#the inspiration to do this has struck me like a bat

[blackghostm2oart]

So… I might have went a bit overboard, ehe

Plus close up

Soooo…. Yk about the whole 1920’s AU by @nerdywriter36 where Erik is a WWI veteran?

I was thinking about his awakening at the hospital and how it could have went…

I was thinking about him probably being unconscious for a while (some days? Or even weeks?) and then, after waking up, he asked the medics about the direness of the scars and got some pretty vague responses (tho still concerning), but then saw himself in a mirror that the nurses forgot to move away and, understandably, freaked out and became violent, this drawing shows that scene.

The hands are obviously some nurses trying to stop him from taking off his bandages (it wasn’t secure doing it yet) and one of them trying to drug him (to make him calm). The hands are disembodied for a couple of reasons: 1) It places Erik as the focus; 2) Can also be seen as a symbol for the ones lost to the war and the horrors of war (since they are gripping and paralysing him, a bit like trauma); 3)I’m unable to draw the other people (work smarter, not harder).

In the days after this accident he might have been drugged out of his mind (if they could afford it, which was rare, because those medications were needed for other patients) or tied up (which let his mind wonder).

The actual “unmasking” happened only after his wounds were closed (it took a while), he obviously didn’t react well and even tho he had wondered for a long time his imagination didn’t even come close to the reality he was facing.

I wanted to go with horror vibes here, it isn’t my strong suit, but I’m really proud of this.

Hope you don’t mind my yapping and theorising about your fic @nerdywriter36 and sorry for spamming.

I wonder if there will be elements of trauma on the actual fic.

[000-pawz]

press play! (bnd) ˚ · .

bnd as male leads , ot6 , fluff , slight angst , movie/film tropes, loosely (!!!) inspired by random movies/dramas/books i've seen and read (with song recs <3)

more under the cut!

a/n: me pretending that all of these are real dramas so i can escape into my silly little fantasy land >___^ <3 also thank you so much for 400+ followers!!! i know i haven't been as active lately, but seeing the sweet messages in my inbox and your genuine reblogs keeps me going for sure. i don't deserve all of this love and support, and yet, i've managed to find my place here. thank you guys!!! my little strawberries ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆<333

sungho ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "i have no idea why i like you, but i do" lead

university, streetlights, jackets, sunsets, fond eye rolls, sharing books, lunch dates, faint smiles, polar opposites, long calls, gardens, bouquets, lattes, butterflies

to put it simply, you are somehow everything sungho tries his best to avoid in life. disorganization, clumsiness, carelessness, and above all, making a fool of himself; four things you seem to have perfected. you always show up to lectures 30 minutes late, panting heavily as you clutch your backpack to your chest. your professor and everyone else in your course is used to your tardiness by now, so no one bats an eye—but when the only available seat left is next to sungho himself, he starts to mind. first, you ask him for a pencil, and then, you ask him what’s going on, and then you ask him how his handwriting is so neat. sungho responds to you in curt words, never sparing a glance your way as he tries his best to keep his focus on the lecture. but you keep. asking. him. questions.

he knows that you aren’t dumb. you somehow managed to get accepted into this school under a rigorous major, and you haven’t dropped out so far, so there’s no way you don’t know how to keep up. in a way, he sees you as a little yapping chihuahua who laughs way too loudly, and he sighs everytime you wave brightly to him across campus, cupping your hands around your mouth to tell him to wait up so you guys can walk to class together. it seems as if you’ve already claimed yourself to be his friend after your limited, brief interactions. great.

somehow you always manage to find him when he's studying at a cafe, pulling out the chair in front of him to plop down and pester him about what he's up to (and you always manage to convince him to buy you coffee just so you can leave sooner). you purposefully take the spot next to him everytime you show up to class, nudging hi sfoot under the table so you can pull a funny face at him or sneak him a lollipop under the table.

sungho likes to believe that he’s indifferent to you. you’re just another obstacle he has to navigate through in order to finish his day. but he realizes you may have struck a little deeper into his heart than he originally thought when he notices you sitting solemnly on a bench on his walk back to his apartment. you’re dressed up in a nice outfit and he can tell you’ve put in a lot of effort to your appearance, but under the glow of the streetlights, he notices your smeared mascara and wet cheeks, your purse clutched tightly between your fingers. you’re mumbling to yourself as you fiercely wipe at your face with the back of your hand, something about “that asshole” and how you’re “so dumb”. sungho doesn’t know what comes over him as he hears those words, but he finds himself stopping directly in front of you, watching as you slowly tilt your head up to meet his eyes. 

“you’re not dumb,” he says, staring down at you with such sincerity. you sniffle a bit, tilting your head at his figure in a confused manner.

“sungho? what are you doing here?” you ask quietly, your voice shaky as you try to stop your tears.

“you aren’t dumb,” he repeats again. “it’s late. you shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

you don’t respond other than blinking owlishly at him. in this moment, he realizes how beautiful your eyes are, glimmering despite the tears pooling at your waterline. a cord in him strikes; he doesn’t like seeing you without a smile on your face.

sungho shrugs off his jacket before leaning down to drape it over your shoulders, giving you a soft smile before offering his hand out to you. “may i walk you home?”

and from that day on, sungho seems to have opened up his heart to you. he asks if you want to visit a cafe after class, helps you catch up in schoolwork, his eyes lingering on your bright smile—and each minute he spends with you, he falls for you more and more. he’s not sure how you feel about him; he can’t read you quite yet, and he’s not quite sure why he likes you so much, but he thinks it’ll be worth the wait, as long as he gets to be by your side.

˚ ⋆｡˚ riwoo - the "i'll look after you, no matter what" lead

bustling city, dinner dates, gentle hands, puppies, headlights, midnight talks, watching the stars, wishes upon dandelions, breakfast in bed

it’s riwoo’s second year working at this company—and subsequently, his second year dealing with his inconsiderate seniors and selfish boss. so when you, the new, sparkly-eyed intern, are assigned two giant stacks of paperwork to go through on your first day, riwoo immediately empathizes with you. when it starts to grow dark and most of your coworkers begin clocking out, you find yourself trapped at your tiny desk with at least 3 more hours worth of work to do. 

you’re basically falling asleep, your eyelids slipping shut every few seconds before you finally doze off. riwoo watches you from across the office and some part of him feels guilty at the thought of leaving you all alone here. so instead, he makes you a cup of coffee and brings you a snack, placing it quietly at your desk. he even leaves a few sugar packets next to the mug because he’s unsure of how sweet you like your drink.

and then he waits. he exhaustedly types away at his keyboard, his knee bouncing under his desk to keep himself awake. you finally wake up an hour later with a tiny yawn, stretching in your chair before sleepily blinking at the scene in front of you. he watches as your eyes widen at the coffee and snack before looking around the office, locking eyes with him above his computer screen. he gives you a small smile and wave, to which you return, mouthing out a ‘thank you’. if you’re going to be working overtime, he’ll be there with you.

and it becomes a thing. riwoo makes sure you eat as you work through the mistreatment from your boss, comforting you when you stress cry in the breakroom, taking you out for dinner when you clock out and making sure you get home safe with a small reminder to get some sleep. you find yourself falling his selflessness. he works through those sleepless nights with you, cheering you on with shy smiles and quiet encouragement. before you know it, riwoo becomes your rock.

as you wait for the bus to head home, riwoo jogs up to you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he attempts to catch his breath.

“riwoo, hi,” you greet with a small, tired smile. riwoo’s cheeks are flushed red, his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he returns your smile with a weak one. 

“hey, y/n. i just, um… i wanted to ask you something before you leave…” he starts, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. your bus is nearing your stop in the distance, so you stand, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

“yeah, what’s up?” you ask, meeting riwoo’s eyes. they’re big and round, glossy as the headlights of passing cars speed by. your heart flutters in your chest at just the sight of him.

“i was wondering if i could take you out? on a date, i mean,” he stumbles out, pressing his lips into a thin line once the words escape.

“like a date date?” you clarify. you guys hang out all the time and you have to admit that you’ve started to want more. riwoo is the sweetest, most giving person you’ve ever met and you think you’re already in too deep.

“yeah. a date date.” at his words, your entire face lights up, quickly nodding your head as you answer. 

“i would love to.” right then, your bus pulls up to a stop, so you give him a tiny smile, motioning toward the doors. “ i’ll call you when i get home, okay?”

“okay. yeah,” he breathes out with the brightest smile on his lips. “get home safely.”

“i will!” you wave enthusiastically through the doors before they close behind you and riwoo watches you through the windows with a small smile until your bus disappears down the road, his heart light in his chest.

from there, one date turns into two. and then two into three. and then suddenly, you’re at his apartment playing with his puppies while he cooks you guys breakfast, the sunlight beaming through his sheer curtains. even if the weight of the world is falling on your shoulders, you deem it impossible to feel down around your ray of sunshine.

riwoo always waits with you for your bus, letting you rant to him about your day, or things you're interest in, or to just tease him about how he dropped a stack of papers that day. and you never forget to text him when you get home, going to sleep with a smile on your face as you reread the long paragraph he sends to you about how proud he is of you and how he can't wait to see you tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. in this big city full of hustle, bustle and noise, he is your solace.

jaehyun ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "everyone wants me, but i want you" lead

road trips, rooftop hangouts with friends, bright smiles, street vendors, shared hoodies, soccer games, skateboards, sparklers, bonfires, sunny days

ever since you moved onto campus for university, you’ve had a crush on myung jaehyun. from his silly smiles, to his friendly nature, to his cute nose and cheeks. you like everything about him. the only problem is that everyone loves myung jaehyun—in fact, you can’t name a single person that doesn’t know and love him. so you’ve managed to keep your feelings to yourself for the longest.

you were in the same friend group from the very start, with your roommate dating his roommate, the intermingling of your circles was bound to happen. and in all honesty, you couldn’t wish for a better group of people to be around. you guys always go on road trips together, visiting different cities and towns to sightsee and explore. you attend jaehyun’s soccer games with your friends, cheering him on from the sidelines only to celebrate with drinks in someone’s dorm room after another win. the proximity is inevitable, and the first two years of college pass by before you can even blink. by the end of your second year, you and jaehyun became closer than you would’ve ever thought. but it always remained at that. close friends.

it’s the night of your friend group’s annual bonfire—something you’ve been looking forward to all year. you’ve been worrying about your future: what would happen when you graduate college, whether you would move away or not, would jaehyun ever like you back. but mid-summer is your favorite, especially when the tide is low, everyone has sparklers and drinks, and the night air is light and fun. your bathing suit clings to your skin after your friends had splashed sea water on your earlier, but you don’t mind it. it’s a break from your own thoughts.

you notice jaehyun sitting in the sand near the bonfire, shivering a bit, so you grab an abandoned blanket from someone else’s chair and skip over to him. when you drape it over his shoulders from behind, he looks up at you, his eyes scrunching up with the smile that overtakes his face at the sight of you. 

“hey,” he speaks, looking you up and down. you feel your body heat up under your skin, returning the smile with a small one of your own before taking a seat next to him.

“hey. you okay?” you ask, your eyes searching his face. usually, jaehyun is at the center of all the action, but tonight, he seems quieter than usual. the bonfire is warm on your skin, illuminating the sand in front of you.

“yeah, i’m okay. just thinking,” he says weakly, flashing you a tiny smile before looking back at the fire.

“about what?” you pry, bumping him with your shoulder. he looks especially good tonight, with his wet hair and soaked t-shirt, his tanned skin washed in a hue from the fire. you’re snapped out of your gazing when he speaks, though.

“you,” he says bluntly. he doesn’t look at you, but you’re staring holes into the side of head. 

“what about me?” you nearly whisper, your voice almost drowned out by the loud laughter of your friends at the shore. jaehyun watches the fire for a bit before he turns to look at you again, his eyes glimmering with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“how pretty you look. how pretty you always look,” he says. you scoff at his words, bumping his shoulder again.

“stop playing around, jaehyun. i almost thought you were being serious,” you nervously laugh, looking down at the sand.

“but i am,” he replies quickly. “i am being serious. you’re beautiful.”

when you meet his eyes again, they’re boring into yours with an intensity you’ve never felt before. something so foreign and yet familiar at the same time. you can’t do anything but whisper a thank you before your friends are rushing over to drag you guys back to the water. some part of you is unsure of whether that was just another passing comment made by jaehyun. he jokingly flirts with his friends all the time. what difference would it be when it’s towards you? 

but when jaehyun texts you the next morning to meet him on the beach, and you see an entire picnic set up with flowers on the sand, you realize that maybe he wasn’t joking. he’s standing there with his arms awkwardly spread out in a ‘ta-da’ manner, a shy smile on his lips as you near him. the sun isn’t fully risen yet, so the sky is still slightly orange near the horizon. he looks softer like this, with his puffy morning cheek and his messy hair.

he confesses that your friends gave him the extra push to confess and helped him set everything up for you. over chocolate covered strawberries and french toast, he finally confesses that he’s had a crush on you this entire time and almost went crazy from keeping it a secret. the morning started with shy gazes, soft touches, and laced fingers as the ocean waves lulled you. with your head rested on his shoulder, you finally feel content. maybe the future won’t be so bad.

