#tove rambles

[ismyteadoneyet]

Theories and predictions about 'Oathbound', and The Kingsmage Oath in particular

okayokayokay yes, I know, I can think of nothing else but Legendborn these days, but ngl I feel such a desperate need to write this out to get more thoughts on it. We already know quite a lot about the Kingsmage oath, right? But as the title of the third book suggests, I believe we will learn a whole lot more about it in Oathbound and I cannot fkn wait lol

[Major Legendborn and Bloodmarked spoilers ahead, read at your own... volition, tihi]

Alright. So. First off, disclaimer - I don't currently have my physical copy of Legendborn closeby to reference stuff, so if any of this is debunked in the first book please correct me! Most of this is sprouted from Bloodmarked! I don't think we got that much info about the Kingsmage oath in Legendborn but it was also quite a while since I read it lol

Theory no. 1

First off, the thing that made me start off my 10-message long rant about this to my Legendborn-partner-in-crime to begin with, is the fact that the two "participants" of the oath are connected to the degree that, not only does the Kingsmage feel if the Scion is in danger, but the Scion in question also feels the things the Kingsmage feels. Selwyn even explains that this is partly why he attacked Bree during the trials in book one during the infamous "graveyard scene":

" 'You remember that I planned our partnership during the trial. Planned to trick you, corner you, and kill you. I knew Nicholas would feel a desire to kill someone that night, because it would come over from me to him through the bond. I planned for him to eventually discover that the person he'd wanted to... was someone he-' [Sel] shakes his head, eyes hard. 'That it was you.' " - Bloodmarked, page 366

...and

" 'The morning after the first Oath, [Nick] came to me. Said he'd felt my desire to kill you and begged me to leave you alone, because of what it did to him' -[Sel] taps his chest- 'here. He said it felt wrong, wanting to hurt you. ' So I knew that what I sent through the bond would poison the part of him that was beginning to love you. Knew that if I failed, he'd have to live with the memory of wishing his girlfriend dead. Not just the memory, but the feeling of wanting to kill you himself, with his bare hands. Murderous intent like that is one of the worst feelings in the world. Haunting. Destructive. And for someone like Nick... it would tear him apart in a way he'd never forget and never heal from. And I did not care. I believed I was right, all in the name of duty.' " - Bloodmarked, pages 366-367

Both of these show the bad effects of the bond. Sel can actively affect Nick's views of the people around him, and influence his actions, and I believe that this is shown by how Nick beheaded that one guard without hesitation, that one time.

"I didn't kill Zhao for my father." Nick's eyes burn. "I killed him for me." Sel's eyes widen incrementally. "We should...come back to that." - Bloodmarked, page 467

The interesting thing about this is the way Sel has been so sure that Nick would "never hurt another soul", and yet, here he is, rejecting Sel's reasoning that Nick killed Zhao because of his father, and instead hammering home that "no, I did it for me." Because, and hear me out on this, Nick is, in the moment of the kill...oathbound to a Merlin actively fighting his own demonia from taking over.

Bree also brings up multiple times that "Nick has become a killer, the dangerous thing" after witnessing the murder (which, when I read it sounded a bit silly since Sel has tried to murder her multiple times and even explained in detail how he planned to do that specific thing but oh well lol), but in relation to how we've seen Sel act throughout Bloodmarked, and keeping the Kingsmage Oath in mind, it makes sense. Because is it ever explained how Sel's descent might also be transferring to Nick through the bond? If it is, I don't remember seeing it.

Also, Nick being so incredibly calm and no-hesitation about killing Zhao (in one of the more brutal ways he could have, even), makes me fully believe that it was either 1. not his first kill, or 2. he is more affected by Sel's demonia than Tracy wants us to realize. During the scene where Sel and Bree watch him kill Zhao, Sel is still void cuffed, which to me means that he is still actively fighting his demonia from taking him. Sel doesn't get his void cuffs off until the fight with Erebus where Bree root-boosts him back to his normal, balanced self, which happens after Nick's kill.

The synopsis of Oathbound hints at Nick having "secrets to share with the Table", and we know absolutely nothing about what he spent all of Bloodmarked doing. We only followed one half of the whole. If Sel was only half-successful in "poisoning" Nick with murderous intent towards Bree in Legendborn, when he hadn't yet lost his humanity... Do you see where I'm going with this?

Tracy herself shared a fanart of Nick doing The Thing, and quoted the artist with something along the lines of "Nick should scare you!" and "Ruthless Nick is the correct opinion to have!", and considering that Nick is now, by the end of Bloodmarked, bonded to a fully succumbed Demon!Sel, what does that make Nick?

Theory no. 2

Now, onto the more fun side of the oath (or, more heartbreaking, depending on how you read it, I guess lol)

I have seen a few people being put off by Nick and Bree's relationship in Legendborn because it, to some degree, reads a lot like "insta-love". And sure, love at first sight and all that stuff but how long has Bree known Nick, really? A couple weeks, maybe? I however, have another theory to this.

Again, the two participants of the Kingsmage Oath share feelings both ways, as explained by Sel:

" 'When did you worry [about losing your humanity]?' [...] 'When I started to see what I believe Nicholas sees when he looks at you. Only a monster could look at you and want to destroy you, Bree.' " - Bloodmarked, page 368

And of course we are led to believe that Nick, the "blond, good-hearted knight in shining armor" is the good influence, right, and Sel being the "tall dark and handsome demon" is the bad influence on the two...

...But what if it was the other way around the entire time?

[Sel:] " 'I was raised not to trust myself!' " - Bloodmarked, page 368

[Sel:] " 'I don't know if that's in the cards for me.' [...] 'If I'm allowed that wish, it would be truly something. But wishes are dangerous mind games we play with ourselves. The only way to win is to not play.' " - Bloodmarked, page 475

Sel was raised as a weapon and a shield for the Scion of Arthur, and has never been treated as anything else. He was never allowed by anyone else nor himself to put himself and his own feelings first. So when he is suddenly struck with feelings for Bree, it makes sense for him to "blame it" on Nick, automatically. He couldn't possibly be the one with romantic, wholesome, fluffy feelings towards someone else, right? To Sel, it would feel wrong. "Illegal".

