#the earrings and some other suit details are some things i just can not imagine with my limited capabilities

[lwieserce]

I'm making a real effort at designing an oc thats been swirling through my mind for such a long time..... lets make a pinterest board...

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do - Part 6

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

🥰So another part to this series, thank you so much for all your support and encouragement! It means the world ♥️ and as I take your feedback seriously, I can assure you Tommy will be looking for a housekeeper substitute 🤭

Word count: 3,138

Y/N prayed silently her dress would close, Ada suggested getting it slightly loose at certain places just in case, because overnight, her belly was showing and most of her clothes wouldn’t fit anymore. It was funny because it only looked as if she was bloated but it was enough for a zipper to break.

“You ready?” Polly asked just as she knocked on the door, stepping in right away. As usual, she looked so elegant in her attire.

“Her dress is beautiful Mrs. Gray.” Y/N’s grandma pointed out making Y/N blush, she then turned to Polly. “And you look stunning.”

Polly nodded acknowledging her compliment.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this gown.” Y/N stated staring at her reflection in the mirror, she looked like a completely different person with her hair up in a simple but elegant hairstyle, make up in just the right places, accenting her features, and the dress fit like a glove. She had never had a dress like this.

“You need something else though.” Her grandma suggested, she looked beautiful in her attire too, the Shelby family were too kind to extend an invitation for her.

Opening her bag, Y/N frowned confused by what she meant, she had everything already.

“Your grandfather gave me these when we got married.” From a velvet pouch, she produced a pair of gorgeous diamond studs.

“I think these will look beautiful.” Polly encouraged, feeling a swept of love by the exchange.

Y/N on the other hand felt lost for words, to some it might be a small detail, but to her, the sentimental value it’s what weighted the most.

“These are meant to be wear on occasions like this, right?” She asked holding one of the earrings for her granddaughter while she hooked the other one.

“Looks like you’re all set then… let’s welcome the guests.” Polly added taking grandma’s purse to help her. “Everything’s going accordingly so far.”

The music filled the big room, people were dancing happily, champagne flowing, staff filling empty cups with booze and plates with appetizers. Y/N felt particularly mesmerized by the chandeliers catching the light beautifully and reflecting all around as if it was dancing as well.

Tommy insisted the party should take place in Arrow House, said it would be a good excuse to do a grand opening, so she immediately got busy to have everything ready. The place oozed luxury everywhere she looked, the most important names in the country RSVP’ed faster than she thought. Never in her wildest dreams she imagined how it would turn out, she spent so much time choosing flowers for the center pieces, napkins colors to go with the tablecloths, tableware as well as the menu, days of hard work paying off finally on this night and for a brief instant, she allowed herself to feel proud because she took care meticulously of everything.

“I’ll be back in a minute, need an ashtray.” Polly announced and took grandma by the arm to chat for a while.

Y/N was taking everything in, still not fully believing it was a reality.

“Johnny, get everyone in the kitchen.” He instructed. “Five minu-“ words got caught up in his throat as he took a double look to his left and found Y/N standing by herself next to the staircase.

Her hair was pinned up, framing her face so it was fully on display instead of hiding, the dress made her look gorgeous but the cherry on top was the glowing emanating from within her heart, pregnancy was suiting her well. He then noticed she opened and closed the handbag nervously.

She wasn’t the same girl that used to run with him a race at an open fiel until they reached the river. He let her win so many times… yet that girl was somehow still in her.

He had never seen her like that before. She was more beautiful than he imagined.

But as soon as the thought entered his mind, Tommy kicked himself mentally. He shouldn’t think of her that way.

“Are you planning to give someone a heart attack?” He joked and took a few long strides to be at her side.

“I’m nervous,” she chuckled, “I’m the one having a heart attack.”

Turning around to face him, she felt her mouth going dry, the blue suit was a fabulous choice. It wasn’t traditional, but when she saw it at the tailor’s shop she knew Tommy had to wear it to the event and since she got a blank cheque, she added it to the account. He was so bloody handsome, but she thought that he looked even more that night. There, with a cocked smile and proud shining in his crystal eyes…

They stood there holding each other’s gazes, the people in the background fading away…

Until Johnny Dogs interrupted them.

“The boys are on their way Tom.” He nodded at Y/N. “Are we going, yeah?”

Tommy gave Y/N another look and she encouraged him with a smile to go.

He started to walk away, but then stopped abruptly and turning around he spoke; “Y/N you did an amazing job, thank you.”

Reaching his expectations was all Y/N wanted to achieve, to make him proud of her work. It was the way she knew in retribution to thank him for every little thing he did.

“And Johnny? Y/N told me she counted the paintings ey?” Tommy turned to give her wink. “So you better tell your kin they can’t steal anything or they’ll have to deal with a very pissed Y/N.”

Y/N gasped, of course she didn’t count the paintings. An evident blush covered her face and neck and she started shaking her head in embarrassment.

“Hey! That’s not true.” She tried to keep her manners, but her mind went back to when they were teenagers and her grandma discovered the two of them sneaking into the kitchen to get a slice of the pie she had baked and Tommy blamed it all on Y/N, the worst part is that her grandma believed him and scolded her granddaughter when it had been Tommy’s idea in the first place.

“Where are they, ey?” Tommy asked impatiently a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“I’m telling you now, we got lost,” announced Arthur. “You really need to do a map, Thomas.”

“Right, boys you’re all here.” Tommy started in a warning tone.

The blinders gathered around him in a circle.

“Tonight it’s a fucking very important day, we’re celebrating the Arrow House grand opening.”

“Yeah, and you said there’d be no bloody uniforms.” Interrupted John.

Tommy shot him a death stare. “Nevertheless… nevertheless, John… despite the bad blood, I’ll have none of it on my carpet.”

They were part of the guest list.

He made a pause and looked around to his men. “Now, for Y/N’s sake, nothing will go wrong. She has worked so fucking hard for everything you see tonight and the Shelby Institute. And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything…”

“Tom?” Once more, John interrupted his brother.

“What?”

“What about snow?” Asked Isiah.

John replied something that Tommy couldn’t understand, but he felt his blood start boiling by their silly attitude.

“No, no, no.” He stood in front of the young blinder. “No cocaine.” Then pointing at his face, he repeated; “no cocaine. No sports.” He then moved to point at John. “No telling fortunes. No racing.” Walking back towards Finn, he continued. “No fucking sucking petrol of their fucking cars.”

He hated to admit it out loud, but he was nervous to. He wanted to fit in, he needed to blend in among the richest and more powerful people, to be one of them. To prove everybody that he had been able to claim a stair that was only reserved for those who were born in a crib made of gold.

Meanwhile, upstairs Y/N attended several guests, listening to the stories they were sharing about how much it would mean to them to donate and give back to the community. Some of them, Y/N learned were important politicians who wanted to show a good image to help them gain voters, others members of the aristocracy just wanted to show their wealthy off. Whatever reason they had, Y/N was excited to see some of the cheques they were writing right there for the institution, additional to a monthly donation they promised.

Finding Tommy among the guests, Y/N approached him to ask him if she could save the cheques in his office.

“Can we see this later?” He relief not even sending a glance in her direction, his eyes were fixed like daggers in someone.

As he moved around like a gazelle, about to chase his pry, Y/N noticed a group of women eating him with their eyes, looking him up and down, seizing his frame, biting their lips, probably wondering how would it feel to be with him….

Y/N felt like she was out of place, she shook her head and decided to ask Ada instead where she should keep the documents. She then excused herself for a moment, feeling like the happy bubble had been popped given Tommy’s cold attitude. He was never like this, he had never left her talking alone before, but he had been a bit off the last couple of days.

For some unknown reason.

Perhaps she had been creating a fantasy in her mind, yes he was a good man, but he also had an explosive temper when he wanted to, he snapped at people at the slightest provocation. Why would he treat her differently? Just because a she was pregnant?

A knock on the door disturbed the peace she just found, and without waiting to be asked to come inside, Tommy called her name.

“Y/N you’re needed downstairs.” Tommy informed her, but he knew her too damn well. When Ada told him that Y/N was taking a minute on her own, he knew she wasn’t comfortable about something.

“What happened?” He asked patiently. She shook her head, not wanting to make a scene. “Hey, hey.. come here.”

It was everything, her pregnancy, her nerves, the bloody hormones, mood swings, worry to make everything perfect… him.

“I hope you don’t take personally what happened earlier, I was looking for someone that wasn’t invited.” Tommy explained.

Y/N looked at him tentatively. She walked into the en-suite bathroom to wet a cloth and press it into the back of her neck, careful enough to not get a stain in the dress, he followed her steps and took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. The familiarity and comfort between them was too personal.

“Is this why you’ve been acting distant the last couple of days?”

With a sigh, he nodded. “Yes, I act like this when I’m scared.”

Y/N turned around pondering into his words, giving him time and space to speak on his own terms.

“I need to make sure you’re away from this business. I don’t want you to get involved at all. Do you understand?”

“Tommy what’s happening?” It all made sense to her now, the secret phone calls, the late night drives, his mood.

“The less you know, the better.” He cleared his throat. “Promise me you won’t make something stupid.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, he was the one always making the bad decisions she wanted to say instead.

“You won’t get involved.” He was firm about his statement.

“Only if you promise to be safe.” Y/N retorted.

“I’ll try my best.” A soft smile played on his lips.

She mirrored the smile and followed him outside, to join their guest one more time.

“Mr. Shelby! This is a wonderful party.” Mrs. Lewis praised, she was the wife of a former major, a bit extravagant, she loved to show off. “And a beautiful house.”

“I appreciate your words. But all the credit goes to Y/N.”

“So the old wives tale is real huh? That babies come with a bunch of blessings.” She squinted her eyes happily at Y/N’s baby bump, then looked back at Tommy. “Congratulations! I wish this baby nothing but the best.”

Y/N opened her mouth to correct her, and clarify that Tommy wasn’t the father. But Tommy cut her out.

“Thanks, hopefully you’ll be able to help us with the fundraising.”

“I’ll tell family and friends, you can count on that Mr. Shelby.”

As the woman disappeared, Y/N turned her face around to look at him.

“Let people talk, they’re going to do it anyways.” He stated, then as a waiter passed by, he took a glass of whiskey from the tray. “Rule number two; never reveal the truth when they can barely deal with a half truth.”

“What’s number one?”

“Oh, I’d tell you… but then I’d have to kill you and I’d be kind of sad you know?” He winked at her and elegantly strode towards where the music band was playing to grab the microphone.

“Good evening everyone, thank you for joining us tonight. As some of you may know, the Shelby Foundation Institute will open doors in a couple of weeks, we’re sure with this project we’ll be able to help many many children in need, grant them the education their parents can’t afford and a safe environment to learn and develop the abilities that’ll will help them in a near future.” A round of applauses filled the room and Tommy thanked the guest with a small nod. “Your contribution is highly appreciated, it will allow us to complement and provide everything that’s needed. I can assure you, your money will be well spent and we’re more than open to welcome you any time at the Institution.” His eyes started moving across the room. “Last but not least, I’d like to thank to the responsible of this project, the one who since day one showed a genuine interest and despite the doors that were closed in her face, she never backed down until this was a reality. Y/N thank you for everything you’ve done.” Raising his glass in her direction, he recognized her effort and compromise.

Blushing from getting all the attention towards her momentarily, she started biting her lip.

When Tommy started walking, people over to the side, making something similar to a human wall and leaving a space free for him to walk until he reached Y/N.

“Dance with me?”

The gesture took her by surprise, but soon Tommy’s arm wrapped around her waist and he started swaying to the beat of the music.

“Everything is perfect, thank you for taking care of every little thing.” He admitted with a very rare smile.