˚ ⋆｡˚ taesan - the "everything sucks, except you" lead

big school, skipping stones, handwritten notes, late-night bus rides, comfortable silence, dirty shoes, convenience stores, headphones, lingering gazes

han taesan always tries to stay out of the spotlight. he keeps his head down, his hood up, and his headphones on—in a way, he feels like if he can disappear from other people’s lives, it wouldn’t be so hard to disappear from himself either. he doesn’t have any friends, and if anything, people seem to act like he doesn’t exist at all. he’s okay with that. it’s comfortable. that is, until you come along. 

he’s not sure how he’s never noticed you at first. maybe it’s because you’re just like him; you stay out of the way, you don’t speak to anyone, and you’re simply going through the motions. he’s not even sure if you go to the same school. he first sees you on a late bus ride home, near the back. your head is leaning on the window, your face blank and solemn, with one earbud in your ear as you watch the passing city through a blur. taesan doesn’t know what it is about you that intrigues him. let it be the way your sweater is a few sizes too big, or the melancholic look in your eyes, or the way those same eyes meet him from across the bus, piercing and inquisitive.

he sees you again at the convenience store a week later, pushing around noodles in a cup with your cheek in your palm, staring down at your food with no intentions of taking a bite. even in the harsh lighting of the store, your face stops him in his tracks. your eyes follow him as he pretends to not notice your stare, his heart pounding in his ears with every movement. and when he makes it up to the counter to pay, you’re gone, as if you were never there in the first place.

he doesn’t see you again for a while; not until he runs into you on his walk home, sitting on a swing at a vacant park. your shoelaces are untied, and you’re watching the way they flow in the wind. your unreadable gaze intrigues him in ways he’s never felt before. he’s always told himself to not get involved, to not get attached, and to not get in the way. but his feet seem to have a mind of their own as they drag themselves towards you. the sound of his shoes against concrete catches your attention, and he watches with shallow breaths as you lift your head to face him.

“your… your shoes are… um, untied,” he stutters out, moving his headphones to rest around his neck before pointing at your laces. you don’t say anything, but you do follow his gaze down to your shoes, cocking your head.

“can you tie them for me?”

the request is odd, especially for the first words he ever hears you speak, but he finds himself unable to decline. he kneels down by your shoes before taking a quick glance up at your face, his palms growing sweaty with the way you watch him. with shaky fingers, he helps you tie your shoes before he stands back up, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“you, um… i see you around a lot. what’s your name?” he doesn’t know why he asks, but some part of him is overwhelmed by curiosity. he knows why he is the way he is, but with you… you’re an anomaly that eats at his mind. he wants to know you. 

“y/n,” you say quietly, looking up at him from your position on the swing. taesan nods with pursed lips, averting his gaze for a second.

“i’m taesan.” when he speaks, the corners of your lips perk up ever so slightly, nodding softly in acknowledgement. something about your faint smile makes his stomach churn and his head spin. he decides then and there that he would like to see you more often; and subsequently, your smile too.

“nice to meet you, taesan.”

“nice to meet you, too. y/n.”

from there, you guys meet every now and then. taesan likes to place his headphones over your ears to show you new songs, and you like to share earbuds on the bus ride home together. he slips little notes about his day in your pocket before you get off with a little p.s. to meet him at the park before sunset. you pick clovers and tie them together to make bracelets, sitting on the swings as you bounce conversation back and forth. 

there’s no judgment from the outside world in the little bubble that you’ve created with him. and if he starts falling for you with every curious gaze and passing smile, he barely notices the shift. with you , existing becomes natural. there’s no guilt, or shame, or need to hide from yourself. it’s you both against the world.

leehan ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "i wouldn't mind living with you" lead

new to town, seashell necklaces, oceanviews, birds in trees, sunrises, midday strolls, the youngests in the neighborhood, cooking together, white t-shirts + flannels

it’s not easy living in a new town, far away from the city that you grew up in, but you can’t bring yourself to regret anything. you wake up the the sound of beach waves and boats docking, the grandmas of the neighborhood leave fresh food on your doorstep, and you get to gawk at the beautiful man that always seems to be at the shore collecting seashells. he’s the only person near your age in the entire town, but for some reason, you haven’t spoken to him yet. maybe it’s because of the way that he’s always alone at the shore, or running around the town helping everyone he can. 

leehan, they call him. a few of the grandmas have encouraged you to talk to him, saying that it’d do him well to have a friend his age. yet, something about him is unapproachable—let it be because of his long wavy hair or those flannels he wears way too often. you can’t place your finger on it. so you stick to admiring his bright smile from afar, taking in the way he speaks with fishermen as if he grew up in the water himself, or the way he assists the grandmas in caring their groceries home. he’s entrancing, moving with swiftness and speaking with intention. an aura of confidence follows him around like a glowing shadow. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a small, small crush on him by now.

you sit at the beach with your knees pulled up to your chest, the soft breeze kissing your cheeks as you gaze out at the water, the sun sparkling against its gentle waves. moments like these remind you why you moved here. your escape. although, you’re too wrapped up in soaking up the atmosphere to notice the figure moving to sit beside you, and the clinking of seashells is what pulls you out of your trance. you jump a bit at the sun block of sunshine, shielding your eyes to look up at the culprit. 

the handsome, handsome culprit who’s currently holding something out towards you with a small smile on his lips, the wind blowing his long hair into his face. in the midst of your shock, you manage to drag your eyes down to his hand—it’s a handmade necklace, made of white string and polished shells from the shore. the shells are an assortment of light blues, whites, and pinks, perfectly complimenting each other, replicating where the setting sun meets the sea. it’s gorgeous.

“made something for you,” he starts, his smile lopsided and charming. his head is cocked in a playful way, his eyes slightly squinted from the bright sun. he’s even more gorgeous up close. “y/n, right?”

“uh, yeah,” you stutter out, too distracted by the way the sun hits his face so perfectly.

“i realized i haven’t given you a proper welcome yet,” leehan speaks as he hands you the necklace, his voice deep and gentle. your eyes flickered back up to his sparkling ones, quickly shaking your head in dismissal.

“oh! no, it’s okay. i’ve seen you around enough times,” you laugh as you avoid his eyes again, running your fingers over the shells. leehan hums in response, his eyes watching your fingers. alone like this, up close, his atmosphere is affable and soft—nothing like the unapproachable man you’ve seen from afar. 

“so, are you liking it here? i heard you moved from the city.”

“i do like it here, actually. i couldn’t ask for more,” you speak, finding his eyes again. leehan’s are curious, sincere, and inviting in all the ways that makes you want to keep speaking. so you do. you tell him about why you came here, how you’re starting a-new and leehan, with a wide smile, offers to be your personal guide around town. 

you end up meeting up every morning for a walk by the beach, watching the sunrise as you exchange stories about anything and everything. leehan teaches you how he makes necklaces from seashells, his favorite recipes to cook, and where to find the quietest spots in town when you just need a break from it all. you’re falling for him—with his chivalrous, kind-hearted nature and warm smile—but you don’t mind it at all. you really do like it here; especially if he’ll be around too.

˚ ⋆｡˚ woonhak - the "i'm secretly in love with my best friend" lead

small town, childhood best friends, neighbors, growing up together, coming of age, grassy fields, tiny markets, bicycles, fireflies, shorts + graphic tees

woonhak's big smile has been a constant in your life for as long as you can remember. some of your earliest members are of making mudpies and catching fireflies in jars together, playing tag in the long grassy fields that border your town. you guys are partners in crime, drawing silly pictures in chalk outside of your neighbor’s houses or riding your bikes down to the store to buy all of the mango popsicles in stock with your pocket money. 

in your eyes, woonhak is just… woonhak. he is familiar. existing with woonhak was as easy as breathing to you. you remember teasing him when you lost your first tooth before him because it proved that you were going to be more mature than him, or when you took your training wheels off first.

your parents are best friends, and it also helps that he lives directly next to you. you guys have sleepovers all the time, using flashlights under the blankets as you pull funny faces at each other, sharing stories about past crushes or what show you’re currently watching. woonhak knows everything about you and you know everything about him.

your favorite spot to meet up is the flower field behind your house. the grass is so tall, it reaches up to woonhak’s chest, the flowers spotting the green with blooms of yellows, pinks, and purples. it’s quiet there, and you guys are free to discuss whatever and whoever. that’s where you are when you’re watching the stars one night with woonhak by your side, his arms tucked behind his head. you mirror him as you talk about something woonhak did earlier that week.

“you’re so cute, hakkie. still the same after all these years,” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand so your voice doesn’t echo too loud. at your words, woonhak sighs, a big one that catches your attention. “huh? what’s wrong?”

woonhak shakes his head, looking straight up at the sky. “i just… sometimes you say things and it reminds me that you still see me as a kid.”

you turn your head toward him at that in confusion. “what are you talking about?”

“y/n, what am i to you? honestly.” his words come out so quick, you don’t have time to linger on the sharpness in his voice. 

“you’re… you’re my best friend, woonhak,” and you’re telling the truth. the answer is simple. woonhak is your best friend.

woonhak is silent for a bit, the crickets and frogs in the distance filling in the lack of noise. his gaze is far off as he stares up at the night sky, his body framed by grass and flowers. for the first time in your life, you can’t read his mind and it terrifies you.

“we are best friends, right?” when he remains silent and your heart drops a bit. “woonhak?”

suddenly then, he turns his head towards you, the side of his face illuminated by the glow of moonlight. his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his cheeks flushed red from the humidity of summer nights.

“what if i wanted to be more than that?” he whispers, his gaze locked intensely on yours. you feel your heart stop in your chest, your palms growing sweaty from more than just the heat.

“more… more than best friends…?” you repeat dumbly. it’s as if you’re short-circuiting, all of the words that were once on your tongue dying off one by one.

“i…” woonhak sighs dejectedly, turning back up to face the sky. “i like you. i like like you. a lot.”

at the words, something in you clicks. something about the way your eyes always linger on his bright smile when he shows up on your doorsteps at the crack of dawn. something about the way your stomach churned when that girl from fourth period asked woonhak out last year. something about the way he links your pinkies together when you walk side by side, and the way he cups your face when you cry to him, and the way he holds you with so much security and love.

your lips move faster than your mind, sitting up quickly to look down at him with a wide grin. “i like you too. i like like you, woonhak. a lot. too.”

you aren’t sure what any of this means for your relationship, or for your future—but as woonhak laces your fingers together to press a small kiss to the back of your hand, any worry or doubt dissolves with the wind. you’re here now with him and for you, that could be more than enough. more than you’ve ever dreamed of.

reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3

masterlist

[seventeenytiny]

Dry humping with SKZ plz. Im new to this channel so yeah. Take ur time

Dry Humping with Skz

Smut: MDNI

Word count: 1392 Authors Note: Well anon, you sent this ask in at either the end of May or June, it is now December. You said I could take my time and I sure did, inspiration has finally struck. I hope you enjoy! Also, the way I wrote each little blurb kinda shifted with each member so I apologize for the inconsistency

Bang Chan - Dry humping frustrates Chan, I firmly believe this man craves skin-to-skin contact badly. Why would he want to waste time dry humping when he could just rip off your clothes and feel the warmth of your skin against his? I feel like the only way you're going to get away with this would be when you take control and tie his hands behind his back. He'd be helpless, wanting to touch your body so badly as you hover over him, his hips bucking into the air. You slowly lower your body against his, grinding on his hard-on in the most teasingly possible way. He'd throw his head back while the most desperate whiney moan leaves his lips. I swear he could start tearing up because he's so desperate to actually touch you.

Lee Know - He'd love to do this as a punishment for when you start getting sassy with him. When you went to undo his belt he immediately swatted your hands away, "You don't deserve my cock angel. You were so naughty sending me those pics while you knew I was in an important meeting."

You whimper, "Minho, please. I need your cock so bad..."

"You wanna know what naughty girls get?" He asks while taking a seat and loosening his tie. He sticks his leg out and points to his thigh, "Come here angel, have a seat. If you want to get off you have to do it yourself." You begin to unbutton your jeans but you're suddenly cut off, "What are you doing?" He interrupts, "This is a punishment, keep your pants on and work for it."