" 'Why didn't you [leave]?' 'Because my judgement is not what it should be around you, Bree. It never has been.' " - Bloodmarked, page 369

"It never has been," huh? Now, I find that to be a very funny choice of wording, Tracy, since the over-arching conflict in the entirety of Bloodmarked is related to mesmers and witheld information.

And the fact that Bree's mother and Sel's mother knew each other.

" 'The woman that helped you hide the memory. Was that Sel's mother?' My mother smiles, fond and sad at once. ' Yes. Natasia.' I have to ask. 'Do you know where she is?' She glances at Sel, and I know her answer is for his ears and mine both. 'No. Even if I could speak to her now, she would not tell me.' " - Bloodmarked, page 447

We also know that Sel's mother was the one who mesmered Bree in the hospital. But what if both Bree and Sel were mesmered at some point? What if the romantic feelings Nick felt for Bree the moment they met was actually Sel's feelings for Bree, coming over through the bond?

Another thing that speaks to this, I believe, is the use of the phrase "call and response", which Bree uses a lot when talking about herself and Nick,

" And then [Nick's] mouth is on mine, and every call and response we've ever felt pales in comparison to this one. " - Bloodmarked, page 377

...but also how she describes the relationship between Arthur and Lancelot:

" I shiver. Even [Lancelot's] voice affects me like Nick's does. 'Arthur?' he asks. And I reply, 'Lancelot.' Call and response. That's how it is between me and Nick. How it has always been. " - Bloodmarked, page 132

I believe, again, that this "call and response" thing is what I personally believe is what might be bringing Nick and Bree so close so fast. They are both scions of what I see as one of the most bromantic knights in the entire Order. Of course they out of all people would find a connection soul-to-soul right way. And that on top of Sel possibly knowing Bree before Legendborn even happens? It's no wonder that both of the two boys feel so comfortable gushing about her being "beautiful forever" in that one bloodwalk that one time, lol.

In conclusion, I guess the big question at hand is "Where does Nick's feelings end and Sel's feelings begin?" Where is the line? Is there one? I'd like to argue that the fact that Sel's first instinct, when he first starts feeling "what Nick is feeling" towards Bree is to kill her, is denial in the most severe degree. He is the first character from the Order Bree meets, accidental or not, and even though Tracy has said that she wrote Legendborn without a set goal for the endgame-couple, I'm willing to believe that that has shifted towards a BreeSel outcome after the mayhem of a character-development-arc that is Bloodmarked.

The fact that I am a BreeSel believer might also be influenced by the fact that we simply have not seen Nick in A While lol

And if not, I'm willing to root for a Bree x Sel x Nick throuple lol. As long as Sel is part of the endgame setup, I'm good.

Just please let Lark be left alone for William even if Lark and Bree commit to a Kingsmage oath, Tracy, I beg

[dougielombax]

Maybe the Totoro could be a distant relative of the Moomin.

Like very distant.

But still close enough to be recognised as such.

[the-girl-in-the-high-castle]

What I find interesting is how all the characters end up in a completely different place than where they started. That’s what I call good storytelling, when it’s all about the characters.

Maura starts with trying to convince herself she isn’t crazy, trying to never let emotions cloud her judgement and never letting things get to her. She ends up almost broken, drained, on her knees crying, begging Sebastian to bring Eyk back, ultimately doing whatever Daniel tells her in order to wake up. 

Eyk starts being an authority to everyone on the ship, never letting anyone question his decisions (except Maura, he’s into that😏). He’s not answering to anyone and actually does what he wants and thinks is right. He ends up losing him mind, surrendering his authority, desperately searching for answers and never really getting any.  

Angel and Lucien start on the same page, as wolves, dominant compared to their partners. Angel taking everything he wants, doing anything he wants without fear, while Ramiro remains in his shadow, Lucien keeping Clemence in the same spot with his anger and pride. They both end up dying. Angel’s last words being “I’m scared” and Lucien surrendering to his fate he thought he could escape. While Ramiro and Clemence step in, expend their borders and start being a vital part in the most important events on the ship. Jerome starts as suspicious to everyone, everyone always trying to keep him on a leash. Ends up being one of the people Clemence, Olek and Eyk relay on and someone who steps in to save the day.

Olek start off as no one. Keeps his head down and is trying to not get involved in anything. But his sense of justice, kindness and loyalty brings him to a point where he, just like Jerome, ends up being a hero, and ultimately Eyk’s right hand man. Ling Yi starts as someone on a leash, being controlled like a bird in a cage, not allowed to have dreams. Ends up doing whatever she wants, against everyone’s decisions.

Tove starts off as someone always having to fight for herself, as being the pillar of sanity in her family in spite of everything she’s been through. None of them ever there to protect her when she needed it, but her protecting herself and being the reason that controls her family’s desperate actions. She ends up finally experiencing how it feels like when someone fights for her for a change when Franz of all people sacrifices himself in order to protect and save her. Finally someone to put her first. 

Virginia starts off as dominant and controlling, using other people for her own gain. She ends up afraid, begging and depending on kindness of others. 

[tigerr-cherry]

Omg it's moomin day !!!

[somethingaboutvampires]

Finding a song that you and your partner(s) love and downloading different edm remixes that suit your preferred sound profile: true love

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING SNEAKY !!! LEWIS H. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: lewis was known for his year-end parties. the grid would be shocked to find out what else he was known for.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, pwp, lewis and reader on their sneaky link behaviour, p in v penetration, doggy or whatever pierre said, filthy, dom!lewis energy, fucking in a club bathroom vibes, utter nonsense— just lewis being filthy as fuck, drivers being drunk (max, charles and lando), bit of a twist at the end but not really???

rec music: disco tits by tove lo

note: shout out to @daaiissyyyyy for listening to my recent fever ramble at 11 pm— she gave me the thought to write for lewis after giving this music prompt eheh. i’m sick of sf23 and w14 so now i’m just writing ✨fuckall✨ enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out!

lewis was known for a lot of things: his sense of fashion, desire to make panty-dropping songs, his impressive record in formula one and of course…

the extravagant parties that never failed to live up to everyone’s expectations. 

