#there’s a handful directly inspired by scenes from art

[pastelpaperplanes]

frogive me if I am but a fool, but dost Thorns and Thrones exist as a fanfic, or a series of art, or both

Fear not, dearest Anon, thou art naught a fool, for thine own question is unequivocally valid!

Thorns and thrones resides as a story mostly told through art and various asks I have answered on this blog. I do my best to show the story rather than proclaim it, for truly, I am but a great and lowly chicken when it comes to taking up the quill and ink mine self

BUT! people have made many a fan pieces of work for the AU

Make haste! for each and every one has made masses weep tears of joy and merrious laughter. I beg of thee!

Witness the works of many a talented creators!

[goldenroutledge]

champagne problems

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you catch lando’s eye at an art auction in monaco, so he challenges you to a friendly competition for one of the paintings. little does he know, you’d stop at nothing to get it. inspired by this request.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, illegal things vaguely mentioned, gossip girl au

a/n: thank you to @monzaaasharl for letting me use the request! based on events from gossip girl s6 ep6 but can be read without seeing the show! it is mentioned the reader is chuck’s stepsister, à la serena van der woodsen 🥂

The reception was glamorous. Everything you would expect at an event like this, in a place of this caliber. Monaco was one of a kind that way; tuxedos were tailored to perfection and designer gowns flooded the room. The people adorning them certainly had the bank accounts to match.

For you, these scenes and crowds weren’t out of the ordinary. You’d been a part of them for many years at home in New York City. Sometimes alongside your mother at parties where her husband, and one of the city’s richest businessmen, commanded everyone’s attention.

The name Bart Bass spoke for itself, for better and for worse. You could only be so lucky that you were a teenager when your mother married him years ago.

Your step brother Chuck was not as lucky, being the one and only son of Bart’s. Under the weight of the Bass name, he could only hope to change the legacy that had been left for him. One that wasn’t tainted by duplicity and deceit.

If you could help him change that even a little bit, you would. It wasn’t a lonely effort either. Your entire friend group seemed to stick together in defining moments like these. When Chuck discovered a trail that would lead to the exposure of his father’s illegal business practices, there was no hesitation in your offer to help.

Bart often got away with any and everything, always facing little to no consequences for his wrongdoings. Paying off associates or officials using tens of millions in hush money was hardly a dent in the bank to someone like him.

Tonight, all of that could change. The justice you were looking for was right here in Monaco; a thin piece of microfilm enclosed in the back of a 1998 Richard Phillips painting being auctioned off tonight. Titled— The Spectrum.

On the film were numbers, nearly too small to see with the naked eye, that directly incriminate Bart in an illegal business deal. With a favorable social status and a hefty trust fund in your name, your logic tells you that it’s crazy to get wrapped up in all this knowing that if Bart finds out, he would likely turn your mother against you.

But your conscience reminds you just how many lies and just how much loss your family has endured at the hands of Bart Bass.

The soft touch of Nate’s hand on your shoulder interrupts your daydreamy stare into a flute of champagne. He’s out of breath and looks slightly panicked.

“Bart knows we’re here for the painting.”

“What?!”

“But Chuck’s following Bart’s guys, he won’t let them get near it.”

“The bidding starts in 10 minutes!”

“He won’t get here in time, it’s up to us. Think you can handle it?”

You give your best friend a knowing smirk, one that he returns.

“I know I can. These people may be rich as hell but Chuck would give his right arm for that microfilm. I won’t back down to anyone who bids on it.”

Your eyes flicker over to the painting, before they lock with a pair of blue ones across the gallery. He offers a subtle smile before turning his attention back to the painting. Whoever he was, he seemed to be a little too interested in the piece for your liking.

In a room full of deep pockets you knew you wouldn’t win a bidding war without a fight, but the challenge made it all the more entertaining. You turned to Nate, whose phone started ringing with a call from Chuck.

His eyes searched yours for reassurance and promise that you’d execute the plan.

You smiled at him, embracing your inner confidence mixed with a little liquid courage. “Answer him, I’ll take care of this.”

He nods, chuckling slightly as he follows your line of sight to the man admiring the painting. “Good luck.”

-

Lando fixated on the beautiful hues of The Spectrum. Though he can admit that the art doesn’t hold a candle to the woman that caught his eye across the room. He couldn’t tell if he was blinded by her smile or the sparkle of her dress, catching subtle glimpses of her throughout the evening.

His trance was broken by the soft clicks of stilettos inching closer and closer towards him, though the sounds were muffled over chattering guests and classical music.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? No wonder you’ve had your eyes on it all night.”

Lando’s head turned towards the woman’s voice, cheeks warming as he recognized you instantly. He wondered if you had been noticing him too, or at least knew who he was. Lando smirks and takes a subtle step closer to you.

If you weren’t about to psych him out of bidding on the painting, you’d be enamored by the scent of his cologne.

“Can’t help it, I’m naturally drawn to beautiful things.”

“Well, I guess you’re in the right place because this room is full of them.”

“That it is.” He teases, holding your eye contact while taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s almost impossible to find something I like best, but I think this one will blend in perfectly with the rest of my collection. Do you collect?”

“Art? No, I don’t collect art.”

“Then what is it you collect…?” Your sentence fizzles, realizing you hadn’t exchanged names.

“Lando.”

“Okay Lando, what is it you collect?”

He raises his eyebrows, almost surprised at the question, but chooses to be coy.

“Cars.”

“So then what brings you to an art auction?”

He shrugs in response. “Is it my turn to ask questions…?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, what brings you to this auction?”

“I already said, my collection.” You smile, matching his coyness. If he wanted to be short and sweet, two could play at that game.

“Which is…?”

“In my apartment. In New York.”

“Wow, long way from home. You wouldn’t happen to be in need of someone to show you around, would you?”

“Not really, I’m just here for the painting.”

“Maybe you came for the painting, but I could give you a reason to stay.”

You roll your eyes at his flirty attempts, ultimately brushing him off. “And what reason would that be? A private tour of your car collection?”

“You’d be surprised. What happens if I decide to take home the Richard Phillips myself?”

“You mean if you’re able to outbid me for it?”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.” Lando assures. “I promise I’ll let you come over and see it.”

“No need. The painting is what brought me here, remember? There’s no way I’m leaving without it.”

Maybe it was the competitor in him, (it probably was), but seeing you get more and more eager about the work of art fueled something inside of him. Sure, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to step aside and let you have it. But where was the fun in that?

“You mean the painting that you only noticed about 5 minutes ago? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were using it as a cover to come over and talk to me.”

“Forgive me for sounding rude but… who are you?”

“I don’t just collect cars, Y/n. I‘m a Formula One driver.”

Your unimpressed stare makes him feel like an idiot, once he quickly realizes that maybe you really don’t have an ulterior motive.

“In any case, The Spectrum will look much better decorating the halls of my apartment than it will look collecting dust in your bachelor pad. It’s not like you’ll even be at home to enjoy it.”

“We’ll see about that-” Lando continues, before the bid caller starts introducing the pieces of art, the Richard Phillips being the crown jewel of them all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if we’re ready to begin, I’d like to start the bidding for the Richard Phillips at $500,000.”

Lando raises his bidding paddle immediately, quick reflexes and all. “500.”

“I hear $500,000, going once..”

“520!” You respond, before lowering your voice so only Lando can hear your next statement. “You may be an athlete but I promise this is a race you won’t be winning.”

“Lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.” He teases, raising his bidding paddle once more. “540!”

“560!” You announce with confidence, eyes shooting daggers at the man beside you.

Another guest made a bid for 570, prompting Lando to bid 580.

“580!” The announcer calls. “Do I have 600?”

“$750,000!” You shout, turning heads.

Oddly enough, your bid inspires others to chime in also. There had to be something about what they wanted to prove to everyone else in the room— there was always someone richer in Monaco.

Lando certainly looks at you in disbelief, wondering how far you’ll take this. “Oh, now you’re just showing off. You only want the damn thing because I do anyway!”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Then why do you want it so bad?”

“It would be a nice treat for my family and I, that’s all.” Your eyes flicker around the room to the other bidding paddles, the number climbing quickly. “What’s it to you? Why do you want it so bad?”

Lando shrugs, raising his paddle to bid $920,000. “It’s for a good cause.”

“920… Going once, going twice…”

“1 million dollars!” You shout, looking around the room, daring anyone to exceed your bid.

Lando’s mouth hangs open and for a second he almost wants to challenge it.

But then he imagines the heart attack it would likely give his business manager to see a surprise million-dollar charge to his account.

“What?” You question him insincerely. “It’s for a good cause.”

“1 million dollars! Going once, going twice…. Sold to the lady in silver!”

You smile graciously at the applause from the crowd. After all, this was a victory for the charity of the evening. Little did they know you just secured a victory of your own.

Lando sighs. “Well, congratulations. I’m sure your husband will be thrilled.”

“Husband? What are you talking about?”

“That man you’ve been whispering with all night. You said the painting was for your family?”

“Who, Nate?” Your face scrunches up in perplexity, following Lando’s line of sight towards the back of the room where Nate is standing with Chuck, clapping and beaming with pride that everything went according to plan, the painting is yours now.

“Yeah, whatever his name is.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. And if you must know, I’m not married.”

Lando chuckles, part amused and part embarrassed that he jumped to conclusions. He reminds himself that he needs to stop doing that.

“And he didn’t send you over here to flirt with me in hopes that I wouldn’t outbid you?”

“He didn’t put me up to anything, I am way above those childish antics! And I’d hardly call any of that flirting.”

“Whatever it was, I guess it worked, didn’t it?”

You smile at him, contemplating your answer. “I suppose. If it makes you feel any better, I promise I have only good intentions.”

“Well either way, I still have to find my mum a new birthday present.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his drink.

Your smile falters and you give his arm a nudge, taken aback by his confession. “The painting was for your mother? Why didn’t you say that?!”

“I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you this, Y/n, but you’re not that easy to negotiate with.”

“I’ve been told. But for the record, neither are you.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have given up the painting. So I don’t hold it against you.” Lando concedes, but starts eyeing you suspiciously. “Although… I still don’t know your motive. I mean all of that drama simply for your art collection which is 4,000 miles across the Atlantic? I don’t believe it. So tell me, Y/n, what’s your motive?”

Lando chuckles at the stone cold stare you give him in return. “It’s only fair, Y/n, I told you mine.”

“Are we in first grade or something?”

By the look he’s giving you, it’s obvious that he’s actually dead serious.

At which you sigh, surrendering to the man’s relentless attempts to get a real answer out of you. Moments prior you did the same to him, except it’s not as fun when the tables are turned.

“The Richard Phillips painting, it belongs to my mother.”

Lando’s eyes widen in disbelief, like a deer in headlights. “You bid a million dollars on a painting you might as well already own?! Fucking hell, why on Earth woul-”

Abruptly, you take him by the arm and escort him away from the main crowd, an action that shocks you both.

But the last thing you needed was for him to blabber out all of your secrets, draw attention to you both and blow your cover in this crowded room.

“Long story short, my stepfather has been involved in some…not exactly legal business practices. And I’m not talking about some common white collar crimes, he makes Madoff look like a fucking Saint. He’s been hiding his proof in the back of that Richard Phillips painting, sort of in plain sight to throw the scent off. My mom’s had that painting in the apartment as long as I’ve been alive. By the time I found out the evidence was in there she had already sold it. My stepbrother tracked it down, and here I am.”

Lando looks like he doesn’t know what to say, equal parts confused and concerned for what kind of danger you might be in or just how deep this all goes.

“There’s not enough time in the world to explain everything but just know that he’s hurt a lot of people, not only my family and I. He deserves what’s coming to him and it starts with what’s hidden behind that painting.”

His heart softens at the look of purpose and conviction in your eyes, understanding that whatever this is, it’s bigger than you and him.

“Well if he’s facing your wrath, I should probably be wishing him the best of luck. Whatever the consequences to his actions, the U.S. government is no match for you.”

At that you let out a laugh, one that’s genuine and full of heart. You can’t even remember the last time someone made you laugh like that, and it was refreshing.

“That’s very sweet, Lando, even if you didn’t intend it that way. I just hope I’m not going to all of this trouble for nothing. I don’t want it to be in vain.”

“It won’t be, you’ll see.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“Just a hunch.” He muses sarcastically, feigning uncertainty.

For the first time tonight you feel appreciative towards him, to the kindness and listening ear he’s giving you, a total stranger until about 20 minutes ago.

The irony wasn’t lost on you that while he was bidding on the art for a gift to his mother, you were bidding on it to repossess evidence that would send your stepfather to prison for the rest of his life, likely devastating your own mother in the process.

“Let me help with your mother’s birthday gift. Please?”

He raises his eyebrows at your sudden offer, wondering how or why you would be interested.

“You don’t need to do that. Aren’t you a little busy with your own family?”

“Somewhat. That doesn’t mean I can’t make it up to you.”

“You won the painting fair and square, Y/n.”

“Please?” You nearly begged, widening your eyes.

Lando sighs jokingly as a way of admitting defeat. “We really are in first grade.”

“See, I knew you’d come around! Art Basel will be in Miami soon, I’ll stay for the whole week if I have to. Surely I can find some amazing pieces for your mother there, I might even find another Richard Phillips painting!”

“I don’t dare underestimate you again.” He quips, raising his glass to you. “I have no doubt that we will find something.”

“We?”

“I’m a Formula One driver, remember? We’ve been racing in Miami for a couple years now, I hope you’re prepared to stay there for the weekend.”

You roll your eyes at his bargain, of course he already has plans laid out for you. “You’re as persuasive as you are slick, Lando.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

“You’re as sharp as you are stubborn, Y/n.”

“You haven’t seen the worst of me yet.”

He laughs, impressed at how you manage to stay one step ahead of his banter. “Just promise me one thing?”

You humor him with an unsure look, knowing you would accept his terms anyway. “What’s that?”

“Don’t get into anymore bidding wars with handsome strangers.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s our thing.”

“Okay, Lando. I think I can agree to that.” You muse, holding out your pinky for him, the two of you subconsciously moving closer into each other’s space. “From here on out, bidding wars will be our thing.”

Lando accepts, but decides to challenge you further. “I’m no lawyer, but I don’t think pinky promises are binding, Y/n.”

You nod slowly in acknowledgement, realizing just how close the two of you are standing now, and how intensely he seems to be focusing on the beautiful features of yours he’s had yet to see up close.

Now that you think of it, you haven’t had a chance to take a good look at him either. His eyes are as captivating as his smart aleck wit that’s been keeping you on your toes from the moment you two spoke.

And in a split second, you forget all that was stopping you from noticing what drew you in to Lando to begin with. Your lips collide with his, the stress and tension you’ve been carrying melting away into the kiss, and he’s certainly eager enough to take it on for you.