You swallow hard as you straddle his thigh, the denim of your pants making it harder for you to feel what you so desperately want to feel.

Changbin - It starts with you two lounging around on a lazy day in comfy clothes and sweatpants. Then it becomes a heavy makeout session every time there is a commercial break during your show. Now, it's you on top of him desperately grinding against his hard cock. Those damn grey sweatpants he has on always get you, always perfectly outlining his member. You push yourself against his crotch, your want to feel pleasure is the only thing on your mind. He's so thick you can feel his tip pushing against your clit with each movement of your hips. You lean forward, pulling him in for a hot and heavy kiss, his hands grabbing all over your body. When you pull away you can see the dark patch forming in his pants from precum, he needs you so badly.

Hyunjin - You weren't lying when you told him you wanted him to teach you some dance moves. Your intentions were honest from the get-go. It started with a couple accidental bumps of your ass against his crotch while he was trying to guide your body. Then, you started to get an idea, and those accidental bumps no longer became accidents. He grabs you suddenly, pushing his now hard cock onto your ass, "I know what you're doing Y/N. Are you sure you want to play this game?" You smile innocently while batting your eyelashes at him, "I don't know what you're talking about," you say as you push back against his crotch. That's when he grabs you, pinning you against the floor. He hovers his body over yours, his crotch slowly making contact with your clothed pussy. He leans forward and nibbles on your neck, leaving marks. Every move he made with his body was so slow and sensual. His body is hot and heavy over yours, his skin covered in a layer of sweat that makes him look heavenly. "Hyunjin, please, I want more," you moan out. He smirks at you, "More of what? I'm not sure what you're talking about?"

Han - The two of you were spooning in bed, ready for sleep to take over your bodies. The only problem was that you couldn't quite get comfortable, unintentionally wiggling your ass against Jisung's crotch as you tried to find the right position. You felt his hold on you tighten as he took a deep breath, "I need you to hold still unless you want to stay up late doing something else." He pushes his groin into your body to help prove his point, his obvious boner pressing against you. You decide you don't even want to respond with words, all you do is push back into him. "Such a naughty girl," he says, his hips now slowly yet rhythmically grinding against you. " You can't help yourself, can you? Always horny for my cock." You whimper in response, letting your boyfriend take control of your body.

Felix - You were trying to cook a nice meal for the two of you, it was a rare night where both of your schedules lined up for you two to be home for dinner. You were standing at the counter, chopping up veggies that you would add to your dish. Felix enters the kitchen and embraces you from behind as you continue to prep. You let out a relaxed sigh as you put your knife down and sink into the embrace.

Felix pecks at your cheek, "I'm sure what you're going to make is delicious love, but I'm a bit hungry for something else." He moves his mouth to lick at your neck, a move that always makes you weak in the knees. "You're so cheesy Felix,"

"But I know you love it," he says while pushing his hard-on against you.

"Ah... please don't stop..."

That's all he had to hear, now he has you pinned against the counter, his crotch rubbing against yours most deliciously. The denim of his jeans feels heavenly against the thin material of your leggings. He has your legs shaking already, his lips all over your neck as he pleasures you.

Seungmin - Seungmin had been really busy lately, he was constantly filming for different shows and interviews. As a result, you missed him, so he let you tag along to one of his shoots. You stayed out of the way, hiding in his dressing room while he worked. Every little break he has he's in there giving you attention, hugging you, and covering you with kisses before having to go back out to film. Finally, a 30-minute break came, and he practically ran to his dressing room to see you. You were lying comfortably on the couch, scrolling away on your phone. He grabs your phone and puts it aside before crawling on top of you. You were a bit shocked at how bold he was being, "I have a 30-minute break and I'm going to not waste any time with you," he says while sucking at your neck. You put your arms around him, your hands being careful to not mess up his styled hair. "Do whatever you want to do to me then, baby." He wastes no time, his lips attacking yours, his hips pushing into yours. You spread your legs slightly, allowing him to grind his hard cock against your pussy. He's fast with his movements, eager and desperate to please you and him.

I.N - Waking up with Jeongin by your side was always a treat. He looks so gorgeous, his messy hair and deep morning voice adding to his charm. "Good morning my love," he says while pulling you close to his body. "Did you sleep well?"

"Still tired... don't want to get out of bed yet..."

"We can stay here as long as you want," he says while leaning over to place a kiss on your temple. That's when you feel it, his morning wood poking your backside. You smile to yourself, you're going to take full advantage of this situation. You arch your back to push your ass into him firmly, slowly grinding against his underwear-covered cock. He lets out a soft moan, one so quiet that you could hardly hear it. "Does that feel good baby? Do you like the way ass feels against your cock?"

He wraps his arms around you, pulling your body as tight as he can against yours while pushing back against you. "Don't you dare stop."

The two of you find your rhythm rather quickly, sweat starting to coat both of your bodies as you race to finish.

[thosetrollkids]

MONSTOBER: DESIGNS

Part 1: Teen Cast!

HELLOOOOO everybody! Welcome to my project, Monstober! A series of several posts with large, in depth looks at different aspects of my AU, Monster Kids, that I wrote during October this year. Special thanks to @eurazba for listening to me ramble over all this and helping with the AU over the years <3

This post will be going over the general monster designs for notable teen characters, as well as some thoughts as to why I chose said designs :D

There will be a second post for the main adult cast, and once posted, you can find it linked here :)

Jim / Toby / Claire

Jim Lake Jr (Sphinx): It's him! The poster boy! Wahoo! Honestly, I don't have many notes for his design process, because his design has stayed relatively similar since the early drafts. His was the very first design, and other than being a typical lion/eagle sphinx for like. two drawings, and then a panther/blackbird for two more, once the snow leopard/blue jay combo was struck, he's only really changed in small ways. I chose a blue jay, because they're one of my favorite birds, they're blue, and I'd used them to be an accent to Jim in a previous drawing. Snow leopards are also my favorite big cat! So similar reasoning for that particular aspect. If I were to design him today, blank slate, I miiiight have changed his cat species, but I still am way too attached to the leopard/jay combo.

Toby Domzalski (Gargoyle): Toby's design also hasn't changed much! The main trio haven't, other than minor adjustments. He originally had yellow eyes, but they're back to standard green. He also used to have larger wings, and while I liked the idea of the main three being able to fly together, I decided to go with a different route as I leaned into his design looking more aquatic, and he instead has wing shaped back fins! They fold down and sit under his clothes, as he only really can use them while swimming.

Claire Nuñez (Harpy) Also another design I haven't changed since conception! Harpies were always something cool to me, and I was inspired by an illustration of harpies in a mythology book I had bought at the time. Her design was originally just 'bird' until I tired to find a more specific species that fit. I landed on barn owls, and coincidentally, they are also associated with brujeria/witchcraft in Mexico! Win-win. With her stronger connection to magic overall, she's also the only member of Team Trollhunter that can fly reliably; her magic feeds her energy enough to keep in the air (Jim's wings are too small for anything besides light gliding and cushioning falls).

Steve / Eli / Krel / Aja

Steve Palchuk (Faun): Steve's design was always pretty formed in my head. For the guy that tries so very hard to be an all-American boy, an icon of that is the whitetail deer buck, and it very quickly fell into place! His design is fairly simple, which is why it works so well for him, IMO. Fun fact, he has a set of scars on his cheek from the equivalent of the fight he had with Jim in S1. More to expand on in a later comic, >:3c

Eli Pepperjack (Bat Humanoid): Eli was actually also a sphinx originally, but I wanted Jim to stay fairly unique among the main teens, so my follow up design was something more batlike! I did do plenty of research for monster bats, or hybrid bat monsters, but what research I could do didn't produce much (then again, could always be wrong!), so I went with 'attributes'. He's based on a Little Brown Bat. He little >:) His wings are also not capable of flight, they're basically large hands, all the better to hunt down creepers with, my dear.

Krel & Aja Tarron (Amphibious humanoids): WAHOOOOO!!!! I'm very proud of these, because you have NO IDEA how many months I struggled to find a design I liked for them. They have been (checks notes) spidertaurs, a few other passes of various insectoid tries, I was going to attempt something more seal like, because I knew the main group's designs were already mammal-heavy, and something aquatic or insectoid was what I wanted to balance the group out. Then my beloved @eurazba, listening to me ramble one night, helped me come to the idea of their 'human' transductions looking closer to old monster movies! Creature from Black Lagoon was an easy pick, I did some research about CFBL and Shape of Water (thanks Del Toro), and bada bing, bada boom! My fishy twins! Also Krel is the only one wearing shoes. Just realized this...

Mary / Darci / Shannon

Mary Wang (Dryad): Mary has also gone through a lot of changes (turns out, I was very indecisive outside of the main trio, AJDJSBSJFHB). She was actually a -taur alongside Darci! Specifically a unitaur (saw a lot of alternate Monster Falls art of Mabel Pines as one, and I really liked the idea. The overall AU was inspired by the Gravity Falls AU, now you know!) She stayed that for a while, then also went through some bug-like redesigns, and then a couple months back, I decided on a dryad! Before that point, I was trying to stay strictly to animalistic monster designs, but it became a little too confining, so she exploded into my sketchbook and became real. Her tree is a california redbud, and her 'antlers' are like the branches of the tree, and leaves/flowers bloom in time with the season on them. The hooves were based on a Zelda design from an artist I liked a lot (truffe.art on IG!)

Darci Scott (Praying Mantis-taur): HERE COMES THE BUG PAYOFF. Some of you may remember my design for Darci hasn't changed for quite some time, and while I liked the look of the cervitaur (a centaur, but deer), it didn't feel... as unique as I wanted? And I was still missing my BUG. So, debating over this, I did a few passes of her mixed with a bee, spider, etc etc... and then once again, @eurazba was like "hey! praying mantis." and I fell in LOVE with the concept. (Very quickly sketched her up as I was doing these sheets, actually NDJSNJKJD)

Shannon Longhannon (Gorgon): Last design of the group, another that has hardly changed since conception. Nagas, gorgons, lamias- whatever they're called, I love the visual of a reptilian character slinking around gracefully, and she helped balance out all the mammalian designs as well. She was originally a typical green/yellow snake, but when I inevitably color her, I picture something more ruddy, reddish brown, to match her hair :) She indeed is able to turn someone to stone, but as she was not born a gorgon, this ability is dulled, and only lasts for a few hours, working only if she focuses completely on doing so to someone. She's taken to wearing shades more often to not scare people who don't know this.

[fanaticsnail]

Snail I need you to know I got struck with the most heinous inspiration for a Buggy smut that I am cooking up rn but bc it will be a while let me set the scene

Picture this; Buggy so enamored with someone that he hasn't had sex with anyone else, and every time he masturbates he's imagining them.

So by the time they have sex he quickly realizes he's not going to last. He keeps trying to subtly stop and readjust without letting them know but they catch on and ask what's wrong. He confessed and they assure him that they want him - in whatever way he'll be, but he's not fully convinced.

They joke that if they are that desperate they can always just use him.

And both of them notice how much he likes the sound of that.

So they pick up again, only this time he's not holding back - he wants to cum early so he can watch them use him for their own pleasure like a sex toy. He's begging them to describe how they'd use him, and they do.

They mention his devil fruit powers and how they could always use him as a dildo, or detach his head and ride his face, or both at the same time. Just hearing them describe it makes him cum but he doesn't even let himself finish cumming fully before he's trying to talk through his moans, begging them to use him. He doesn't care if it hurts, he wants it to hurt, he wants to bring them pleasure at his own expense.

They detach his dick - still inside them - and ride his face. He's mostly just sucking their clit, he doesn't care that he's tasting himself because the more he slurps away his own cum the more he can taste them. Until they start humping his face more and he opens his mouth around the base of his dick to stabilize it for them. The image giving him fantasies of them using him another way by fucking his face with his own dick. The more he feels their frothy slit around the base of his cock on his lips the hungrier he gets to feel it himself, so he detaches his tongue and sends it up there. Shouting around himself at the overstimulating sensation of his own tongue wriggling past his shaft through the hot, tight warmth. Finally, he finds their G-spot and abuses it as they grin their clit into his nose. Not caring that the more they tighten around him the more it hurts.

When he feels them cum he does too. When all of a sudden they start squirting and he immediately opens his mouth to latch around their pussy and catch it, feeling betrayed when he realizes his tongue is still inside so he doesn't get to taste it in his mouth.