now this was the first time he’s hosted a big party in his new york penthouse since his previous championship win before covid — 2019.

and 2023 was the most frustrating season for most drivers and lewis hamilton wasn’t an exception to that; after all, most teams splurged as much money as red bull did with their cars yet the crown was handed over to max and the austrian team in a gold plate. 

because of the same results every year, the brit couldn’t find himself to care much about it anymore.

instead, after the abu dhabi race he texted the group chat and invited them over for a party he was going to host after the prize giving ceremony. 

yet, when the drivers came over to his penthouse with their girlfriends and their peers — the host was found nowhere in sight. 

tove lo’s music boomed loudly as sweaty bodies hit the dance floor. the world champion - max verstappen - was chatting with the ferraris and lando about whatever the fuck he was planning to do during the break. most drivers were dancing and drinking. 

yet, amongst the sea of intoxicated and desperate people, none of them were lewis.

he was known for his parties. but what they didn’t know was that his parties were nothing but excuses to feel the adrenaline rush pump through his bloodstream without taking the drugs for it.

because he was upstairs in his room, thick cock spearing inside someone’s cunt as the woman screamed silently. her manicured nails clutching the sheets under her as drool escaped her mouth, her head down while her ass was arched up. 

lewis grunted as he lustfully traced down her spine and smacked her ass. “god, fuck! such a good pussy, doll.” 

“lew- lewis, fuck,” she cursed him in a foreign language that he couldn’t care to understand, her eyes rolling back as he continued to fuck her from behind. “i feel so full, oh~ god~ yes- yes- keep fucking me like that.”

“like this?” she let out a pitiful whine when he moved and roughly hit her sensitive spot with his cock.

her head was pushed against the mattress as she whined, his cock rubbing against the spot repeatedly while she inaudibly babbled. 

he demanded firmly, “you gotta tell me how do i fuck you, baby, otherwise i’m not gonna—“

“—fuck! yes, keep hitting that spot please,” she cried out, tears threatening fall from the pleasure she felt. 

in the moment of grunting and whining, no one downstairs could hear them as they fucked like rabbits in heat. thank god for the party that lewis had paid for. if anyone ever found out, they’d immediately assume that he only hosted this just to get her away from everyone. 

her walls clenched around him as he moaned aloud, “this pussy is so good— so tight f’me, princess.” 

the tip of his cock hit her cervix as she cried, “please lewis, please— wanna cum~”

“mmh~ god,” lewis groaned loudly, his deep lusty voice echoing inside the room alongside the slapping of their skins and her moans. “gonna cum soon, baby— gonna be a good girl and cum with me?”

“mhm yeah,” she nodded. 

“good because— ah~ keep doin’ that- i’m- ah fuck!” lewis grunted as his thrusting slowed. she came, too, her walls clenching around him still as she reached her climax and the sense of euphoria washed over her. 

lewis’ face was beaded with sweat and pleasure, leaning forward for a brief moment to keep his composure. his cock remained inside her as he pulled up her head and tangled his tongue with hers. 

he sighed, the sound of contentment covering up her quivering breath as he smirked mischievously.

this was a celebration, indeed.

this, however, was a celebration for the two of them only. this was how she rewarded him for putting up with this season, and lewis simply accepted her reward without hesitation.

after all, not everyone in the grid got to get a taste of her. if everyone found out, they’d be jealous. for one driver, they’d be furious— but lewis couldn’t find himself to care right now.

“lewis!” ten minutes later, charles, max and lando found the older british driver in his minibar. 

lewis looked at the trio with curious eyes as charles started, “have you seen max’s sister?”

lewis’ eyes narrowed for a brief moment, “max’s… sister?” he then looked at max with a questioning look.

“yeah, my eldest sister— i brought her tonight. you’ve met her earlier, remember?” the world champion asked lewis with the naivety that everyone else carried in the room. 

oh, lewis had met her, alright. 

he met her tonight. and the races before tonight. and the summer break. and almost everyday. not that the world champion had a knowledge of it. 

lewis let out an ‘ah’ as if he realized who the dutchman was talking about, “that sister! i think i’ve seen her—“

“mon sœur!” my sister! charles exclaimed, slurring out his words as he pointed at the direction of the staircase. “wait… max’s sister!”

there stood max’s sister, who looked less frazzled and fucked out than what she looked like ten minutes ago.

lewis almost chuckled. she’s quick to pretend like she hadn’t had a cock inside her just about now— that’s what lewis loved about her. she knew when to play pretend. 

max’s eyes narrowed at his sister while she approached the group. she immediately glanced at lewis, who merely smirked at the sight of her. max continued to pester her, “where the hell have you been? we’ve been looking for you for an hour!”

“bullshit,” lando called out with a laugh, “you were fucking singing disco tits the entire time! stop lying to everyone!”

the woman’s head cocked to the side as she smirked at her little brother. max’s face flushed red and shoved lando, “shut up.”

“well, i’m here now— and you’re drunk,” she pointed at max. “we’re going.”

“already???” max whined. “fineeee~”

“alright well,” lewis finally spoke. “it’s nice having you lots here. i’ll catch up with you soon, yeah?” but his eyes remained at the sight of her as he smiled. he wasn’t even talking to max or his friends— but her. 

she smirked too (not that the three younger men noticed) and nodded, “absolutely. we’ll catch up with you soon, lewis. thanks for the invite.” 

and it wasn’t even fifteen minutes later after the verstappen siblings departed when the knighted driver received a text.

the better verstappen 🥰: thanks for the invite, lew 💗 i hope the compensation paid off

lh 🫶: you know that times spent with you are worth more than one shitty season my love 😉

lh 🫶: def made things better after abu dhabi tho. what do you think about going to san marino and bora bora for the long break?

the better verstappen 🥰: for you? i’ll keep excusing myself from max’s family vacation plans baby

♡   moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1

[murdrdocs]

fully charged | f. odair

description. a grueling week spent in the arena where you thought about two things, survival and finnick odair, has come to an end, leaving you to make your way back to finnick's arms to finish what you both started.

aka part 2 to saber tooth

includes. SMUT 16+, fem!reader, reader has hair to wash, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (don't do this irl), fingering, super soft finnick, brief mention of trauma from the games, finnick loves consent ! (so do i), switches pov for a line but don't focus on that okay focus on the sex, not proofread but its 3 am

a/n: i stayed up super late to finish this and i didn't do my homework so don't ever say i never do anything for yall (i wasn't gonna do my work anyway and i was gonna stay up but shh). title from disco tits by tove lo

word count: 5.0k+

Blood on your hands, a headache that makes your ears ring and your vision spin, a simultaneous feeling of indescribable hunger and tear-inducing nausea, but the only thing on your mind is Finnick. 