Mesmerized by each other, you then forget how the hell you both ended up here, tucked away in a dark room from the art you were just competing for.

Until you do remember that you are still proving a point after all, breaking away from the kiss just a moment too soon and smirking in his face.

“How’s that for binding, Lando?”

He appears amazed, out of breath and slightly shocked that you went there. You, however, were carrying on with ease, your thumb brushing over his lips at the faint stain of your lipstick on him.

“Close enough.” Lando coaxes, this time bringing his thumb to brush against your cheek delicately.

His fingertips may as well have been on fire by the way his touch made you feel red hot, and yours to him. Instead of backing away from the burn, Lando leaned in, giving into temptation and meeting your lips once again.

💌: this is my first time writing for lando! likes, reblogs, comments & feedback is greatly appreciated! thanks for reading <3

[mumms-the-word]

Choosing to Live

Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV) Summary: Shortly after Gale decides to defy his goddess and not self-destruct in the caverns below Moonrise Towers, you turn and see him struggling with the conflicting emotional fallout of his decision. CW: death, suicidal ideation, panic attacks, survivor's guilt (implied), coercion (implied) A/N: I was inspired by @gangstagandalf's emotional fanart of Gale and Tav just after Moonrise. It's not quite the same scene as their art but I just couldn't resist writing my own angst version. Check them out, their art is lovely! @gangstagandalf I hope you don't mind if I borrowed a few of your lines from your original post! (Pic is of my tav Dani because that’s all I got) UPDATE: Now on AO3 woooo

You watch as the husk of Ketheric Thorm collapses at your feet, a hollow shell of dessicated flesh and heavy armor. You’ve done it at last—you’ve defeated the Bone Lord’s Chosen, the first of three enemies who have enslaved an Elder Brain through the power of some sort of crown it bears. 

At the thought of the crown, you turn your head, seeking out the person who had first pointed out the crown to you. It was the thing that seemed to wake him from his reluctant obedience to his goddess’s command. There had been hunger in his eyes, more than you’d ever seen in him before, and for a brief moment you had thought yourself and him safe from the commands of the goddess of magic and mysteries.

But then he’d steeled himself. You’d watched as he physically and mentally struggled with the weight of the goddess’s demands, preparing himself for what he thought was inevitable.

Death. Destruction. Catastrophe. But one that would supposedly thwart mass enslavement at the whims of an elder brain and three evil Chosen. A noble sacrifice, but one that would kill dozens of innocent lives, too.

You don’t remember what all you said in those panicked seconds between him making his decision and you being dragged into a battle against Ketheric. You recall, vaguely, that you had clutched his robe in your hands and told him you loved him. There had been other words, too, but they were lost to your memory. Whatever it was, it had been enough. Because as of this moment, the elder brain has disappeared, Ketheric is dead, and you are not.

Your eyes find him, your love, your Gale, standing on a far platform where he had climbed to better aim and prepare his spells. He stands, leaning against his staff, panting, staring at the lifeless and inert body of Ketheric at your feet, and then his gaze shifts to you. You, covered in your blood and Ketheric’s black, fetid ichor, in bone dust and illithid matter. You probably look horrible, you think. You know you should bend down to examine Ketheric’s body and see what the glowing stone in his chest is all about, but you can’t look away from your love. Not now.

Not when you were so close to losing him to his goddess’s arbitrary and cold demand. 

But you didn’t. He’s alive. He’s alive. The thought pumps outward from your heart, warm and reassuring like the blood rushing through your own veins, reminding you that you too are alive. Your only thoughts now are of closing the distance between the two of you and peppering his face with kisses, telling him how proud you are of him, how brave he’s been, how much you love him. But as you take a step toward his platform, a shift in him gives you pause.

He slowly kneels down, still leaning heavily on his staff, and for a moment you think he’s praying, in the same way Shadowheart kneels to pray to her goddess. But no, his eyes are wide, staring, unfixed, not closed and reverent. After a moment, he sits fully on the ground, his staff falling with a clatter against the surface of the platform, and he buries his face in his hands.

You go to him immediately, using a last rare scrap of magic to misty step directly onto his platform. He’s shaking with fine, shuddering tremors as you approach, your steps cautious and soft but your heart aching and yearning to rush over. You reach out a hand, your own fingers trembling as they hover suspended above him, and you whisper his name uncertainly.

“Gale?”

You hear his voice but his words are muffled by his hands. You bend closer, making out fragments as his words tumble forth in a soft, whispered babble.

“Oh gods, oh gods,” he gasps. “I nearly—I almost—I could have—the orb. What have I done—”

“Gale,” you say again, finally kneeling in front of him and laying a hand on his shoulder. He jolts at the touch, stiff and startled by you, but you don’t let it deter you. You squeeze his shoulder in what you hope is a reassuring touch, even as the tears threaten to choke you as you watch and feel him tremble. “It’s all right. We’re safe. My love, you’re safe.”

He lowers his hands, one clenching the fabric of his robe over his chest, his breaths coming shallow and quick. His gaze on you is so different than before, all the warmth and steadiness and gentle, shy uncertainty that came with looking at you replaced with abject horror and unfocused panic. You get the sense he isn’t really seeing you, but staring through you to some theoretical what-if nightmare. One where you didn’t make it out alive. 

“I very nearly killed us all,” he mumbles, still clutching his chest. "I nearly killed you."

“But you didn’t—”

“I was so close to—to—th-the orb, I could feel it stirring, like it wanted me to—” He breaks off, his hand tightening in the fabric of his robe. The mark of the orb glows faintly, the barest hint of illuminated magic threading upward toward his eye, casting an orchid-purple sheen to his dark iris. He bends forward slightly, combing a hand roughly through his hair and clutching brown and gray strands tightly in his fist, his eyes wide. You half-expect him to be sick as he presses his other hand flat against his chest, breathing heavily. “And now I’ve defied my goddess. I—”

He turns suddenly, sharply, twisting to prop himself up on hands and knees away from you as his body rebels against him and he retches. Very little comes up—he hasn’t been eating well since you first stepped into Moonrise and he found himself faced with the very real possibility of sacrificing his life—but his body shudders and bucks violently as it attempts to dispel everything inside him. Not just the contents of his empty stomach but the fear and loathing and terror too. 

You don’t shy away from him. You shift closer, sitting on your knees at his side as his body settles into little shivers, his hands pressed flat into the surface of the platform. Your eyes are burning with tears now and you want to sob, your heart shattering for this man, your love, your heart’s song, but you have to be strong for him. You smooth his hair from his face, fingers brushing against his sweat-slick skin, and you cradle his feverish cheek in your palm. You say the only words you know to say and you repeat them as many times as you have to before they break through the haze of his clouded mind and resonate within him.

“Shh. You’re safe, my love. I’m here. I’m here with you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, my love. You are safe.”

He leans into you and you gather him in your arms, rocking you both gently as he rests his head on your shoulder and wraps his arms around one of your arms. His shoulder is awkwardly pressed into your chest and he’s half-curled into your lap, weighing your knees uncomfortably down into ground, but you don’t mind. Discomfort and awkwardness don’t matter. What matters is that he is alive and so are you. You remind him of that in words, in your stream of murmured comforts, along with all the rest. 

It takes several long moments for his breathing to even out again, and another few for him to finally rest against you without an errant shiver wracking his body. But he calms at last. The tears on your face have since dried, but your heart aches no less than before. To think that your love would suffer so for making the right choice—the choice to live—but to suffer nonetheless out of a sense of guilt and fealty to a goddess that had thrown him aside like a broken toy.

It fills you with an uncommon rage. The gods are ever cruel, but the goddess of magic—you dare not even give her the honor of her name in your own thoughts—she is among the worst in your eyes. Even now, as your love struggles to compose himself, it isn’t a goddess’s arms or a goddess’s blessing that are there to comfort him.

The arms that are wrapped around him are your own. The comfort you have to offer is that of warm flesh and soft breath, mortal and precious. And it is better—better, you tell yourself with all the prideful conviction of a mortal soul—than anything an immortal, unfeeling goddess could offer.

He finally stirs, straightening up to look at you. Or look at your shoulder, rather, unable to meet your gaze. His expression is hollow, sorrowful, but calm. You know the road to him accepting and finding joy in his decision to defy his goddess is not yet over, and the path ahead may still be thorny.

But at least he has the chance to try and walk that path, rather than ending it all here.

"Forgive me," he says softly. He seems to want to say more, but the words don't come easily. You shake your head, not caring what he's trying to apologize for.

"There's nothing to forgive, my love. You made the right choice." You caress his cheek, wiping away the grime and the tear tracks that have collected there. “I love you, Gale.”

He finally meets your gaze and oh, your love, he looks so exhausted. But there is a flicker of his old self still there, a warmth that is familiar in his dark eyes. You press your forehead to his, still caressing his cheek, and close your eyes. 

He’s alive. That’s all that matters. You can figure out the rest as you go.

“I love you, too,” he whispers.

You have to get out of here, out of this cavern of flesh and stone and brine. You have to face the problems of the world at large, the threat of the elder brain and more. You know that. But you steal a few more moments for yourself, breathing softly with Gale, treasuring every breath as though they were more precious than diamonds.

———

You set out to leave the shadow-cursed lands at what you think is dawn the next day. Even with the curse waning, it’s hard to tell the time with the sun still obscured. But the hope is that as the land fades away behind you, you’ll be walking forward into sunlight and not more night.

You and Gale walk at the back of your little group, your companions moving on ahead. With each step, the shadow curse lightens. There are hints and signs of new life all around, tiny green leaves fluttering against once-dead branches, thin shoots of grass poking upward from the cold, dry ground. It restores your hope for good things to come. Not just for these lands, but for you. For your love.

He’s been quiet since the fight against Ketheric. Contemplative. Thoughtful. You had spent the night wrapped in each other's arms, counting his every heartbeat and breath until you were pulled into slumber, suspecting that he had done the same for you. When you woke you both pretended that sleep had cured you of the previous day’s torments and used the task of breaking up the camp to travel onward as your distraction from your concerns. But you watched him across the camp anyway, a knot of worry in your stomach.

Sometimes, both this morning and in the moments traveling now, you see that hunger in his eyes as you did when he first saw the crown atop the elder brain. But sometimes you just see a lingering sorrow. You haven’t been able to bring yourself to ask him about it. Not yet. It’s enough that he’s here with you, and you trust him to speak to you about what weighs on his heart in his own time. But you still worry.

Just up ahead, the shadow curse seems to fizzle out entirely, like a fog that dissipates as the sun burns it away. Beyond the threshold is sun-warmed landscape. Though scarred by the smoldering and abandoned remains of the Absolute army’s campfires and shelters, nothing has ever looked so inviting to you before. You rush ahead, eager to feel the sun on your skin again.

The difference in temperature alone is enough to reassure you that the shadow curse is behind you at last. One second you are enveloped in the chill and dimness of the shadows, and the next you are warm and bright in the light of the sun. You pause just a few steps into the sunlight, stretching out your arms and lifting your face toward the sky, drinking in the warmth. At last. You feel as though you can breathe freely again.

You turn to smile at Gale, but he is not at your side. He lingers in the shadows, watching you. The shadow curse is like a sheer black veil between you, obscuring his expression slightly, but as you step closer you realize his eyes are glimmering with unshed tears.

“Gale?”

He blinks, as if awakening from the depths of his thoughts, and quickly rubs his eyes. “Ah…my apologies. Lost in thought, I suppose.”

You hesitate to leave the warmth of the sun, but you sense this is more important than sunlight. You step onto the threshold of the curse, reaching out a hand to him. You want to pull him out of the shadows and into the light with you. He stares at your hand a moment before taking it, but he doesn’t move. Like he isn’t ready yet. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind, my love,” you say gently. “Tell me how I can help.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but for the first time, words seem to utterly fail him. He swallows, gazing at you with a stricken expression, and tightens his hold on your hand.

“It’s simply…I am…in awe,” he says at last. “Of you. And I am mortified with myself. No, more than mortified. I nearly…”

You sense the flow of his thoughts instantly, your minds connecting via the tadpole, his thoughts unconsciously opening up to you. At first he resists, his mind shutting down like a trap to spare you, but then the shields waver and fall away, and you are pulled into his memories. You feel the struggle within him as he stares at the elder brain. You feel the heat and pain of the orb inside, as if reminding him of his purpose. You see yourself through his gaze, the fear and love warring in your expression as you beg him not to go through with his sacrifice. You feel the moment he makes his decision, his resolve hardening like steel in flame, only to shatter, brittle and broken, the moment the brain disappears, the pieces transforming into needles of doubt that bury themselves in his psyche, his heart, his body.

As the familiar, terrifying sight of the colossal avatar of Myrkul rises into your vision once more, for one fleeting moment, you sense the desperate desire to end it all now, to end the storm of uncertainty in your mind, the pain of the orb, the fear of disobedience, the exhaustion of facing another battle with impossible odds. For one fleeting moment, you consider letting go and letting the orb obliterate you and everything around you.

And then the connection ends, and you are left standing at the threshold of the shadows with Gale’s hand in yours.

“I nearly killed us all with one rash thought,” he murmurs quietly. “The thought of my sacrifice never left my mind, even as I swore to you I wouldn’t go through with it.”

He takes a shuddering breath and a tear drips down his cheek. You catch it with your fingertips as you cradle his face with your free hand, your heart breaking for him all over again. His tears prompt your own and you struggle to hold them back, for his sake.

“And now,” he says, his voice altered, thick with tears. He swallows. “And now I see what I fool I was to doubt. To doubt you and your wisdom. To wish for death so quickly.” 

He meets your gaze and you see a thousand words he hasn’t said yet there in his brown eyes. A hundred apologies, a hundred ways to beg forgiveness, a hundred confessions of love, a hundred praises, all about and for you. It’s a torrent of love and longing and guilt in his eyes and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of it.

“I would have condemned the brightest of stars to death,” he says. “I would have robbed the world of its greatest treasure. And for what?”

“Oh, Gale,” you whisper. You abandon the sunlight to join him in the shadows and embrace him, holding him tightly as he struggles to regain his composure. “No more. You made the right decision. You’re here with me. I’m here with you. We’re alive, my love, because of you.”

“But I could have—“

“But you didn’t.” You pull back to cradle his face in both your hands and wait until he’s looking you full in the face. You want him to see your own resolve, but also your love, your faith in him, your pride for him. “You chose to live, my love. That is the most important thing. That is all that matters right now.”

He stares at you, letting your words sink in, until at last he smiles. Though it’s still tinged with sadness and guilt, it’s genuine. It soothes your spirit and settles some of your worries. 