Once they stop shaking from the aftershocks his dismembered body pries their legs further apart and rips out his dick, his tongue flying to join back with his mouth before it presses tightly shut around his prize. Uncaring as his own warm spend leaks onto his face he moans as he finally gets to taste it.

"More."

The two successive orgasms plus the sudden rush of cold air on his wet dick makes him burn with overstimulation, but he doesn't care.

"Please, baby, use me more." his head tries to chase you as you collapse beside his head, legs unable to hold yourself up anymore. "Please? Take my dick with you, or take my tongue, you always say I talk too much, please-"

His makeup is so smeared.

"please, keep using me, don't leave me, don't let me go, don't care if it hurts. Want it to hurt. Wanna feel you when I walk-"

You've created a monster

Snail.

Snail.

SNAIL.

You can't just go around and say these things and expect me to go ahead and pretend that everything is fine. My goodness. SNAIL. I am absolutely amazed. Gobsmacked. This is bloody spicy. Bloody hell. Oh my gosh.

The way you've set the scene right off the bat is impeccable, truly. I was immediately left too stunned to speak. I was assembling dinner and was like: "Oh? I got an ask? Oh it's from that beautiful Snail! That sweet, beautiful, lovely Snail who always has such kind thoughts and words to share. Oh let me see what they've got to- OH, WHAT THE FUCK, OH MY GOSH, BLOODY HELL!!!"

Had to take a minute to compose myself before I got back to cooking my cassoulet 💀. I had to perch atop my kitchen counter for a bit. Heights brings me an aura of calm 👌.

When you drop the full fic, you have to tag me, love. Oh my gosh.

Everyone. Everyone. Look at what the amazing @sexc-snail is whittling. I'm still stunned.

@feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @lostfirefly @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine look at this!!!

[lady-rose-moon]

Hi beautiful! For your prompts, I would like to request:

Loki Laufeyson

4. Rainy day

Please and thank you 🙏😌

Love,

LCM xx

Love Story || Loki x Reader ||

A/N; hello, my friend! I hope you enjoy this! Sorry it has taken so long, I finally found my inspiration! <3 additionally, another user (@fandxmslxt69) requested something similar so I decided just to credit them here, thank you both for the lovely request!

↣ MASTERLIST

It had been a beautiful day most of the day, Loki had decided to take you out into Asgard's market for the day, allowing you the opportunity to observe the Realm you now resided in. He watched you with a smile, accepting many compliments on your beauty and grace as you effortlessly mingled with the citizens.

Your smile lit up his world as you dragged him around the market, urging him toward stalls full of items to be bought or traded. Daggers, foods, sweet treats, books, emblems, rings, you name it and they had it. Loki found that his pocket of money he had allowed himself was almost empty after the final stall. Still, your smile made it all worth it.

"Your home is beautiful, Loki," you remarked softly, your dress swishing slowly in the calm wind as Loki guided you down a less occupied street, your cheeks were flushed from the thrill and he loved every second, "do you miss it back home?"

Taking a moment to gaze upon Asgard from your eyes, Loki hummed and replied softly with a fond, "I shall always miss home. However, I have a new home now."

"You do? Where?" you asked with a soft smile, nibbling on a brownie that Loki had purchased because you'd batted your eyelids.

Swiftly, Loki swooped down and pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips and then whispering, "you, my love, always you," as he pulled away.

That was enough for your face to flush and your eyes to dart away with a faint embarrassment before you pressed a kiss to his nose with a faint giggle. "You needn't shower me with affection," you said, smiling up at him, "i know it is not your strong point."

"You bring out the best in me, my dear, even making me wish to display my undying affection for you," Loki replied, waving his hand and transporting your bags back to the palace before he grabbed your hip and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You happily responded to the God's advances, wrapping your arms around his neck and humming softly until you gasped and pulled away when a drop of rain fell onto your nose. In all of your time in Asgard - a solid three months now -, you'd never seen it rain. "I didn't... know it rained here," you remarked with a grin, holding up a hand to catch the now quickly falling rain.

Staring up at the sky, Loki didn't reply for a moment before ushering you beneath a stall that had been left and you laughed when you saw the pout on his face. "Thor is trying to mess with our date," you joked, as if to lessen the tension, shrugging as you watched the heavy rain.

"Please do not mention my brother when you are on a date with me," you heard Loki complain but you only smiled softly with a fond shake of your head as you knew he knew you would never leave him.

Watching the droplets falling from the safety of the stall, you smiled as you watched some people still continue with their day as if nothing was happening. You, however, had just had your hair professionally done by Frigga's best hair stylists to prepare for a ball tonight so couldn't possibly run out into the rain.

"Of course, the one day I decide to plan something nice for us, the weather has to ruin it," Loki complained, his arm reaching around your waist to pull you close and shelter you against him. From this embrace, you could feel his warmth and appreciate the moment.

Suddenly, a thought struck you and you smirked, your hand reaching to hold Loki's before you gently whispered, "dance with me."

"I beg your pardon?" Loki muttered distractedly before gasping when you stepped out into the rain with your arms outstretched. "Y/N!" he called, shock shining in his eyes as the professionally styled hair became soggy and you had to pull out all of the delicate pins and charms, "what are you--"

Loki couldn't continue since you reached beneath the stall and pulled him out into the downpour, laughing as he spluttered and his ebony hair stuck to his face as he glared down at you. "I wish to have some real fun before tonight! All those dignitaries are boring already but this can never be dull," you explained loudly over the sound of the rain before you began to guide Loki into a slow waltz.

After a few moments, Loki found his feet and began to lead the dance, enjoying the smile that spread across your lips as you finally began to unwind. Sure, you were out in public dancing with a royal but you knew that Loki adored displaying his affections for you so why shouldn't you dance in public with him? You were simply... staking your own claim.

Distantly, you heard music begin to start and when you gazed around, instruments were floating in the air playing a soft melody that Loki danced with you to. You laughed and spun around, your damp hair flicking this way and that carelessly as your dress began to stick to your legs. Still, you danced on.

Loki's hands gripped your waist and he hoisted you into the air, spinning you around effortlessly as he smiled up at you, bringing you down for a soft kiss as the clouds began to dissipate and make way for the familiar Asgardian sunlight.

"Come, let us return back to the castle," Loki whispered to you breathlessly as you giggled and nodded, interlocking your fingers and beginning the journey back to the palace.

Upon arrival, you and Loki smirked at the horrified gasps of your ladies and the maids surrounding the area. You must look such a sight. You didn't care, however, you'd had a lovely time.

As your ladies and the maids began to drag you away to clean you up, you turned and called over to Loki, "we must do that again sometime!"

"I shall look forward to it, dearest!" Loki called back with a chuckle before striding in the opposite direction, a smirk on his face.