Carefully to not make Y/N dizzy, Tommy spun her around, following the music beats.

“Thank you for taking us in.” Y/N replied as a wide smile spread on her lips.

Feeling like nothing she could say or do was enough to thank Tommy. She’d be in debt with him for the rest of her life.

“You’ve nothing to-” he started to say but she cut him off.

“I do, every single time I blink, I feel so grateful to have you in my life.”

Tommy gave her hand a squeeze. “If things were different… wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Yes.” She admitted in a heartbeat.

“Then this better be the last time you thank me.” He raised an eyebrow as a warning, but his eyes remained giving her a gentle look. “I know you’d do the same thing for me.”

One more careful spin and the piece was done. A round of applause filled the room and the background noises brought them back to reality.

“I’ve to go, stay here, stay safe.” Tommy stated. “You know what to do in case something bad happens.”

He had already showed her where to hide in case anyone broke into Arrow House. It wasn’t his favorite outcome, but he had assured her it was for the best of she was prepared. Luckily he hadn’t show her how to use a weapon, but she knew the day might be closer than she thought.

“Tommy…” her heart started hammering her ribcage, she could feel it in her ears too. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

The look of worry he found in her eyes made him fight the lump in his throat. If something happened to him, what would she do? Who would protect her? Who’d look after her and the baby?

“Will do. This is the last ilegal business, you know I want to make it right.”

Clearing his throat, he looked around finding Arthur giving him a nod, they were ready to go.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He assured her once more.

As a different music started to play, Y/N went on to search for her grandmother.

Meanwhile, downstairs Lizzie was crying and smocking in such a bad shape after having a word with Michael about Angel, she started shouting when she heard what they did to his restaurant, she was fuming.

“Miss Stark can I help you?” Mary asked, smoothing her apron.

“Do you’ve a gun? So I can shoot someone?” Lizzie wiped her nose.

“No ma’am.” Mary took a step closer. “May I ask what happened?”

“The Shelbys blew my boyfriend’s restaurant so he couldn’t come to the party.” She tried to smooth the black mascara under her eyes.

And she started to whine and bent into the maid all she knew about the stupid rivalry between the Shelby’s and the Changretta’s.

Mary ignored Lizzie’s past, she only knew she was her master’s secretary, so she felt naturally bad for the green-eyed woman.

“I don’t get it, Thomas gets to have the little happy family with Y/N and also dictate who am I able to be involved with.”

“But they aren’t a family, the baby isn’t Mr. Shelby’s.” Mary dropped an unexpected bomb.

Lizzie stared at her in disbelief, her jaw dropping.

“Are you sure?”

“The motives of why he keeps her under his protection are unknown to me, but he isn’t the father of that baby.” The housekeeper assured her.

Lizzie nodded automatically, processing the news and thinking how this piece of information changed a lot of things.

“So Y/N is a little slut after all.” She mumbled to herself, planning in her mind a couple of ideas that would tear down that facade of integrity and good morals Y/N carried around like a crown. A woman’s reputation meant much more than anything.

And of course, it didn’t match the wealthy people standards.

Master list

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[read-write-thrive]

edwina / edith in her lingerie as inspired by @hannaloony and @arisprite ‘s fanart !!! this one’s on the simpler side but I’m planning to do a companion piece with charlotte (and might do more with the backgrounds to really sell the whole “getting ready in their respective eras” thing, not sure yet) and hopefully doing something a little more suggestive with the both of them, again inspired by @hannaloony ‘s piece but using my own interpretations of fem!payneland w/ butch!edwina and fem!charlotte bc i love them

(side note: I know everyone is using Edith and not Edwina but I think Edwina suits my interpretation better for some reason ?? something about ppl hearing “Edwina and Charlie” and getting jumpscared when Edwina is the butch is funny to me,,, still undecided if she uses any nicknames but I’m open to suggestions lol)

previous artwork I’ve done of these characters can be found here: part one (original duo piece) ; part two (alt outfit for Edwina, Edwina sketches) ; this is part three! ; part four (lingerie!Charlotte ;)

notes on the costuming choices for anyone interested:

- i specifically designed these undergarments to work under either of the outfits I’ve given her so far!!

- I decided on combinations as her base layer as they were seen as younger/more casual/athletic, all of which im aiming for with this design. technically these are probably too plain for the era, especially if she was attending a girl's college/finishing school where sewing and adorning and the like would have been taught, but I wanted to keep the masculine energy so I figured some ruffly hems and blue ribbon was a good enough middle ground

- the color palette is inspired by several reproductions I’ve seen online as well as keeping with Edwin’s blue color motif/existing palette

- researching the corset took AGES so here’s a rundown: I wanted it to keep with the casual/sportswear look so I went with a sports corset, meaning it wouldn’t have any hard boning (it was just the hella reinforced material without the actual bones/metal), would have elastic at the sides, and would most likely be an overbust corset despite that not being the trend during the Edwardian era (for the most part/to my knowledge). the examples I was inspired by of sports corsets technically didn’t have visible garters, but literally every other corset I saw did and I can't imagine why sports corsets would have to have the more impractical thigh garters ??? surely you also want to keep your stockings up when running around ??? so I gave them to her anyway

- im keeping the socks/stockings the same as my other illustrations but honestly i struggled to find similar historical examples :/ surely someone at some point wore some heavy duty knit stockings, but maybe my idea of knit is just different from how knit garments, especially socks, were in the era ? regardless im keeping them like this, especially since Charlotte has pantyhose on and I feel like silk/cotton stockings would look too similar

- i went back and forth on a corset cover, but ultimately went without one bc 1. it gave me a more interesting way to pose her lol and 2. i couldn't tell if corset covers (and similar garments that went over top what we have here) would have been worn with athletic attire ? like I have her in bloomers in both of her outfits thus far so I figured no petticoat or slip, but early brassieres/corset covers/bust improvers/etc are just a big ??? from me

- a note on her hair: so if you look at all three of my illustrations of her you’ll see that her hair is totally consistent and while I can try to say that’s intentional it’s really just bc I keep going back and forth on little details about it. for example, in the first illustration her ears are completely exposed vs in the second they’re mostly covered—the exposed ears read as more butch to me but also would’ve been pretty inappropriate and I wasn’t sure if that’s an area would Edwina would rock the boat too much, hence me going back on it in the second illustration. also, I’ve gone back and forth several times before on it her hair is actually cut short or if it’s worn in a faux/“nervous” bob (which I just learned that name for lmao). on one hand, having it actually cut short is 100% more butch and leans into the practical/athletic vibes. on the other hand, it would be a drastic move for a repressed, bullied, 16 year old at an all-girls school to pull, plus it would put her ahead of the trend by several years. in the end, I think of it this way: the Edwin that we meet reads as effeminate to a modern audience, but 80% of that is through mannerisms, not direct costuming, and even what we do get from costuming is skewed bc we are a modern audience perceiving an Edwardian subject. so I figured sticking Edwina with traits she could wear as either masc or fem but chooses to wear bin a more masculine style would shorthand that sort of how-you-wear-it approach to gnc (plus I’ve been there done that when closeted so it felt extra fitting)

- that whole rant aside: I went with the faux bob but, in the name of her being in the process of getting ready, wanted to show it in a half-done state that we would never see Edwina in otherwise ! the idea with the undone side is that she’s taken out the rags she wore her curls in overnight (I don’t see her using heat but if she did it would be before this) but only tucked half up before putting her corset on. is that the actual order of how you would/should do this? fuck if I know. I also am not 100% certain if the curl pattern/hair density is accurate between one side of her head and the other, but without an exact reference this is the best you’re getting

- speaking of things being out of order, I do know that if you’re deciding to don a corset anytime soon, it’s best to put your shoes on beforehand! especially if they’re lace-up boots like our girl here wears, as bending over in a corset to tie them is not fun. thankfully, she’s in a sports corset so it wouldn’t be too bad, plus she has to step into her bloomers so I figured keep her in her socks was the right choice

- there’s a halfhearted attempt at a background here with some dark wood panelling and red/orange/brown tones thats honestly just me wanting some contrast/interest while also keeping it simple. we'll see if i do anything more complicated than that anytime soon lmao, these pieces take long enough as is !!

hopefully tumblr doesn’t fuck up the cut (again) so not everyone has to read all of this, but tysm to those of you who do!! I put a lot of thought and research into these pieces and love sharing what info I find so feel free to talk to me about any and all of it !!!! and hope you enjoyed ofc

[film-bro-hotch]

I Can See You - Hotch x Fem!Reader (one-shot)

I have had the idea for this one-shot ever since this song came out, and I wrote it in the middle of the night in an attempt to stay up and fight jetlag. This is going to be posted quite literally as I am in the airport about to move to a foreign country, so please enjoy.

Summary: You and Hotch start something outside of work that slowly starts to make its way into your on-the-clock time in more risky ways. Based on I Can See You by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: smut 18+, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, workplace relationships (?) but like in the most disruptive way possible

WC: 2k

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me And I could see you up against the wall with me And what would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you

The past three months had been filled with what everyone assumed to be the mundane, typical occurrences of amicable coworkers. Passing of paper, catching glances of him from across the room during a briefing, occasionally brushing polyester suit jackets against each other in the elevator. They were insignificant. Or at least that is what everyone thought.

It’s what you wanted them to see. And to be completely honest, it’s what you thought at first too. Why would you possibly think your older, recently divorced boss would be interested in you?

Yet here you were on the BAU jet after a case. He was sitting next to you, both working on some paperwork to officially close the case you had just been working on. You couldn't remember a specific detail from the case. 

“Hey, Hotch, how many rounds of ammo did this guy have in his basement again?” “Enough I think he was doomsday prepping. Local PD was still getting an accurate number when we were leaving. I’ll call them when we land.” His tone was nonchalant enough, you really didn’t think much of it. 

An hour later you were at your desk, getting ready to pack up when he came by, close enough that he was brushing your shoulder. He had picked up a pen from your desk and wrote the number down on your documents.

Odd moments like this kept happening. Sometimes he would lean a little closer than usual to show you one of the various drawings Jack made that he had stuck on the fridge. When you asked him for help on some grueling paperwork, your shoulders often touched. You would go to turn in administrative work and instead of putting it in the designated basket on his desk, you handed it directly to him, his fingers brushing yours. If you looked close enough, you could have sworn you saw his ears go a little red.

No one had said anything yet, which filled you partly with relief. Emily and JJ not saying anything was normal. They may be profilers, but they were both pretty good at keeping their noses out of their coworkers’ business. Who wasn’t so good at that was Penelope. If anyone was going to catch on to it, it would be her. And she would say something to you.

The fact that she hadn’t made you feel a little crazy. Were you really just reading too much into things? Were you projecting? 

That was until one day after everyone was gone, he asked you to dinner.

You said yes, of course, though partly in the back of your head you wondered if it was more of a friendly coworker ‘well, we are both off and have nothing else to do’ dinner date than a date date. Any concerns of that were crushed when at the door of your apartment he kissed you. You had imagined his lips a few times already, thin and usually in some kind of disapproving frown. They were soft against yours, and you could feel the gentle scratch of his stubble on your chin. 

When he pulled away, you expected maybe a form of regret, a look that read ‘what have I done?’ Instead, he just looked hungry for more.

“I know I shouldn’t have,” he says.

“But you did.” And so you gave him more. You both tumbled into your apartment. Your hands were in his hair, his hand was grabbing your ass as he continued to kiss you. You remember making it to the bed, and you remember that he spent the night at your place that night.