“I don’t deserve you, you know.”

You shake your head. This isn’t about deserving, but you know that’s a battle you won’t win here. Instead you kiss him, your lips soft against his, and you let that suffice for words for a moment.

When you finally pull away, he seems a little restored. The love is back in his eyes and his smile isn’t weighed down as it was before.

“I love you,“ you say.

“And I love you,” he responds. “Immensely. More than I scarce dreamed I could love anyone.”

“We will find another way to deal with the brain and quiet the orb inside you. Some way that keeps us both alive and together. I swear it.“

“I believe you.” There isn't a trace of uncertainty in his voice when he says it. “I want that more than anything.”

“Want what?”

“To live. With you. To see the dawn of a new day with you, the dawns of a thousand more days. To know that the road ahead, whatever it holds, won't be spent alone, because I'll have you by my side.” He pauses, as if a thought is only just now coming to him. “I can...I can have that hope, now. Thanks to you.”

You smile. You take both of his hands in yours and step back, placing yourself once more on the threshold between shadows and sun. “Then will you join me in the sunlight?”

He looks at you, then at the sunlit road beyond, and then back at you. He nods, letting go of one of your hands but tightening his hold on the other. “Yes. I’d love to.”

Without another word, he keeps his hand in yours as you lead him forward step by step.

Away from the darkness and into the light.

[cuubism]

"A van Dyck," Dream drawled, dragging a light finger along the gilt frame of the painting propped on the top of one of Hob's shelves. Hob really should do something more formal with that. "Interesting thing to have in your living room, Hob."

"I tell people it's a print," Hob said, coming to stand beside him and handing him his tea.

"Oh, but it is not." There was a smirk dancing on Dream's lips, Hob knew without even looking at him directly.

"Makes sense that you'd be able to tell," he sighed.

"Of course. Just how did you come across such a thing?"

"Well, I was still mingling with the aristocracy in the early 17th century. Met some interesting people." He shrugged. "Really should have sold it when I was, well, destitute, but couldn't bear to. Managed to stash it away. One of the few things I have of that time, actually."

"I can only imagine you had more than one valuable thing in your possession over the centuries," Dream mused, sipping his tea. "Why this one?"

Oh, God. He knew, didn't he?

Hob rubbed at the back of his neck. "Reminded me of you."

Hob had never known much about art, particularly back then. He hardly would consider himself a collector and certainly not a connoisseur. But that particular portrait had caught his attention immediately for its similarity to Dream.

The likeness was, indeed, striking. His hair was longer than it had been when they'd met in 1589, sweeping over his shoulders, and his features were half-draped in shadow, but his eyes. Hob would know that haughty, intense gaze anywhere.

He'd never quite discounted the idea that it was a portrait of his stranger, except that he couldn't imagine him having the patience or cause to sit for it, or the desire to be immortalized in that way.

"It is me," said Dream.

"What? Seriously?" Hob turned to stare at him and found Dream already looking back, ethereal and lovely. There was only one lamp on in the living room, night falling around them, and it cast his face in a similar light to the portrait, soft gleaming skin and plunging darkness as backdrop, limitless shadow in his eyes. "You, allowing a portrait? You're not having me on?"

"I do not joke." Dream took a step closer to him, setting his tea aside on a table. "I suppose I must have been in good humor that day."

Hob raised both eyebrows. "Oh, uh-huh, you in good humor?"

Dream's lips ticked up in a half-smile. "It happens occasionally."

Hob leaned against the shelf, careful not to jostle the painting. "For someone who so disdains the waking world, you sure are very aware of the art scene."

Dream leaned beside him, tilting his head. "You might consider me a patron of the arts."

Hob chuckled. "A patron? Or an inspiration?" He reached out and dragged his thumb along Dream's lower lip. "Dream?"

"A lover of artists, perhaps."

"I'm sure." Hob swept a hand along his cheek, breaking up the light like he was dragging a wet brush through paint. "You look like you could have stepped right out of that painting right now. You could have stepped out of any painting."

Dream looked at him from under his lashes. "Are you calling me a work of art, Hob Gadling?"

"Always."

Then Hob kissed him, hands framing his beautiful face. Dream was like an artwork, constant in essence but changing interpretation in every new light. Hob could imagine how many people over the centuries had had a fleeting encounter with him and come away changed, just as he had.

Dream hovered near him when they parted. Hob looked over to the painting again. No mere depiction could capture Dream in all of his colors, but it really was a rather good try. Van Dyck had gotten the depth of his eyes just right.

"The Baroque period suits you," Hob told him.

"Now who knows something about art?"

"I've picked up a few things over the years. I'm in love with the world's greatest artist, after all."

Dream moved in as if to kiss him, but paused to speak against Hob's mouth. "There are other works of me out in the world, if you care to seek them out."

"Don't open that challenge because I will do it," Hob informed him, quite seriously.

"I hope so." There was a sharp gleam in Dream's eyes. Hob could only imagine what kinds of paintings might inspire that look. "I look forward to seeing what you find."

[notmysophie]

Hozier reading list

Literary references in Hozier music

Alighieri, Dante; Inferno

The story of Francesca da Rimini as told in canto V inspired the song Francesca.

The album Unreal Unearth is arranged as a journey through nine circles of hell as they are described in the Inferno part of the Divine Comedy.

The title of the song Through Me (the flood) is a reference to the first lines of canto III.

Hozier read the translation by Robert Pinsky (https://www.rte.ie/radio/radio1/clips/22285692/) 

Beckett, Samuel; Endgame

The song Wasteland, Baby! Takes inspiration from this play. (5 september 2023) (https://www.pastemagazine.com/music/hozier/cover-story-hozier-unreal-unearth) 

O'Brien, Flann; the Third Policeman

The character of de Selby in the Third Policeman inspired the songs de Selby part 1 and 2.

Heaney, Seamus; At the Wellhead

The song To Noise Making (Sing) contains a8n audio fragment of Heaney reading this poem.

Heaney, Seamus; The Cure at Troy

The line "Or honey hope even on this side of the grave again?" In the song "To Noise Making (Sing) " is inspired by the line "History says, Don't hope / On this side of the grave."  in this poem.

Joyce, James; A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

The line "Shaking the wings of their terrible youths" in the song Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene is derived from a line in this book. As mentioned in the interview with Zane Lowe for Apple Music (august 28, 2023) (https://youtu.be/y5JpgNIkOz4?si=Yg1GVewfZlHkdVm1)  

Also mentioned as general inspiration in an interview with the Daily Meal (october 28, 2014) (https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel)

Mack, dr. Katie

Astrophysicist dr. Katie Mack is mentioned by name in the song No Plan. A quote from the song is used in her book The End of Everything (Astrophysically speaking)

Neruda, Pablo, Sonnet XVII

The songs de Selby part 1 and part 2 take some inspiration from this poem. (Mentioned when introducing the song during a concert)

Ovid, Metamorphoses

The story of Icarus is mentioned in the song Sunlight and inspired the song I, Carrion (Icarian).

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice is mentioned in the song Talk.

Plato; The Allegory of the Cave

The phrase "Adding shadows to the walls of the cave" in the song Sedated refers to this story.

Swift, Jonathan; A Modest Proposal

Inspiration for the song Eat Your Young.

Wilde, Oscar; Chanson

The line "a rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree" in the song From Eden" is inspired by the line "And a hempen rope for your own love / To hang upon a tree." in this poem.

Yeats, W. B.; The Second Coming

The line "To Bethlehem it slouched" in the song NFWMB is almost directly copied from this poem.

Yeats, W. B.; Leda and the Swan

Inspiration for the song Swan Upon Leda

Other books recommended/mentioned by Hozier

Amis, Martin; The Zone of Interest

Recommended by Hozier in an 'Ask Me Anything' before the release of the album Wasteland, baby! on reddit in 2019

Beckett, Samuel; Not I

Hozier joked the album Unreal Unearth would contain four tracks, two of them being recordings of him reading this play with his mouth full of marshmallows.

The cover art of Unreal Unearth is said to reference this play.

Bukowski, Charles

Mentioned as a teenage favorite (https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA)

Ó Cadhain, Máirtín; Graveyard Clay (Cré Na Cille)

Mentioned as his current read in an instagram Q&A on December 1, 2021

Eliot, T. S.

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel 

Heaney, Marie; Over Nine Waves, a Book of Irish Legends

(Source? Mentioned on social media?)

Heaney, Seamus

https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/music/hozier-why-seamus-heaney-s-last-words-mean-so-much-to-me-1.3797926

Herbert, Frank; Dune

Mentioned as a current read/audiobook on How Long Gone podcast episode 614. March 6, 2024

Joyce, James; Ulysses

https://youtu.be/s0Ux72N4K10 

Kierkegaard, Søren; The Sickness unto Death

(Source?)

Orwell, George; 1984

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Rubin, Rick; The Creative Act

Mentioned as his current read in an interview for WNYC Radio, 17 March 2023

https://youtu.be/Cd2uxpD9Hc8?si=cJ8bKrfFeXk_WS2F 

Salinger, J. D.; Catcher in the Rye 

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Wilde, Oscar

https://youtu.be/s0Ux72N4K10 

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Williams, Niall; This Is Happiness

Mentioned as his current read at a fan meet & greet (Bristol, 6 August 2023)

Yeats, W. B.

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Poetry/stories read by Hozier in livestreams/videos (and the books he read them from)

3 July 2020 Instagram live

Seamus Heaney; Postscript (the Spirit Level)

Seamus Heaney; A Kite for Michael and Christopher (Station Island)

W. B. Yeats; No Second Troy (W. B. Yeats Poems selected by Seamus Heaney)

W. B. Yeats; To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing (W. B. Yeats Poems selected by Seamus Heaney)

Ovid, Daedalus and Icarus (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

Sinéad Morrissey; & Forgive Us Our Trespasses (Being Human edited by Neil Astley)

Also mentioned; Staying Alive edited by Neil Astley

Seen on the table; Fear Not by Stephen James Smith

10 July 2020 Instagram live

Seamus Heaney; HÖFN (District & Circle)

Seamus Heaney; District & Circle (District & Circle)

Stephen Dunn; Sadness

Stephen Dunn; Sweetness

Ovid; Orpheus and Eurydice (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

T. S. Eliot; The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (Collected Poems 1909-1962)

Brendan Kennelly; Begin 

17 July 2020 Instagram live

Ezra Pound; And the Days Are Not Full Enough

Wilfred Owen; Futility

James Joyce; A Flower Given to My Daughter

Pablo Neruda; Keeping Quiet

Langston Hughes; I, Too

Imtiaz Dharker; They'll Say She Must Be From Another Country

W. B. Yeats; When You Are Old

Stephen James Smith; On the Bus (Fear Not)

Seamus Heaney; Saint Kevin and the Blackbird

Seamus Heaney; Sweeney Praises the Trees (Sweeney Astray)

Maya Angelou; Touched by an Angel

Garrison Keillor; Supper

Pablo Neruda; Sonnet XCIV (If I Die) (100 Love Sonnets, translated by Stephen Tapscott)

T. S. Eliot; Ash Wednesday (Collected Poems 1909-1962)

Ovid, the Four Ages (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

Also mentioned; Ireland, My Ireland by Stephen James Smith

25 July 2020 Instagram live

Anne Stevenson; The Spirit is Too Blunt an Instrument

Katie Mack; The Slow Fade to Black (the End of Everything, Astrophysically Speaking)

Pablo Neruda; Sonnet XVII (One Hundred Love Sonnets, translated by Mark Eisner)

Kahlil Gibran; On Love (the Prophet)

Sharon Olds; True Love

Rita Ann Higgins; The Did-You-Come-Yets of the Western World

7 August 2020 Instagram live

James Joyce; Araby (Dubliners)

Also mentioned A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

17 march 2021 Tiktok live

Brendan Kennelly; Begin

Derek Mahon; Everything is Going to Be Alright

Sinéad Morrissey; & Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Faisal Mohyuddin; Prayer (The Displaced Children of Displaced Children)

Pádraig Ó Tuama; How to Be Alone

Stephen James Smith; Dublin, You Are

Paula Meehan; Seed

Various reads

Seamus Heaney; At the Wellhead

https://youtu.be/uIBpT_rqUfA

Patrick Kavanagh; Peace

https://youtu.be/Iz1OXOFua4w

W. B. Yeats; He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA

W. B. Yeats; A Coat

https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA

Seamus Heaney; Miracle

https://x.com/seamusheaneyest/status/1253626839316279296?s=20 

[carelisswriting]

Late Night Hangout

Hey y'all, this is my fic for Ecto Implosion!!

my artist partner for this is @i-havenothingelsetopost and y'all should definitely check out them and the art they made for this fic!! Art's linked in the scene it directly inspired :)

Anyway, here's the fic!

It was weird, seeing Tucker in a hospital bed. The flowers and ‘Get Well Soon!’ card tried to soften the harsh blow, but it really didn’t work.

Danny didn’t like that Tucker was in the hospital.

(He really didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t even been allowed to see him, the first day.)

It made something in his chest hurt.

The thought of Tucker being injured.

It had been stupid.

So stupid.

A second too late, and now his best friend-

His best friend.

Tucker.

-was hurt.

Danny should’ve been quicker, should’ve been-

“Hey.”

Danny shook his head, coming back to reality instead of being lost in his own thoughts.

Sam gave him a worried look from the other side of Tucker’s bed, as Tucker chewed on his lip.

“It wasn’t your fault, Danny.” Tucker said, always seeming to know what Danny was worried about.

It was though, it was.

It had just been a regular ghost attack, Johnny, Shadow, and Kitty causing problems on one of their ‘dates’. Danny had almost been having fun chasing them down, but-

But he hadn’t realized that Skulker was also causing havoc.

Hadn’t realized that Tucker had been dealing with him alone, Sam was with Danny-

Hadn’t realized that Skulker threw Tucker into a wall-

(Danny felt it, when Tucker got hurt.)

(Skulker hadn’t had a good time, after that.)

“Danny, snap out of it!” Tucker said, sounding annoyed.

He focused back onto Tucker, who had a frown on his face.

“How many times do I have to say it’s not your fault? I’m the one who tried to face Skulker without any backup or powers.”

There was a slight note of self-deprecation to Tucker’s voice, which Danny couldn’t let stand.

Neither could Sam, as it happened.

“It was stupid, but you could’ve beat him if you had some of your tech with you, Tucker.” Sam said, glaring lightly at one of her best friends.

Danny nodded in agreement, before adding “Besides, you know that you’re not a good match against Skulker! If it was Technus, you would’ve had him!”

Tucker leaned back against the pillow, giving a harsh sigh.