Elsewhere, a satisfied God of Thunder strode back into his chambers, tucking Mjolnir away.

~~~~

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @evelyn-kingsley @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue

[curekibouka-writing]

Love is a Song (Twst fanfic)

**mild SPOILERS for Book 7 chapter 4**

Summary: Children are creatures of love and magic. If so, he’s willing to stay right here and give the last of what little he has.

Word count: 1528

Warning: Referenced character death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This is for the event “Anthems of Old” from @briarvalleyarchives​. This piece is inspired by the song "Love is a Song" from Bambi. Please feel free to listen to the Midorikawa Hikaru (Lilia's voice actor) cover of this song too! And pls wish me luck in finishing the third fic before the deadline ;~;

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a particularly still and freezing winter night in the remote woods in Briar Valley — or at least, it would have been, until you venture deep enough into the woods to hear the endless waves of a baby screaming and crying from a cottage too small for his enormous tantrum. 

Some of Lilia’s bats have already been flying around wobbly since minutes ago due to the overwhelming noise, and Lilia himself is at wits’ end as well. 

“Come on, Silver, please,” for the first time in he doesn’t know how long, Lilia pleads, “You are going to cry yourself a sore little throat at this rate.” 

His son isn’t a baby who cries particularly much. He suspected it was the weather at first. Silver’s hand felt colder than usual as it grabbed vehemently at Lilia’s fingers, which caused Lilia quite an unsettled frown, considering that a human baby’s body temperature should easily exceed that of a nocturnal fae. 

So now he sits with his son on his lap in front of the fireplace, and it only gives him another cause for concern because — considering how weak human constitutions are, let alone that of a human baby’s — the dry air is only going to make his poor boy’s throat that much more painful as the cries go on and on and on. 

In all honesty, he has been summoned to the palace tonight, and he is already late. He would very much like to avoid being struck by Malleus’s lightning, or the Queen’s, even if they mean it as a tease more than a punishment. But he could not bring himself to even move from those tiny fingers. What if his sharp black nails rip that soft, rosy skin? What if his inhuman strength snaps that clumsy, fragile hand? What if? 

“Please, my dear, I’m only leaving for one night,” Lilia continues to plead, it might be laughable how helpless he sounds in face of his son’s screaming protests, “The bats and the animals will be here with you. You love playing with them, do you not?” 

As a thorough proof that he is not listening at all, Silver gives two small coughs and continues his raging screeches. 

Letting out a sigh, Lilia glances around the cottage for anything that might help. He sees the clock hands showing that it’s well past Silver’s bedtime, yet the stubborn little baby is having none of that. It does not matter how exhausted he is, he’s determined that he isn’t letting Lilia go anywhere. 

Letting out a heavier sigh, Lilia begins searching his memories for the answer to this dilemma. 

“Children so young don’t understand our words yet,” her voice said in the dark abysses of his memories, of a time that he thought was too bright yet too painful to recall. 

He opens his eyes and he was there again. In the chamber lit by ghastly green candlelight. He was folding his arms as he mumbled, “What a pain.” 

She shook her head mockingly, “I’m sure even a stubborn prick like yourself will change your mind once you meet him.” She gestured at the egg she was cradling in her tail with pride. 

“He’s just an egg right now. You don’t know that.” 

“I know he would love you, Lilia,” she chuckled confidently, “Children are creatures of love and magic. You keep them close, let them feel loved and safe, and they would cling onto you with their tiny little hands and cry for you if you try to leave them.”

“They’re really a pain.”

“And they’re adorable. You’re a caring person with a big heart beneath that nasty tongue of yours. We both trust you to protect him if the need arises, but we trust you more to care for him the way we do when he hatches into this world.” 

Lilia would’ve scoffed and told her how misplaced their trust was, if only she wasn’t always right. He didn’t understand what she saw in him, but he couldn’t say she was wrong. “I have never taken care of children before,” that was his attempt to deter her. 

“Neither have I,” she admitted. But then she brought her egg close to her chest, and the air began to swell with her magic. The candlelight flickered, and in an instant, they were no longer ghastly, only soft and ephemeral. They seemed to blink with the colour of her voice as her magic flowed into her child, “I know he doesn’t see or hear me yet. But I’ll make sure that he feels me, that he knows I’m right here.” 

And what did she do afterwards? Yes, Lilia remembers. He hasn’t done this in the last century or so but he remembers. 

He brings Silver close to his chest — she said it’d make children feel safer — and breathes in. 

He remembers the notes, the melody, the words. He remembers, and still he trembled. What if his son doesn’t understand the song? What if his voice scares the baby? What if—

‘Children so young don’t understand our words yet.’

“… you’re right.” 

‘Just make sure he feels...’

“I’m right here, Silver, I’m right here.” 

With the warmth of the fireplace pushing him on, Lilia begins to sing. 

Love is a song that never ends

He remembers. He remembers why he stowed this song away in a tiny little attic in his memories like so many other things that belonged to her. 

Life may be swift and fleeting

The song… her words were too true. It could bring him into a dream so real that he could almost feel them there again. 

Hope may die yet love's beautiful music

But no. That’s not what she wanted to leave behind. It’s her voice, her tone, her presence, that she wanted her son to remember, that Lilia swore to pass on. 

Comes each day like the dawn

And the candlelight that outlined her features that day, the glow of her voice that was like the warmth of fire on his skin, is never forgotten, never gone. It’s right there for him to remember. 

It wasn’t a light meant for him. But it was a light that touched him and changed him and inspired him nonetheless. And once touched by such a light, it never fades. 

So her song will never end. A century ago Lilia had often sung it to Malleus in her stead. Malleus remembers it, hums it, plays it on his violin. Whenever he does, Lilia knows that his mother would always be there with him. And Lilia could look to the night sky and ask her in his heart whether he was doing this right, whether he honoured her trust. 

But now it’s different. Lilia lowers his head and gazes at his son, his own child lying snugly in his arms, his own precious little baby now soothed by the song and his voice, finally feeling exhausted from all that crying, and beginning to drift off to sleep. 

“May the night bless you,” is a phrase he was so used to repeating after the lullaby, but he holds his tongue. He brings his son close, brushes aside the growing sprouts of silver hair, and leaves a kiss on his forehead. 

The sleeping infant soon lets go of Lilia. With magic, Lilia smoothly slips another layer of pyjama onto Silver to keep him warm and places him gently into the crib. And as the sparkles of his magic fades from his child, he wonders — as he so often wonders lately — how much longer would his magic last. 

He puts out the fireplace with a flick of his finger. He could’ve sworn when he first found out about his withering body, he was quite ready to join those on the other side of that night sky. But now, he thinks to himself in the darkness, what could he leave behind for his Silver with so little time? 

No. He doesn’t need his song to last forever. He doesn’t need to leave anything behind. Wouldn’t it be better if the path that Silver will choose one day has none of Lilia’s footsteps? He frankly doesn’t know. 

If she was truly right, and one day Silver would cling onto him and cry for him when he leaves, then at least, he wishes Silver would understand the words he left in this song. 

His bats offer to watch over the baby, but he dismisses them softly, pulling up a chair by Silver’s bedside. He wonders — as he so often wonders lately — since when does it feel so simple for his lips to melt into a smile. 

Nobody knows how the child is going to grow from now on. All Lilia knows is that, if children are creatures of love and magic, today right here, he’s willing to give the last of what little he has. 

Outside the cottage window, the horned visitor hears and watches as the lights dim while Lilia’s garnet eyes continue to glow over the child. Malleus chuckles silently, wondering how amused his grandmother would be to learn of why Lilia was absent that night. 

[augustjustice]

Crush Confessions, Part 1/?

Inspired by this post

AO3 Link

It was a totally normal, run-of-the-mill Saturday night when it happened.

The spring from hell had crept slowly into summer, and the older teens were all gathered at the Harringtons’ for what was becoming a near weekly hang out tradition–movies, music, booze and weed guaranteed. Steve had held more parties than he could count here over the years, but these quieter nights getting to spend time with their little apocalyptically bonded gang were his favorites, no question.

He and Eddie had gone into the kitchen in search of refills for their now empty beers, and somehow gotten sidetracked into an extended conversation on…well, pretty much anything and everything, from Eddie and the munchkins’ latest campaign (‘harrowing’ was the word Eddie had used to describe it, Steve committing it to memory as Eddie rubbed his hands together in glee) to how Lucas’s summer basketball practices with Steve were going (great, the kid was a natural, and only getting better by the day). 

Steve wasn’t even sure how they had gotten on the subject–some playful crack from Eddie about Steve’s high school title as ‘The Hair,’ maybe–but the next thing he knew, he was reaching out to tug on a strand of Eddie’s own long, dark mane. 

“You’ve got such nice hair to work with, dude,” Steve said sincerely, curling it around his finger, “I could style it for you sometime, if you wanted.”

Eddie had stilled as soon as Steve’s fingers combed through the locks, and he was now shooting him a baffled, amused look, like he also wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. He opened his mouth, but before he got a chance to say anything, Nancy walked by.

“Don’t let Steve talk you into it,” she warned with a giggle as she passed, following Jonathan back out to the living room, “you should have seen Dustin at the Snow Ball. He looked like the world’s cutest poodle.” 

“Hey!” Steve protested, one hand on his hip as he jabbed a finger at Nancy’s retreating back. “I’ll have you know that hairspray has never, not once, let me down.” 

As Nancy disappeared, Eddie turned to him, a dimpled smile teasing at the corners of his mouth, bright eyes expectant. 

“You gave Henderson’s hair the old Harrington treatment?” Eddie flicked at one of the locks falling artfully across Steve’s forehead, which earned him a half-hearted watch the hair, man as Steve batted his hand away. “And pray tell, good sir, when was this?”

“Like Nance said, it was for the middle school dance,” Steve explained, then launched into an entire retelling of the night as it had unfolded.

By the time he had finished, Eddie was staring at him with those rapt, dark eyes, a strand of hair pulled down over his lips like he was trying to smother his wide smile–and failing miserably at it, as it so happened.

“What?” Steve asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Nothing, man, nothing,” Eddie shook his head, smile never wavering. “It’s just…”

He clasped his hands together in front of him, his whole body practically doing a little shimmy, the kind Steve had come to associate with Eddie not being able to keep whatever thought had suddenly struck him from spilling out. 

“You’re just–stupidly sweet, you know? That’s all I was thinking.”

The earnestness with which Eddie said it caught Steve off-guard, and he felt a faint blush rising to his cheeks. 

Eddie was always doing that–with him, with the kids, with Robin–telling them exactly what he thought and felt, like he wore every emotion he’d ever had right there on his sleeve, out in the open for  anybody to see. And while he was perfectly capable of being a little shit when he wanted to be–Steve liked that about him, too, was always happy to have someone who could hold their own alongside his own bitchiness–more often than not, he was painfully sincere, never shying away from giving out compliments, bear hugs, and even the occasional effusive ‘I love, man’s for something as simple as remembering his favorite pop.

(Yoohoos, of course, a fact Steve could never forget–not after the long, hellish Spring Break Eddie had spent on the run. …If that chocolate nightmare could even really be called pop, that was.) 

“I mean…I guess so,” Steve murmured, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck, not sure what else to say. It was like he was in the Upside Down all over again–Eddie showering him with compliments he didn’t entirely know how to take. “He just…he needed a ride. You know how those kids are. And I wasn’t doing anything else, so I just thought, I mean, that I’d–”

“That’d you swoop in and play big brother, and give our nerdy baby Dusty Buns a confidence boosting pep talk while you were at it?” When all Steve could do was shrug, feeling weirdly bashful and still struck a bit speechless, Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’m saying. It kills me, the way you just do shit like that, and it’s–god, you’re so cute, what the fuck? It’s kind of disgusting, to be honest with you.” 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Steve waved his hands in the air, as though calling a time out, “you think I’m cute?”

This time, it was Eddie’s fair skin that flared suddenly red. 

Tugging a strand of hair down over his face, he cleared his throat. “I, uh. I’m pretty sure I said it’s cute.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, emphatic, as he tapped a finger to his ear, “no way, dude. I definitely heard what you said. You said you think that I’m cute.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, giving Steve’s shoulder a gentle shove. 

“Don’t act so surprised, Harrington, everybody at Hawkins High who liked dudes acknowledged the cuteness of King Steve at one point or another, even if it was just inside their own head. Same as anybody, I wasn’t immune to that shit. But it’s not just that. You’re just so–” Eddie flailed in Steve’s general direction again, words seeming to have left him. No small feat where Eddie was concerned.

“Alright, alright, don’t stroke out on me, man,” Steve caught one of Eddie’s wrists in his hand, the touch stilling him instantly as Eddie blinked over at him with those too big brown eyes. “I’m so what?”

“Nice! You’re so nice, it’s stupid, man, and you definitely weren’t supposed to be.”

Steve barked out a laugh.

“What, you liked it better when I was an asshole?”

“Yeah! I mean–no, of course I didn’t, I just…it was a lot easier to control some stupid high school crush when I thought you were just some hot douchebag but now you’re all–heroic and noble and shit, and I am but one measly little mortal and very homosexual man, Steve. You can’t do this to me.”

“Okay, I’m not that nice,” Steve protested with a roll of his eyes, still feeling that tinge of heat on his cheeks.

“No, you definitely are, dude. You’re like–like, rescue kittens out of trees, help little old ladies cross the street nice.”

“So I helped Mrs. Davis across the street put away her groceries one time–”

“See! You see what I mean?!” Eddie jabbed an accusing finger at him. “You are literally that nice!” Then, he covered his face for a moment, hiding it behind his hands as he sucked in a deep breath, like he was trying to steel himself for something. When he spoke again, the words came out muffled through his fingers. “I just–I like you a lot, you know?” 

One corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up into a soft half-smile, confusion clinging to the edges. 

“I like you, too, Eds.” 

“No, Stevie, I–that’s not exactly what I meant, man.” 