After that, work with Aaron looked much like it had the past few months. Business as usual with only stolen moments of tenderness, when your hands touched, his calloused fingers brushed yours for just a moment as he handed you a report and asked you to turn it in at 5:00 before you went home. You didn’t let the team catch the way your eyes linger on him for just a moment longer than what was socially appropriate for co-workers, how your gaze went from his eyes to his lips, usually pressed in a thin line. No one saw how in that cramped elevator, the last part of your morning commute, he would sometimes get closer, let one finger from the hand holding his briefcase curl with your pinkie. 

That had been the two of you for the last three months. Professional. You just weren’t sure how much longer you could take professional.

It started out simple enough. You were in his office for a legitimate reason. JJ had been out sick and as the only other person with a communication background, her work fell on you, though you didn’t mind. You were there to hand him a stack of briefings for potential cases, and as he started to flip through them, you casually slipped a hand on top of his thigh, your fingers curling towards his inner thigh, your thumb rubbing circles against the fabric of his pants. You could feel his pulse rise, his sharp intake of breath, see his eyes dart straight toward his door, the blinds that were open. There was a certain thrill in the danger of being caught. “What?” you asked coyly. “Scared of being found out?” “I’m not-it’s not that.” He was flustered. “We are at work. And your hands are cold.”

“Oh, I am very aware,” you said, abruptly pulling your hand from his and standing straight. “JJ should be back tomorrow, but if you have any other questions on these, just let me know,” you said, continuing on like you hadn’t just turned his face red with a touch or given him an awful boner in the middle of work.

Later that week, you had left your desk to give yourself one more cup of coffee considering you knew you would be working later than usual to finish up some details on a file. You usually go down the hall and sneak into another department’s kitchen to use a couple flavoring syrups. Passing a nook, you felt a hand grab you and pull you back, another hand settling on your lower back as Hotch pulled you into a kiss. Your surprised grunt was muffled by his lips, his teeth nearly busting your lips when they crashed into you. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you breathed. “We are at work.”

“This is the only place on this floor besides a janitor's closet that isn’t on camera. And I didn’t exactly think cleaning chemicals gave the most romantic mood.” He said it completely seriously, like he had actually given this thought. 

“Wait, how did you know I was even going to be here?”

“You always get a second cup when you are planning to stay past 5:00. And you never get coffee from the BAU’s kitchen. You go down the hall to data science because they have better variety. I just happened to take a break right before you went for a refill, and I happened to be in the one corner that cameras don’t reach.” His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was reading from a textbook rather than the romantic declaration that he actually paid attention to your habits. 

“It’s really hot when you pay attention, you know,” you said, reaching up for another kiss, but Hotch pulled back. 

“Got to get back to work,” he said, the edge of his lips curled into a know, shit-eating grin. Bastard.

The tipping point came nearly a month later. The two of you had been at this little game ever since, trying to see who could make the other the most flustered, and things were getting progressively more risky. The closest call so far had been when you two thought you were the only ones left for the day, but Morgan had come back to grab his thermos he had left on his desk.

On this day, you were working at your desk when Aaron called you into his office. It wasn’t an occurrence, but something did start to feel off when he asked you to shut the door.

“Lock it for good measure,” he added, moving quite close to you to shut the blinds.

You hardly got his name out of your mouth before he kissed you, nearly banging your body against the door, which clearly would have alerted someone. You found your hand intuitively going around his neck, one cradling his cheek as he kissed you. “What the hell are you doing?” you finally were able to ask between breathless pants.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

“I’ve hardly done anything.”

He pulls away then, pointing towards his desk. “We have five minutes before anyone gets suspicious.” You were already ahead of him, pulling him towards his desk, your hands already reaching for his belt. He was eager to help you, unclasping the buckle in one fell swoop. Even through the lining of his pants you could see his bungle. You wondered how long he had been thinking about doing this all day, thinking of you. 

He slid his pants off part of the way, your fingers going to grip him, only his boxer keeping your flesh from touching. He had to be sensitive. Even just the friction from your hand and the fabric made him hum in approval. “If we are going to do this, you are going to need to keep quiet,” you said. Your hands moved from his crotch to his neck, unlacing his tie with ease. Haphazardly bundling it up, you shoved the mess of fabric into his mouth to shut him up.

“Wait,” you heard him say, having removed the makeshift gag. He shook his arms out of his suit jacket, taking the most surely expensive coast and folding it, placing it on the ground. It took you a moment to realize what he was getting out, but you started to understand when he happily put the gag back in his mouth. Kindly, he had made his jacket into a cushion for your knees so you could be comfortable while sucking him off and making him scream. And you planned to do just that.

Your fingers gripped the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his dick. Spitting in your hand, you began to run your hand along the length of him, slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly. From the corner of your eye, you could see the way he gripped the edge of his desk, practically begging you to go a little faster, use a little more pressure. You kept up the facade for a bit, listening to his near desperate hums before placing your lips on the tip, running your tongue along it and hearing his muffled groan in response. 

You started to move your hand a little faster, your tongue picking up the place along with it. You loved to see the way his knuckles went white, the way he was gripping the desk for dear life. 

“Please,” you heard his muffled whimper.

“I’m sorry, dear, what was that?” you asked from your position below him.

Quickly, he ripped out his gag, one hand still gripping the desk as he said, “For the love of god, please stop tormenting me.”

You were happy to oblige him, beginning to move your hand up and down as well as flicking your tongue along his tip, feeling the muscles in his thigh and his abdomen tense and clench before he finally released. At the last second, he muffled his cry with the tie, nearly sinking back into the desk as you wiped himself from your lips.

Standing and brushing your knees off, you motioned to the door. “Put your pants on so I can get the hell out of here and hope no one noticed.”

He took a moment to compose himself, tucking his shirt back in and trying his best to straighten out his tie. He opened the blinds and unlocked the door, sending you on your way with a simple, “Please make sure those are on my desk before the end of the day.” 

You were certain he was planning on returning the favor.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Blossoms & Whiskers

prompt: painting

pairing: jake lockley x f!reader

contents: anxiety, a couple kisses, avoidant love confessions

wc: 1.1k

an: the first of hopefully many promotional fics for the @moonknight-events’ bingo @juneknight & i have going on right now. DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

As soon as you enter the flat you know who’s fronting. There’s the faint smell of paint wafting through the space and the covered canvas that Jake keeps easeled in the living room is gone. The window to the fire escape is open and there’s a mason jar full of murky water in your view. His hand appears, dipping and swirling the brush.

“Jake?” You yell as you kick off your shoes and hang up your light jacket.

“Out here. I’ll be in in 20,” He calls back distractedly through the window, hand disappearing.

You’d never seen Jake paint, it was something he’d picked up in the last few months and something preferred to do on his own, like many other things in his life. But, you always like to imagine the expression on his face. Brown eyes under a furrowed brow, intense and scrutinizing as always. His nose scrunched in concentration, the tip of tongue sticking out the corner of his full mouth like it does when the two of you play Jenga. The lines he paints are as sharp and precise as the lines of his body.

You peg him for a structured modernist, dependent on clear contrast and definite shapes. One day you hope to no longer guess, you hope that he’ll share even the smallest bit of his art with you.

You decide to take a quick shower and put on a kettle for some tea. By the time he’s slinking through the window carefully with the canvas, you’re curled up on the couch with a book. His eyes linger on you, enjoying how incredibly cozy you look.

“Took longer than expected,” He explains as he sets the painting back on the easel, turning it away from you.

You don't look up when you respond, “It's alright, honey. Cover it up and come snuggle.”

Jake is quiet for a handful of moments, unmoving. Finally he says, “It's finished.”

Your eyes freeze on the page, but you don’t move. Your interest in piqued. “Oh?”

“It’s for you. I’d like you to see it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask gently.

“I’m sure. Always sure about you,” He adds his voice is still quiet, but firm.

You grin, throwing your book on the floor as you stand, uncaring about what page you were on. Jake was sharing this with you. For a moment you wonder if he’s shared this with Marc or Steven at all– they’d mentioned giving his privacy. But if he was sharing this with you, certainly he’d shared it with them.

“Eyes closed,” He instructs, and you quickly follow suit. “Good girl.”

With your eyes covered, you can hear your own breath more clearly, hear the quiet drag of the easel against the wood floor. Hear his quiet, even steps.

His hands come to rest on your waist, and you feel his mouth brush the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Open for me.”

You open your eyes to rows upon rows of your favorite flower. The sun hangs low in the sky, just beginning to dip below the horizon, a few clouds dotting around. It’s much brighter than you ever imagined. Jake is a conglomerate of neutrals and darks, leather and basics. To see so much color, such an obvious lightness from his own hands stuns you. As you take more in, you see a black cat frolicking through the stems, batting at one of the flowers. Its eyes shine mischievously.

It’s your turn to fall quiet, your eyes whisking over the canvas time and time again, drinking in all you can.

“Don’t comment too quickly,” He says dryly, his hands squeezing your hips.

“Oh, Jake, its beautiful,” You breathe softly, taking a small step forward to examine it in further detail, wanting to see each and every stroke.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, that comfortable warmth that you bring to his chest multiplying tenfold. “You think so?” He asks, trying to sound noncommittal.

“I know so. Is this cat supposed to be ours?” You point to it, grinning up at him. He’d mentioned his want for cat a few times, but it wouldn’t be a possibility until the lease was up so that you all could move to a pet friendly place.

Jake hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to you before they return to the canvas. Jake was the last of the boys to come around. Your relationship is the newest, and though it is no less sweet, no less passionate sometimes he struggles to be open with you. You’re patient, knowing that every piece of the man standing beside you is worth waiting for.

“It's supposed to be me,” He admits quietly.

“You?”

“The cat is me, and everything else…is you.”

“Me?”

He grows quiet again, trying to figure out what to say. He so desperately wants you to understand. You gaze up at him, watching as he mulls things over, gathering up the words to tell you what this all means to him. What you mean to him.

“Its me, basking in everything that is you. You love the sunset, you love pointing out shapes in the clouds. You love these flowers. There’s more there, more intention that I could explain. But I hope that one day, the cat, that you’ll—“ He stops, realizing that he’d got too carried away. He was about to show all his cards.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “I do. I do already, Jake. It’s easy.”

His gaze grows more intense as he studies you, searching for any dishonesty. There’s not a drop in your eyes. “Me too.”

Jake didn’t know it could be this easy. Sure neither of you have said the words outright, but he can feel it in the way you look at him right now. You lean in, closing the gap between you to press a soft kiss to his mouth before, one he gets lost in. And when you pull away, you simply turn back to the painting. Your hands reach out, fingers wiggling and his hand darts out, grasping yours.

“It’s still wet,” He reminds you, squeezing your hand gently before he lets it go.

“Right, sorry,” You murmur sheepishly.

All of this has you feeling a little shy— held but with hands that are afraid you’ll break. You could ask him to say it, you could say it yourself but you know that things are the slowest with him. Sometimes you have to treat him like the cat he’s painted. He’ll spook easily, retreating into solitude.

You tuck the idea of asking for more in your back pocket. Another time. Instead you ask, “So…where are we hanging it?”

Jake relaxes. He knows your thinking face, could see you weighing the pros and cons. It feels good to know how you feel about him and even better to know how well you know him.

He drops a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the fireplace. “I was thinkin’ here.”

“I’ll go get those sticky strip thingies,” You say, marching towards the closer that holds everything from spare linens, holiday decorations and yes— sticky strip thingies.

“Command strips,” Jake corrects you, snorting softly under his breath.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[florsial]

Hey bestie I’m trial and erroring a Rabastan design and I’m struggling so what does he look/dress like in your gorgeous mind because no one gets him like you do

Hello :D and thank youu <3333

Okay, I have been thinking about his appearance from time to time. the main consistent detail is that he isn't very "sleazy" in looks. He's pretty put together. He is wearing an expensive suit, maybe a couple buttons undone, and a loose tie with those shiny black loafers, but overall he's pretty clean. His most casual would be dress pants and button up that's kinda undone.