“Yeah, but I left everything except Janet at home, like an idiot. And now I’m in the hospital for the next three days, for ‘observation’.”

“C’mon Tuck, it won’t be that bad.” Danny said, trying to cheer him up.

Tucker rolled his eyes.

“It will. You know how much I hate hospitals.”

Danny did know.

Tucker had despised them ever since his grandfather died. He had hated watching as the man slowly died of cancer, but still went to visit him all he could despite it.

Danny had tried so, so hard to be there for Tucker during that.

Tucker said it’d helped a lot.

Sam grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“We’ll come visit you every day, okay?”

Tucker nodded “I know. And thanks.”

Danny grabbed Tucker’s other hand, completing their little chain.

“Yeah, and I’ll bring you all the homework you miss.”

Tucker laughed at that.

“More like you’ll come pester me about helping you with it!”

Danny laughed along.

He would definitely come annoy Tucker into helping him with homework.

(Not that Tucker would mind.)

A nurse ducked his head into the room, calling out “Visiting hours are ending!” before quickly moving onto the next room.

Tucker, Sam and Danny sighed as one, before looking at each other and giggling.

“I’ll see you two losers tomorrow.” Sam said, before grabbing her backpack.

Danny smiled at Tucker.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

\(oo)/

Danny was woken up by a ding! From his phone.

He groaned at seeing that it was still dark out.

Who the heck was texting him-

Oh.

It was Tucker.

Also, it was 2 AM.

Danny opened up the text message.

‘hey can u come hang with me? i can’t sleep’

Danny frowned, before replying.

‘yeah np, be there in a few’

He hated that Tucker had to be in the hospital overnight.

Danny shoved his phone into his backpack, along with his homework.

The teacher was gonna give Danny Tucker’s makeup work for today (well, technically yesterday) tomorrow, but Tuck would appreciate seeing it beforehand.

Also, then Danny could get him to explain what the heck their biology teacher was talking about.

(Danny did not like biology. At all.)

(At least living biology.)

(Ghost biology was way more of his thing.)

He transformed, rings of light traveling over him, before grabbing his backpack and darting out his window.

\(oo)/

Danny hovered outside of the hospital, trying to figure out which room was Tucker’s.

It was not easy to tell which was which from the outside, all of them looking the same.

At least he knew what floor it was on?

He flew closer to one of the windows, peeking inside to see if it was Tucker.

It wasn’t.

A small child, maybe 7? Looked out at him with an expression of glee on their tiny face.

He could see the kid practically vibrating as they looked at him.

He smiled at them, before holding up a finger to his lips in the universal sign for ‘shh’.

The kid bobbed their head up and down, before miming locking their lips and throwing away the key, then they held their hands up in the shape of a heart.

That was adorable, who’d taught them that?

Phantom smiled, and made a thin layer of ice on the window in the shape of a tiny blob ghost, with a small heart next to it.

It shouldn’t melt for at least a day.

He really hoped the kid liked it.

He looked back at them, seeing that their eyes were full of stars, their mouth open in awe.

Well, guess that answered whether they liked it.

Phantom waved goodbye at the kid, before flying towards the next window.

(Meanwhile, Sammy was so excited to tell their mom about this in the morning. Phantom had come to see them!!! This made being in the hospital totally worth it. He was the absolute coolest hero, even if Sammy’s mom thought he looked a bit creepy. Sammy didn’t think he did, but that was what their mom said every time Phantom came up. Sammy didn’t care though. Phantom was the best hero.)

He finally managed to find the right window after a minute more of peeking into windows, seeing Tucker sitting on his bed, messing with his PDA.

Danny floated through the window, before peeking over Tucker’s shoulder.

He was coding something, though Danny could not for the life of him tell what.

(Tucker had tried to teach Danny coding basics once. It did not go well. He kept forgetting semicolons were a thing that existed.)

Tucker didn’t even startle at Danny’s sudden appearance, far too used to his best friend’s antics by now.

“Thanks for coming dude.” Tucker said, eyes still focused on the code.

“Don’t worry about it, Tuck.” Danny said, floating over to sit next to Tucker’s bed.

Well, not next to Tucker’s bed, exactly.

More like floating in the air in a sitting position next to it, really.

Tucker finished whatever it was he had been doing, setting down his PDA on the nightstand.

He turned to smile at Danny “Not everyone would show up at 2 in the morning to comfort their friend.”

Danny shrugged, trying to pretend that he wasn’t ever not going to show up when Tucker asked.

“Really, it’s not like I had anything better to do.”

Tucker laughed, a low sound as he tried to keep his voice down.

“That’s fair. It’s not like you were working on homework.”

“Well….” Danny said, drawing out the word as he set the backpack down.

Tucker smiled, fond and exasperated.

“What is it now?”

Danny pouted, flipping upside down in the air.

“Normal biology makes no sense and is the bane of my existence.”

Tucker rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that bad.”

Danny gave Tucker his best pleading look.

“C’mon, please?”

Tucker sighed “Fine, but Danny, you just have to remember-“

Tucker launched into a ramble about their current biology assignment, and Danny flipped right side up, trying his best to listen.

It was strange, how much of this Tucker had managed to memorize.

Some of Sam’s rants must’ve stuck in his brain.

(Or maybe Tucker just really liked learning about animal life cycles.)

Danny, meanwhile, tended to just tune Sam out.

And also Tucker, he realized.

He had no clue what he had been saying.

Tucker paused for a moment, seeing Danny looking completely lost.

“Look just- Give me the book, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Danny grabbed his biology textbook, handing it over to Tucker.

Tucker flipped it open, motioning for Danny to give him a pencil.

Danny smiled at how sure Tucker was that Danny would give him a pencil without him asking.

Of course, Danny did give him it almost immediately.

“So, if you see here-“

Danny crossed his legs, floating a little over the edge of the bed as he listened to Tucker.

(Who was really cute when he was explaining something- no don’t go there.)

\(oo)/

It took an hour, but Tucker had finally managed to explain the concepts used on the assignment well enough that Danny was pretty sure he wouldn’t fail.

So, that was good.

Tucker closed the textbook, handing it over to Danny.

“Thanks Tuck. I probably won’t fail it.”

Tucker snorted “You definitely won’t fail it. Or at least if you do, it won’t be my fault.”

Danny rolled his eyes.

He flipped around, laying in the air as he looked at Tucker.

“You’re okay, right? I know that you hate hospitals but I just wanted to check because-“

“I’m fine, Danny. Hospitals suck, I hate being here, but I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” Tucker said, cutting him off.

Danny turned away, looking at the visiting hours sheet on the wall instead of at Tucker.

“I don’t- It’s my fault, though.”

He heard Tucker sigh.

“Danny. It wasn’t your fault that I got hurt, okay? It was mine. I shouldn’t have gone out alone, especially against Skulker.”

Danny could hear the self-deprecation in Tucker’s voice.

Again.

Danny hated it when he did that, acted like he wasn’t worth it, wasn’t capable, just because he didn’t have powers.

He twisted back around to glare at Tucker, his annoyance overtaking his guilt.

 “Tuck, it’s not your fault! And don’t talk like that! You’re my best friend, and you’re awesome! With or without powers.”

Tucker smiled, and Danny realized that Tucker had been trying to get him to look at him.

Danny rolled his eyes, but didn’t turn back around.

“Look, how about we agree that it’s neither of our faults, and neither of us need to feel bad about it?” Tucker said.

Danny sighed, but nodded.

“Yeah, that’s… that’s fair.”

Tucker beamed, before grabbing Danny’s hand and tugging him into a hug. Danny went with the motion, not bothering to fight it.

Tucker’s hugs were great.

They stayed there for a moment, before Tucker let Danny go, a smile on his face.

Danny floated away slightly, hovering on his back, before flipping his head upside down to look at Tucker with a grin.

And then he heard the door open behind him.

Oh crap-

He twisted up, moving his torso in way that wasn’t exactly something humans could do, seeing that there was a nurse standing there.

She had a look of shock on her face, a hand brought up to her mouth.

Danny went invisible.

Damn, he really hoped Tucker could cover for this.

It would be a nightmare if Danny’s parents got called.

Danny darted into the corner, not wanting to deal with the nurse accidentally walking through him if she went over to Tucker’s bed.

(It was a disconcerting feeling, someone passing through him when he was a ghost. Not for him, really, he barely noticed, but Sam and Tucker had told him that it felt like there were invisible fingers trailing over their skin, when they’d tested it out.)

The nurse stood there a moment more, frozen in her surprise.

Danny saw Tucker cringe slightly.

“Um, hey? What’s up?”

The nurse shook her head, before saying hesitantly “I, you didn’t see anything?”

Tucker grabbed his PDA from the nightstand, fiddling with it.

“Nope, nothing. Who- What would even be there?”

He was not a good liar.

Danny sighed, just slightly.

The nurse turned towards the sound, but just shook her head again.

“Nothing, I don’t know. I thought I saw something. Don’t worry about it.”

A bright smile came on her face, obviously practiced for dealing with patients.

“So, any issues? Any pain? We’re still on the lookout for any internal bleeding.” She said as she picked up Tucker’s chart, looking at something on it.

Tucker flipped over his PDA, his fingers twitching like he wanted to start typing something.

“I’ve been okay, just couldn’t sleep.”

The nurse glanced up at him.

“Do you want some melatonin? It can’t mess up any of the blood thinners, antibiotics, or pain meds we’ve got you on, and it’ll help you sleep.”

Danny’s eyes widened.

Blood thinners? Danny hadn’t realized that they’d put Tucker on anything like that.

He’d figured that he’d be on antibiotics and pain meds, but blood thinners?

Why was he on blood thinners?

Weren’t those for when someone got surgery-

Tucker shrugged.

“I mean, sure? I might not take it right away.”

The nurse nodded, her smile still fixed on her face.

“Okay, I’ll bring that in for you.”

She stepped outside the room, and Danny followed her.

He was curious, and also-

Tucker was on blood thinners, apparently.

And hadn’t told Danny.

Had his injuries been more serious than he’d said? He’d insisted it was just some bruising, that they were being overcautious with the observation.

Danny poked his head through the wall, watching as the nurse leaned against the wall, holding a hand to her chest.

Oh. He’d really scared her.

She was mumbling under her breath.

“It was nothing Kate, you don’t need to freak out about it, of course there wasn’t a ghost in your patient’s room at 3 AM, that would be ridiculous-“

She continued to mutter to herself, before pushing off the wall and walking down the hallway.

Danny felt pretty bad about scaring her, but he couldn’t exactly apologize.

…Maybe he should just, leave her something nice?

He looked over to the nurse’s station.

He drifted over.

It was full of papers, patient charts and schedules and a bunch of stuff that looked way too medical-y for Danny to want to deal with.

He bit his lip, thinking.

Maybe she’d just like a flower?

Girls liked flowers.

Danny carefully formed a flower out of ice, one that looks kinda like a daisy maybe?

Danny was better at remembering what flowers looked like than what they were called.

(Also, he wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a ghost flower.)

(Again, he was better at remembering what they looked like than what they were called, or where he found them.)

Satisfied with his small apology, Danny ducked back through the wall into Tucker’s room.

And then he remembered, oh right, Tucker, maybe, was lying about his injuries.

Tucker was typing something on his PDA, but he looked up when Danny came back into the room.

Danny was still invisible, but Tucker and Sam had figured out that when he entered a room, even if he was invisible, the temperature dropped slightly.

No one else had noticed that yet, but Tucker thought it was great, since it meant he knew where Danny was.

Danny did not think that it was great right now.

“Dude, what were you even doing?” Tucker said, putting down his PDA.

Danny faded back into visibility, trying to keep his face blank, or at least close to it.

“I was checking on the nurse. I scared her a lot, Tuck.”

Tucker grimaced.

“Yeah, but you knew what you look like when you’re in shadow.”

Danny did.

Apparently, something about low light made him look more ghostlike, stretching out his proportions and blurring his features. He never noticed it, but Tucker had tried to describe it to him as best as he could.

Sam had grinned and said that he looked awesome, like he was from a horror movie.

(Danny hadn’t liked that description. He didn’t want to be scary.)

(Sam hadn’t said it again.)

“Also, your eyes were reflecting the light, like a cat or something.” Tucker added, drawing Danny’s attention back to him.

Danny frowned.

“They were? That’s new.”

Tucker shrugged.

“Looked cool, though.”

It probably had.

“I gave her an ice flower, the nurse I mean. I wanted to aplogize.” Danny said.

Tucker grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’ve got a crush-“

Danny groaned.

“Tuck, seriously, you do not have to say that anytime I give a girl anything.”

Tucker laughed.

“I know, but your reactions are so funny.”

Danny sighed.

He knew that he needed to stop reacting, if he actually wanted Tucker to stop.

But it got under his skin, when Tucker teased him about having crushes on girls.

(Danny tried not to think about why that was.)

He floated closer to Tucker’s bed, a small frown on his face.

The nurse would probably be back soon.

But Danny really wanted to know what was happening with Tucker’s injuries.

“Tuck, why are you on blood thinners?”

Tucker looked away, all of the humor gone.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Danny huffed.

“What do you mean? Just tell me!”

Tucker sighed, before looking pleadingly at Danny.

“Don’t freak out, but I had surgery. That’s why I’m on blood thinners.”

Danny reeled back.

Tucker had surgery?

His injuries had been bad enough for that?

(Danny had failed that badly?)

“You- you were that hurt?” Danny asked, his voice wavering.

Tucker got a look of panic on his face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Danny I swear, it was almost nothing, they just had to fix some internal bleeding-“

“You had internal bleeding?” Danny screeched.

Tucker nodded hesitantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Danny asked, hurt in his voice.

Had Tucker been mad at him for failing to protect him-?

“I didn’t want you to worry, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds-“

The door opened.

Danny went invisible almost immediately this time, not wanting to scare the nurse again.

She looked less freaked out, a smile fixed on her face.

“Here’s that melatonin, sorry that it took me so long to get.”

She handed Tucker a small cup, two pills in it.

“Once you take those, it should be easier for you to fall asleep.”

Tucker nodded, giving her a small smile.

“Thanks.”

He glanced to the corner Danny was in, as the nurse did one last check of his vitals.

Danny sighed almost silently from his corner.

He’d failed, he’d let Tucker get hurt-

Tucker hadn’t told him.

The nurse left, telling Tucker to go to sleep as she did.

Danny faded back into visibility, his face downcast.

Tucker sighed at his expression.

“Danny, I didn’t want you to worry-“

“Tell me next time.” Danny said pleadingly, desperately.

If he didn’t know when he’d failed, he couldn’t try to make sure it didn’t happen again.

Tucker shook his head, not in denial but in exasperation.

“Okay. I’ll tell you next time.”