Dropping his hands, Eddie caught Steve’s gaze, dark eyes suddenly serious. Steve felt the whole mood in the kitchen shift around them. 

“I mean…I like you. God, that sounds so fucking stupid, like we’re in kindergarten, or something,” Eddie scruffed that hand over his face again, running it up into his hair to ruffle the very locks Steve had complimented earlier. “What I’m saying is…I’ve had this fucking–massive crush on you since high school, and you constantly finding new and unique ways to be adorable is definitely not helping, dude.”

Steve blinked, surprised.

The truth was, he had suspected that Eddie might be flirting. Steve had cultivated enough game over the years–the ‘You Suck’ period of his life notwithstanding–to recognize it when he saw it, and he had known, since Eddie had put two-and-two together about Robin’s sexuality and come out to the two of them, that Eddie was into guys.

But…Eddie was also an energetic, tactile guy. He got in everyone’s space, cracked jokes constantly. The playful borderline innuendo was mostly restricted to his interactions with Steve, but there was still enough leeway for Steve to write it off as Eddie just being like that.

Evidently that wasn’t all it was. 

And even as Steve felt that pleasant, fluttering warmth that came from knowing somebody had a crush on him…he also felt a sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Because…Steve was straight. He’d never been interested in anybody who wasn’t a girl. 

Which meant that now he was in the uncomfortable position of having to tell Eddie he couldn’t return his feelings. 

Steve was no stranger to rejection, on both sides. He’d been turned down–and still blamed that stupid sailor hat for at least a third of those rejections–and though he kept his options open and played the field in high school, he’d had to let girls down easy when he started dating Nancy or gently rebuff them when he simply wasn’t interested. 

But usually those were relative strangers or casual acquaintances, people he chatted up at the mall or Family Video or in the classroom. They weren’t someone who had quickly become one of Steve’s best friends. They weren’t funny, kind Eddie, who had a way of making Steve feel totally at ease every time they were in the room together, who had slotted so perfectly into Steve’s life it felt like he had always been there.

Sheesh, was this how Robin felt, huddled on the bathroom floor at Starcourt? Knowing you had to let someone down, someone you really cared about, all because you just happened not to be compatible in this one specific way? 

The whole thing completely sucked. 

“Eddie…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. Wishing there was something he could say. 

Eddie jerked up his head, and when he caught Steve’s eyes, he shot him a sympathetic look, like Steve was the one who deserved comforting in this situation rather than the other way around. 

“Oh, no, man, don’t sweat it. I know that you are totally, 100% a certified straight boy. I just, I don’t know,” he shrugged one shoulder, smile sheepish, “you know what absolute shit I am, about keeping things to myself. So, I thought…I’d go ahead and tell you, get it out there before I blurted it out at an even less opportune moment. And I’m also here to tell you that, give me a little time, and I can absolutely guarantee I’ll get over it. Cross my heart, the whole shebang.”

He drew a little cheeky X over his heart with his fingers, the curl of his lips growing wider, much more like the Eddie Steve knew. 

“In the meantime, I just…hope we can still be friends?” Eddie blinked those wide, hopeful doe eyes at him, and Steve had never had any intention of saying no, but, even if he had, it would have been impossible in the face of that.

Steve gave Eddie a friendly clap on the shoulder, his smile soft and sincere.

“Of course, man. Of course we’re still friends. Nothing’s gonna change that, and definitely not something like this.”  

“Oh, why, cuz so many of your friends have had crushes on you in the past?” Eddie teased, but his posture had noticeably relaxed, body open, swaying in Steve’s direction like he always did.

Steve huffed out a laugh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. 

“The opposite, actually. Before we became platonic with a capital ‘P’ soulmates, there was a period in there where I definitely had a crush on Robin.”

“No shit?” Eddie shook his head in amusement, curls bouncing.

“As embarrassing as it is to admit it now, I totally did. And I mean,” Steve gestured into the kitchen, where the other four teens were congregated around a six pack, “you know I’m friends with my ex. Just saying…I’m kinda the poster boy for crushes on your friends, so. I know a thing or two about what you’re going through.”

“Guess I’m in pretty good company, then.” Eddie nudged his shoulder against Steve’s. “You’re a good guy, Steeeeve Harrington. Which is still totally not helping with the crush, by the way.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Eddie Munson,” Steve mimicked teasingly. 

“What are you two even doing in there?” When Robin’s voice suddenly bellowed into the kitchen from the other room, the pair of them jumped, like they had been up to something. They shared a quiet giggle at their own surprise. “Not to break up your little secret babysitter’s club meeting, or whatever it is, but could grab some chips? We’re all out up here.”

“Duty calls,” Steve said with a nod of his head.

“The host’s job is never done, or so I’ve been told,” Eddie agreed.

As Steve attempted to juggle the three bags of chips from the counter under one arm and his beer in the other, Eddie took mercy on him and took the can from his hand. 

“This one’s totally lukewarm now, Stevie. Let me get you another.”

Steve simply nodded in reply as he watched Eddie grab a fresh drink from the fridge, keeping the room temperature beer for himself. 

When they finally stepped back into the living room, Robin crinkled her forehead at him in a silent, What was that all about?

Tell you later, Steve replied with a significant look of his own, earning him a shrug of acceptance as Robin went back to cheerfully shoving the chips he had just tossed her into her mouth. 

Steve settled down into his customary seat on the loveseat beside Eddie–still close enough to the chair Robin claimed as her own that they could throw snacks at each other and share stage whisper level conversation–and Eddie handed off the cool beer can to him, tab already pulled up and everything, with an easy, “Here you go, man.” 

As he got comfortable, Steve caught the quick, relieved look Eddie shot him when he didn’t leave any more space between them than usual, their thighs pressed tightly together, close and casual. And that was enough for a swell of hope to build in Steve’s chest, feeling reassured that nothing would have to change between them. 

Surely, everything would be just fine.

[snowywolf1005]

Inspiration struck me again what if the moon goddess reader has a terrifying hidden power? Just like there's a light side of the moon there's also always a dark side and it's called BLOOD moon 🔴 if readers heart becomes consumed with unbridled rage she will transform into a wrathful version of the Moon goddess and in this state she basically goes berserk on her enemies even to her friends if they get in the way! Hell hath no fury like the moon goddess reader����

That's a good explanation.

Well... lunala and luna do have a hidden power when they're unbridled in rage. But they only turn when it's a soloir eclipse or red moon.

The red room only appears by the sunlight but at midnight. That is illuminating it must pass through the world's atmosphere, which scatters blue light and bends (or refracts) red light toward the moon.

But it lunala and luna don't transform, but only in rage the blood moon gives them a terrifying form.

The soloir eclipse, lunala, and luna do transform but not in rage. Their bat form turn red.

In the old mexico century, they have a drawing of lunala and luna form.

Here's their form:

The world government knows lunala and luna form is dangerous.

But they won't hurt their friends, only the enemies.

[mephalis]

Lungs pushing up daisies - Alt ending

so this is an alternative ending, of what if everything that could go bad, went bad? this is for one comment that asked about it, so here you go! and also fueled by the fact that Argenti did not come home so, yeah :D im debating if i should post another work into the series with just this but i deemed it too short...let me know though if i should? as i am not sure and i thought here would work better LOL! special thanks to Grrrrain who helped me get the flow as well as inspired by some of their own sad hanahaki fic elements! a big inspiration!! click more to enjoy the ending! it follows up from the same fic but the last segment is...different! :D

[3:58]boothill:

What the heck was the name of that drink you got me?? Can’t fudgin’ find it anywhere here, got a mad itchin and i need to scratch it. you son of a nice lady, just had to get me a delicious one. Can’t believe I even forgot to go back and get that last forkin’ drop back at the hotel, what a waste.

Voice text converted into text

[3:59]boothill:

Also what kind of wine do ya like? I reckon it might be one of these red ones, but the guy is offerin’ me white champagne and what not…real fancy soundin stuff, they might be right up your alley.

Voice text converted into text

[4:24]boothill:

Too late rosey, i got you this red fudgin’ bottle instead of all the others! Darn son of a gun was trying to make me buy the lot of em, he kept on talkin’ and talkin’. Luckily i got somethin’ that always shut em up real quick. 

Voice text converted into text [4:25]boothill:

For the record, i did forkin’ pay for it. Got kicked out tho just because they get spooked by a gun so easily. Fudgin’ wussies.

Voice text converted into text [7:32]boothill:

You out in the wild or something? First time I got connection and you don’t! Oh yeah right, hope you got some wine glass or what not, don’t ya have to drink them out of these fudgin’ cups? Forgot ‘bout those.

Voice text converted into text [2:05]boothill:

Think ’m bout to see another knight of beauty, found myself at this lil ol’ station and people here are talking and ravin’ about this knight. Doesn’t sound too shabby, they’re sayin a bunch of stuff about bugs and what not…[intangible]-huh? Wait a forkin’ second…–red hair? [intangible] wait, oh shoot, ha! it is you! I can see your ship from here! Fudge, I had to park my forkin’ motor all the way on the opposite side–would you look at that! Wait, if you’re here then why haven't ya answered any of my texts? 

Voice text converted into text [2:12]missed a call from boothill.

----

Boothill tsk’d as the phone call ended with a message about some darn fucking voice message mail box, wherein he would have thought the knight might have been busy or far away from cell service to receive his call, Boothill wouldn’t have bat an eye. 

But Argenti’s ship stood right in front of Boothill, and he heard plenty of the folks on the station talking up a storm of how thankful they are for the current residing knight of beauty inside the ship.

“Ey! Rosey!” Boothill banged on the ship’s door, not too rough as he knew how Argenti cared about the exterior of his ship. Despite being a battle knight, Argenti went through many efforts to maintain the ship’s sleek look. 

There was no answer. 

Boothill was patient, he knew to wait for the right shot, to jump on his hunt. But his patience was a fickle friend, present only when he wanted it to be.

(not after he had heard of the knight getting possibly injured, not when Argenti, the man who’d speak up a storm, brimming with words, was this quiet. It had set his nerves on edge.) 

Boothill, maybe overreacting, kicked at the door in frustration. A futile gesture against the unease festering in his gut.  

But the door opened far too easily with a beep, enough for Boothill to realize it hadn’t been locked at all.

Realization struck him with grim certainty; if Argenti had been truly absent from his ship, he wouldn’t have left it wide open, right?

He frowned, and stepped in. 

There was a silent lull inside, Save for the soft hum of machinery and the distant thrum of the engine in the distant background. Only the sounds of his steps, heavy boots clanging on the metal floor echoed. Boothill had the half mind to close the door behind him properly, before frantically walking around with a search for a pretty red rose.

“Argenti? Ya here?” he called out, quicking his pace. Boothill could already hear the scolding of his Pa for his hasty intrustion in his head.

The sight of the lounge brought back the memory of his stay, and how he woke up from such deep slumber to find himself nearly drooling on Argenti’s pillows. 

But Argenti wasn’t there, so Boothill did not give it another thought as he turned. 

He blinked at where Argenti’s personal garden of roses sat, surprised to find a new addition added to the side, and stood beside it, the small figure of a wooden carved horse that he had made. It sat right next to the pot, somehow like it belonged there, like it was associated with the daisies next to it. 

The daisies, shockful arrays of white and yellow, sparkling somehow just like the roses. Not in the same way, but they had some sort of glow to them that Boothill found himself drawn to.

His hand hovered over them, and at once, he could recall how they felt once long before. 

It evoked a memory, soft and easy to tear off, the bundle of rough blanket of wool had many of the petals stuck to it as he once carried a baby–his baby–out of the bed of daisies one sweltereing summer day.

Boothill remembered Argenti once asking him about daisies.

The knight was already a strange fellow, doing whatever he got in his mind when it was aligned with beauty and all that jazz, but it was even a little strange to Boothill. Oddly specific, Where did the fascination of the daisies come from?

Boothill turned once more, not sparing the daisies a second glance. 

There was only one flower he was interested in. 

"Rosey?" Boothill called out again, stepping into the dimly lit shadows of Argenti's bunk. The room was cloaked in darkness, illuminated only by the soft, shifting  hues of the ship. 

However, light sparked on at his mere presence, automated.

Revealing Argenti's blanketed figure, slumped over the bed in an unnatural curve. 

His red hair sprawled from out of the cover like a wave of crimson river, his form held profound stillness that overturned the concern in Boothill’s heart into chilling dread. 

(was he even breathing?)  

"Argenti!" Boothill rushed forward, and at once he was hit immediately with the sharp smell of metal tang in the air that could not be hidden by the flora that always acquainted Argenti's.

blood.

He yanked the blanket off of Argenti, and reached to turn his body to face him all together in one motion. His mind raced with the urgency to assess the damage, aid whatever he could to slow down the bleeding of what might be wounds of the battle he was just in, and to call for help from the outside if they were grave enough to make the ever so preserved knight fall. But when he saw Argenti’s face, all action came to a screeching halt.

It was not an open wound, as Boothill had feared.

Boothill wished it was, as he stared at yellow daisies poking out of Argenti’s bloodied mouth. 

“..Argenti?” his breath hitched as he called out again with a tremor in his voice, pulling the knight into his arms and watched in horror as Argenti’s head drooped, falling down heavily like a ragdoll.

“Hey,” Boothill said with crackling static, desperation creeping in, haunting realization, “wake up, this ain’t funny.” 

Boothill reached to hold his face properly, cupping his pale cheek and ignoring the petal that cascaded its way down. He saw the pot of daisies by the roses, this was just a joke, a cruel joke from Argenti. 

A cruel joke from the world.

The pallor of a skin, like a forgotten rose, Argenti’s complexion was ashen. Dried blood stained his lips and trailed down his chin, the front of his shirt, and daisies spilled over his mouth with the tremble of Boothill’s arms holding him, scattering between them and forgotten. 

Boothill grit his teeth hard enough he could hear the metal, but everything was muted, numb to him as he curled over Argenti’s cold body. Boothill's fingers twitched in a pathetic attempt to hold Argenti gently, afraid to inflict more pain. The abscense of warmth was palpable, even without his senses. 

“Please,” Boothill begged, to Argenti, to anyone. Pressing his ear against Argenti’s chest, despite clearly knowing and his breath caught on his throat with a cry he wasn’t able to shed. 