The Capitol airlift coming to the area was quick, and you’d never been happier to leave somewhere. You don’t look down at the open meadow that you’d spent the last days in. You look up into the jet, both joyed and disappointed to see the nurses and medics who awaited you. 

Hours of injections and force feedings and encouragement to sleep later, and you were finally closer to Finnick than you had been in the last week. 

The little notes he sent through sponsored care packages gave you the strength to make it out of there, and now that you are out, just the thought of seeing him is what keeps you on your feet. 

“And everyone is so thrilled to have you back. There is a feast planned later tonight, and another for when you get home to Four, and of course a housewarming party to get you settled into the Village,” Mitch, your escort, rambles on as he leads you through the train cars, all the way to your personal area. Through each car that you walk through, your eyes scan the area for the golden blonde boy that you’d been happiest to see. And when you come up empty again and again, your heart feels as if it shrinks. 

“But first, you need a shower. No offense,” Mitch smiles, his hands on your shoulders to turn you around to face the bathroom. 

“None taken,” you mumble. Truth be told, you had more things on your mind to worry about other than how you smelt. The sound of Mitch’s dress shoes clacking against the floor announces his intended departure, but you turn around to stop him before he can leave. 

“Yes, dearie?” 

“Do you know where Finnick is?” The train hadn’t started moving yet, you were still at the Capitol’s station, so if Finnick were not aboard yet there was still time for him to join. 

“Um, no.” Mitch looks disappointed by his own answer. “He said he had business to take care of and he might be traveling home with us. But I do not know for sure.” 

Mitch’s answer leaves you with an intense feeling of loneliness, but you push it down as you make your way to the bathroom. 

The shower is hotter than it needs to be, but the sting on your skin is welcomed. You scrub along your body with the exfoliating cloth until it’s visibly irritated, and even then, you continue a few more times. Images of the arena attempt to surface, a knot in your throat with each memory and self-deprecating thought that accompanies it, but you push it down with another pump of shampoo and you wash it away with the suds. 

You’re on your third round of washing your hair whenever the whirring sound of the door to the bathroom opening meets your ears. 

You stop rinsing, your eyes opening to look out around you. An unusual thick cloud of steam clouds the pristine area, you squint as you attempt to see who, or even what, has entered. 

You come up short. Not knowing who was there makes you anxious and you regress into the thought process that you’ve become well acquainted with.

Your eyes scan the spacious shower, looking for something sharp. There’s nothing to defend yourself with, which means you’ll have to rely on your hands. Quickly, you rinse them in the running water, getting rid of the suds, and then you reach out to pull the shower door open. 

“Hello?” you ask, your voice stronger than it would have been if you were in this predicament 7 days ago. 

It’s silent for a few seconds, then a breath is heard, followed by a smooth timbre. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

Finnick. 

He stands in the corner of the bathroom, just out of sight from where the shower had you angled. His back is turned, leaving you to see the linen of his shirt and the dark-honey blonde of the bottom of his hair as his head is bowed. You want nothing more than to see his face. 

Your foot reaches out to meet the plush rug, but you stop when the cool outside air enters the shower and you’re reminded that you’re naked, wet, and your hair is nowhere near presentable. But in the grand scheme of things, none of that matters. 

So you step out of the shower, your feet sinking into the plush rug and your heart banging against your chest, and a smile reaches your face when you say, “Finnick.” 

His head turns first, then his body, and you’re met with the sea-green eyes that you’ve thought about every night since that night. His eyes stay on your face, even though you’re completely nude. 

You barely feel any shame or insecurity. 

“Hey,” he says again, his pretty pink lips pulling into his own smile. 

“Hi.” 

There’s a few moments of serene silence, both of you just taking in the presence of the other, and then Finnick makes the move to cross the room. 

His hands lift and his palms find the wet skin of your cheeks. He smiles. He blinks. Then he moves in. 

When Finnick kisses you, it’s like nothing else in the world even exists. The entire Universe in that moment is just you and Finnick, two people who have always existed together. Nothing else. 

His lips gently pull from yours, but he doesn’t go far, his forehead resting against yours. 

“It’s good to see you again,” he tells you. 

“I’ve missed you,” you tell him. 

He smiles. “I’ve missed you too.” 

Finnick lets you finish cleaning up. He was going to leave the bathroom, but when you asked him to stay, your eyes welled up with tears and your voice cracked and he wanted  to stay anyway, so he planted himself right outside of the shower then. 

It takes a while for you to get ready, you spent most of the time scrubbing dirt out from under your fingernails and trying to scrub out the stench that permeated inside of your nose, but dinner was delayed for you, and no one complained. It’s when you were sitting at the table, eating food that was somehow still warm, with Finnicks hand on your knee and proud and sympathetic looks from your stylist and escort, that you realize that things are going to revolve around you for a while. 

A nightmare plagued sleep on the train, a welcome party at the station in Four, a housewarming party in a renovated mansion in the Victors Village, another dress from your stylist, and a large dinner with friends you haven’t considered friends in years, with your family and Finnick in attendance. 

And now you’re alone again. 

Not exactly alone. Finnick’s sitting outside of your new bathroom, waiting for you, which is as alone as you’re going to get for a while. 

Your makeup is gone, you’re out of the dress and into a pair of comfortable pajamas, and there’s a nervous anticipation in your chest. Not the kind of nervous anticipation that you’d felt in the area, but the kind that you felt last week when Finnick came to visit. 