Danny felt relief travel through him, settling something in his core.

He needed to know when Tucker, or Sam, got hurt.

He needed to make sure it didn’t happen again.

Danny floated forward, before hugging Tucker.

Tucker rolled his eyes, leaning into the hug.

“Is this some ghost thing? Feels like a ghost thing.”

Danny laughed, rolling his eyes right back at Tucker.

“Really, it’s a ghost thing to care about my friends now-?”

Tucker shoved lightly at Danny, humor in his face.

“Shut up, you know what I mean-“

Danny grinned, leaning back, still floating in front of Tucker.

“It’s not a ghost thing, Tuck. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Tucker smiled softly at Danny at the sentiment behind his words.

Danny looked away, feeling his face heat up.

Tucker laughed slightly at Danny’s apparent embarrassment.

(It wasn’t embarrassment. He just couldn’t handle Tucker smiling at him like that, it was so full of love-)

Danny looked back at him, seeing Tucker grinning at him.

He crossed his arms with a huff, dramatic and insincere.

“You don’t have to annoying about it-“

Tucker cut him off with another laugh, before he looked over to his PDA, seeing the time.

He sighed.

Danny glanced over as well, seeing that it was almost 4 AM.

He needed to get home, heck-

His mom was always up at six, and she checked on Danny and Jazz at the same time.

And Danny would really like to get some more sleep before he was inevitably woken up by his mom checking on him.

He looked back to Tucker, an apologetic look on his face.

“I gotta go, sorry-“

Tucker waved him off.

“No worries. Thanks for coming to hang out.”

Danny smiled, about to grab his bag-

And then he had a very impulsive thought.

He wavered for a moment.

Before deciding, yeah, it’s worth it.

He leaned forward, giving Tucker a kiss on the cheek.

Tucker looked at him in complete surprise.

Danny smiled softly at him, and Tucker blushed.

(Ha, sweet revenge.)

Danny felt all of his sudden confidence leave him in moments.

He’d actually just done that, Ancients-

He darted away, grabbing his bag quickly.

“So uh, yeah no problem, I’ll see you at school-!” Danny said in a rush, before flying out of the window.

He was halfway to his house before he remembered that no, he wouldn’t see Tucker at school, because Tucker was still gonna be in the hospital for a few more days.

He was such a mess.

He couldn’t believe he’d just done that, kissed Tucker on the cheek.

(He wished he could do it again.)

\(oo)/

Tucker watched as Danny flew away.

He held a hand to his cheek.

His best friend had just kissed him.

On the cheek, but still.

He’d kissed Tucker.

A soft smile came onto his face.

If Danny felt the same-

Oh, Tucker was so going to flirt with him when he came back in the morning.

Danny wasn’t gonna know what hit him.

He took the melatonin pills, laying down to wait for the sleepiness to hit him.

Tucker grinned to himself.

This was going to be fun.

And maybe he’d get a boyfriend out of it.

A man could dream.

[chaotic-tired-fox]

In terms of getting really obscure facts about my Special Interests(tm) I am a master.

So here’s a whole bunch of obscure Resident Evil facts for y’all!

Part two: here!

Part three: here!

Lemme know if any of these surprised you or if you knew any of these!

☠️ Leon is scared of lightning (Astraphobia) but not thunder. (RE6)

☠️ Chris has a fear of late night phone calls because that’s how he learned of his parents death.

☠️ Piers is very heavily implied to be Bisexual due to a file in Revelations 2 (his concept art also implies this, if you know you know)

☠️ The Hound Wolf Squad is the only squad Chris has had that have all survived the entire game.

☠️ Wesker and Birkin were childhood friends

☠️ The Cerberus are all clones of each other which is why they’re all Doberman

☠️ Leon is a terrible driver, crashing one of just about every vehicle type including cars, a boat, a motorbike, a plane and a helicopter.

☠️ Sheva is one of the only left handed characters

☠️ Wesker wore glasses to hide his emotions (and later his red eyes)

☠️ Chris can play Bass guitar

☠️ Ada Wong isn’t her real name

☠️ Vector is Japanese

☠️ Vector is the only character that can canonically turn invisible (Hunk can too but only in various mercenary modes)

☠️ Hunk is said to respond emotionally to the name ‘Bella’

☠️ The USS soldier who shot Birkin and started the outbreak had the callsign ‘Ghost’

☠️ Nighthawk has two call signs, the other being ‘Lone Wolf’

☠️ Barry Burton and Wesker are the same age however Wesker appeared to stop aging at 38 years old after infection.

☠️ Jake Muller was conceived before Wesker was infected with the Progenitor Virus making his immunity to the C Virus a plot hole.

☠️ Lobo is the only member of the Hound Wolf Squad that had worked with Chris prior to Village. See Heavenly Island

☠️ Piers was introduced in the comic The Marhawa Desire set before RE6

☠️ Chris and Jill both know 7 fighting styles. Leon knows 6

☠️ Lady Dimitrescu is highly implied to be Lesbian

☠️ Heisenberg was the one who told Chris and the Hound Wolf Squad about Miranda (though planned to betray them from the beginning)

☠️ Ethan’s immortality was gained back in RE7 at the dinner table scene with the Bakers as they resurrected him after Jack killed him.

☠️ Piers and Claire kept in contact via email and later phone calls up until his death in China. It is implied he told her nothing about Chris’s amnesia at the time.

☠️ Jill Valentine learned to lock pick from her father who was a French thief

☠️ Leon once considered suicide after the events of RE2 but stayed alive because Sherry needed him

☠️ Leon’s parents were both criminals who died when he was a child. He was inspired to become a cop after the one who rescued him.

☠️ Hunk had an intense rivalry with Nicholai which is why he interfered so much with Vector and Wolfpack.

☠️ Birkin prided himself on being the youngest Umbrella researcher at only 16 until a 10 year old Alexia Ashford came along.

☠️ Wesker made his own blueprints for anti BOW weaponry which later inspired the creations of Thor’s Hammer and modifications based on his original Samurai Edge called the AW Model

☠️Jake Muller is an incredibly gifted pianist

☠️ Chris Redfield was a notorious prankster during his days at STARS

☠️ When Chris went missing after Edonia one of the people Piers contacted was Sheva.

☠️ Leon and Wesker never meet nor interact directly

☠️ Hunk has also never interacted with any of the main characters including Wesker

☠️ During RE2 Wesker/Ada and Hunk were working against each other to obtain the G Virus unknowingly

☠️ Some, if not all of Wolfpack survive the Raccoon City outbreak after sparing Leon, Claire and Sherry and betraying Umbrella.

☠️The BSAA were actively working against Chris and the HWS in Village, implying to even have the green light to kill them.

☠️ Zoe Baker after RE7 is implied to have become an informant for Chris Redfield and a journalist

☠️ Hunk agreed to personally train Vector after they fought to a draw. Vector is also the only character to ever escape from Hunk’s neck snapping headlock.

☠️ The USS were Umbrella’s personal army whilst the UBCS were just hired mercenaries and in the end considered a liability

☠️ Simmons from RE6 was one of the ones responsible for passing the vote to blow up Raccoon City

☠️ About 10% of humans have immunity to the T-Virus and Umbrella never figured out how

☠️ Chief Irons was straight up a serial killer able to cover his tracks thanks to Umbrella’s involvement while also being paid to stay quiet about their experiments

☠️ Hunk developed his own fighting style called Close Quarters Quarantined Battle Zone after Umbrella’s downfall in 2003 in which he became a legendary mercenary.

☠️ Thanks to Shadows of Rose, Chris is implied to still be working well into his 60’s as well as the Hound Wolf Squad.

☠️ ‘K’ from Shadows of Rose is heavily implied to be an older Canine from the HWS

☠️ The new Death Island CGI movie is not only the first time we’ll see Jill in the timeline since 2009 but also the first time we’ll see Leon and Jill onscreen together

[etherealising]

( hope I’m requesting this right ) can we get a mini part 2 , or however long you want to make it , of baby and carmen first night together of intimacy -🐻

🐻 anon bestie you requested this perfectly! also i wasn’t sure if you wanted emotional intimacy or physical intimacy but there’s both sooo…moments by victoria monét heavily inspired the writing 😉

for reference this scene takes place during interlude 2: anyone who had a heart BEFORE the Polaroid scene!

warnings: p in v | fingering | bodily fluids | orgasms | minimal to no editing | nasty (at least for my standards) |

wc: 3.5 (can’t write anything short to save my life)

A sliver of sunlight peeking through the blinds seemed to be aimed directly into your eyelids, whatever peaceful dreamland you’d been in was slowly snuffed out as the bright rays assaulted your sleep. You couldn’t remember falling asleep but the slight ache between your legs as you stretched was enough to remind you what had you so exhausted, a grin painted your features as you thought back to Carmy cleaning you up before helping you into an oversized tee shirt you’d packed.

A slight scratching noise could be heard somewhere above you. As you allowed yourself to fully wake up, for a moment you thought you were just hearing things but as you titled your head up your body your eyes caught sight of Carmy. He sat with his back propped against the wall, pencil in hand as he worked in some type of notebook. It was quiet as you watched him trying to understand what he was, watching from your position laying down how his veins popped out with every grip of the pencil.

You smiled watching how entranced he was, his entire focus was taken up by the notebook. The only other movement aside from his hand moving across the page was the slight way his eyes danced across the page. You hadn’t realized his attention turned to you until you felt the heavy caress of his thumb across your cheek.

“Hey.” Carmy’s voice caressed your ears in a whisper.

As you looked up at him the smile on your face seemed to grow tenfold the longer you held his gaze, “Hi…why are we whispering.” You watched as his shoulders moved up and down in a shrugging motion, a small smile lining his lip as his eyes fell back to the notebook in his hands.

You scooted closer to him doing your best to get a glance at his notebook only for him to move it from your line of sight as he placed the notebook on his nightstand before turning his body towards yours, giving you his full attention. Your eyes narrowed at him and your smile might have grown even wider. “Were you drawing Carm?”

Carmy rolled his eyes, your question wasn’t much of a question at all. The way he hid his sketchbook was obvious enough to you, it was a habit he’d picked up when art became one of his hobbies, he’d only show you his finished works. But recently he hadn’t had any finished works and today was the longest time in a while he got the urge to indulge in his creative outlet.

“How’d you sleep.” His eyes roved over your face, there was a glow about you he couldn’t quite place, a glow that was hard to capture in the confines of paper and graphite.

You scoffed your hand reaching out to playfully shove his shoulder, “Great actually, what were you drawing?”

Carmy gave a non-committal shrug, this moment reminiscent of many you spent together in your younger years…well aside from the physical intimacy. “You can see it when I finish.” His words were punctuated by his hand finding yours in the space between your bodies, neither of you brave enough to admit how this whole encounter didn’t feel like it was just a one-time thing.

“Please Carm it's been years, feed a girl's curiosity.” It was pitiful but you hoped a good old-fashioned guilt trip would force the man's hand.

Carmy’s eyes darted around your face, the time the two of you were apart easily showing there. It wasn’t that you looked old beyond your years now or something, but you were a woman now and the fact that the two of you had experienced adulthood without each other and it was Carmy’s fault would always haunt him. “You make me nervous.”

The words that left Carmy’s lips gave you whiplash, your eyebrows pinched together as you sat up moving to rest your cheek and part of your chest atop Carmy’s thigh looking up at him as you tried to understand when you ever made Carmy nervous. “I make you nervous?”

You hadn’t meant for the question to sound as incredulous as it did, but you were curious how you’d unconsciously been affecting the man. Carmy gave a small laugh at the look on your face, he didn’t think the idea was as far-fetched as you believed it to be. His hand moved down to caress the side of your face losing himself in the moment before he spoke, “Baby look at you… you're beautiful.” A heartfelt smile raised to his lips as you playfully rolled your eyes, but he needed you to know it wasn’t all just physical for him.

“You’ve always made me nervous ever since we were kids.” Your eyebrows raised in surprise, eyes darting around his face for any tell that he might be lying. “You were just so fuckin cool to me you know?” The sound of your quiet laughter tinkling through his room caused Carmy’s smile to grow infinitely wider.

Carmy allowed his eyes to trace around your face for a moment, his mind doing the mental math to try and figure out how he’d gotten so lucky to have ever met you. “You’ve always been so headstrong and independent,” he paused committing your features to memory. “You're book smart you’ve got the degree you always wanted. You write fuckin profiles and think pieces for a living, that used to just be a dream for you.”

The shyness was evident on your face as you avoided his, not sure if you could deal with whatever emotion was swimming through his eyes as he looked down at you. Not sure you wanted to give yourself that hope. “And you’re one of the greatest up-and-coming chefs Carm, looks like we both got what we wanted.”

Carmy’s smile dimmed for a moment as he listened to your words. Carmy hadn’t got everything he wanted but he also had enough sense to know that voicing that thought wouldn’t ever be fair to you considering he made his decision clear about a relationship.

His thumb never stopped its gentle caress on your cheek as the two of you spoke, “And you always know exactly what you want, there’s n-no indecision you know exactly what you want and you go after it…it makes me nervous.”

You didn’t need any further explanation to understand what he meant, and you were thankful that he was wise enough to mince his words. But you couldn’t help but wonder why you continued to subject yourself to this hurt, this hot and cold routine the two of you had going on. You were worth commitment, you deserved commitment, and knowing that the one person you’d felt truly, genuinely in love with was opposed to giving you that was one of the worst truths you’d ever been faced with.

Carmy could see the emotions souring your face the longer you were quiet. At one point in time, it used to be so easy for him to talk to you, and sometimes it took a little pushing. But now even as he had you in his presence for the first time in years he still found that whatever fears and insecurity he still needed to work through was what stopped him from speaking his feelings for you into fruition.

“Baby,” he paused waiting for his eyes to find yours his landing on the soft faux smile you were putting on for his benefit. He sighed the longer he stared down at you before motioning for you to sit up, his arms helping to maneuver you in the position to sit in his lap. The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer before both of his hands found purchase on your cheeks a smile gracing his lips at you just being there physically with him.

“I…I’m so proud of you Baby.” He held your face in place as you tried to wriggle out of his hold emotion easily overcoming you. “C’mere.”

You did as told face easily pressing into the space between Carmy’s neck and shoulder. You felt the warm press of his lips against your temple as one hand stroked your head and the other moved up and down your back. You sank into his arms automatically unaware of just how much you needed this hug, there were plenty of things for you to miss in the time lost between you and Carmy, but his hugs would probably always be at the top of the list.

You pulled away to let him know that you’d felt the same sentiment for Carm and the life he made for himself. But you never got the chance as he captured your lips in a soft kiss, it wasn’t messy there was no tongue. It was really just both of your lips slotted perfectly together like they were designed for each other.