It’s wrong.

“I love you.”

Argenti had confessed more than once, apparent with what he felt but Boothill ran away from it, from confronting it again, from ever mentioning it. He knew Argenti never moved on, it was obvious with the way the knight looked at him, held on to him, spoke to him, smiled at him that made that undeniable.

Boothill let it all unfold, endured the weight of Argenti’s affection with his own hidden beneath lies and pretend, thinking that this much was fine, as long as Argenti would be fine.

The corpse in arms beg to differ. 

He should have ran away, he should have cut all contact, but like a fucking selfish weak idiot he was he stayed enough for Argenti to die.

If anyone should have died by this cursed thing, it should have been him. 

“I warned you,” Boothill spat, hugging him closer, burying his face into the crook of his shoulder. He couldn’t even pretend when now he felt the cold of his corpse with the skin of his cheek pressed against Argenti’s neck. “Why, why did you keep…” 

Loving me?

Boothill clenched his jaw, burnt with despair, “Ya shouldn’t have it! I still, i still–it ain’t possible so how!?”

His questions and anguished cries were met with silence. 

Boothill had it first, he had been the one to first fall. He still loved Argenti despite it all, but he rejected him. All because he thought it was for the best.

He was the reason Argenti was now dead. 

The devastating cost of his silence, of his lie, now laid bare in front of him. 

The dull green eyes of Argenti’s corpse were devoid of his sparkle. The daisies covered with blood, the motionless sick stillness, a grotesque evidence that his life withered away long gone.

“I’m sorry,” Boothill choked on regret and sorrow, “im sorry, i’m sorry–”

He could only cradle Argenti’s corpse close to him, whispering his love into the void. 

“I love you, i still love you.” 

But his words fell on deaf ears, swallowed by the silence of loss.

[12radish]

Hello! I was struck with inspiration while reading Tim fanfics. Here’s the link to the story! It’s an odd crossover of DC and Coraline but in my opinion it’s really good. Sorry if anyone is out of character or if there are any mistakes, I just brain brain dumped this on a doc with no plan.

It was a dreary night, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Gotham was always dreary. It was dark, unforgiving, bloody, dirty, horrible, but it was home, it was where he, despite all logical sense, felt safest. And nothing would stop Jason from seeing it that way, death certainly hadn’t.

He had been patrolling crime alleys, watching over his people and making sure those who ignored his presence in this lawless land were put in their places.

Then he saw her. A girl standing on a rooftop in a bright yellow raincoat. Even though there was a light drizzle the hood wasn’t up, giving him a clear view of her dark, ocean blue hair. She was very obviously scanning the surrounding rooftops, and as her head swiveled in his direction he made sure to duck behind a generator.

Now he wasn’t one to look at a kid and think, danger. But he has a whole gaggle of bat children, including himself, to prove that kids, especially suspicious kids who were clearly trying to look for him, probably merited some form of caution.

That being said, when a young girl's voice, closer than expected, (she had been two rooftops away? right?)

Said, “hey, can you help me?”

He most definitely did not jump. He did, however, tense up.

Red hood stood to his full height, a good two heads taller than the girl. She gave him a steely gaze that he returned. But he forced himself to relax his posture. This was a kid. She needed help. Then again she was asking him for help.

“Depends, why do you need the help of a crime lord?” he asked back.

She gave him a look before she shifted, rain boots stomping lightly in a small puddle. He took notice of the satchel that rested at her side, and the way she held it close, like it held the world.

“Depends,” she said with an assessing look. But he noticed the way one of her hands was clenched in her coat pocket, probably around a pocket knife. “What does the name Tim Drake mean to you?”

The suddenness was like a stab to the gut. But Jason Todd has lived a long life, long enough to know that reacting impulsively when a clue like this fell onto his lap, would get him nowhere, he kept his posture schooled and easy-going. Kept himself from surging forward and demanding answers. Kept himself from shaking as the hole in his chest grew and hope sparked into a flame that hurt.

“Nothing much-” he lied, “why?”

The girl stood. Staring into his soul as she mulled over his words. Her grip on the satchel tightening. He almost missed the way she fiddled with whatever was in her pocket with her other hand. He was too busy holding his breath. Waiting for an answer, an explanation, a breadcrumb, a clue. At that moment, as a girl in a yellow raincoat stared him down on the top of a building as rain drizzled down from the foggy, polluted night sky, he couldn’t help but feel something akin to desperation.

Now Jason has been desperate before, desperate for family, desperate for help, desperate for revenge, desperate for rest. But this? This felt like a caged beast that wouldn't stop, no, couldn’t stop. Because stopping? stopping meant it was over. Stopping meant it was hopeless. And he would take death again just so he could hold onto the hope that he would see one Tim Drake again. That he could have a whole home again.

His attention immediately zeroed in on the girl when she let out a humm.

“You suure?” she drawled while rocking back on a heel. “Because if not, I'm kinda in a hurry, sooo..” she gestured in the opposite direction and made an exaggerated step back.

The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Wait, I know him, we were sorta close. why?”

He regretted it immediately when the girl smiled, a sharp smile that reminded him of a particularly sinister looking cat. (or Tim, supplied his treacherous mind.)

“I do, and he needs help, help I can’t give him.”

Green encroached on his vision as he spoke, “take me to him, I swear i’ll help.”

She huffed. “Well I know that, idiot, but I already have him so can we go to your base or something? Privacy is important. Tree’s have ears after all.”

He bristled at her wording. “You have him?” wasn't a question and they both knew it.

She took a step back and gripped the satchel closer, tensing at his tone, Her voice, however, stayed calm and unfazed. “Yeah, but tree’s have ears.” she stressed.

A quiet sound escaped Jason. “Please don’t tell me he’s in the bag.”

“I said we need privacy, so either take me to your lair or I will get help from less conventional means.”

—

It took a hot minute to get to his bike, another five to get the girl to put on a helmet and another six minutes of driving for him to realize that dropping this on everyone without any warning was not a good idea. He slowed at an intersection and turned to the girl, She had introduced herself as Coraline.

“I gotta call some guys, be quiet.”

“Yeah, just keep your eye on the road Red-man.”

He let out a breath of a laugh before turning on his com.There was a faint crackle before O spoke,

“What's up? I noticed you're heading to the cave.”

Instantly three more voices joined her.

“Hey Jaybird! Nice of you to join us!” Came Dick, who was swiftly followed by Steph.

“Eeey! Jason!”

Damian butted in, “Todd.” he acknowledged.

A grunt came from Bruce.

“How fast can everyone get back to the cave?”

He could feel the way everyone tensed at his words.

Bruce was quick to take command of the conversation. “Hood, what's wrong?”

A cacophony of voices tangled together, seconding Bruce's question.

Jason grunted as he pulled a tight turn, “gotta a lead.” was all he provided.

“On what?” asked Batman.

It took Jason a second to find the words. To tell them.

And when he did it was bit out, edging on angry and closer to a growl than speaking.

“Why else would I of all people call a meeting?”

It was quiet for a moment as everyone put the pieces together. But it was the quiet,

“Tim.” from Babs that got everyone moving.

After that it didn’t take long for the Batclan to get to the cave. Even though he had headed out first, Jason was the last to arrive. And as his motorcycles rumbling echoed into the cave he couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease at the silence. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, screaming he guessed. But not silence. Steph perked up at the sight of him, but otherwise everyone immediately locked onto Coraline.

She slid off first and clearly took great relief in taking off the helmet. Jason took off his own. Shortly basking in the surprised look on Coraline's face before she took in the domino that he wore underneath.

“Is she our lead?” asked Damian. His nose wrinkled as he took in her attire.

Dick nudged him, “Be nice babybird,” then he turned his attention onto Coraline, “Hello! I'm Nightwing, and you are..?”

If Coraline noticed the underlying way the group looked at her like hungry wolves, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead she nodded curtly at Nightwing and answered,

“Coraline Jones,” then she pulled out a green triangle stone with a hole in it, causing everyone to briefly panic, thinking it was a weapon.

“Uh kid, what's that?” Jason asked.

Coraline held it up to her eye and gave each and everyone of them a scrutinizing look before seeming satisfied. She pocketed the stone and answered, “A rock. Now do you guys have a med spot?”

Steph laughed lightly, “med spot?”

Cass covered her grin and Damian let out a huff.

The tense air retracted, if only slightly.

Jason was the one to answer, trepidation bubbling his chest. “Yeah over here.”

He went to lead her to the med bay when Bruce spoke up.

His voice laced with caution that only the rest of the vigilantes noticed, “Why do you need medical attention?”

Coraline answered as she hurried past Jason to the med bay, “I don’t.”

That was definitely not what everyone wanted to hear, But Coraline was quick to dodge their questions, and even quicker to dodge Damian who had attempted to block her path. That got the group moving, not just anyone could dodge the demon brat. They all crowded into the med bay after the girl. Who for the most part looked undisturbed by their presence. It was either that, or she was too focused on whatever she was doing to acknowledge them. Jason stopped a fuming Damian from tackling Coraline as she hurried over to one of the beds.

“Hood-”

Jason cut Bruce off as he stepped past him and to Coraline’s side,“it's fine.”

“What do you need?” he asked the girl.

“Yeah I'd like to know what this has to do with Red.” butted in Steph.

“I second that.” Stated Babs.

Cass raised her hand in agreement.

Coraline took off her satchel and gently, very gently placed it on the bed.

“You can stop with your code names,” she stated, “he told me all about you guys.”

That got everyone to perk up.

“Do you know where he is?” interrogated Bruce.

Dick and Babs spoke at the same time,“Is he okay?”

“F*ck.” muttered Steph in surprise.

Damian only stiffened and Cass shifted her weight.

“Okay. so. I don’t want anyone to freak out.”

Steph interjected on instinct, “Jokes on you, I freak out all the time.”

Coraline only gave the other girl a look and Steph winced, “Sorry, habit.”

“Continue.” prompted Bruce.

Coraline only rolled her eyes before picking up where she left off. “So. Tim is here. In my bag. He has definitely changed since you last saw him. He might be unresponsive.”

Before anyone could get in any questions she flipped open the satchel and the room's atmosphere tensed as everyone zeroed in on the sleeping, black cat that rested in Coraline's satchel. She then proceeded to bulldoze over any questions as she launched into an explanation.

“So there's something called the Other Mother, she got Tim, sorta, but he managed to escape her. But he was still tethered to her. Anyway, I came along because the Other Mothers gotta eat somehow and Tim decided to help me escape, we were successful and he escaped with me. But, because he is still connected to the Other Mother, who is still kicking somewhere in a well, he shares her health. Well half of it. I'm not too sure on the details. Anyway a couple days ago he just got sick and froze up. It took me a bit to come up with a plan but then I was like, "Other Mother preys on desperate kids and families” so I thought maybe giving him his old family back might work?” Coraline took a deep breath and shifted from foot to foot. “I'm not sure though. But you guys know magic guys so maybe they can help?”

She then turned to look at them with pleading, tired eyes. It was all the family needed to spring into action. They had a girl in need and Tim back. It had been years and they would be fools to let this chance at having a piece of their family back, slip through their fingers.

[acesentialsketches]

Oh no... Weeb paint!

A quick paint induced TF thing that struck me last night. Been a while since I've last done something like this. And I did one of my bat weeb character Rowena because she needs more TF love~

Looked at a few of Foxxy-TF's older pieces regarding paint induced TF for cues and inspiration. Heck, I'm sure she's the one who more or less invented the idea in the first place. The idea of a transformation via coating is fun and can lend itself to some fun compositions and scenarios.

---

Over time, Rowena's tastes slowly expand outside of her comfortable anime and manga, but it takes a while to get there. Thankfully she has friends to get her to try new things.

Since Rowe is supposed to embody me in my younger years, especially my obsession with Japanese media, it only makes sense that she too would slowly come around to other things. She'll still definitely keep an iPod full of all the anime openings and endings she loves though.

I still do~

[karmawonders]

U know what's always made me mad?

Mike not getting into the scare program in Monsters University.

🌸Sorta a brainrot, not my usual content, the family was watching Monsters University and inspiration struck. Also sorry I've been ~busy~ 🌸

Listen weird thing to be mad about but bear with me here oki?

He spends all his time reading his textbooks, looking and examining other scarers, and tryning to be like them. To scare like them.

And when he tries to scare like that, it just. Doesn't work. It looks silly. Like he's trying to hard.

All those monsters, the reason they are scary is because they are accentuating the features they have.

And Mike simply doesn't have those. He's not big, with tons of sharp teeth, with giant hands and huge claws.

He is round, and small, twiggy limbs, with an enormous eye, which is mostly his entire being.

He sees all the ways to improve others scaring techniques because everyone at that point has only had ONE scaring technique.

Big, loud, and quick.

What Mike needed to do is just. Open the closet slowly. And slowly peak out, and put his most notable feature to work.

His eye.

He needs to make some noise opening the closet door, enough to wake the child. He needs to just barely peer out of the closet once the kid moves their attention away, and be visible.

Unmoving, unblinking, but very much staring.

How many times have you woken up and your brain makes you think the pile of clothes on the chair is like a demon about to snatch you?

Of course your not screaming off the bat, but my GOD do you feel spooked right?

Now imagine that with an giant fucking eye. And ofc it's not moving and you know what, it is probably just your imagination.

You turn to go to sleep..

And you hear a scuttle.

You quickly turn back to your closet where that thing, that eye was.

But it's not there. It's under your desk now.

It's still too dark to see clearly. You spend a few minutes even more creeped out, but at this point exhaustion is starting to hit and you can't help but start to nod off.

Fuck it, your insane, its not there. Nothing is ever there.

A few moments go by, you feel your heart rate slowing a bit.

A creak, a weight on your bed. You panick, turning back over to see what is happening.

And right in front of you is the huge eye you hoped was merely a side effect of sleep deprivation, right infront of you, and slowly it grins, drool dripping, weight on your chest, a single word rasping from its mouth.

"Boo."

You can't help but scream.

[illleavemymessageinmysong]

“Demons Dance’? Lord knows what that’s about!…”