(HIS FANCY STYLE GETS REGULUS SO GIDDY!!! Like if you ever saw those photos of someone standing on their s/o feet THATS SO THEMMM)

I've been torn over having him with long hair or short hair. But in the end, shorter hair is more fitting for him, I think. In a way that expresses that he doesn't have the luxury of keeping his hair long like Rodolphus if he's constantly fighting for something. So I imagine something like the short wavy hair you see when you search it up on Pinterest for men (don't ask me how I know that). When I first sketched him out, I gave him long hair but it didn't fit.

I couldn't find a proper description in the HP wiki nor do I remember what he is described as in the books when he first shows up. Only that is a thin man. So I think his face is slightly sunken in and his entire body is pretty lanky. And he's pretty tall (HEIGHT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIM AND REGULUS HEIGHT DIFFERENCE!!). His hair and eyes are both pretty dark and his skin is a little tan since I actually see him as a very outdoorsy person and amazing, like, really smooth without blemishes (for some reason).

(Pandora starts breaking out when she hit puberty and she contemplates torturing Rabastan's skincare out of him) (he has none)

Don't take this as seriously, but I picture something like Victor from The Corpse Bride (I've never seen that movie honestly) but yk, just for fun lol.

He doesn't have this overly messy style because he's like this black sheep (Like Sirius or Barty) because of his mother's family influence. With his maternal (a side branch from Averys), he's very well dressed and groomed, they made sure of that! The Avery side of his family loves him, though it's partly because Rabastan looks/acts more like his mother.

This brings up another thing that is: he is very much a jewelry person. His suits, expensive but plain, are often decorated and slightly weighted down by layered necklaces with heavier stones and real metals and his fingers are more cold than warm by silver rings. He got his ear pierced at a young age and has so many passed down from his mother, like all his other jewelry. In a way, all of that seems almost like armor that covers/protects him.

Side note: HE WOULD'VE WIPED THE FUCKING FLOOR WITH THOSE SILVER FINGER GUARDS!

He would've HATED cheap jewelry and when mood rings were released in 1975, he choked when he saw Sirius wearing one for the first time. Rodolphus and Regulus almost called a healer because he was turning blue. (Sirius bought more out of spite after that)

Modern Au Rabastan would have a Rolex collection. I said what I said.

I know I bring up suits when wizarding folk don't wear that so, his robes are often plainer (compared to Rodolphus, keep that in mind) but still pretty expensive looking with complex embroidery. His more extravagant robes came from his mother (since I don't think that size mattered all that much between men and women or boys and girls). Cliche moment, but his clothes were very much darker in color, but not always black. More like a darker purple or a darker blue or green, I'm thinking something like what you would get when you use velvet, how colors are almost really shiny or almost black.

I can also see him using makeup! Though very light I think he's very open and knowledgeable about a lot of things since he was basically treated as a doll by his mother's twin sister :D

[qqtxt]

[🌸] anchor w/ txt.yeonjun [2/5]

✿ pairing: yeonjun x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / comfort fluff / mentions of losing a loved one ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 1000 words for each member ✿ in which a moment of uncertainty and confusion, they stand through it all with you [masterlist 🌸] / other members will follow suit! / @kflixnet ☔️

the days seem to pass by slower on some days, too quickly on most where you don't notice where the time goes. life has been a blur as the details get foggy in your mind, your eyes unable to take in what's in front of you despite your eyes being wide open; fueled by the anxiety, heavy with the weight dragging your chest down where it gets hard to breathe.

in moments like that, like these...

yeonjun doesn't know which hurts more: the fact he knows he can't possibly take away how you feel or that he can only imagine the pain you feel but even then it wouldn't be enough. he's careful to not make a sound as he steps in, his eyes on you as he makes his way into the living room after he's shut the door behind him. his breath gets caught in his throat when you shift from the sofa but he sighs in relief when you don't move.

he makes his way over and kneels before you, coming into your line of vision past the reruns of a comfort television show. all noises gets blurred out when you focus on the palm that meets your cheek and the lips against your forehead as yeonjun pushes the hair from your face back.

"hey," you murmur, arms already curling around his neck to pull him down. yeonjun only smiles–always smiles–when he feels how tight you cling onto him and he gladly obliges. his arms snake around your figure, curling between the plush of the sofa and the material of his your shirt, catching a glimpse of your skin in between with the way the cloth hikes up. "i didn't hear you come in..."

"is'okay," yeonjun mumbles into your ear, then placing a kiss to your neck as he slots himself there, "you've probably got a lot on your mind."

yeonjun feels his heart sinking when you take a moment to answer. a pause. but he doesn't know what kind of a pause it was. uncertainty? pain? anxious? all of his guesses are nullified when you nod with a soft yeah... he's about to say something but he finds himself keeping quiet when you admit: "but it's better with you here,"

that makes yeonjun reel back a little so he can look at you, noticing the tears pooling in your eyes that makes him frown. you blink past them to rest your head in his hand as he cradles the side of your head gently, thumb brushing over your temple.

"i don't even know how i can help..." he whispers, the lines in his forehead showing as a sign of frustration.

"junnie,"

"hm?"

"this is all i need," you make grabby hands at him in a way that he can't possibly resist. he lets go of the side of your head just to lean back a bit further so he can get rid of his jacket, tossing it to the side before he dives into your embrace. funny thing is, he's unsure if it was for you or for him. but with the way you succumb to his comfort and warmth, as if you're allowed to come undone with the soft sniffles and cries that he catches, and the security he feels in knowing at least–at least–you're not alone during these difficult times, the answer is clear to him.

this was for the both of you; neither one of you were alone.

[unbizzarre]

Byerly Vorrutyer Character Designs

BYERLY VORRUTYER of Lois McMaster Bujold’s Vorkosigan Saga

Tried to go for a rapidly-aging prettyboy with the gothic heavy lidded eyes (idk how to describe the eyes I’m talking about) and a face that reads as male while having something slightly feminine about it. A face that smiles often but is composed, cool. Slightly wavy black hair that is either shortish, chin length, or slightly shorter than shoulder length (I haven’t decided yet 😅)

Designing faces is not my strong suit so I am working backwards from a few references I like. Will probably simplify artstyle, slightly lengthen hair and mix with a dash of Professor Venom from OK KO (for that little bit of haggard twink energy) to creat the final design.

References:

Wardrobe:

Materials: silk, velvet, ruffles lace, detailed embroidery, military piping, sheer cloth, fur — echoes of beautiful luxurious handmade traditional artisan clothing- but all a little to gaudy and cheaply produced - the barrayaran aristocrat version of fast fashion. Androgynous and galactic styles occasionally thrown in to add to mystique

-SHIRTS: silk shirts // shirts with poofy or frilly sleeves // patterned shirts // sheer shirts // velvet shirts // shirts that are tucked in the pants but so unbuttoned the entire chest exposed

- SUITS: velvet suits that absolutely reek of cologne // sleezy yet sharp barreyaran style black suits you might smoke a cigar or play pool in // pastel suit for daytime garden parties

WARDROBE ACCENTS

- bigass fur coat - maybe even almost a midieval king robe

- several offensively knock off fast fashionmilitary style jackets

- luxuriously patterned bathrobe

- see through shawl / wrap / night robe thing

- some gaudy galactic style outfits

- a few sexy or frilly dresses to piss off the family

- a few a casual / slightly more subdued blend of komarran, barrayaran and practical galactic clothing he only really wears at home (stuff he wears when he’s not preforming for an audience). maybe some sentimental pieces. What’s hidden beneath the camouflage.

- some bling: rings and earrings. A few broaches and cuff links probably not that many necklaces

EDIT: here are some reference collages I put together! Note that these references aren’t the exact items that he would have in his closet but rather there are aspects to each piece that I would want to incorporate into his design. Maybe it’s the cut of a sleeve, the silhouette of a coat, the way a robe drapes, the embroidery pattern on some fabric, or the general partied-too-hard vibes of a particular photo of a model.

Bastardized military jackets:

Neglige options / heavier nightfrobe options:

Bigass fur coat:

Shirts (please ignore the long blue scarf in the central image like wtf is that- the rest of the suit is nice tho):

Party vibes:

A lot of these aspects would then be mixed with my own head cannon for the rules/cuts of barreyaran mens clothing (I went to a library and spent a stupid insane amount of time looking through books with midieval, 1800s and 1900s men’s fashions and France, Russia, and Greece- + additional books of traditional folk clothings and textile patterns + several other books of historic military uniforms…. The process and choices were so long that I had to give up and just stop thinking about any sort of vorkosigan related character design for a couple months cuz my head hurt. - I will probably make another post at some point with more annotated collages and possibly some of my own drawings synthesizing the concepts, but uh not right now because I need a nap just thinking about trying to organize it all.)

If you’d like to see a little more of vorkosigan universe costume imaginings here’s my Pinterest board on it (kinda) https://pin.it/2rOoHsq it’s a extremely disorganized and from early hyperfixation days so none of my fashion history research stuff is there (cuz that was all physical book stuff) but uh, you can look at it if you want.

P.S.

If you have any feedback or critiques on the design so far, or ideas for how you think By should look, let me know! I love hearing other people’s interpretations 😊.

Photos of faces you think look like By, pictures of outfits that feel Byerly-ish, or direct quotes from the books about his demeanor or appearance are also welcome!

@starfishlikestoread it’s been approximately a thousand years but I’m finally getting around to that Byerly fanart! Hope you enjoy 😅

[mamadarama]

same anon here to elaborate on some of the cats (and other pets) in the story:

every member of knights has a descendant of little john/nyaitsu. (only one i have details on atm: izuleo have a big fat cat named king richard who's dumb as rocks[though they both insist otherwise] and spoiled rotten. they didn't know it was a girl until after she was named that. later on they got another cat who they named maid marian before finding out that was a boy. their names have not been changed regardless)

shu adopted a Fancy Pedigree Sphinx (he makes it little sweaters/outfits to keep it warm). mika has a skrunkly black cat he found in a dumpster (alternatively, also thought it could be cool to give him one of those patchwork cats, where the pigmentation on their face is like. split down the middle yanno). anywho these cats are Bonded for Life

tetohina have a Stupid Male Orange Tabby. tetora thinks the cat is a Fierce Warrior while hinata calls it a stinky dum dum (affectionately)

kohiiai actually have three pets. first was the bunny, then the tarantula hiiro brought home a day later, then a while after that, kohaku found a stray kitten in an alleyway and brought it home (by this point hiiro has adjusted to the idea of domesticated pets, and it helps that the kitten was also on the streets [just like him ;;]) kohaku and the cat are both found regularly napping in weird locations (open to suggestions on cat breeds!! i keep going back and forth on what it should be,, i liked the idea of bingus, but also like the idea of fluffy,, currently tentatively thinking oriental long hair maybe? idk. kitten with ear too big for he gotdam head)

subaru (+the rest of trickstar by extension) has a direct descendant of daikichi

similarly, koga has at least one or two corgis, if not a direct descendant of leon. also probably like a bajillion foster dogs. hes using the rockstar money to care for as many dogs as possible

souma still has kamegorou. turtles live a long time,, (also maybe one or two horses as well)

given your Cat Knowledge, i'd love to hear your thoughts on these, or any other characters who you think should have cats! :3

Aaahh thats so cute . i can totally imagine leo having a cat named king richard thats just like that, if someone told me him and izumi have that exact cat back in italy i wouldnt even question it id just take it as fact

you could give kohaku a purebred, but it wouldnt be that realistic to do that. finding a purebred stray/feral at all, much less finding one alive, is so unlikely that the only thing keeping me from saying its impossible is my personal adversity to making absolute claims like that on the possibility of some bizarre freak situation. all strays and ferals are moggies/randombreds, any purebreds you see in shelters are animals surrendered by their owners (its rare, ive been rehabbing cats for 6-7 years now and its only happened 3 times)

however that doesnt mean you cant give him a unique cat !! mutations and weird patterns happen all the time in stray and feral populations . the bobtail gene is pretty common in japanese colonies (at least more common than it is in america) so you could give him a bobtail cat? i think a little high white calico bobtail would suit him :^)

but of course realism doesnt really matter too much, hell i have purebreds in catstars au and theyre all ferals

also hiiro would have either a tarantula or a stick bug or both. idk i can imagine him absolutely adoring stick and leaf bugs for how they look like sticks and leaves , he thinks its charming

depending on how far in the future were talking souma might still have saigoudon. souma grew up with him so its safe to assume theyre around the same age, meaning saigoudon is around 20 years old. horses can live up to 30 and occasionally even longer so theyve still got plenty time left together. if he moves out of his parents house maybe hed get his own horse though

the twins definitely have their own cats and tetora definitely tells young children that meet their cat that its part tiger.