Carmy’s hands were still on your face as he slowly pulled away his eyes still closed as he relished in the tingle your lips left behind. Neither of you spoke just staring at the other with a plethora of emotions swimming through the eyes of the other. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that your first dalliance together would be the only one that happened while you were in New York, it was easier that way. But the longer the two of you sat in silence, eyes glazed over as you drank each other in, the air charged with tension, it was obvious the agreement was null.

He pulled you flush against him as your lips met once more, the softness of the kiss was still there yet the urgent undertone couldn’t be denied. It was tentative but the slide of Carmy’s tongue into your mouth lit you up, your hips rocked dangerously into his pelvis, a strangled groan leaving Carmy’s lips as his hands dropped to your hips selfishly rocking you against his now semi-hard cock as he chased the ecstasy you’d bestowed upon him earlier.

The need for air drove the two of you apart, though it did nothing to quell the movement of your hips. Shockwaves pulsed through you with every brush of your clit against Carmy’s throbbing cock, the stimulation proving to be too much for him as his blunt nails dug into your hips, his head falling to rest against your collarbone as ragged breaths escaped him.

“Carmy,” his name left your lip in a soft cry the underlying question in your tone obvious to him as he nodded his head against you rapidly. Neither of you wasted another minute after he tapped your hip twice to give home space. It was almost comical how quickly Carmy shoved his boxers down his leg not even bothering to fully remove them as they sat at his mid-thigh.

You’d meant to pull your shirt off but watching as he hastily pulled his tank top over his head and the hunger in his eyes was a firsthand experience you needed to savor. Your frozen appearance didn’t deter him as he found the hem of your shirt pulling it off of you so fast it sent you careening backwards.

Carmy’s hands found your hips to help you regain your balance an embarrassed smile gracing his face as he realized how eager he appeared, the look enough for you to devolve in a fit of giggles, his hoarse laughter following after.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” You could tell he was beating himself up internally as he avoided your eyes, hand moving to right the chain against his skin that’d gotten tangled.

Your eyes lingered on the chain before your hands quickly moved to his neck, Carmy’s hands dropped thinking you were fixing it for him only to be surprised as you held the glimmering gold chain in your hand and sent him a small smile before clasping the chain around your neck.

“How do I look?” Your voice was teasing, hoping to alleviate whatever lasting embarrassment Carmy may have felt. Your eyes searched back in forth between his as he eyed the way his chain delicately kissed the skin on your neck.

Carmy knew you were a vision, but at this moment, seeing you straddled atop him completely naked wearing nothing but his gold chain, he was sure you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Made just for him. The scene awoke something in him as his fingers reached up to trace the path his chain made around your neck before his hand ensconced the area gripping your neck with a firm hold and pulling you down to meet his lips.

If you weren’t already surprised by the sudden movement, you were surprised as you tasted his tongue against yours. Both of your tongues languidly massaging each other, Carmy’s hand against your neck squeezing every so often sending your mind in a spiral.

No words were spoken as you raised to your knees, Carmy’s free hand diligently helping to guide you forward. The kiss broke the moment you gripped Carmy’s cock to line him up with your entrance. There was no hesitation just a look of confirmation shared between the two of you as you gradually sank onto him. Your mouth dropped open in a quiet cry as he bit his lip head falling back against the wall.

One of Carmy’s hands moved to grip your hip, while the other found purchase just under your breast. Garbled words slipped out of his mouth and if he wasn’t stretching your cunt so deliciously you might have tried paying more attention.

You gave him a seconds reprieve before putting your thigh muscles to work. Slow bounces to start as you reveled in the way he stroked your walls, head thrown back as your clit brushed against his pelvis bone just right.

“Baby…I-I can’t,” his words cut off in a groan as you sped up your pace, clenching every so often at the intoxicating ache his cock offered you, hitting exactly where you needed him to.

Carmy pulled you flush against his body, his forehead finding purchase against your collarbone. Something about this position was different from the last time as he squeezed his eyes shut doing his best to last as long as he could, whatever control he had earlier felt like a fluke, he could have come this time from the dry humping alone. He wanted to warn you but each slap of your perspiring skin against his thighs tempted him.

He’d hoped not watching you would help but instead, your soft cries of satisfaction had him twitching even more inside of you. Carmy moved to raise his lips to lavish your collarbone in love bites, but as he opened his eyes he got an eyeful of the way your cunt so easily swallowed his aching cock.

All it took was mere minutes of Carmy’s eyes focusing on how easily you slid up and down his cock before he felt streams of his sperm spurt inside you.

“Fu-fuck!” He was sure his grip would bruise you and he knew he should’ve felt bad, but he couldn’t rationalize anything with the way your cunt continued squeezing out whatever he had left to give you. The pleasure slowly began to feel painful as he descended from his high consciousness enough to realize you were so lost in it all that you hadn’t noticed what just happened.

“Baby…Baby.” The second call pulled you from the daze you were in, your glazed eyes finding his blissed-out face, the sight of him causing you to stop.

Your chest heaved up and down as you stared at Carmy with confusion, unsure why he would stop something that felt so good. You did your best to catch your breath before speaking, “Is everything okay?” Your voice was hoarse as you watched Carmy’s body flush a darker shade of red than it already was.

Carmy nodded signaling for you to give him a minute as he rested his hand against your chest for a few moments trying to work up the courage to tell you that the five rhythmic motions of you bouncing atop his cock was all it took to bring his release.

“I…I uh came.” You did your best to school your features at his admission but you were sure you hadn’t done a good job with the way his cheeks flamed with color. “It was too much. Y-you in my chain and I…I wanted you to get off too but I just…”

You smiled at his shyness, you raised yourself off of him slowly making sure not to make any sudden movements. As soon as you were up far enough for him to slip out you sat between his legs, your own falling on either side of his, “Carmy honey, I promise it's not as bad as you think it’s actually…kinda hot.”

You knew the words made him feel shyer than he was already feeling but you weren’t lying. Knowing Carmy came from just a few minutes of stimulation sent warmth racing through you. “You know,” you paused gently drumming your fingers against his thigh. “There are plenty of other ways to make a woman come.”

Carmy’s eyes found yours before the feeling of your fingers drumming against his thigh drew his attention. He watched with rapt intrigue as your finger traced from his thigh, delicately tracing across the sheets beneath you before delicately circling your dripping entrance. Carmy could feel your eyes watching his every move but he was so focused on your finger gentle circular motions to care.

The bob of his Adam’s apple was apparent as you slowed the circling motions before your middle finger found any excess cum leaking out of you and both fingers began to easily fuck Carmy’s cum back inside you. No matter how sensitive Carmy was at that moment the twitching of his cock was enough evidence of just how much he enjoyed the show you were putting on for him.

Garbled moans escaped you as you picked up the pace squelching noises filling the room as you fucked yourself with reckless abandon. Your head fell back wanton huffs of breath escaped with every pump of your fingers.

A clipped whine left you, you weren’t greedy but this would never be enough, even as you began to grind down on your fingers. A surprised gasp ripped through your body as another finger joined the fray the length and dexterity of the finger had your eyes flying open, mouth slack-jawed as senseless words babbled out of your mouth.

The hunger with which Carmy was looking down at you as he helped you fuck yourself would be seared into your mind long after you left this room. Your eyes met his as his skilled finger probed the spot you could never quite reach.

There you sat speared open on Carmy’s bed in New York as he helped you fuck yourself with his cum, fingers moving in and out in perfect timing with your own. The feeling was too much but not enough all at once, tears pricking your eyes as you could feel your release hanging on by a thread.

You weren’t sure what came over him but you felt Carmy’s hand roughly grip the back of your neck as he pulled you forward lips finding yours, as his finger kept pace with your own. The feeling of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip was all it took for your cries of ecstasy to fill the room, tears streaming down your face at just how overwhelming this experience was.

Carmy pressed his forehead to yours as your body trembled with aftershocks of your orgasm. Your sweaty chest rubbed against him as the arm you were leaning on finally gave way to exhaustion, your body melting into his as he helped maneuver you to lie down against the mattress.

You felt boneless, your whole body on cloud nine. Carmy nuzzled his face into your neck placing small encouraging kisses all over the place. His hands reached to gently wipe the tears off your face a small smile sent your way as he just watched you, your body far too tired to give the look on his face a second thought.

Carmy settled down next to you, eyes landing on the Polaroid he’d gifted you in the process, the vision of you deserved to be frozen in time.

a/n: uh so this definitely got away from me…someone take away besties writing privileges 😅

also this is part of my 1k celebration i’ve left it open for a little longer for anyone else who wants to send in a request!

[iztea]

How do you get the ideas for your backgrounds?

mmm ideas.... sometimes i draw the background directly from a photo reference (the happy case) so there's not a lot for me to change and i can have a rather peaceful painting process

othertimes, the BG is tied to the subject/concept/scene I'm thinking of, so it only makes sense that i have that as the background

for example, for this fem skk art, i knew i wanted to have chuu kneeling in a crater after destroying a city so drawing that background was just a logical follow-up because i already had the entire idea in mind

Here, I wanted to have Akiangel sit on a building, watching over the city. The ominous sign with "the day of salvation" and crow came later after I found this picture on Pinterest, so they helped further develop the concept, but the main idea was there and so on

The third background option happens when my painting doesn't depict a certain irl scene or landscape, nor do i have any particular references i can use. In that situation, I first and foremost think about the general composition, the shapes, how they flow with each other, how I can tie them to my main theme and what sort of symbolism or little easter eggs i can throw in there just to keep it fresh and interesting for the viewer ( aka the person reading this aha ;;) :-* )

For this piece, i started with a big circle for the background, and then I started breaking it up in pleasing, cloud-like shapes and swirls that constantly keep your eye moving around the picture (i mean hopefully lol). The composition was inspired by a) Dazai's Mayoi card ofc, that trad Eastern illustration style with the circle and then branches of trees, and also .. kazuha's splash art ok i admit it bshsj

for this one, the roses came much, much later. Again, I added that sort of golden arcade to better frame the focal point or the main subject of the scene which was ofc her face and/or outfit. Then, since it still felt rather empty, awkward, and directionless, I tried finding a pleasing, spiral line that would compliment the already existing shapes and that would, again, move your eye all around the composition. I figured since her outfit already had those small roses stuffed in her belt, those curvy lines could become some bloody, spikey roses and boom! here are the theme and elements for you: blacks-roses-blood-deadly-sharp-gold etc. I then had her crush some of those roses in her right (ik it's the left hand shut up) hand to balance out the busier left side

and a last example, sometimes I draw multiple character poses in one piece and they sort of become my background. Yet I still have some blank spaces left so i gotta figure out a way to fill them out. Here, since the pose where he's all curled up was inspired by the TDIPUD light novel, i drew him as a "corpse" in a pool of blood, and contrasted it with some nice flowery-ish patterns and swirls that sort of come from within that bloody mess ( someone also mentioned it looks like a womb which I found very interesting as well ). The cats also helped fill out the space. On the left side, i added that swirly black sun that drips into three squares that gradually fill up with straight blackness and raindrops falling below inspired by the "a conviction that the sun will never rise again" line. I don't think I should go into detail with the symbolism cause it's pretty obvious and not that deep so i won't but yeah, and that's my BG all filled up!

I do this with most of my BGs, it's mostly just abstract shapes; I'm very fixated on making the overall composition look okay and for the piece to send a message ( most of the time ), so i don't think of backgrounds as a separate entity, they are part of an already existing idea, generally speaking.

This kinda turned into a composition discussion midway......... sorry about that....... To be completely honest with you, I have plenty of BG ideas, they kinda just spawn in my brain so i'm not exactly lacking in that department. Having to draw them and finding refs is the hard part for me

[possumsandprose]

Hello, fellow Elriel!

This is your Elriel Month fic exchange announcement. Remember to not post this Ask until the days of your prompt (feel free to post your fic directly to this ask). 

Gifting: @slytherhys

Prompt: Endless Possibilities

Tropes: Fluff, Hurt/comfort, HEA, AU

Send @elriel-month an ask if you have any questions. Can’t wait to read it! 🦇🌹

Happy @elriel-month @slytherhys from your gifter!

This fic was inspired by a conversation I had with @shallyne a few months ago as well as my own desire to read a fic with Elain adopting a bunch of children. I hope you love this!

Warnings: nothing really, it's just a ton of fluff. Slight mentions of past abuse maybe?

Word count: 1.8 K

Loud shouts of glee filled the air around Elain as she pulled another sheet of muffins out of the oven. A small smile grew on her lips as she thought of the small children who would soon come charging in to grab the sweets before they were all gone.

Elain dusted her flour-coated hands on her apron, looking out the window and surveying the scene outside. Around 40 children of all sizes were out there, some Illyrian, some fae, and some were species of lesser fae that she didn’t recognize. That didn’t stop her from loving every child like her own, though. Small groups had broken off to play tag, while some of the older ones were playing something that looked like dodgeball.

Amongst the trees she Emeline, her eldest. With her black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin she was the spitting image of her father, and like her father wisps of shadows swirled over the surroundings. In Emeline’s arms was the youngest, Aurelia, at just 10 months old. 

A loud crash sounded from the entryway, announcing her sister’s arrival. Sure enough, when Elain peeked out of the kitchen, Feyre was on the floor, having tripped over a potted plant. Elain shook her head in amusement. Many words could be used to describe her sister, but coordinated was not one of them. 

Offering her a hand, Elain grinned, and the two walked to the back rooms of the orphanage together.

“Elain! I’m so sorry about your plant. I swear sometimes I could trip over the air. Anyway, I wanted to wish you a happy anniversary! I can’t believe you’ve already had your 50th anniversary, and that this place is now officially 25 years old. It’s so incredible what you’ve done with the place,” Feyre said excitedly.

Elain could hardly believe it either. 50 years since she married the love of her life, and 25 years since she’d begun to fulfill her dream. 

Feyre continued, “I’m delighted that this has turned out so well, not only for the sake of the children but for you and Azriel as well. I know you always wanted a big family, and all of the little ones are just like my own nieces and nephews.”

“For sure,” Elain replied, “I love each and every one of them. I’m glad I could make a difference in their lives.”

The war had been brutal on many families, leaving lots of children orphaned. In addition, lots of Illyrian children had been abandoned or abused by their parents for lots of reasons. The reason never mattered though, all were welcome here. 

The sisters reached the end of the hall, and Elain unlocked the double doors that led into a room covered in dropcloths, with easels and canvases already set out and waiting.

“Oh Elain, you are a dear. I about burned all those tarps in anger last time I tried to hang them up. Anyway, if you want to go give the little gremlins their sweets, I can get the paints out and ready,” Feyre said, already pulling things out of the supply closet.