The kind where you hoped that something sentimental was going to happen soon, and as you pull the door open and come face to face with Finnick who sits at the edge of your bed, you knew that something sentimental was going to happen. 

“Hey,” he scoots over to make room for you. 

You take the space beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Hi.” His shoulder works as a comfortable pillow, which you’d dreamed of for many nights when you only had grass as an actual pillow. . “Are you planning to stay here tonight?” You lift your eyes to look at him, a fluttery feeling spreading all over your body when you see that he was already looking at you. 

He blinks, his tongue moistens his lips. “If you’d like me to.” 

You hum. “I would.” 

“What would I do?” 

A shrug from you. “Help me settle in.” 

“Oh so you’re using me staying as an excuse to have me kill bugs, chase out mice, dust the corners.” 

You laugh. It feels good to laugh. 

“Maybe.” Your shared laughter dies down and a still silence places itself over the room. You stare ahead, take a deep breath, and say, “And to keep me warm.” 

Finnicks hand snakes around your waist, cupping the outside to pull you flush into his side. His lips are against the crown of your head, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can feel them move when he assures you. “That’s what I’m best at.” 

There’s a bit of silence that you use to turn yourself to fully face Finnick. His hand gravitates to your lower back with the movement. 

He stares at you expectantly, and you smile gently. “Thank you,” you tell him. 

His eyebrows furrow. “For?” 

A small shrug from you. “Keeping me alive … in there. And for being my best friend and so much more that I can’t think of right now.” 

Both of Finnick's hands cup your cheeks and his forehead knocks into yours, then his nose, then his lips. 

He kisses you softly, pressing a single kiss into your parted lips, the two pairs molding and sticking together as if they were always meant for each other. You melt into the second kiss, thankful to get to feel this again. A thought arises within you, one that details you and Finnick getting to do this for the rest of your lives, no longer plagued with the thought of being reaped. If that’s something he also wants. 

The kiss is nice, but it’s also not quite what you want. 

You communicate that by tilting your head, letting your hands meet the back of Finnick’s head, and scooting yourself closer. 

Finnick mimics your new found ferocity, but it seems like he’s still not getting it. You push your chest into his, you slide your hands down his torso, letting them rest on his abdomen, and then he pulls away and furrows his eyebrows. 

Now he’s getting it. 

“Are you sure? Are you ready?” 

You can feel the touch of his hand on your lower back getting lighter as if he’s anticipating your denial. But you nod, no hesitance behind the movement, and since you know he’s going to want to hear it verbally, you part your slick lips and say, “I’m sure. And I’m ready.” 

Finnick has you on your back in the center of your bed quickly. You’re still fully clothed, but obviously not for long with the way his large hand is roaming under your shirt. The other rests beside your head, pressed into the pillow and keeping him afloat above you. 

You can feel the ghost of his knee between your parted legs and he’s too far away. You need him closer. You need his chest against yours instead of a few inches away, you need his knee pressed against your center, you need his entire being to become fused with yours. 

There’s no way for you to communicate that when he’s kissing you so hard that you consider the possibility that your lips would bruise. Not that you’re complaining one bit.

Finnick pulls away from your lips to press kisses into your jaw and neck, where he switches from simple kisses to sucking actual bruises into your skin. The feeling of his lips sucking the skin and his teeth nipping stings, not in the way an ant bite does, but in the way that has your back arching and you feel the scratch of the linen of Finnick’s shirt against the cotton of yours. 

You let out a breath, not meaning for it to sound as much of a moan as it does, but Finnick’s lips curl up against your skin. He presses a final, chaste kiss into the bruise that you know to be forming, and he leans back to give you a full look. 

“Can you take this off for me?” His hands tug at your shirt once. 

You nod, sitting up to fill the space that Finnick makes by leaning back, and you swiftly pull the shirt over your head. For the sake of comfort, you’d opted out on a bra tonight, and the decision is clearly thanked by Finnick. 

He’s staring, marveling, at your bare chest, taking in the sight. You know the way he’s looking at you is a good sign, but you can’t help but feel a little insecure, something in your mind telling you to cover up. Your hands twitch at your sides to make the move to your chest, but then Finnick’s speaking. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says it like he means it. There’s something in you, the same thing that tried to convince you to cover up, that tells you that he doesn’t mean it. He’s just saying it in the heat of the moment. 

But your better judgment comes into play then and it notices that Finnick’s tell still isn’t there. He’s still telling the truth. 

You smile, just a little bashful, and reach to tug at the end of Finnick’s shirt. 

“Even the playing field, Odair.” He does as you say, his hands finding the neck hole of his shirt and pulling it over his head, tossing it off the side of your bed. 

Then his lips are back on your skin, kissing at your collarbone and steadily moving down your chest. He’s just pressing little kisses along your skin, not staying in one place too long, but the anticipation swims low in your stomach and makes you push your chest up into the air, waiting for Finnick to hopefully reach the destination you want him to go to. 

When he does, when his lips wrap around your nipple, you sigh blissfully. 

He gives the bud the same treatment that he delivered onto your neck, sucking and nipping, just a tad more gentle. All the while, his sea-green eyes stare up at you, gauging your reaction, seeing if he’s doing the right or the wrong thing. 

Your face is one of nothing but pleasure, mouth parted, eyes closed, eyebrows pinched together with enough tension to tell him that he’s doing right, not wrong. 

He switches to the other bud, and his hand trails down to the elastic waistband of your pants. Your hips wiggle, impatience finding you quickly, and then his hand slips past the elastic and his middle finger nudges between your clothed folds. 

You shiver, a quiet mewl escaping past your lips. Your sounds only increase in volume when Finnick adds his ring finger and works then up and down your slit, circling them at your clit when they reach that point, and then working their way back down and teasing your hole. 

When Finnick’s warm mouth detaches from your hardened bud, the cool air hits it and sends goosebumps onto the finest layer of your skin like a wave. They multiply when he speaks. 

“You’re so wet, darling,” His fingers trail back up to circle your clit languidly, not fast enough to give you any real satisfaction, but enough to let you know that they’re there. “‘S all for me?” He’s teasing, pulling your leg, because who else would it be for? 