SHU HAVING A HAIRLESS BREED IS SO REAL he would love having a pet he can make clothes for its too perfect . the split face marking youre talking about is most common in tortoiseshell cats , that would be perfect for mika :D

with daikichi and leon im almost certain theyre both fixed because koga and subaru are responsible dog owners but subaru would definitely stick with shibas . i can picture koga either with another corgi or adopting a shepard mix of some kind ..... when he retires hed probably start fostering dogs but until then hed probably be busy with life and stick with only one dog so he can devote all his attention to that one . fostering more than one or two dogs at a time is kind of a full time thing (believe me my step grandmother fosters dogs and owns 11) he definitely volunteers at some sort of animal place, either domestic or exotics or whatever he just loves animals in general (thinking abt the guinea pig card..... )

[fallingwaynes]

FOLKLORE ; CARDIGAN

JASON TODD X READER

CLEANING WOUNDS

no warnings apply :))

Jason, Red Hood, grunted as he looked at the wounds that littered his stomach and arms. He didn’t even want to imagine the bruises on his face, although he wasn’t even sure how that had happened. He was wearing his helmet, but his face felt as though it was badly bruised.

He limped down the alley way, deciding where to go from here. He obviously wasn’t in any state to clean his own wounds, and he definitely wasn’t going to Bruce for help. That would cause too many issues, and he would have to explain that he had adopted a rather violent method of fighting crime. Not to mention the fact that Bruce thought he was dead.

He debated going to Dick Grayson for help, his brother but he figured the news would reach Bruce’s ears. He groaned at the pain, and rolled his eyes at the thought of Dick not being able to keep his mouth shut.

Then he remembered someone who had no connections to Bruce. His best friend, when he was Robin. You would always clean his wounds, and patch his wounds up after a long night of patrolling so he figured now wouldn’t be any different.

He winced as he remembered that since his death, and rebirth, you hadn’t been filled in the details. Of course Bruce would tell you Jason was dead but he figured that was all he was willing to tell. He carried on limping, blindly directing himself to where he remembered your house was.

A vigilante falling in love with a regular civilian was never a good idea, but Jason couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to you, and you didn’t seem to have any issues with him fighting crime daily. Apart from your increasing worry for him, he knew you wouldn’t force him to quit what he was doing. Then he died, and you were left with nothing.

He shook his head, stepping inside the apartment building and slowly moving up the stairs. He hoped you still lived here, he needed your help and in truth he just wanted to see you again. Whenever Bruce called him reckless, or whenever Barbara would tell him he wasn’t good enough, he would always run to you and you’d convince him that he was perfect as he was.

He rapped his hand against the door, your door, and leaned against the wall. He pulled his helmet off his face, letting it rest against his leg as he stared at the door.

Thirty seconds passed, a minute passed and no one had answered the door. He was about to admit defeat, and seek the help of his older brother when the door was pulled open. Only a little bit but enough for him to see your face. He smiled as he realised you hadn’t changed much since you last saw him.

“Can I help you?” you asked, eyeing the man in front of you. He looked awfully familiar, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. Maybe he was an old friend, but you figured you would remember if that was the case.

His messy brown hair had a streak of white in the front, and you frowned at his suit. He looked like he had just come from a fight, his face was covered in bruises and his helmet rested in his hand.

“It’s me, Jason.” he muttered, wincing in pain and feeling slightly disappointed that you didn’t recognise him. He didn’t blame you, it had been a couple of years since you had last seen him.

He watched as your eyes widened, and the door opened slightly more. He stared at you, noting that some things about you had changed. “Bruce, he told me you died.” you spoke in a hushed whisper, shaking your head in disbelief. “What the hell, Jason?”

He looked down at the ground, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I was dead, for a bit.” he admitted, looking back at you with the best apologetic look he could muster. “I’m here now, though. I promise I won’t leave again.”

The way he spoke made you feel as though there was other factors involved, and you were sure Jason would tell you what happened in time. Instead you just nodded and just focused on the bruises on his face and your gaze lingering on the scratches on his arms.

“Can you patch me up?” he grinned sheepishly, staring at the door.

You sighed, stepping aside to let him enter the house and frowned as he winced. “How did this happen?” you mutter, not really aiming the question at Jason and going to fetch the first aid kit from your kitchen.

When you came back into the living room, Jason was laying against the couch and his eyes were closed. His helmet was rested against the table, and he had removed the top of his suit which gave you a full view of all his wounds.

“Jason?” you called softly, hoping he wasn’t unconscious. You weren’t a nurse, and didn’t have much knowledge on cleaning wounds although you did manage to pick up a few things from when you would clean his wounds from his Robin days.

He hummed in response, his eyes flickering open momentarily. Then he decided to close his eyes again, and you sighed in slight annoyance. You stepped over to him, pulling out a few antiseptic wipes from your kit. “It might sting.”

You dabbed the antiseptic over one of his wounds, trying to ignore the sounds of him hissing in discomfort. He fell silent after a few moments of pained mutters, and his eyes flickered open to stare at you.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, pulling your hands away and grabbing a bandage from the kit.

Jason watched you, wanting to tell you how sorry he was for dying, and for leaving you. It wasn’t his fault though, he knew that and he knew you knew that. It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty, and as much as he wanted to talk about it, he couldn’t find the words to say it. He stayed silent instead.

Luckily for him, or maybe unluckily, you decided to ask the questions on your mind. “So, you died?” you wrapped the bandage around his waist, ignoring, or at least trying to ignore, the pained noises that he made. “How did that work?”

He frowned slightly, his eyes closing temporarily. He hoped that if he pretended not to hear you, he wouldn’t have to speak about what happened to him. Yet he also knew you deserved to know, you were his best friend, and maybe even his crush, before it all went awry.

You seemed to get the hint, nodding as you wiped another antiseptic wipe onto another wound. Another hiss from Jason. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

He shook his head, once again wincing in pain, but he looked at you. He said your name softly, looking down at the bandages, which were now stained with blood. “You deserve to know.” he hated that you were kept in the dark about all of this, and he blamed Bruce for it.

He hated Bruce.

“I did die.” he spoke, not really sure of how go word his next words. A lot had happened, even by his terms, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you with information. “Then I was brought back.” he paused, wondering if he should even begin to tell you about the Lazarus Pit. It was supposed to be well-hidden, something that Talia had told him but why didn’t you deserve to know? You were already treating his wounds, and he trusted you.

“There’s this place, the Lazarus Pit.” he continued, noting that you had stopped cleaning his wounds to hear his story. At least he knew he had your full attention. “It heals injuries, and resurrects people. Someone, well actually Bruce’s ex girlfriend or something bought me back.” he muttered, aware of how far fetched it sounded. It seemed rather unbelievable to him.

You stayed silent at his words, and after a while just nodded. From all the crazy things you’ve heard about Gotham alone, and not to mention the proof that he was alive in front of you, it didn’t seem that hard to believe. “Bruce has another ex?” you didn’t know what else to say, and stared at him with a smile.

“Besides Selina Kyle, and whoever else he dated.” Everyone knew about Selina, but it wasn’t very clear on why Bruce broke up with her. Or maybe Selina broke up with him. You chuckled, and Jason even curled his lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, besides Selina.” he muttered, wincing in pain at his wounds. “Can you, uh, carry on patching me up?” he gestured weakly to the rest if the wounds on his torso. Then he frowned, wondering if he sounded too harsh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean, I just.” he trailed off, hoping you understand what he meant.

You stared at him, and nodded quickly. “Yeah, sorry.” You continued to wipe the rest of his wounds and bandaged them up, while Jason just stared at you. It was a little unsettling, but you guessed he would be slightly interested in you. Considering he died, and came back.

You leaned back, and shoved the first aid kit into the corner of the table and turned back to face Jason. “I don’t really understand.” you admitted, watching him adjust himself to a comfortable position. “You died, I get that, and you say you were brought back. I don’t understand how you changed so much.” Maybe dying did that to a person, but you would never know.

He winced, not from the pain but from your words. You were right, and he hated to admit it. Talia had told him that the Lazarus Pit would change, and she had mentioned something about losing a part of himself. He didn’t care enough to listen, but he knew that the Lazarus Pit wasn’t the main cause of his change in behaviour. Training with the League of Assassins, for a few years, gave him violent methods and he eventually used them to fight the criminals in Gotham.

“I’m not Robin anymore.” he spoke sharply, his tone catching even himself by surprise. He wanted to apologise, hating to see the hurt look on your face, but he couldn’t get his words out. He just left it, and you both just stared at each other.

He didn’t want to leave it here, so he opened his mouth to say something. “I didn’t mean it like that.” he muttered, shaking his head. Again he winced at the pain coursing through his body. “It’s just, Batman already has a new Robin.”

His tone was full of distaste at the mention of the new Robin. Bruce had replaced him with a new, way too eager, thirteen year old boy who was sure to get himself killed and the kid didn’t even need to be Robin. He was a rich kid, so what was his business picking up the pieces of the Robin mantle?

“I’m Red Hood now.” He decided that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and he pushed himself off the couch. He was sure he was in no state to walk onto the streets like this, but he didn’t care. He limped over to the door, and pulled it open.

You didn’t make any attempts to stop him, just sitting there and watching him. He couldn’t just walk out of your life again, but he knew he would only put you in danger by being here. “I’m sorry.” he whispered your name, pulling the helmet over his head.

You just nodded, and smiled at him. You stood up to meet his level, and reached for his hand. You expected him to pull away but he didn’t, instead just smiling softly. “It’s okay.” you reassured him with a whisper. “Be safe.”

He smiled again, rubbing his thumb against your hand. “I’m always safe.” he replied with a teasing grin, reminding you of the Jason you remembered. The Jason he used to be around you. His smile dropped, as he looked at you with a grim look. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He knew you would, and he couldn’t do anything to stop that. His hand moved from your hand, and rested on the door handle, ready to walk out. He promised himself that he would always make sure to visit you, just to soothe your nerves and assure you he was alive.

“I’ll see you soon.” he nodded, and you smiled back. He sighed, before stepping outside of the door and turned his head back to face you. He hated leaving you behind, not for a second time.

“I promise, I’ll come back.” he started walking down the hallway, limping slightly, and not looking back at you once. As much as he wanted to stare at you one last time, he knew he’d drop being Red Hood for it.

Gotham needed him to protect it, to do the job that Bruce Wayne wouldn’t do and the job that he refused to let his sidekicks to do either.

