed gently, and guided Reynard's movement until the man felt brave enough to take his own initiative. 

Once she felt Reynard's touch, the queen looked up, nose red and sniffly, cheeks puffy. Gascon thought she had never looked more beautiful. 

"May I kiss you, Your Grace?" he asked, and, bewildered, Meve blinked, then laughed.

"Forgive me," she choked out, attempting to stifle her laughter to little effect, "I don't mean to laugh at you, it's just— I don't think you've ever called me Your Grace before this very moment."

She smiled, took his hand, and added,

"Never has it meant more. Kiss me, Gascon."

Gascon did not need to be told twice. He pressed his lips to hers, sweet and slow, then deeper, tasting the spiced wine on her tongue. His hands pulled at her knees, and Meve allowed them to be moved apart. Gascon knelt between them, his hands in her hair, and then he felt her hands slip beneath his tunic, cold and searching. 

"Reynard," she said, the movement of her lips soft against Gascon's mouth. "Come to me."

Gascon took his cue and began to kiss lower, worshipping his queen's neck with kisses, licking the salt-sweat taste from her skin in a way that made her shiver. Above him and to the side, Reynard and Meve were kissing, the movement of their lips making wet, lewd sounds above Gascon's ear. Eager, hungry, but still a bit addled, he began to fiddle with the laces at the front of Meve's shirt, trying to loosen them, but soon got distracted, moving instead to the large, alluring bulge in Reynard's trousers, pressing against it with pleasant friction as his other hand squeezed at Meve's breasts. Mindlessly, he rutted against what of Meve his cock could reach, wondering why the hell they hadn't tried this sooner as Reynard groaned, low and animal, at the press of a palm against his cockhead. 

Really, it wasn't fair that the stick-in-the-mud had such a big... stick.

"Reynard," he purred, a bit sing-song. "Take off your trousers, love— I want to taste you."

Oh, the attention that got him. Meve's eyes, bright and hazy with wanting, narrowed with carnal pleasure at the suggestion, and Reynard's widened in innocent shock. 

"I— Gascon, that's very generous, but—  I mean— I don't think it proper to— "

It took a moment for Gascon to catch on to the reason for Reynard's hesitancy— what man turns down a blowie, anyway?— but then it clicked, and Gascon was suddenly, inexplicably flattered.

"You're worried about sullying my honor, wounding my dignity," he grinned, gleeful and bewildered by such concern. When Reynard nodded hesitantly in affirmation, Gascon's grin turned filthy. 

"You're very sweet," he replied, shuffling forward to place a kiss to Reynard's ear, "but I'm the Duke of Dogs. Honor and dignity aren't really my thing, and I think if I don't get to have that fat cock of yours in my mouth, I might just die. You'd be doing me a favor, really."

So saying, Gascon began to fiddle with the laces of Reynard's breeches, and luckily, they were easier to untagle than Meve's shirt. In only a moment, Gascon freed Reynard's length, and, after admiring it for a moment, brushing the thick, bulbous head with his thumb, he lowered his mouth to it and began to suck. 

"Melitele's saggy tits," Gascon heard Meve swear above him, and there was some rustling and the soft rip of fabric that he could only assume was Meve's shirt falling victim to Reynard's impatient hands.  

Gascon was nothing if not thorough in his ministrations. At a moderate pace, he forced Reynard's cockhead past his lips, teasing the slit with his tongue, and was rewarded with a deep, earthy groan. A few moments later, he let his hands take over to lap and suck at Reynard's thick, heavy balls, their smell deep and rich with sweat and arousal, and Gascon allowed himself a moan as he tasted and touched them, rolling their heavy weight in his hands and sucking them into his mouth. Deliciously responsive, Reynard thrust his hips up and against Gascon's face, and the next thing either of them knew, Gascon was dodging spurts of white and Reynard was shuddering from his release. 

"Already?" Gascon teased, and Reynard had the grace to blush. 

"It's... been a while," he admitted sheepishly, and Gascon rose to kiss him, soft and reassuring. 

"It bothers me not at all," said Gascon, "for the night is young, and I'm only getting started."

Comforted, Reynard brought a hand up to guide Gascon's face to him so they could kiss— a warm, sticky hand, slick with—

Gascon took a sniff or two... 

Meve. 

Gascon turned to find the queen entirely bare. While he was distracted with cock, Meve had apparently abandoned her clothes, exposing miles and miles of golden flesh and a dusting of fine blonde hair. She knelt beside the two of them, smiling widely, and Gascon smiled in return, beckoning her to come nearer. 