The corner of his lips pull up into a smirk, confirming your suspicions, and you mean to say something equally as teasing back, something that would make his smile drop. 

But your mouth works faster than your brain. 

“Of course, Finn. Always all for you.” 

He swears under his breath, his fingers stopping right on the hidden nub. He blinks, inhales, then fixes his gaze on your expectant one. 

“You really mean that?” His hand flexes beside your head and you turn your head, your eyes fixed on him, and press a kiss into his forearm. 

“I do.” 

Finnick has your pants and panties off and thrown to the opposite side of your bed so quickly that you barely have time to process it. You only start to process how bare you are whenever his thick fingers come back to your center and this time, you feel them. 

You feel the rough skin of his finger pads, the way they glide through your slick, toy with your clit, then sink down to begin to probe at your entrance. 

You let him, your legs falling open even more when his middle finger sinks in to the first knuckle. He glances at you before he continues, and you’re in a state of bliss already, so he continues until the deft digit is sheathed completely inside your walls. 

Finnick only fucks you with the single finger for a few moments, then you’re reaching down and wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing your hips into his hand, silently telling him that you want more. 

So he adds another. 

He curls them, reaches them deep inside of you, searches for the spot that he’ll memorize for minutes from now when you get the real deal. 

His watchful eyes search your reactions, too. He watches the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips and the way your lips part and how your eyebrows pinch together more and more until there. He finds it and your back arches off the bed and your hiss turns into a pretty cracked moan. 

“Right there?” he asks for confirmation. 

“Right there.” 

You feel lips kiss your inner thigh and then Finnick’s focusing on that spot a few more times, then he’s abandoning it. You hold in your disappointed sigh, but the feeling of Finnick separating his fingers, scissoring you open, is one that’s greatly welcomed as a replacement. 

You gasp, moan, your back arches, your nails dig into the sheets. Finnick’s other hand goes to your clit, rubbing little circles. “Holy shit, Finn.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Better than my own.” 

An image of you in a similar position, but with your own hands between your legs and not Finnick’s, flashes in his mind and is that a sight to see. 

“Are you close, sweetheart?” 

You nod, expecting Finnick to work you harder, faster, to guide you to the edge. He does the exact opposite. 

He pulls his fingers away from your cunt and your eyes open, staring down at him with bewilderment written all over your face. 

“You still want me to fuck you?” His eyebrows raise. 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“Okay then.” 

You watch him stand, slip his pants and boxers off, and you shamelessly stare at his dick, propped up on your elbows for an unobstructed view. 

The way it sits so prettily, erected, reaching right at his abdomen. Flushed the same pink as his lips at the head, leaking a picturesque drop of precum. You could just sit and marvel at Finnick’s cock for a while longer than you’re given. But he bends down to search the pockets of the pants he came in, and swears when he doesn’t find what he needs. 

“What? What is it?” You think you know what it is but you’re really hoping you don’t. 

Finnick stands straight again and looks at you, obviously dejected. “No condoms.” 

Fuck. 

You’re silent, attempting to think of a solution. 

“I could just go to mine, it's right next door, you know. I’ll be quick.” 

He could. But you truthfully don’t care at this moment. 

You’re sure there has to be some sort of morning after preventative that you could get your hands on now that you're Victor, and Finnick looks so appetizing just standing there, there’s no way you would be able to survive the few minutes that you would have to sit there without him. 

“I don’t care if you don’t.” Your admission has his eyes widening just a bit, then his eyebrows furrowing and his face scrunching into one of slight worry. 

“Are you sure? This isn’t something lighthearted.” 

You nod. “I’m sure. There’s a preventative out there, right?” He thinks for a second, then nods. “Then I’m sure.” 

Finnick climbs back onto the bed, wraps one hand around his cock and the other around the outside of your thigh. He glances at you, “Just relax, okay?”, and then back at your cunt when you nod. 

He lines himself up and your immediate reaction is to tense up, but you take a breath, and relax, and then he breaches. 

It’s painful, not in the way that you’ve felt pain just days ago, but in a stinging way. You can feel yourself stretching around him, allowing him in, and every few inches he stops to remind you to breathe. 

You feel like his member is endless, there always seems to be more and more, but he’s almost there now, home stretch, but you don’t know that until he tells you. 

“Breathe with me, sweetheart. ‘M almost there,” he says, his eyes locking into yours as he takes a deep inhale, nodding when you mirror the action, then he slowly exhales. When you do the same, he slides all the way in until you can feel the base of his dick pressed against your mound. 

When he’s all the way in, the curls at the base of his dick tickling you, you’re able to focus on how good it feels to have Finnick Odair’s dick nestled inside of your walls. The stretch is addicting. Your head’s spinning, your mouth salivating, and you just know that you’re gonna be addicted after this. 

Now that he’s situated within you, Finnick brings his forearm back to push into the pillow beside your head. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then to your lips when you turn your head. 

“Let me know when it’s okay to move, okay?” 

You nod. “You can move.” 

Finnick seems a little unsure, but your hips wiggle and you moan and he takes your word for it. 

He starts slow, pulling out halfway then pushing back all the way in. You’re so receptive, little breaths and moans leaving your lips and immediately meeting his ears. He relishes in the sounds, the auditory display of satisfaction going right down to his groin, encouraging him to fuck you harder and deeper. 

He starts to pull out more, inch by inch, and push back in with more force. There’s no way for you to describe the feeling you’re in other than euphoric. For a second, you search your brain for descriptors, ways you can put the feeling to words for when you think about it later on, but you come up so short and Finnick is making you feel so good that you forget what you were thinking about in the first place with the next thrust. 

“Doing okay?” 

“More than okay, Finn.” 

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” He lifts his face to level it with yours, green eyes staring at you, watching you get lost in his gaze and blink yourself awake multiple times. “You can do it, baby. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” 

Is he reading your mind? 

“You’re an asshole.” He laughs. 

“That’s no way to treat the guy making you feel this good, is it?” 

He tilts his head, waiting for your response. You shake your head, back to being fucked out, and Finnick decides to let you off the hook for now. 