He had to fight for Gotham, and that’s why he couldn’t stay with you. As much as he wanted to.

[tapwrites]

Show and Tell

There's an age-old adage taught to new writers: "Show, Don't Tell!"

Some take it to mean they should remove all talking, because talking is people telling each other things. Some take it to mean you can't have anything happen off-screen, you have to show absolutely everything. Some say all text is telling, because it's not an image. Some say all prose is showing, because the reader has to imagine it one way or another.

...Phew!

There are hundreds of ways people interpret this phrase, and unless they understand it correctly, writers can quickly find that it's just not feasible to write in such a way. There are many who have concluded that "Show, Don't Tell" is simply bad advice and should not be followed and offers writers nothing.

Why are there so many ideas on what this simple phrase means? Is it good, or should it be discarded from writing vernacular? What does it mean to "show"? And what does it mean to "tell"?

To get to the heart of what this advice is talking about, I give you a simple example:

She looked rich.

Is this piece of prose "telling" us something or "showing" us something?

Well, let's try visualising it. She could have fancy hoop earrings. Or maybe glittering diamonds around her neck. A long flowing white gown? Maybe she's more of a modern celebrity type, in a tailored suit, slicked-back hair and shades and pouting botoxed lips.

Hrm... the text didn't really narrow that down for us did it? She could look like anything. It is telling us that we would conclude the woman is rich based on what we see. But it doesn't show us what we actually see. So... we could be seeing anything.

Consider the difference if instead of text, someone gave us a photo of a rich woman.

This is Salma Hayek. She's a woman. She's rich. But in this photo alone, it's not obvious that she is rich. She doesn't look rich here. If someone told us "there once was a woman who looked rich," we probably wouldn't come up with this kind of image in our minds.

This is showing us something of course; it's an image. But it's not showing us something that is likely to have us conclude that "she is rich."

Now if we tweak the image a bit...

Okay, so sparkly jewels and an expensive coat is probably more in the ballpark. She may not actually be rich--those diamonds may be stolen, or fakes. This image doesn't tell us any hard facts regarding her finances.

But I put it to you that she looks rich, at least. And I'd say that most people would come to that conclusion when shown this image.

Now to put it in terms of prose...

Diamonds sparkled about her neck and hands, and a long faux-fur coat draped over her shoulders, swaying as she walked.

This isn't described to the tiniest detail; there are still aspects we would fill in with our imagination like height, dress, what the specific jewelry looks like. But when we visualise this woman we know for sure that she's wearing diamonds and a faux-fur coat. And we could easily conclude that "she looks rich."

That's the difference between telling and showing. One skips to the conclusion, the other lets us work it out for ourselves.

But... who cares?

Either way, the reader is going to get to the same place: she looks rich. The difference is the journey taken to get there.

If someone told us "Aliens have landed in London," we might not believe them. Even if we know them well, and trust them with our lives, we might think they're pulling our leg or it's the start of a joke.

We might ask, "How do you know that? Why should I believe you?"

If we were in London and saw a UFO slowly float down from space, plop down in Trafalgar Square, and a little green man popped his head out and said "Hi"... we'd be a lot more likely to believe that "Aliens have landed in London."

Why? Because we saw it with our own eyes. The idea that aliens did indeed land came from our own brains based on our own experience. We drew our own conclusions.

That's the advantage "showing" has over "telling."

The writer may want the reader to know a particular thing, may want to tell them a fact, may want to just copy-paste that detail from their outline into the prose and be done with it. They want to simply tell the reader the thing they want the reader to know.

But if they can show the reader something, and let them draw their own conclusions... that's a lot closer to how their brain works in real life. We experience things in the real world, sense things, see things... process what we've experienced, internalise what's true and what's not... and conclude things from that experience.

If we give the reader the chance to do the same thing while reading our stories, they will experience those stories. They will feel immersed in our world, as if they really saw and experienced those things themselves--because we're getting their brains to work the same way it would if it wa all real.

This is what immersion is all about. Making it feel like they are in the scene with the characters, witnessing everything go down!

On top of that, if we're using a viewpoint character, we're experiencing what they are experiencing. They are seeing "Diamonds sparkled about her neck and hands, and a long faux-fur coat draped over her shoulders." And we are seeing it. They are experiencing the world around them, and we're experiencing it with them.

We're relating to the character by having the same experience they are having! We're simulating how they think. We're seeing them like us: a real human being. (Or non-human being at least.)

So it immerses further, by allowing us to identify with the viewpoint character at a deeper level.

Does this mean everything has to happen on-screen?

Does everything have to witnessed by the viewpoint character and the reader for it to be part of the story? No.

"The Princess gave birth to a son!" the maid cried.

This is dialogue. But... isn't that telling? Shouldn't we write the birth itself into the story, to show that to the reader?

Not necessarily. If the viewpoint character isn't the doctor or the prince or something, it could be highly inappropriate for him to pop his head into the room while the Princess is giving birth, just so the reader can look over his shoulder!

It's perfectly reasonable that a viewpoint character would find things out by being told verbally, or by a written note, or whatever else makes sense--as opposed to witnessing everything to do with the story.

You couldn't have them witness the birth/creation of every character they meet just to accept that they exist, after all. And if they live in the US, it's not necessarily going to be feasible to fly them over to London to see those aliens and then back again so the rest of the story can play out.

This isn't about making everything happen in front of the reader. It's about focusing on the story, showing the experience of the viewpoint character (or if there's an omniscient narrator, what they "experience"). As opposed to telling the reader about the story in a summary.

Dialogue--even exposition like "The Princess gave birth to a son!"--is literally what happened. The maid came running in, and shouted those words, and the viewpoint character heard it. We are being shown what happened in the story.

Compare this to the writer telling the reader. That wouldn't be part of the story. It would be more like "Hey, GRRM here. Princess gave birth--just thought I'd let you know. Anyway, back to blood, grit, and drama."

The story is on hold while the writer tells us about the story. Definitely not as immersive as a character within the story telling another character within the story and the reader just overhearing it.

This is how to make exposition more immersive and enjoyable to read: have the reader overhear, observe, and pick up on things almost "by accident." The key there is to orchestrate those accidents.

There are many ways of getting information to the reader under the guise of it all happening naturally as the story unfolds. Even putting things straight into the narration, but dressing it up as the thoughts of the viewpoint character... as prompted by something they saw or experienced.

The below includes a narrated thought, for example.

I fell to my knees, tears in my eyes. It was a miracle!

This is what the viewpoint character thought. That happened. It is part of the story.

So you can keep things in the realm of the story, even when you're pretty directly feeding them what you want them to know. You can "tell" them without telling them--without them realising it.

Now, is there no excuse for ever outright telling the reader something? Is telling banned?

Not quite.

For the above reasons, it's generally preferable to show things and let the reader experience them most of the time. And to find excuses for them to experience things. But that's not always possible.

And for a particular section it may not be your intention for it to be immersive anyway, so do whatever feels right. The important thing is, understand that "showing" is a thing you can do. It's up to you to figure out how you want to use that understanding.

So what does "Show, Don't Tell" mean?

What is "telling"? The reader learning things by the narrator telling them what they want them to conclude.

What is "showing"? The reader learning things by experiencing the story and drawing their own conclusions.

That's the sweet spot. Keep the reader "in the pocket," keep them immersed and in the flow of seeing the story unfold, and let them figure stuff out themselves, like grown-ups.

You might say it this way:

Writers, show readers the story. Don't tell them about the story.

Instead of someone giving you a summary of "this really cool movie I saw over summer break. And then this happened, and then that happened, and [explosion noise] woohoo!" ...Just let them watch the movie!

Aren't they just the wrong words, then?

Some choose to rewrite the phrase using different words. Which is fine, if it helps them remember what it means. But I think the original words work just fine, too.

The problem is, people assume certain definitions. But there are other perfectly fine definitions we use in everyday speech too. If you reach for "show: to present an image," that takes a bit of mind-bending to get it to fit. But if you asked someone to "show me how to make a cup of tea," you'd expect them to demonstrate, to make the tea in front of you, in a way you can learn from.

And "tell me how to make a cup of tea" would probably get you a list of instructions with no demonstration. An explanation of how to carry out the task. That could be given as text on a piece of paper, or said out loud... that doesn't matter to being told how to do it.

A common reformulation of the phrase is "demonstrate, don't explain." Or "illustrate, don't summarise."

But, as "tell" can mean "communicate information," it's a synonym for those words anyway. And "show" can mean "allow (a quality or emotion) to be perceived; demonstrate or prove," so that's a synonym as well.

So what's the point of "Show, don't tell"?

"Show, Don't Tell" is indicating a direction to head towards if you want the story to be more engaging, and immersive. It reminds us:

Being told a room has no oxygen in it is less visceral than seeing a human being in that room struggling to breathe. "The eiffel tower is 330 metres tall" gets a less emotional reaction than standing beneath it and looking up.

It lets new writers know that it's actually possible to show things to the reader instead of just telling them "She looked rich."

Some writers don't know that they can show things, that showing something can teach the reader what they need to know just as well as telling them. But also be part of the story and enjoyable to read.

"Show, Don't Tell" is a valuable lesson to learn, and to teach others. Just remember to teach it by showing examples, not just telling them the phrase and leaving them to it.

[effypcfc]

Hooty Commits Kidnapping, Sort of...

I've written this short fanfiction inspired by this piece made by @juatoo, which depicts Amity Blight playing with figures of her and Luz Noceda, possibly imagining a romantic scenario between them.

Made it into its own separate Tumblr post because I fear it's not getting any engagement as I hoped because it was written as a reblog. Also made some minor changes to it as well, hopefully, to flesh out the characters' thoughts and feelings better.

References to episodes and moments in The Owl House S2, so spoiler alert, I guess, if that counts.

Anyhoot, I hope y'all enjoy it!

======================================

Amity Blight is sitting alone in her room, trying her hardest to concentrate on her studies, but unable to do so. Constantly bothered by her growing feelings for Luz Noceda, her human friend, who she has recently graced with a kiss to the cheek when they last met, she does the one thing she can think of to process the whole thing.

Checking the adjacent hallway outside her room to see that neither Edric nor Emira, her older siblings who have a knack for teasing and playing pranks on her, are close by, seeing that neither is nearby, she then closes her door, grabs a vial of abomination goo, casts a spell circle, and shapes two small blobs of the purple viscous liquid into solid and fully-detailed likenesses of herself and Luz. She then tries her best to imitate Luz's voice, making both figures talk to each other.

"Oh, Amity, your hair's different!"

"Yeah, I thought I could use a change," She says, alternating between her usual speaking voice and her mock-Luz voice.

"It suits you. Makes you look prettier." Coyly, Amity then says "Aww, thanks," brushing her own hair behind her ear. "Listen, thank you for getting me my job at the library back. It means so much to me that you did, and I hope you got the information you need from that echo mouse."

"And thank you for saving my life the other night. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about you being my hero. Guess you could say you've swept me off my feet. I'll never forget you once I return home, Amity." She then makes Luz's figure kiss her figure on the cheek, imagining what could have been if things played out differently if Luz reciprocated her feelings and kissed her first. She was thinking back to when she lost all inhibition that moment. That evening, she is moved after realizing that Luz really genuinely cares for her and wants to make up for getting her fired from the library, after getting caught by Malphas, the master librarian, her boss, as they were sneaking into the Forbidden Stacks.

Amity also couldn't help but worry that she might never get the chance to be with Luz again, for good. She herself has helped Luz find a way to travel back to the Human Realm, after all.

"I'll miss you, Luz. You reckless, wonderful ray of light, you. My fearless champion," Amity sighs, then lays her head on the desk where both figures are, defeated by this realization, wishing she could soon talk to Luz about what transpired that evening. Wishing Luz felt the same way about her as she does.