"Your Grace," Gascon bowed, a sweeping and dramatic display. "Permission to lap at that pretty cunt of yours?"

"Only if you promise to make it good," the queen teased back. 

"Oh, I solemnly swear, 'twill be," he grinned. "On your back, love."

After a few moments of shimmying, Gascon's head was between Meve's legs, licking and sucking at her clit. His hands smoothed over her legs and the soft down of hair there; too drunk on her sex to notice anything else, Gascon nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Reynard press himself flush against his back, cock hard and sliding over the curve of his ass. Wordlessly, Reynard rocked against him, humping like a dog (ha!), occasionally reaching over to tweak Meve's pretty, perfect nipples.

Oh, the feel of Reynard's terribly large cock in the cleft of his arse— they should definitely have tried this earlier, Gascon decided. Instead of fighting, biting like mutts at each other's throats, they should have been doing this.  

"Gascon!" Meve exclaimed as he spat messily onto her cunt, grinning like a hound at the mess she looked beneath him. 

"What?" he asked, batting his eyes with faux innocence. 

"You're— that's— !"

The poor queen couldn't string more than two words together, but her need to do so dissipated as Gascon returned to his purpose, this time plunging three fingers inside her without warning. He sucked at her clit, curled his fingers upwards, pressing into soft, yielding flesh. As he did so, Reynard reached around to grasp his cock, and Gascon moaned against Meve's sex as a rough, calloused hand stroked him. 

"Gascon," Meve breathed, "Gascon, what's—  oh—  oh!"

Gascon did not let up until his face was soaked from his nose down and Meve was threatening to crush his 'mean, filthy skull' between her thighs if he didn't 'stop, dammit, she was fucking shaking'—  and only then to correct his queen, because she didn't seem to grasp the idea that such a crushing of skulls was hardly a punishment. 

"Are you ready for cock, then, my queen?" he asked, his knees beginning to shake as Reynard's thrusts began to synch with his stroking. "Which of us would you like first?"

Reynard, who had been very much lost to his pleasure for the last few minutes, seemed to snap out of it a bit at that. Suddenly once more unsure, Reynard stopped moving altogether and just sort of froze, awkward and insecure. 

Oh, bloody hell, Gascon should have just kept his mouth shut. 

"Well," said Meve, propping up on a hand as she glanced between the two of them, "I don't very well see why I cannot have the both of you at once."

The suggestion was so matter-of-fact and without a hint of teasing that Gascon had to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. Similarly affected, Reynard's mouth hung agape, and the queen threw back her head and laughed at the both of them. 

"What, skittish now, Gascon?" she teased. "And you, Reynard, my bravest knight— why do you balk?"

"Hey, love, no one's balking," said Gascon, the ale running away with his tongue, "It's just the fact that you said what you said out loud and expected us not to faint like blushing virgins. You're quite filthy, Your Grace. It's a wonder you haven't killed poor Reynard."

Reynard was still frozen, the poor sod, so Gascon reached for his hand and brought him to his side. Reynard shuffled forward, his ridiculously large cock bobbing comically between his legs, and Gascon knew Meve was going to need more prep to take that girth plus his own. 

"Come on, chap," he said, clapping Reynard on the shoulder. "We've got work to do if we're to please our queen, and it's going to take both of us to prep her well. Are you up to it, or shall I take over for a bit?"

Without waiting for Reynard to answer, Gascon sank two fingers into Meve's cunt, scissoring and playing in her wet heat. With his other hand, he guided Reynard to mimic his motions, and soon they were both four fingers in, spreading Meve obscenely wide as she writhed and whined beneath them. Fuck, if this wasn't every depraved man's wet dream, Gascon didn't know what was.

"Ready, Mevie?" he asked with a kiss, withdrawing his fingers. "We don't want to hurt you."

"M'ready," she replied blearily, chest heaving with pleasure. "Just get on with it, will you?"

With a gentleness that surprised even himself, Gascon took charge, maneuvering them until Reynard was sitting behind Meve, his cock resting against her sex, and Gascon pressed a kiss to both their mouths before lifting Meve until Reynard slid smoothly into her, eliciting a filthy gasp from them both that would live forever in Gascon's memory as the most lewd noise he'd ever heard. Wasting no time, Gascon took his own cock and pushed slowly in, allowing Meve time to adjust and forcing himself to be present enough in the moment to appreciate the sensation of sharing a woman this way. There was so much sensation all at once that Gascon was afraid that he would embarrass himself, but then his hips moved on their own, rocking into Meve and against Reynard in delicious friction that was better than anything had a right to be. 