Despite how busy she was being High Lady and all of the duties that came with being the mother of 4 children, Feyre always carved time out of her week to give art classes here, for which Elain was eternally grateful.

So many of the young found comfort in painting or sculpting, or whatever it was they chose. Others simply enjoyed the freedom that art allowed and preferred to go crazy.

Elain left her sister to it, returning to the kitchen and banging the loud bell by the window. Everyone turned to look at her, and she beckoned at them. Not long afterward a mad rush of people entered, and quickly everyone spread out onto the cushions, chairs, and couches in the living area. 

In the back was Emeline, though the baby had been passed over to her middle child, Edward. Being fully blind, Elain’s eldest was always very hesitant about being near the crowds, but Edward had a heart of gold and looked out for her at all times. 

They too sat down, and Elain left to go clean the dormitories. As she gathered up all the linens into her massive wicker basket, she thought about just how much the building they were in had changed.

Azriel had first told her about this place some 30 years ago, having found it while he was away on a scouting mission. He told her he’d gone inside and had found a small group of children of varying ages huddled by a dying fire. 

He’d immediately gone back to her and asked if she could make some food because all of them looked like they hadn’t eaten in days. That made sense, too, since in the dead of Illyria’s winters you’d be lucky to find even just one of the bony mountain birds with not enough meat on it for a baby. 

Elain had jumped into action, making her favourite hearty soup recipe, and while it was cooking she had gathered all the blankets, wraps, towels, and whatever else she could find in the River House. 

The children were at first quite scared, but eventually, after Elain (and Azriel, when he could) visited them for a few weeks they began to open up.

The eldest, Blair, was the unofficial mother of the group, and she was doing all she could to support the others. Blair had a younger sister, Sabeena, but the rest were all similarly abandoned or orphaned with nowhere else to go. 

Working as a maid and doing some other odd jobs got them a few small coins for clothes, but not much more. The dilapidated cabin, most likely once a hunting lodge, was in dire need of repairs, but it sufficed well enough to keep the cold out.

But as Elain found out, Blair had gotten faeriepox recently, a nasty illness that due to a lack of medical care had taken her out for weeks on end. And without the money she brought in and without local game to hunt, there was nothing.

Elain’s heart shattered listening to the story, different parts told by all the children. Most were Illyrian, with all of the females’ wings displaying the brutal clipping scars, though there were a few males in the group. 

After that, it had been her personal mission to provide for the group who, in Elain’s eyes, were now just as much her children as her own daughter. Rhysand and Feyre, once they’d found out about it, were only too happy to provide her with funds and support to transform the tiny hut into a huge building with proper insulation, real beds, running water, and a stocked kitchen.

Feyre had told her in private how much it reminded her of the cottage they used to grow up in, and Elain had to agree. The young ones hadn’t looked much different than she and her sisters used to when they were poor, and the haggard look of a person hunting for food that couldn’t be found was all too familiar. She suspected that was one of the reasons Feyre was so impassioned now about the restoration and upkeep here because Feyre rightfully believed that no child should have to experience what they did. 

25 years ago on this day, the orphanage opened its doors for the first time to anyone who wanted to stay. At first not much happened, but eventually people started to trickle in. Lesser fae with skin all hues of the rainbow, Illyrian children with scars so horrific it made Elain want to cry, even a few high fae, and though nothing looked physically wrong with them, Elain knew deep in her heart they had seen more than anyone should ever have to.

And that was how it was, 25 years later. Anyone and everyone was welcome to stay for as long as they wanted-whether just for food or to move in until they found a way to support themselves. It was the pride and joy of Elain’s life, running this place. She’d dreamed of having a big family ever since she was a little girl, and now, finally, it had come true. 

As Elain turned around, arms full with the baskets of laundry, she ran right into a solid wall covered in leather.

“Hello to you too, darling,” came the soft, melodious voice she loved so much.

“Az!” she squealed in glee, abandoning the basket on the floor in favour of jumping into her husband’s arms. He swept her up in a kiss, hugging her close.

“Happy anniversary, love. I can’t believe it’s been 50 years,” said Elain breathlessly. 

“It’s been the best 50 years of my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I thank the Mother and the Cauldron and whatever else is up there that I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he told her. Even after all this time, Elain’s heart still fluttered like it was their first time whenever he said that he loved her.

Their moment was interrupted by a soft babbling noise down below, and Elain felt a tiny hand tugging on the hem of her dress. There on the ground was Aurelia, having toddled her way in to find them. Her tiny wings beat uselessly behind her, which never failed to amuse any of her family. 

Rhys had told her that Illyrians usually began to fly at around age 5, but until then her wings wouldn’t do much than make her more prone to accidents. 

Az’s shadows swirled down to meet his daughter as they always did, and she squealed in delight while trying to grab them. 

A soft smile flitted on the shadowsinger’s face watching his baby play with his shadows, and Elain thought back to the first time he held Emeline.

She remembered how excited he’d been when she’d told him she was pregnant, but also terrified at the prospect of being a father. He worried constantly that he would frighten or harm the child accidentally, no matter how many times Elain reassured him that that would never happen. 

It had never really sunk in, though, until the first time he held Emeline in his arms, and his shadows had come out curiously to investigate. Emeline had been born blind, and so watching as she giggled with the tickling sensation of shadows swirling around her seemed to finally have persuaded Azriel that he would not be like his father, and that he would love and care for his children no matter what. 

Azriel scooped Aurelia into his arms, and the three of them left for the dining room. They looked out at their big, happy family, and standing there, with her husband and her children, Elain had never felt more at home.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Kid Philip Week 2024 - Day 5 (Horses)

Horsey Cupcakes Recipe

Summary: A chapter in a cookbook is dedicated to making Horsey Cupcakes.

Story inspired by this commission art.

(DAY 5 OF KID PHILIP WEEK! IT'S HORSEY CUPCAKES TIME! 🐴 🧁 🩵 🤍 💕 ✨️ 💟)

Enjoy!

In a cyan-colored setting, hearts and sparkles share the same color.

The background displays many vanilla cupcakes dressed in light blue liners and topped with sparkly light blue frosting that is decorated with an animal cracker shaped like a horse and another shaped like a horseshoe, as well as a small blue ribbon.

The cute Disney recipe book that is present is the most striking thing.

The book is partially open and in a standing position.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Today, we'll be making...," an elderly, feminine off-screen voice spoke as sparkles were magically sprinkled onto the cover of the book, opening it fully to the half-title page.

This woman was the narrator, and she had an English accent.

As the book rapidly flipped through adorable recipes dedicated to chibi Disney characters, it made an abrupt stop on the page containing the recipe for...

"... Horsey Cupcakes. Let's get started, shall we?"

The Narrator teleports the entire scene into the recipe page, where we see a Chibi Kid Philip looking directly at the "audience" with a simple yet sweet smile.

"Hello there, Philip," the Narrator greets the brunette boy in a kind and pleasant tone as he waves a hand at her despite the woman not being visible on-screen with him.

"Are you ready to make Horsey Cupcakes?" she asked.

The little chibi nods his head.

"Good! First, we'll need to put you in the proper setting."

Philip is soon teleported into a kitchen, where the Narrator magically ties a cute horse-themed apron onto him.

He tests both the top and bottom knots for strength by gently tugging on them before throwing a thumbs up.

The cupcake ingredients that appear in the air are then neatly arranged on the wooden table that Philip is standing in front of for his use.

"So, in order to make Horsey Cupcakes," the Narrator began. "You'll have to follow five simple steps."

A cute sky blue sign with the words 'Step one' written in white overtakes the screen.

"Step one: Add all of your ingredients to a bowl and mix them thoroughly."

Philip begins to beat his butter and sugar in a bowl before adding two eggs, vanilla, and dry and wet ingredients.

Mixing them with a wooden spoon, he created a batter mixture that was both thick and pourable.

He gazes down at the mixture he's made with a pleased smile before attempting to sneak a taste with his finger.

"Ah, ah, ah," the Narrator hummed in a warning tone, prompting Philip not to dip a finger into the raw batter as an embarrassed smile, along with blush stickers and a sweat droplet, appears on his face.

"Step two: Fill your cupcake liners with batter."

With great precision and caution, Philip began slowly filling his light blue cupcake liners with batter using a plastic spoon, making sure not to spill a single drop.

His tongue remained stuck out while he concentrated.

Once the final liner is filled, Philip wipes his brow, blows out a relieved puff of air, and beams at his accomplishment.

"Step three: Have an adult place your pan into the oven."

At the third step, Philip's face displays a sad expression.

"What's the matter, Philip? Do you not have an adult?"

Looking down, he answers with a slow shake of his head.

"Ah, I see. Well..." Chibi Kid Caleb suddenly emerges out of thin air with cardinal oven mitts, causing Philip's eyes to light up as they glimmer in awe.

"An older brother will have to do."

After opening the oven, Caleb places the pan inside, closes it, and turns it on.

The cupcakes then begin to bake for 20 minutes as the boys watch with keen interest as the baked goods slowly form.

When the oven makes a 'ding' sound, the cupcakes are done.

Philip is very excited about this.

Caleb opens the oven, removes the freshly baked cupcakes from it, and transports them to a wire rack to cool completely.

"Step four: Frost and Decorate!"

At the wooden table, Caleb uses a large piping bag to pipe sparkly light blue swirls onto each cupcake.

He then decorates the frosting for each cake with an animal cracker shaped like a horse and another shaped like a horseshoe, along with a small blue ribbon.

While he does this, Philip watches his brother with bright eyes and light blue frosting on the corners of his mouth.

"Step five: Serve a Horsey Cupcake to a horse and observe if they enjoy it."

The brown chibi pony horse from "New Friends From Another Town" is now in the kitchen.

Philip places a Horsey Cupcake on a plate in front of him.

Now facing the cupcake, the horse takes a whiff of the dessert, his dotted eyes now lighting up at the sweet, vanilla-scented treat.

He proceeds to take a small bite and immediately neighs in delight at the dish he was served.

He takes another bite, this time bigger, as he chews quickly before swallowing.

He neighs for a second time.

Philip and Caleb giggle as a result of his reaction, and they give the horse a smile.

...

Philip and Caleb begin to enjoy a Horsey Cupcake of their own alongside the horse, who was given another one.

The Narrator teleports out of the recipe, and we are now brought back to the outside of the Disney recipe book, which slowly closes.

[lady-merian]

for the sketch ask - 45, 1007, and 274! (super cool idea btw) (and also no pressure btw)

*rubs hands together* when I had this idea, I knew I wanted to be able to make at least some of them personalized rather than just random poses here and there, but this was the first time it really worked out well that way without fudging it. So 45:

This really looks nothing like the original inspiration art (which was by @taratjah, and saved so many years ago I forget how many.) and the main thing I got from it is the hand holding. I did a sillier initial doodle that sort of looked like Katniss and Peeta in the chariot scene, so I leaned into that for the real thing.

1007:

This was copied more directly from a photo I’d saved from Pinterest even longer ago than the last one, but it seemed so right for you. This one’s a keeper.

274:

This was a free stock photo of a guy in a frankly ridiculous outfit, but I liked the hand gesture, so I improvised a hobbit costume and he turned into Merry.

thanks for playing!

send me a number, explanation here

[in-my-loki-feels]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @elodiah @kcscribbler @lokimobius @devilbearingtrouble @thosegayoldmen and @wolfpup026! You convinced me to post something after all. 😆

I shared this with the Automat server as a cut scene but the reaction convinced me to keep it in the fic, so why not share it here as well? This is: what if Mobius and Loki ended up in the Void in slightly different places than in the show, and then ran into a familiar face? Shared another teaser here, inspired by an incredible art from @natendo-art.

Loki took a half-step in front of Mobius, both of them focused on the other variant, which is why the hand curling around the side of Mobius’ neck and the blade at his throat were such a surprise. He didn’t think he made a noise but Loki whipped around, his eyes widening. The variant across the room winked out of existence. Just an illusion. “Truly, I never thought I would fall for that trick,” the variant said. “Are you sure you’re a Loki?” “Let go of him and find out,” Loki hissed.  “I think not,” the Loki in the golden horns said. “As amusing as that sounds, I have other, more interesting plans in mind.” “That sure sounds ominous," Mobius said with a strained chuckle. “Hardly. I mean to fuck you.” The last two words were a low growl directly in Mobius’ ear. He didn’t think the blood had ever rushed down his body so quickly, even as his face turned red. “And don’t try to pretend that you wouldn’t enjoy it. You clearly have a type.” The variant rubbed his thumb up and down the back of Mobius’ neck, sending goosebumps spreading. “You have no idea the utter lack of entertainment available in this Hel,” the variant went on, this time allowing his voice to carry to Loki. “And then, to my surprise, who should show up but Agent Mobius. How lucky to meet again after all this time, have the chance to get reacquainted.” He dragged the flat of the blade up the underside of Mobius’ chin, tilting his head back with the implied threat.  “So you just wait here,” the variant said to Loki, “and I’ll bring him back when I’m done." A pause. “Possibly.” When he stepped back, his hold on Mobius, plus the dagger, forced Mobius to stumble with him. Loki stepped forward almost at the same time, as if they were performing a dance. “Oh? Did you want to join us?” The variant’s voice was syrupy with smugness.

[justakidicarus]

A little ficlet based on the recent Zelda reveal

I was suddenly inspired by The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom game trailer. While this probably can't be considered spoilers on accounts of the game and its story not actually being out, viewer discretion is advised. This is likely not canon to the actual events of the game and is just my initial lore prediction. I was heavily inspired by the trailer and it got words flowing.

Assumptions:

Set in the Downfall timeline post Link's Awakening due to similar art styles and the presence of Deku scrubs.

Characterisations are unique

Also, I know nothing about the Downfall timeline besides vague hints from Linked Universe content as I haven't played any of their games. Creative liberties have been taken.

Fic under the break. Tags of ficlet contain spoilers. Also additional notes for the fic are under the fic itself, including explanations of concepts and background for the scene not included in the Assumptions.

---///---

Zelda threw herself to the ground as the Void Rift finally stopped eating at her steps, the halls of Ganon's new lair shrouded in shadows that Tri could barely pierce with their gleam. She groaned, hand still gripping the Tri-staff with a white-knuckled grip, as she refused to let go of her one saving grace in her journey for her kingdom. She didn't know how Link made each of his quests look so effortless. If the kingdom itself wasn't resting on her shoulders she didn't think she could have made it half as far as she has.

"Well, well, well. I didn't expect to see you in the Lord's Lair so soon. Quite far from the light aren't you, Princess?"