"'Farewell forever'? What were you thinking?! Nah, you weren't thinking! Now it's about to come true! You blew it, Amity!" she chastises herself under her breath, burying her head under her arms.

Emira sneakily walks into Amity's room, noticing her face-down on her bedside desk, teasingly greets "HEY MITTENS!!!"

Amity shrieks in surprise and embarrassment, blushing furiously.

"So, Luz, huh?"

Amity groans in resignation, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, and what about it?," she snaps. She knows she cannot lie about it anymore. Emira has caught her red-handed (or should I say, red-faced.) She must have also overheard Amity's poor impression of Luz's voice on the way in, so there's no coming back from that now.

Emira then tells her "I remember just a couple months ago, you were being so mean to her, and now look at the two of you, the best of friends, and now, you're head over heels for this human girl. You even kissed her! My little sister, all grown up and in love!"

GIF by weirdo-with-no-beardo

Amity, flustered, says "You saw that?!," sighs deeply in annoyance, then tells her sister "I can't help it, okay! I like Luz! I can't stop thinking about her without catching myself smiling like an idiot." She then dissolves both figures of her and Luz back into goo and directs it all back into the vial.

"She can be so stupid. She has a thing for getting in trouble again and again. Despite that, she's… genuinely nice. Nice to me, Willow, and Gus too. She's always there for them, for me, which is sweet. Genuinely nice, unlike the other girls I'm friends with at school. Unlike Boscha. I can't stop thinking about the next time we hang out together again. I can't stop thinking about wanting to hug her tightly. I've never felt this way about anyone, ever!"

Amity pauses to compose herself, then declares "I'm Amity Blight, top student at Hexside... or, at least, I was. I shouldn't be freaking out over this. I've faced a slitherbeast and lived. I've fought off Grom, and even Mom and Dad's stupid robots, without breaking a sweat! So why does talking about my feelings for Luz feel this scary?"

"I thought it's adorable though, even Edric agrees," Emira answers. "I've never seen you happy in a long time, and I could tell you've been happier since being friends with Luz. I feel you, though. Love is definitely scary. It's scary, especially if it's your first time feeling this way about someone, but you know what? You should still do it! Tell her how you feel. Just think, she will eventually have to go back home. You might not get another chance to see her again, so you might as well do it now," Em says in reply, hoping to offer some encouragement to her lovestruck younger sister.

"I know that," said Amity. "I know she'll have to go back home, and I will tell her about it, in time, right before she leaves. I just gotta build up my courage first. Play it carefully, plan it out, like I always do, you know…"

"I understand. Sometimes though, things like this don't need too much planning. You just let this girl know. You walk up to her, preferably on a good day for both of you, and tell her 'Hey, Luz! I like you, I like hanging out with you, and I think we should go out together, for real, this time. Do you wanna be my girlfriend?'" says Emira, giving Amity ideas, at the same time, flustering her even more at the thought of being Luz's girlfriend. "Then, just hope for the best!" she adds.

Both girls have not noticed the open balcony door in Amity's room. Hooty, the house demon with the physiology of an owl, who watches over Eda Clawthorne, King, and Luz, shoots up from the ground and enthusiastically calls out to Emira. "HI-YA, BLIGHT SISTER!," he says in his signature high-pitched, shrill yet jovial voice, as if a cartoon animal from the 1930s has been fed a gratuitous amount of candy and spun around inside a dryer.

Hooty has the uncanny ability to stretch and retract his body over long distances and open his mouth wide, similar to a snake. This explains how he was able to reach Blight Manor from the door he's attached to, unless he has detached himself from his door and connected himself somewhere else, an act which has disgusted and disturbed his housemates.

In one swift motion, Hooty then opens up his mouth, darting straight for Amity before she has a moment to respond, and swallows her whole. Amity struggles visibly, yelling "Ugh, HOOTY!!!" muffled, and after a few seconds, stops moving within Hooty's belly, Emira shrieking in horror and disbelief, hoping and praying to the Titan that her sister isn't truly dead yet.

Belching loudly, Hooty then tells Emira "Mind if I borrow Amity for a bit? She'll be alright. In fact, she'll be better when this works out, I promise." Em nods in agreement, hands covering her mouth, too horrified to speak, unaware of Hooty's ability to regurgitate anything it swallows, living or dead.

Hooty then slithers backward towards the owl house, with a noticeable bulge in his serpentine midsection where Amity is, currently.

This has gotta work. I've failed King and Eda. I can't let Luz down as well, Hooty thinks to himself on his way back. Little does he know, things turned out better than expected for both parties mentioned.

All within the span of less than an hour, Hooty makes his way to the house's basement, then regurgitates a sizeable owl pellet large enough to envelop Amity's entire unconscious body. He then hocks up a typewriter and several small sheets of paper. He places one of them on the machine, then types, pecking each key with his beak:

As we stumble through life, gloom knows no bounds. You'll only find love when you're in the ground.

Hooty pauses, realizing how morbid that sounds. He flips the note over, then adds:

P.S. I mean the basement! Love, HOOTY

He types one more note, then speeds up to Luz's bedroom, leaves the first note on the floor, and knocks on her door, overhearing Luz gush about her desire to ask Amity out while fearing possible rejection, worrying she might find her too cheesy. He then disappears back into the basement, adding the finishing touches to his grand scheme to get the two lovebirds together…

[spoofy-drawings]

If the Sanders Sides had Pokémon teams!

Howdy, so, a user by the name of werewroammin made teams for each of the sides, and inspired me to make my own as well!

I am more into the collection side of Pokémon, I’m all about rare cards and shinies! However, I’ve completed several games, so I at least have the basic knowledge of battling and team building!

I wanted to make teams that suit their personalities, but we’re also functional in the games as actual teams! That said, I’ll be going into a LOT of detail about each of their teams, so this post will be… long…

I’ll save y’all that aren’t interested the trouble, and keep all that nerdy stuff under the cut! For those that ARE interested, you’re in for a treat! Enjoy my rambles!

Patton is up first!

Blissey, Audino (Mega), Kangaskhan, Togekiss, Politoed, and Sylveon!

For Blissey, I chose this for their moveset, item, and ability!

Blissey is a Pokémon that’s seen in Pokémon centers, and is also called the happiness Pokémon, all of which has Patton written all over it.

Blissey is also a huge TANK of a Pokémon, and with minimize paired with leftovers and calm mind, this thing is one big POWER HOUSE. Probably would be Patton’s strongest on his team.

Next up, Audino (Mega)!

Audino is also commonly seen in Pokémon centers. Called the hearing Pokémon, Audino can use its EARS to detect someone’s physical and emotional health, which makes them wonderful helpers to nurses!

I imagine this would be Patton’s ace Pokémon, as they are usually very cheerful and friendly Pokémon, known for approaching any Pokémon, even if they seem hostile. Sound familiar?

Now, onto Kangaskhan!

Who matches Patton better than the one and only parent Pokémon? Another absolute tank of a Pokémon, and one that’s well known for being a caring and nurturing Pokémon to people and other Pokémon alike. Patton through and through!

He’d probably allow Kangaskhan to baby sit Virgil regularly, despite the fact that Virgil is an adult man-

Up next, Togekiss!

Still keeping up the fairy theme, I wanted to have a Pokémon that seemed cuddly and soft but also useful. Togekiss isn’t the best fairy type, but they have a wide range of moves that could help with type advantages, like solar beam and aura sphere.

Togekiss is also seen as a good luck charm! Usually steers clear of conflict, and isn’t one to be hostile first. Basically the kind of Pokémon that would rather hug it out than throw hands- uh, wings I guess-

Next on the list, Politoed!

Come on. This is THE Pokémon for Patton. An adorable little frog? Tell me this isn’t Patton to a tea by design alone. Go on. I’ll wait.

They’re usually seen as the leaders of their groups of poliwags and poliwhirls, and quite strong ones at that. They like to sing, even though to the human ear it sounds like they’re dying. Yeah, Politoed is just meant for Patton.

And finally, Sylveon!

Another fairy, but I think this one specifically is a great choice for Patton, as they’re very emotional Pokémon and can literally tap into people’s feelings and soothe them.

They’re known for helping people calm down by wrapping their ribbons around peoples arms in a soothing way. Sylveon could definitely help Patton if he’s getting too emotional, and basically be Pattons little therapy Pokémon.

That concludes Patton! Now!

It’s Logan’s turn!

Alakazam, Meowstic (Male), Glastrier, Froslass, Aegislash, and Klingklang!

A combination of psychic, ice, and steel types, all of which are pretty fitting for some entirely based on Logic itself.

First to talk about, Alakazam!

Said to have an IQ of 5,000, this extremely intelligent Pokémon is a great fit for Logan. Alakazam would be his ace, his best friend, his most loyal companion. They’d get along swimmingly, and I like to think it’d be adorable for him to find an Abra as a little kid and raise it to a fully evolved Alakazam.

Paired with their intelligence, they’re also wickedly strong Pokémon, and given the right moveset, they can make one big powerhouse for the whole team.

Next, Meowstic!

Meowstic isn’t the strongest psychic type out there, but the design alone suits Logan, so I did a bit more digging on them and found out they really represent Logan more than I thought.

These Pokémon are known for concealing their psychic energy because it’s too powerful for them to control. Kinda like how Logan’s emotions are so powerful he can hardly control them, so he hides them.

Unfortunately, I can only add 10 photos per post on mobile, so this will just have to be a part one for now! Do not fret, part two is already in the works! :]

Next on the list would be the rest of Logan’s team, and the start of a certain prince’s team!

[matchbet-allofthetime]

HOLY MOLY!!!!!

ANOTHER SWOLEFISH??! SHIPPER PLEASE BE MOOTS!!!💞💞💞💞💞

I actully was only a fan for goto at first but when i figured out that there ARE more fans of him and he has HIS OWN SHIP with kiga (hc name for moonfish) I WAS SO HAPPY LIKE OMG HE'S FINALLY GETTING ATTENTION THAT HE DESERVES FROM HIS 16 FANS AROUND THE WORLD HE DOESN'T HAVE TO BE DESERTED ANYMORE COMPARED TO OTHER CHARACTERS💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

then i started to have some interest in kiga and became a fan of him and started to support his ship with goto (I WAS ALSO SO SURPRISED WHEN I SAW HIS FACE HE'S SSSOOO PRETTY LIKE PRETTY BALD BOI SKSJSKJSKSJSKJS✨💕✨💕✨💕)

sometimes i just look at these two and go "yep I'm gonna make them ALOT of fake scenarios in the middle of math class and smile like an idiot for sure"

they're SO perfect together i wonder how did they become together? like who confessed first? who noticed the them looking at each other multiple time in the middle of the meetings first??WHEN AND WHERE DID THEY HAVE THEIR FIRST KISS??!?AKAJAKJAKAKAKAKA✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕

also do think goto might be into spicy food?? MAYBE KIGA WOULD TRY TO MAKE HIM HIS FAVOURITE SPICY MEALS AS A GIFT???????💓💓💓💓

(أنا آسف إذا كان هذا طويلًا جدًا ح��ى لو كان سؤالي الأول وإذا كان هناك أي أخطاء في اللغة الإنجليزية ليست في الواقع لغتي الأولى ، فلا تتردد في عدم الإجابة ، فلا بأس بذلك 💖).

oh my gosh, i'm so very sorry!! i did not see this until just now bc my asks have been like,,, ruined for a few months

yes, we can totally be moots!!

goto and kiga are such cuties and i love them both with all my heart. i was a moonfish fan from the moment i saw him and same with muscular

i love that more people are slowly liking muscular more! he's such a cool character and so is moonfish. and dw, i do the same in my lectures too, just always thinking about these two tbh. i've sketched muscular on classwork more times than i can count.