I get a feeling that Paul keeps tracks with some of his most personal lyrics away from centre stage: released as bonus tracks on separate editions of albums, as additional tracks on various formats. This goes back to ‘Same Love’, a track written in 1987 but only released as a b-side of the 1997 single ‘Beautiful Night’. A track so glorious that, by any rational standards, it should have been front and centre of an album release.

The usual proviso applies that the lyrics might just be words to go with a tune but, really? The song deals with thoughts of rekindling a past love, with all the complications and uncertainties that would go with that. “Though it may not be as good as new, well, still, it must be better than the pain that I went through”. Listen to how he sings the word “pain”. If he’s not being real there, he’s a much better actor than he’s given credit for.

But what about a few of his by the way tracks from more recent times? Let’s look at ‘Demons Dance’ and ‘Struggle’.

‘Demons Dance’ was recorded during the sessions for ‘New’ but was only released in October 2014 as part of the Collector’s Edition of New. The Paul McCartney Project blog tells us that during his Twitter Q&A on October 30 2014, Paul was asked what was the meaning of ‘Demons Dance’ and what inspired it. He swiftly batted that away with “Demons Dance’? Lord knows what that’s about!” Well, quite. None of the regular tactic of saying that the lyrics have no particular meaning.

The song’s narrator has a desire for a connection with someone, and the feelings that go with this are so strong he likens them to his personal demons. This goes deep. Only by connecting with this person, can he get peace of mind.

“I can't wait much longer 'til you tell me baby, there’s some chance we'll get together maybe, sooner or later I'll be in with half a chance”

This has been a long term feeling and he’s desperate for some message of reciprocation. Only that can ‘exorcise’ his demons. The guy’s got it bad. “Girl I want you to do it, I’ve been waiting so long”. Yep, this goes way back.

Do you write lyrics as intense as this if you don’t really feel them? I’m going with nope.

What about ‘Struggle’, first released on the Japanese version of ‘New’? This one doesn’t hang about getting to the point: “ Want to get you in my heart again, want to love you once more”, it begins. It sounds like the same narrator we heard in ‘Demons Dance’. Again, and even more explicitly, this is addressed to someone the narrator used to be with.

“If you wanna love, if you wanna fight, it doesn’t really matter, I want you tonight”. So maybe this past relationship had its’ ups and downs, was a bit volatile. “I can think of something when I get you home tonight”, he adds. See previous post for the possible importance of “home tonight”, a phrase that turns up in five Macca songs.

“It’s the same old story, it’s happening again”, he declares. This longing is something that has been a feature through the years for the narrator. It has peak periods of intensity.

“Anytime you want me, I’m not hard to find”. This person is out of his current orbit but could contact him easily enough.

“We can work it out together, we'll get through this somehow”. Yeah, we can work it out…..

It ends with “It's the same old story, it's happening again. Life’s eternal struggle”. It may ebb and flow but this feeling isn’t going away.

Jumping ahead to tracks from the Egypt Station sessions, we’ve previously had a look at ‘Get Enough’. One of his most emotionally raw lyrics. Snuck out on streaming platforms as the clock struck 12 at New Year 2019.

Then there’s ‘Sixty Second Street’, released on subsequent editions of ‘Egypt Station’. Set to a pretty tune, this is a lighter take than the other tracks we’ve looked at but, again, describes a desire to connect with someone. Our narrator wants to meet up with this person, just a minute of their time is all he needs. Mind you, he then suggests they “grab a bite”, so maybe a bit longer. A lighter take, yes, but meeting up with this person would make his life complete, so it’s a big deal.

A recurring theme going on here, I reckon.

[astrxlfinale]

"It seems a little ..." Oh she's looking for a good way to say this, really, but upon comparing weapons to Caelus it grows gradually harder to force back down that tender laugh of hers, polearm up against bat in comparison; " ... corny to use a bat to fight monsters, it's like that game of whack-a-mole ! Do you like Bop them ?"

Guinaifen knows his strength, at least portions of it as there have been tales of his feats and what might he has shown in fights that's gone way over her head. But, she has to admit, the thought of him going after big, scary monsters with a bat is a humoring image. Does the marastruck fear the mighty bat? Maybe. In terms of bopping monsters, however, she really didn't have anything to say. It wasn't as if she had developed a rather offensive and striking style. She smacked the monsters that wanted to take a bite out of her, and if found in a pinch she's throw some stashed away firecrackers at them.

"How do you use it?" She'd ask curiously, allowing her own weapon to vanish from her hand. In return hands would reunite on her back, leaning over to inspect it. Not one to play around with bats, Guinaifen had never even held one.

Gazing up at Caelus from her hunched over lean, a cheeky smile appeared; " ~ cooooould you teach me how to hold a bat ? I've never held one ! I think I'd look pretty awesome with one, don't you think?"

"A little what?"

Did she know that the bat listens to such conversations? Wholly allowing its emotional well being to hinge upon these very words? The fact alone they can find themselves falling into a casual line of conversation, fresh amidst the rotting leaves and the golden haze of Abundance's end, things were going pretty damn well.

Even the Mara struck need a hilarious or inconceivable sight for their final hour.

Caelus's features were quirked into a sense of amusement, a touch leaned in, drinking in the way her features perked into a measure of thought. This in itself was so beautifully endearing, the mere need to sigh wistfully at how damn cute she could be barely resisted! With how easy it was to distract or alter the floor of her conversation, appearances have to be kept!

Corny.

....

Ah, so the advent of emotional damage was inevitable for his dear weapon. If the curio could move in response (like it does in Penacony), it would've shrunk back due to the sting behind such words!

"First off." He mentions, giving an abrupt point and loving prod to the warmth of her cheek. "It'll remember that. The art of bopping as you aptly put it has been a try and true method since the caveman days!" Whether the Trailblazer is aware of what he's insinuating about himself is up in the air. Simply embracing this curiosity of her's was a journey worth diving into, as part of him gets it, life gains a particular set of shades upon the Xianzhou.

Underneath the sanctity of The Hunt, of the glory of the Cloud Knights and no shortage of martial artists, there had to be a form of wonder for the success of an art contently wading through the undisciplined channel. Weaponry, their usage and even the philosophies behind each one held their measure of enrichment here, similar to the perceived grounds of where they were veritable extensions of not only the body, but the mind to the skill. Stances, poise, dignity, and the sheer realm of execution involving multiple styles and unique variations either to mindset or bodily constitution, there was a wellspring of time devoted to it.

Jing Yuan's protegee was living proof of that. The art of drawing blades into a divine state of mentally harnessed and wielded promoted that as truth, and in kind, a lethal flash of inspiration for others to reach that point.

Aligning the bat with the lean in of her figure comes as second nature, allowing the ornate design and paths to be unveiled upon it, hints of steam freshly spilling from it's grooves as a lax grip carries it along. "As simple as it looks, catch your target before your eyes or senses, then proceed to lash it as the best kinda skull cracker. It's a lil different than using it for the sport it's based on." Did that even make sense? He'd have to contemplate that later, for that sight of her immersed in the touch of his renewed history had him.. well.. Touched.

He'd have to really run the humble beginnings of his awakening to fighting a Doomsday Beast to her sometime.

The bigger priority holds in that question as he makes a motion for her hand, to prompt her to perk up and offer those elegantly long limbs for the upcoming example. Grasp the bat, seize a hold as if it was the influence of carnage such a blunt instrument it truly was.

....

Maybe that inner sanctum of Destruction that flows with him needs to calm down.

All the same? Once his hand and Guinaifen's are situated on the curio, he doesn't hesitate to lean close, body to body, both of their hands holding the weapon skyward as his hand cups tenderly over her's. It allows for their grip to become firm. "Now if you want to be cool with it, this centers on applying a little bit of yourself, your force to the swing. Especially with my lil number. Say if we did it like this."

For an instant would that flow of Destruction vibrantly transmit from his palm, ignited from that spark as it'd wash over the stalwart nature of her own hand, harmless in nature to someone so beloved to Caelus. It'd assist itself as a bolstering factor, allowing for the weapon they wield to soak in the thriving potential of Path power. Within moments that once obsidian foundation hums with life, causing the bat to shiver as it gradually sparks with the illumination of his power. A cerulean sheen washes over pridefully across its expanse, allowing that 'bopper' to become both an extension of will and the bane of countless foes.

"Channel your frustrations, your aim, your strength and treat 'em like a watermelon on the beach." The imagery was clear and to the point. The martial finesse that dignified violence was void, for this was a simple and to the point measure, treating their foes to the brutality of nature itself. For many, it calls to a primal part of the soul.

....

Remembering how all of this even started, a lively, base rich chuckle followed from him as they leaned shoulder to cheek.

"Wasn't this corny to you at the start? Or do you plan on making a new definition come to be when it's in your hands?"

If Caelus were to be honest with himself? Picturing her in a similar position, with wild, determined eyes and allowing this Curio to sing the very force of her flames into this lethal model, there was a measure of attraction that made that heart of his shudder and beat with joy. She'd look like the prime definition of badass.

@avaere

[sheirukitriesfandom]

Snippet Someday "A Change of Seasons: Foe" edition

@elavoria and @miraakulous-cloud-district wanted me to participate (Thank you!!!) and as luck would have it, they got me right as I'm editing the next chapter of my longest fic. It was interesting to see how much my writing has improved since I started writing this fic. I now cringe a bit reading the first few chapters, but I still like them overall ^^; Not tagging anyone because I believe all of you writerly mutuals have been tagged already ^^;. First chapter:

Seeking inspiration for a new story, Rashkan has decided to visit the Frozen Hearth, where he happens upon an unlikely source.

"What I know is that, three days ago, a Stormcloak patrol vanished  — Reinforcements from Windhelm. Apparently, they just disappeared into thin air. No signs of battle — Not a trace—, but then again, it did snow quite heavily that night." Rashkan frowned. An entire Stormcloak patrol just vanishing was already reason for concern, but the fact that it had happened at night when they had likely set up camp, been together, and somewhat fortified…  "I can imagine just how much this got the rumour mill running. Do tell, what is the word around town?" "You have no idea the kinds of stories people tell," Nelacar groaned and rubbed his temples as if to ward off an approaching headache. "Some say an imperial patrol took them prisoner; according to others, it was an avalanche that buried them; Haran says the dead have risen from the Sea of Ghosts to take the living with them."  Struck by the spark of inspiration, Rashkan flicked through his journal and scribbled the words: 'Ghost story — Undead from the sea' onto a free page.

Favourite chapter (Savos 5 & 5.5): My favourite chapters are the ones set in the mine--the segments that got this entire currently-18-chaptered fic started. I loved writing the atmosphere and although I'd now change a few things for pacing's sake, I still enjoy reading them. In this extract, Savos, Kvinna, and Verna (a Vigilant of Stendarr and a Winterhold guard introduced earlier in the story) have just entered an abandoned mine near Winterhold after finding--no, read for yourselves :D.

The mine was warmer than outside and reeked of rotting wood and bat droppings. Step by step, the light from the entrance grew weaker until eventually, the magelight stood on its own against the dark. In its cold glow, shadows slithered along the walls, forming shapes of unknown monsters. More than once, Savos caught himself glimpsing over his shoulder, but every time, he found only Verna. Neither of them dared say a word. They hardly dared breathe as well; too great was the fear of alerting whatever lurked within the depths. As they continued deeper into the bowels of the earth, it became clear that the mine must have been abandoned for decades, if not a whole century. Like the town of Winterhold, it had fallen into disarray and become a grave for old lorries, pickaxes and other equipment; bones of busier days, they lay scattered across the ground or leaned against the walls where time and rust feasted on their marrow. In that forlorn underworld, time became meaningless, an abstract construct for the people above to worry about. Savos struggled to keep his mind from straying, peeking at past regret and putting others in the place of Kvinna and Verna.   Atmah and Hafnar…  It was as if they had parted only a few days ago. The clever, ambitious Redguard new to Winterhold, who had immediately found a friend in Savos; and Hafnar, the bold, jolly Nord, the brother Savos never had. He hoped they still stood firm after all those years, encasing Morokei in his eternal prison; eternal imprisonment they shared, all of them, in their own right.

Most difficult chapter (Rashkan 8.5): Always the one in progress. I'm one of those weirdos who enjoy editing more than writing, so getting the first draft and structural edits down first is always such a pain in the ass. Since I posted the introduction to chapter 19 (still unpublished) a while back, have an excerpt from chapter 18. It's technically a bit spoiler-y but without context, I doubt one can make much of it.

Rashkan made a clucking noise with his tongue, scowling at Muzgog. The hulking orc glared at him through narrowed eyes, his temple pulsing red. Rashkan ignored him and sat up straight. "And what a life it would have been: A life in fear. Of war, famine, illness, the creatures of the night and the daedra that spawned them. Until she died of some wolf or bandit or vampire—a life without any accomplishment," he spoke coolly, his eyes searching the wooden chicken and finding it still in Muzgog's massive hands. "When I arrived in this land, I was lost. Rejected. By my relatives, by the college. I was nothing; another dreg washed ashore in Windhelm, sobering up to the bleak reality of Skyrim. When I was at my darkest, had given up on life here, in this cold, cruel land, I met her. Licette Vantieve, the woman who made me what I am. She took me in with her band of hedge-mages and vampires. She gave me a home, people I called family, and a purpose," he looked Muzgog in the eye. "It was a bloody, hard life, but I would have rather died than give it up." "And for that you took an ice spike to the gut." "Mhm, exactly. What I am trying to say is: You gave that girl a gift greater than any other. You gave her a life with a purpose." Muzgog sat still as a rock, staring at the fireplace, where, bit by bit, cinders became ash. Then, suddenly, he turned to Rashkan and laughed, a ragged sound like millstones grinding against each other. "Spoken like a true stronghold orc; all that pompous talk of family and purpose. Pah, if I were of their stock, I'd be right with you." His expression shifted, and whatever fleeting mirth it contained vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "But I'm of Markarth. Never seen a stronghold from the inside."

I love that exchange... If you've become curious about A Change of Seasons: Foe, you can check it out here. Like all parts of ACoS so far, it can be read as standalone.