"Oh, goddess," Meve keened, arching her back as Gascon began to fuck her in earnest. "Oh, goddess!"

She pulsed around them, reaching orgasm, and Gascon found himself not too far behind. A few moments later, and the heavens opened; a choir sang, his vision went white, and Gascon came harder than he'd ever come in his life. He pulled out, choosing to spend his seed over Meve's belly, and in improbable, impossible queenly fashion, Meve dragged her fingers through the mess and brought it to her lips, tasting him— but that was not all. She turned, opened her mouth to kiss Reynard, pushing seed from her mouth to his, and Gascon thought he might pass out just from watching them. 

"Melitele help me," he breathed. 

As he watched Reynard lift Meve bodily and thrust up into her with all the fervor of a zealot in his worship, Gascon made a vow. For these two, he would do anything, break any vow, keep any oath; Gascon would die before them, because none would touch them while he yet lived. Meve had called him her blade in the darkness, the wolf at her door— Gascon had not realized how right she was until that very moment. He would be that which stood between them and the world, and no matter how this Nilfgaard business shook out, Gascon knew where his loyalties lie.

For once in his life, Gascon stood for something, and it felt right that it should be this. 

That it should be love.

[de-fright-ful]

Joy-Family-Descending Traits for anyone who wants to make their muse canonly &/or distantly related to Amity and her Clan.

THE PINK HAIR — now, not all pinks are the salmon colour Amity has; some are more pastel, bubble-gum, ranging up to magenta in true anime fashion (we’re not going hard realism here! Haha) But Pink Hair is a dominant trait on the same level of Dark Brown-Black, that often, if not always emerges

Unfortunately, bad eyesight runs in the family! Amity has bad eyes, Kija needed glasses, most of her distant cousins have contacts, and several uncles have had laser eye surgery! It’s the Joy curse!

Short but wide body types! Typically, The Joys tend to err on the shorter side, at most being 5’7 and getting as short as 4’10. Amity falls on the shortest end (4’8) due to supernatural involvement, but they tend to be slighter!

Round face shapes! Not specific yo heart or round or what have you, but Joy's tend to rank highly on the 'resting friendly expression' scale—like the sort of person you wouldn't hesitate to ask, 'Hey, could you take my picture for me?' if they passed you by. That kind of friendly!

Cool-Spectrum eye colors! Blue, Black, Green, Purple, Grey, what have you - they tend not to have Red, Pinks, Golds, etc. (because, again, we're on anime logic here, these eye colours do exist! I won't overthink it if you don't! Haha)

Not having freckles — weird one but it's a trait that has always seemed to skip over them! A birthmark or two, sure, but full freckles? Nope!

Being born with dermal melanocytosis spots from their lower back to the back of their neck that fade away by their first birthday.

Dimples!!

As a family, they tend to have an affinity for Science, specifically medicine-based endeavours, which often leads to them being naturals at it or even prodigals.

Pre-disposition towards entering the STEM field, specifically in the engineering or Medical branches.

Ironically enough, VERY bad luck when it comes to fire! If you meet a Joy and ask them if they've ever had something happen with fire, they'll be surprised but affirmative, with some even showing the scars from their run-ins with the element.

Tendency to gravitate toward Normal or Fairy-type Pokemon for companions; no one knows if this is a learned thing or just a pre-disposition of their nature! Amity is the biggest exception to this!

STROOOOONG SENSE OF CONVICTION, whether right or wrong, good or evil, the Joy's will die on the hills they choose and remain rooted, even if it means certain death and destruction - they are THAT intense just as a resting default! If you ever meet a Nurse Joy willing to abandon their principles, you have met a liar because that is not a Joy! The Joys rose to power on the sheer power of 'fuck you, we're not moving, no sir,' its a FAMILY TRAIT

Also, UNDERHANDED CLEVERNESS, the Joys inherently possess a collective talent for finding loopholes and EXPLOITING them, you name it! Rules, deals, bets, what have you—if they see an opening, they can't resist biting onto it and a good half of the time? They do this to each other! Keep your kin on their toes! It's a family bonding thing! They don't take it too personally.

And, last but not least, THE FAMILY BOND, no Joy is ever or will ever be left behind. If you have the name, the rest will inevitably rally to you in a time of need - of course, they will pick sides from time to time (a bad apple will be thrown to the compost rather than ruin the batch), but by and large? Very large, very supportive, and very involved!