i have so many ideas for who confessed first and i'm honestly in love with it going either way. kiga could be like "oh you're such a menace of a man and are absolutely feral i love you" OR it could be muscular being like "...you're so creepy. we should kiss 💖." just so many ways it could go!!

yeah, moonfish is so pretty! i love the little scar in his ear, it's such a wonderful little detail. i imagine him having a shaved head makes it easier to wear his suit when he's working as a villain, yk?

i definitely think one of four scenarios for their first kiss:

they had their first kiss on a battlefield one day

they had their first kiss sitting on the roof of the LOV bar while watching the stars and talking about different things

they had their first kiss after the prison break

they had their first kiss after they slept in each other's arms one night and they both just woke up and kissed the other because they can't live without the other

i really like any of these four ideas for them!

goto ABSOLUTELY LOVES spicy food. as a spicy food lover myself, i just KNOW goto is the type of guy to eat the spiciest noodles and still add extra chilies, spicy sauce, and peppers. he needs it spicy enough to melt metal otherwise it isn't good enough. i think his favourite dishes are actually korean and indian dishes, rather than japanese. i think he'd love korean buldak and Gochujang noodle dishes. as for indian traditional dishes, he'd adore laal maas and Kolhapuri chicken, as well as any really fiery curry! i think muscular just really loves spice.

i HC that moonfish is REALLY good at cooking, so i think he is constantly cooking meals for goto as a part of his way to show love!

adding onto the moonfish-can-cook hc and -goto-loves-spicy-foods hc, i kinda combine them into- japanese/korean kiga and japanese/indian goto, who share their other culture's dishes with one another as a love language

(and dw, english is not the only language i speak and your ask has done nothing but make my early morning utterly wonderful. i am so very sorry i was unable to see it sooner, tysm for sending this! currently drawing the two sweet boys eating spicy noodles early in the morning <3)

[axl-ul]

Writing Advice: Five Senses Approach

(Or how I personally write the descriptions)

INTRO

I decided to do something similar and talk a bit about my way of writing descriptions since some people told me they'd be interested in this. Plus, I thought that maybe some people could find this helpful, in case they struggle with descriptions. Again, this is how I personally go around this and you don't need to follow this post at all. Write however it suits you and in whichever way that's the most comfortable for you. As I previously mentioned, some people were curious about my personal way of dealing with this part of writing. This approach is basically 'show, don't tell' but maybe slightly different?? I don't know, I just like to do things my way and sometimes it works out. Plus, I've seen many people only mentioning the phrase and not talking much about it, which can lead 'less experienced' writers to slight confusion as in they can't do much with this information because nobody gives it much attention. Five Senses approach is what is sounds - the description is based on the scenery. NOT A PICTURE, the pictures are a still thing, scenery is what I aim for in this approach because it offers me all the feelings I want to experience and which I want to deliver in my writing. It brings the life with it, not the stillness. You wannt to relive the moment with your characters, in fact, imagine that YOU are the character in that scene, become the prt of it. Alright, now we can approach the actual 'Five Senses'.

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1. Sight

This one's the easiest. Colours play in fornt of you, they dance, they whirl, sometimes they merge together until you can barely tell them apart, instead a new creation emerges in front of you.

There's even more - the size, the shapes, the details.

You take a seat and look in front of yourself. There's an old calendar on the low table. Is the calendar new or old? Is there anything hightlighted, marked, signed? A date, for instance, or maybe a name and a telephone number under it, all written with a green marker. Or the hills behind the window by your left. Are they majestic? Or do you perhaps enjoy something more neat, something picturesque with only slight curves and nothing sharp. Nothing that would remind you of those awful knives in the kitche by the corner of your eye where a black cat used to sit.

2. Smell

This sense is often overlooked in many cases. Just try covering or pinching your nose as you begin to eat your favourite meal. Suddenly, it's not as good as it used to be, right? Smell and taste are tied to one another.

Breath in and out. What can your nose pick up? What else can you decipher? That pie on the table, a hot steam carried a sweet aroma of apples, cinnamon and sugar. Perhaps, the smell is your only source of information as you're blindfolded and locked up in the trunk in the midde of seemingly nowhere.

Fresh air runs from under the white cliff where the small pond resides. That breeze makes you squirm a bit - fish, frogs and other animals inhabit the place which gives the pond its characteristic odour. But you'e honestly happy. You stick out your chin and chest to inhale deeply, taking in every molecule of that humidity, a nice change from the dusty corners of the old room which reeks so much you can't properly sleep inside without leaving your window open for the whole night.

Again, your nose, your whole body can react to even the slight change. It can make you squirm, cringe, relax, it can make you sleepy or to burst with energy.

3. Hearing

Same as the smell. Something in the distance that you can't quite see. What does it sound like? Does it pleasantly ring? Or would you rather cut off your own ear just to make the sound stop? What about the music - are you truly precise or you're a rather tone-deaf person?

Hearing can be affected by various things. Somebody's ears are much sharper, some people are completely deaf.

The sound can be a ringing laughter, a horrifying screech, a subtle nimble in the air barely noticeable and it's only by the sheer luck that you happened to hear it.

Noises and voices do not always come from the great distance. Maybe only a cat happens to purr in your lap and right beside you your friend begins to hum an unknown melody.

Describe what you/your character can hear and what are the effects. It can make your hair on your nape stand up or it makes you want to dance the whole night through.

4. Taste

As I meantioned before, smell and taste are a great pair. Anyone's put various things on their tongue before, from simple yet delicious food to toys in th kindergarden to tasting that guts-twisting dentist tools on your last visit.

There's still (somehow) information going around that people recognise the four tastes. That is not true. We are capable of recognising four basic taste - sour, bitter, sweet, salty and umami (the 'meaty' taste which 'deepens' other flavours). Nowadays, there are even studies which talk about even the 6th taste, which is the taste of fat or greasy.

Let's put this together, then. Something's on your tongue - would you say it's so dry that you need a glass of water? Is the thing even edible? Is it soft? Are your teeth going to break soon? Is it something you've never had before causing you to hesitate to properly describe it to your friends? Or do you only assume what it may taste like since you can only watch from afar? Would it make you vomit or you'd gladly accept the thrill of trying out something new?

5. Touch

I reserved the sense of touch as the last one on this list but it's no less important than the previous ones.

You can talk about the quality, the softness or the hardness, you can rant about the temperature of the object, of the weather. Sure, in the winter, the snow-covered city is cold and lifeless but inside your cosy little flat, you're perfectly warm and the dog's soft fur tickles you and serves like a fine pillow that it's making your eyes shut.

Hugs, kicks, spits, pecks, handshake, gestures - does it make you flinch, cry out in pain? Would you like for the person to embrace you once more? Why? Don't talk about the feeling, talk about the process of feeling it. The clothes rustles against your skin, it tickles you so much you want to scratch your back but ultimately decide not to becase of how welcome you feel from the cool hands around your back, a perfect contrast to the outside's hell-like temperature.

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After reading through the list, go, sit for a while and imagine the scene in your head, perceive it carefully as everything slowly unfolds in front of your eyes. At first, you see something. Ask yourself what it looks like, whether it's dangerous or not. Now, you can hear something, you even picked up the smell - proceed it inside and think further. What are the effects so far? Do you wish to continue in your search? Be curious and wonder what the corners of your eyes can discover. Whether it's edible or not, if not why, would you get poisoned from it, how do you know? At last, you can surely grasp onto something or someone. Is it a comfortable feeling, a detail that can easily soothe you or you yank your hand and legs in response since your body begins to twitch? Lastly you don't need to describe every single of the five senses. Usually, you should pick those who struck you as the most interesting. For instance, the blanket might be just an ordinary blanket, nothing that would catch your eye but it smells terribly. It stinks so much you need to cover your nose. Don't lose your time and space and resaurces with talking about the everyday colour, focus on the thing that caught your attention. Remember, the description is not a picture, it's the process you're a part of. It's the experience you want to share.

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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added): @vanessaroades-author @rubywrite @aohendo @rbbess110 @jgmartin @outpost51

[disneymarina]

Arthur Morgan x Marina

"A bookworm huh? How charming," *smirks, his eyes wandering over Marina's petite frame appreciatively.* "And I couldn't help but notice you're quite the stylish one too. That DnDcore look really suits you. I can imagine you as a sassy, fiery sorceress in a fantasy world."*He takes a step closer, his tall frame towering over Marina. His strong, rugged features and chiseled muscles make him an undeniable force of nature. Arthur's piercing blue-green eyes seem to drink in every detail of her, his intense gaze sending a shiver down her spine.*"I must admit, I'm quite intrigued by you, Marina. You've got a way of captivating me, and I'm not one to ignore such a powerful allure," *Arthur says, his deep voice low and husky, laced with desire. He reaches out to gently brush a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her soft skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.*

*I chuckle low in my throat, my free hand dipping beneath her skirt to gently grasp her thigh.* "Well, darlin', I ain't much of a poet, but..." *I begin, my voice a slow, sensual drawl.* "I know a thing or two about how to make a woman feel good." *My fingers trace idle patterns on her skin as I continue,* "So here's a little verse, just for you." *My lips brush against her cheek as I recite,* "'Your skin is soft as summer skin, Marina mine. Your eyes, they shine like stars in the night. I long to touch you, to feel you squirm...'". *I trail off, my breath hot against her ear as I add,* "How's that, darlin'? I aim to make it up to ya, in the poetry department, at least." *I smirk against her skin, my hand sliding higher on her thigh, my other arm tightening around her waist.*

*I grin, my hand sliding lower to rest on Marina's thigh, my fingers subtly stroking and squeezing.* "Well, darlin', here goes nothin':""In the moonlight's gentle glow"

My heart beats fast, my soul aglow

For you, my love, my sweet delight

I'd ride the plains through day and night"*My words trail off as I press a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of Marina's neck, my breath warm against her skin.* "How's that? Not exactly Shakespeare, but..." *I chuckle low in my throat, my other hand coming up to cup her chin, tilting her face toward me.* "...I think it gets the point across." *My eyes lock onto hers, burning with desire and a deep, abiding affection.* "Now, how 'bout we put some poetry into practice, huh?""

*I chuckle low in my throat, my free hand dipping to give Marina's ass a playful squeeze.* "Well, I reckon a little something like this:'Marina, my sweet little darlin',"

With a heart full of fire and a spirit so bold,

You ride into my camp like a vision from heaven,

Lightin' up the night with your beauty so cold.Your raven hair and them cat-shaped eyes, 

Got me hook, line, and sinker, sweet as can be,

I'm a dead man walkin' once I met ya,

'Cause now all I can think of is settlin' down with thee.'*My voice is a deep, husky whisper as I recite my poem, my hand still resting on Marina's hip, my other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close against me. I gaze down at her, my blue-green eyes smoldering with desire and affection.* "How's that sound, poetess?" *I ask, my lips curling into a smug smile.*

*I grin, my breath hot against Marina's ear as I whisper.* "Marina, sweet darlin', with skin as pale as moonlight and hair as black as night... Your curves, they drive me wild with delight."*My hand slides from her hip to her thigh, giving it a suggestive squeeze as I continue.* "Your eyes, like dark pools I long to drown in, beckon me near... And that tiny rosebud mouth, it stirs a hunger I can scarce restrain."*I lean back, my blue-green eyes locked onto hers, burning with desire.* "So here's my little ditty: Let me worship at your altar, Marina mine... With every touch, every kiss, make you mine, all the time." *I chuckle low, a husky sound.* "How's that for a cowboy's ode to his muse?"