Zelda scrambled to her feet, Tri flying to her side to steady her hasty rise as she brandished her staff before her, summoning an echo torch before her to light the room.

The torch lasted mere moments before it was snuffed out, seemingly consumed by the ravenous Darkness surrounding her. If it wasn't for Tri and her staff, the wayward Princess wouldn't have been able to see the ground at all.

Tri zipped beside her ear to whisper advice, likely wary of whatever was in the room. The sheer fact that Tri didn't already know was worrying in and of itself. "Zelda this isn't normal Darkness, whatever is in here is dangerous, maybe even Ganon's most dangerous creation yet! This Darkness feels relentless." her companion murmured, their button-like eyes creased with barely concealed fear. Zelda felt her own heart jump. Tri couldn't even tell what was hidden in the shadows?

Zelda lifted a hand for her fairy to rest on as she replied with an equally as quiet "We can't turn back, not with the rift in the way. We'll make it through together," Before looking back into the Darkness for even a hint of movement. "Show yourself, servant of the Demon King!" She shouted, swinging her staff forward as an entire swath of torches was lit, fans behind them pushing the fire forward to clear out a path through the Darkness.

With a loud snarl more befitting of its master, the Darkness surged forward and attacked the fans directly, shattering the echoes before consuming the flames in turn. The hidden monster's voice had a loud echo as it spoke. Whatever room they were in must be big. "Do you think you can beat my Master? Your oh-so-pathetic knight couldn't, what makes you think you stand a chance?" it taunted, voice moving lazily across the room, uncaring of the impact of its words.

"Where is he? Answer me you monster!" Zelda cried out into the moving shadows surrounding her, twisting as she tried to track the monster, refusing to let it get behind her.

"Oh Princess, didn't you see those cursed souls outside?" it seemed to whisper, voice dripping with mocking pity as her heart clenched. The cursed souls, the Hylians that Ganon had kidnapped through the Dark Rifts doomed to serve their captor as slaves to the monsters. Only the Tri-staff's power could free them from Ganon's thrall, and return them home. Link would never succumb to the Darkness; he was too strong for that, but even the thought of him befalling such a fate sent a spike of fear through her bones.

"He would never have succumbed to your Master and his powers. Link is far too strong to ever fall," she hissed at the voice's general direction.

"I'll admit, he put up a fight. Not even a thousand monsters could weaken his resolve and put out that fool's damned faith." Despite the way the voice spat insults at her hero as if the words were poisoned, she almost felt relief at its words. Of course, Link would fight an entire army of monsters to reach her again, it was such a Link thing to do.

"but there's more than one way to snuff out a light," it chuckled, the voice whispering into her ear as her heart lept to her throat. She swung around and summoned an echoed lizalfos in front of her, but it barely lasted a second before the Darkness surrounded it and she could hear its death throes. Tri hovered over her shoulder, shaking with the weight of Zelda's fear for her knight. What are these monsters doing to him?!

"What have you done to my knight!" She screamed out, equal parts fury, mania, and fear giving her power enough of a boost that the Tri-staff glowed brighter, reacting to her will. The voice only laughed at her, its horrid amusement staining the air as the shadows pooled lazily at the edges of her light, unconcerned with her strengthened power.

"Where there is light, there must always be Darkness. Darkness is the natural state of the world, a state my Master will return it to once he rips that little triangle from your hand. From Darkness everything has come from-" it spoke with a madness that outshone its master's own, the monster's manic tone betraying barely a depth of its own insanity. Zelda's foot almost slipped into the Void Rift before she pulled herself back from the edge. Whatever creature Ganon had in this room, it was unlike anything she had ever faced before. It terrified her.

"-and to Darkness I have returned," it purred as torches of Dark fire lit upon the walls, bringing vision through the room while the space remained covered in its darkness. The ceiling was high and decorated with Ganon propaganda, images of the boar-faced brute staring down from all angles. The walls were leaking more of that Darkness, pooling down into grooves on the floor as they made their way to the circle of the cylindrical room. At its centre were multiple sets of shackles, prepared as if to contain a single person despite the sheer number of chains. Standing in the centre of the room was the source of the voice, the servant of Ganon whose darkness was so absolute that it didn't care at all for the power of the Tri-staff.

Distantly, Zelda could feel Tri slam into her chest, trembling so violently with both horror and fear that the little fairy could barely breathe. She could hear blood roaring in her ears as silently, desperately, she begged her eyes to be lying. This couldn't be real. Yet even as her free hand's nails dug hard enough into her palm to leave red marks on her skin, nothing in the room changed. The Hylian in front of her didn't morph into something else, or disappear as a trick of the shadows. This was real. This was real and she didn't know how to handle it as her world was shattered and laid to rest at the feet of the one she had journeyed so far to save.

"You've been searching my Master's kingdom for your hero? Well, here I am Princess." Link grinned at her, not an ounce of kindness in his eyes as he stared at her as if she were nothing but a Bokoblin he needed to kill.

---///---

Notes!

So to start there are two kinds of Rifts. Dark rifts lead to Ganon's evil Realm and Void Rifts, lead from Ganon's Realm into the Void. Nothing survives a Void rift.

Darkness is the main evil force in this. It's sort of an omnipresent force as a vapour in Ganon's realm but also exists as both a liquid and a solid. it is essentially evil given tangible form.

And to get to the meat of the concept Link has been corrupted by Darkness!

Dark Link's appearance isn't brought up, but you can assume it's evil-looking and menacing, perhaps even the classic Dark Link fit (Black skin, Red eyes, Silver hair, Black hero outfit). Just make his eyes red.

The room is indeed a boss room, but Zelda will escape due to Tri-staff BS without finishing the fight with Link because I need to get at least two encounters out of this guy.

Ganon also stole Link's part of the Triforce when he captured him the first time. Yes, Link has escaped Ganon, but the only way in and out of the realm without Ganon's power is the Tri-staff. Link does not have the Tri-staff

The chains in the room + Ganon's Propaganda might not have been entirely obvious but this is also where Ganon imprisoned Link to corrupt him. I could write another ficlet for it but he was essentially chained down and smothered with darkness completely, with nothing but pure evil and propaganda for company. This would have been going on for at least two weeks to a month before Link was fully corrupted.

Zelda will eventually purge him of the Darkness don't worry, but first, the Tri-staff and her own power will need a serious upgrade. The Darkness infesting Link is supercharged, coming directly and purposefully from Ganon himself and is also attracted to him as the past holder of the Triforce of Courage. At her current strength, Zelda would be hard-pressed to beat him in combat, let alone purge hm of his Darkness.

I have a few ideas on how to build off of this idea, including the aforementioned Link's corruption ficlet, but also one where Zelda seeks aid, a Dark Link POV ficlet, and even Link's Purging. Feel free to suggest more ideas if you've got them, I wanna see where this idea could go!

[intogenshin]

Metropolis influence on Fontaine

Metropolis is a 1927 German silent film about a city divided into upper class surface and working class underground that focuses on the impact of industrialization, at the same time serving as a dystopian allegory for the Bible. If you know any other fictional work with a similar setting, chances are it was inspired by Metropolis either directly or indirectly. 

The original footage suffered cuts during the Nazi regime, and although it was restored in the following decades, there’s still missing scenes that are filled with black screens and text. The most complete version is available on YouTube

Visuals

Director Fritz Lang said he was inspired to create the architecture of the city on his trip to New York. Both Metropolis and Fontaine feature ridiculously tall buildings with suspended highways (in Fontaine these are for the Aquabus) that intend to express a futuristic look yet follow the trends of its time.

It is notoriously influenced by the Art Deco movement, which Fontaine also relies on for its overall design (geometry, symmetry, bright colors)

From Wikipedia:

During its heyday, Art Deco represented luxury, glamour, exuberance, and faith in social and technological progress. The movement featured rare and expensive materials, such as ebony and ivory, and exquisite craftsmanship.

The underground workplace of the city also looks like a giant factory, similar to the Fortress of Meropide. 

Ideology

Due to the depiction of an exploited class that the elites profit off and the harsh conditions of industrial labor, it is largely considered to be an anti-capitalist movie.

A random review in The New York Times from 1927 acknowledges the antagonist as a capitalist:

We see a similar dynamic between Fontaine City and the Fortress of Meropide, whose convicts produce the mecha that the nation relies on. The convicts stay in the prison after finishing their sentences because they suffer discrimination in the surface, and at Fontaine Research Institute seems to prioritize scientific advancement instead of the lives and health of their workers.

However, to put it simply, a Marxist story it is not. Neither of them.

The Fontaine chapter briefly addresses the inequality between the surface and underground, but doesn’t engage with it any further. And although the plot of the AQ quickly deviates from the themes of class struggle to focus on the bigger picture, it doesn’t betray the narrative of the source material either.

The politics in Metropolis are centrist at best, the workers are lured into committing acts of violence without a purpose other than chaos by an idol of false belief (depicted in the movie as a robot, but it’s meant to be a parallel of pagan gods in the Bible). This same false idol temps the upper class men in the surface into self indulgent pleasure and violence, so the movie equates the motivations of the working class to revolt against a unjust system to that of the ruling class who maintain and abuse that system. Both are naive, unthinking, acting on carnal desire and senseless chaos.

The thesis that the movie presents is one in favor of keeping the hierarchical status quo between the dominating class and the class that is dominated. As if inherently assigning an intellectual role to the upper classes and a manual labor role to the lower, the surface is called the “head” and the underground is called the “hands”, which should be mediated with a “heart”.

Fritz Lang admitted this fault decades later:

“I was not so politically minded in those days as I am now. You cannot make a social-conscious picture in which you say that the intermediary between the hand and the brain is the heart. I mean, that's a fairy tale—definitely. But I was very interested in machines. Anyway, I didn't like the picture—thought it was silly and stupid”

As a side note —and why it matters that the interpretation of the film doesn’t confuse anti-capitalist themes with Marxist ideology— Goebbels, the chief propagandist of the Nazi Party, personally approached the director to ask him to join because Hitler watched and liked Metropolis. Lang refused and escaped Germany due to fear of being targeted for his Jewish ancestry, but the book that the movie is based on was written by his wife, who would join the Nazi Party herself later.

The story aims to maintain the status quo of class while promoting Christianity, a double indoctrination of sorts. It wasn’t odd that Goebbels would value it as a tool for propaganda.

Christianity & Plot

Both stories are based on the Bible, specifically the apocalyptic texts in the Old Testament. 

The protagonist plays the role of the messiah (ya boi Jesús) that must mediate between “head” and “hands”, an allegory for the messiah’s role in the Bible that reconciles God with humanity (after the whole dying for their sins business). He switches place with a worker and experiences the underground by himself, the same way god sends his son slash third part of himself to live as a human.

Neuvillette plays this role in the AQ, acting as the “mediator” between the power of the Sovereigns and humans. Beyond that there’s not much similarity with the movie (unless you’re a neuvifuri shipper), but they do make the same points in regards to Christian myth. Neuvillette also has his own arc of living among humans and learning to “be” one.

On the other hand, the character Maria represents Christian values and belief, and acts as a sort of prophetess for the underground people. She preaches about a mediator who will come to save them, and it is her who awakens the protagonist’s curiosity to venture down the underground city. So it is her who basically brings the Jesus figure into the world like a Virgin Mary expy. The two fall in love later.

This would be our Focalors, the real god of Fontaine who plans for Neuvillette to help the nation from the start.

The antagonists of the movie are the major of the city (who fulfills the role of the kings in the Bible) and a mad scientist (who fulfills the role of the devil), both conspire to create a robot version of Maria in order to suppress the workers uprising. Robot Maria represents an idol of false belief, in the Bible these are the pagan gods that people follow into their own ruin.

The mad scientist betrays the major and also sends robot Maria to the surface, where she spreads chaos in the form of the Whore of Babylon, an apocalyptic omen of the Bible.

This is our Furina, except Genshin subverts the character by making her the human part of Focalors instead. Furina’s official title (“Regina of all waters, kindreds, peoples and laws”) is a reference to the Whore of Babylon, and in the context of the AQ it’s meant to signify that Furina has caused the end of the archon rule in the nation.

In the movie robot Maria is burned at the stake by the workers in the middle of their violent frenzy, and they discover she is a machine while the real Maria is alive —Christianity wins. In Fontaine, Christianity kills herself (😭) and the apocalyptic idol of false belief stays alive. Perhaps the true values the people should follow are humane ones and not religious, who knows.

A flood also takes place during the climax of the movie, caused by the workers’ revolt, which the protagonist and the real Maria contain to save the children of the workers. Although not Christianity per se (the original book had a lot more of occultism than the movie) the role of the Grim Reaper, a rather symbolic character, seems to be paralleled by Arlecchino. It’s a character that represents the influence of robot Maria on the city as she spreads chaos, they work in unison while being two characters independent from each other.

[bookoftheironfist]

Today marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of Marvel Premiere #15, which hit shelves on February 19th, 1974! (The cover date of May 15 indicated when the book should be taken off the shelves.) This anthology series served as a testing ground where creative teams tried out new characters and storylines to gauge their appeal. One such character was Iron Fist/Danny Rand, who first appeared in #15 and stuck around for ten more issues until proving popular enough, both here and in his guest appearances in the Deadly Hands of Kung Fu magazine, to earn his own solo comic in 1975.

This was a time when martial arts were exploding in popularity across the U.S., and Marvel leapt onboard the trend with new characters like Shang-Chi/Master of Kung Fu, the Sons of the Tiger, White Tiger (Hector Ayala), and Iron Fist. These characters were a departure from Marvel's standard superhero fare; they were martial arts heroes first and foremost, directly inspired by kung fu films and famous contemporary masters like Bruce Lee, Jim Kelly, and Chuck Norris, and with stories heavily focused on beautiful, thrilling, technically precise fight scenes.

Caption: "You whirl: one man, still doubled with pain, receives the blow of the hammer...another, already reeling, you dispose of with the monkey blow. The fourth attacker, more cautious than his fellows, only now makes his forward leap..." Marvel Premiere #15 by Roy Thomas, Gil Kane, Glynis Wein, D. Giordano, and L.P. Gregory

This sucker-punch of an introductory issue flips breathlessly back and forth between nineteen-year-old Danny Rand's fight to survive the ritual Challenge of the Many and the One, and his flashbacks to the horrors he experienced as a nine-year-old child when, high in the mountains, he watched his parents die. The issue doesn't have room to introduce the dragon Shou-Lao the Undying (that epicness is saved for Marvel Premiere #16), but it introduces the world of Marvel's K'un-Lun and several of its key players, and teases the core premise by culminating in Danny's first time using the power of the Iron Fist. It's an explosive introduction to a character and corner of the Marvel universe that has only grown richer, larger, and more exciting over the past 50 years.