He leans down, pushing his lips to yours and letting you sloppily kiss him while his hips rock into yours. 

You didn’t think there was a way that you could feel better than this, but Finnick shifts his hips when he pulls out, then he pushes back in with more assurance and confidence and he finds that same spot and your back arches, your chest pushing into his. 

“That’s it,” Finnick coos, either talking to himself or you, you’re not really sure. Either way, you still nod. 

The linen sheets rub at your back, the crisp pillow cover crinkles with each thrust that sends you up the bed a little more, you can feel your pussy leaking around Finnick. You can smell him, a mix of the smell of the sea and a musk that is so unique to him that you want the scent to live permanently in your nose. 

Your eyes are open, somehow, and you’re watching Finnick. The way the vein in his head pops out every so often, how his tanned skin looks in the low light of your bedroom, the way sweat reflects off of his forehead and a bead looks as if it’s going to trickle down and land onto your tit. You watch it, lost and mesmerized by everything that is Finnick Odair, and when it lands on your chest you just feel like he’s giving you even more of himself. 

You want to give him more of you, too, but you don’t know how. Not here, in this position, with this hazed state of mind, so you do what you can. You dig a hand in his hair, scratching at his scalp and pulling at the strands with just enough tension, and you arch your back from the lowest point, pushing your hips further into him. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart. One of a kind.” His hips are starting to speed up a bit, getting a little sloppier too if you really focus. But all you can focus on is the slight rasp in his voice when he praises you. “Don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave this pussy after this. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave you.” 

You know what he means. You’ve known Finnick most of your life, long enough to be able to read between lines that sometimes aren’t even there. You know what he means. 

You keen, the sound a little embarrassing but not enough for you to reflect on the thought for more than a second. 

“‘M close, Finnick.” You can feel it low in your belly, burning, begging for your attention. This build up feels different from the last, a little more urgent, maybe. A little more prevalent. 

This build up has you desperately chasing after it, terrified that you won’t catch it, that it’ll somehow slip past your grasp and you’ll be left unsatisfied. You know you don’t have to worry about that when Finnick’s the one making you feel so good. 

The hand on your thigh inches towards your core, his thumb singling out and connecting with your clit. It only takes a few tight circles and a few more expert thrusts for you to fall over the edge, your legs lifting, hooking behind Finnick’s back to keep him close to you. Not like he was planning to go anywhere. 

He feels so good like this, fucking you through your orgasm. You don’t want him to pull out, but you know he should. You know he has to. He tells you as much. 

“Squeezing me so hard, sweetheart. Fuck, I gotta … gotta pull out.” You really, really, don’t want him to, but you let your legs drop and Finnick pulls out and his hand wraps around his lubed up dick, pumping a few times and then he’s spilling warm spurts of cum over your tummy. 

You watch your stomach rise and fall rapidly with your breaths, the white substance glistening against your skin. Finnick watches it too, then he’s coming back for more kisses. 

These are a little less sloppy, a little more gentle, a little more loving. 

You feel yourself slipping out of it as he kisses you, your lips a little less receptive with each passing moment. Finnick notices and he pulls back, leaving you with one more chaste kiss before he’s leaving the bed and the sound of his feet on your hardwood lets you know that he’s moving towards your bathroom. 

You don’t bother opening your eyes, you just listen to the sound of the closet door opening, the sound of running water starting and stopping, more feet against hardwood, then you feel the bed dip with Finnicks weight. 

You flinch, then giggle, when the towel rubs at your inner thighs and then your stomach. 

Finnick giggles with you, and you feel so domestic, so loved and cared for. 

You peek your eyes open, watching the way he gently cleans you up. As if he feels eyes on him, he lifts his gaze, and smiles, dimples on display. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi.” 

“Am I still invited to spend the night?” 

You pretend to think, but you’re too tired to even do that. 

“If you make me breakfast in the morning,” you settle on, your hands under the folded back sheets of your bed. 

You slip under the sheets and you watch Finnick carelessly throw the towel off to the side of the bed. Your mouth falls open. “And clean that up,” you add. 

Finnick doesn’t bother responding. He just climbs to the top of the bed, slips under the covers with you, and pulls you to his chest with a kiss to your head. 

Cuddled up with Finnick is a feeling you know you could get used to, and you hope you’ll be able to. You try not to think about how fleeting this could be. Instead, you force yourself to be optimistic, focusing on the riches you now have, and the beautiful home that’s on the beach and next to your best friend, and the way he’s holding you so securely to his chest, and the peaceful sleep that’s begging to be welcomed into the equation. 

You decide to count it in, nestling even further into Finnick’s warmth and closing your eyes. 

They immediately reopen and squint at the corner to the left of your bed. 

“Finnick,” you whisper, continuing when he hums. “There’s a bug in the corner.” 

“Where?” 

You lift a finger, pointing to where it is. “Right there.” 

Finnick sighs and stands. 

“And pick that towel up while you’re at it please.”

[druidshollow]

can we get more roleswap au content 👀

yea sure :D

first doodle is rivers and phrases after the fall where rivers loses his arm. phrases is trying to dig him out of the rubble and hes rambling about murdering the people who did this to them

second one is rivers and DY fighting! since DY's angst with space in off string has to do w the fact that space and co murdered DY's friend snow, i figured itd make sense for rivers tove done that here. DY accidentally spills the beans and sells phrases out, oops. give it a break its bleeding out

third doodle is phrases being nervous and afraid around dune and her siblings, "sleeping" with a spear and remaining on guard at all times. they are quite terrified of them for a fair amount of time

[tnoy-keraxis]

talk to me about the bog's hollow players please! general vibes? headcanons? thoughts on ragweed?

Oh absolutely thank you so much for asking about them I have so many thoughts!!! I have put a cut because I’m going to ramble.

As for general headcanons, their names are as follows

Sigrid Ormsby (Bryce’s Player)

Alaric Hastings (Curt’s Player)

Bertram Hastings (Jon’s Player)

Cyprian Warwick (James’ Player)

Clarice Beaumont (Angela’s Player)

Anneke Hargrave (Lauren’s Player)

Fiora Irvine (Mariah’s Player)

Gregor Cheeseman (Joey’s Player)

Eydis Longfellow (Kim’s Player)

David Bowman (The Narrator, guess who he’s named after)

And of course the understudies:

Petra Lovelace (Mary-Kate’s Player)

Tove Hawthorne (Allison’s Player)

Sabine Cromwell (Rianny’s Player)

Then for the band it’s:

Matthias Longfellow (Matt) (canon name)

Toothless John (Austin) (canon name)

Elias Wibbler (Josh) (partially-canon name)

Eliot Wibbler (Sam) (partially-canon name)

Then of course Ragweed is there too <3 he is very much the tired old man, he is married to David and generally just goes to rehearse his woodblock in another room.

The players are kind of all embroiled in drama all the time. There’s a lot of relationship drama and infighting, it is a miracle they even put the show together.

They’re a mess but they’re a family.

Please ask more I have so many specific things to say about them and their characters.

[ismyteadoneyet]

Bro I must be getting better at drawing bcs I can pull off really Great™ (to me) drawings at such a fkn higher speed than before now. But it also poses such a fkn silly issue and such a not-problem, and YET-

I uploaded the "Sel /VS/ Medical Tape" drawing two days ago and THE VERY SAME FKN DAY I finished another silly one (that I could probably finesse a lil better, to be fair) but I wanted the other drawing to get some traction first, so I saved the new one as a draft.

TODAY, TWO DAYS LATER, I FINISH A THIRD ONE AND I'M LIKE ??? What do I do now ??? Is this what I use queues for ??? Do I schedule fkn DROPS of fanart ??? To space them out a bit?? Cause like ??? I'm really proud of both ??? I wanna show this one to the world too ??? I wanna share this one with my Legendborn besties (and my other besties/mutuals, of course) IMMEDIATELY ??? But what about my poor Selwyn drawing barely getting fkn 48h of spotlight before it's shoved down from its "Pinned Post" spotlight ???

Also to be fair, Bree Matthews herself would be the one taking his place, which is valid imo LOL

Help ???? 😭😭😭

[sweetxloverxx]

It does! I can think of a few easy but cute hairstyles that would work!

“Hi, you must be haven! It’s so stellar to finally meet you in person!! I’ve heard so much about you from Haven!”

She smiles brightly, holding out her hand.

@minorgoddess-majorfun

Oh! Yeah! That's me!

*Haven smiles, shaking Tove's hand.*

Haven Arcadia, daughter of Aphrodite!

[dougielombax]

I wonder if the Wombles and the Moomins (not Mormons!) know eachother.

I imagine they’d be close friends or bitter enemies.

They’d either hold gatherings in the woods together, or beat the shite out of eachother in a public park in a massive drunken pissup.

[fatherramiro]

1899 university AU

This fic is set in the present day, at Singleton University (a private university, extremely selective and incredibly secretive). Maura has taken up a psychology teaching position there, through family connections, after her controversial research into memory and the self cost her her position at Oxford and after suffering the loss of her son, just in time for weird shit to start happening there.

Iben runs the theology department; her two oldest children Krester and Tove are both studying at the school due to her connections. Krester is studying theology, but Tove shocked everyone and is studying engineering. She's taking one of Maura's classes for fun.

Other notable characters: Eyk (teaches history), Ramiro (PhD candidate; I'm leaning towards comparative lit since I want him to also be a humanities guy, though possibly linguistics), Ángel (was supposed to be studying law, pissed off his mother because he's now getting a Master of Fine Arts in drawing), Olek (engineering student), Ling Yi (still figuring out a major), Jérôme (first year Masters student in political science), Clémence (Maura's TA for her psychology class, finishing up her degree in psychology), and Lucien (first year Masters in political science, he and Jérôme were roommates in undergrad but now hate each other). Daniel is there too but I'm working out his role currently. Virginia Wilson is also there, I think she's an alumna of the school and now basically controls the board of directors.

Ciaran Singleton, a genius at computer science and coding, disappeared from campus a year ago after he and his sister's research into simulating human consciousness came to light and he fell from grace. No one has seen him since. Henry Singleton, the dean of the college, seems way too chill about his son's disappearance than he should be. I wonder why...

As the school year begins, students start mysteriously disappearing or dying on campus. Some who go missing are found having gone mad, rambling about a steamship and deeply disturbing traumatic flashbacks. Maura recognizes some of what's happening as being tied to her old work, and thinks that her brother might be trying to take their incredibly fucked up research from when Maura was at Oxford and take it to new, even more fucked up levels. This is devolving into a full story and I'm going to add it to the list of AUs I want to write.

[comfortless]

Hey! What were your favorite books/authors growing up and what are they currently if you don't mind me asking? I would love to know where you get your inspo from cause you write so pretty

hello!! ohhh.. i love this question it’s so cute. thank you for the compliment and for asking! 💞 apologies for my rambling heheh

growing up, i was never allowed to read most… popular series because my mother went through an extremely religious phase until i was a teenager. dodged the bullet of succumbing to Harry Potter and the like, so i always found myself in the library reading the most obscure things!

i obsessively read the Deltora Quest books by Emily Rodda most of all. the covers were so sick. i can’t recall which one it happened in, but when the main trio all had their toes chopped off?? i do not think 8 year old me should have been reading that, but i was obsessed with dragons as any other kid should be! it lead me to reading The Inheritance Cycle series by Christopher Paolini, too. anything fantasy that was a bit odd held my attention. The Pricker Boy by Reade Scott Whinnem, The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, and all of the Moomin books by Tove Jansson were some other favorites!

i also read a lot of fairytales (to the surprise of no one, i’ll bet) and The Mabinogion. i still go back and reread those whenever i can. The White Cat is one of my many favorites!

as an adult i do not get to read much, unfortunately. so, i do sort of feel that my writing is a bit stunted at times. i was combing through a lot of Mercedes Lackey’s stuff for a little while. and recently, i finished The Devil All the Time by Donald Ray Pollock. a coworker gave me Twilight Eyes by Dean Koontz and whereas I do not care for his writing that much… parts of that particular book were really intriguing to me. poetry is nice too, always, but if anyone were to ask me for a list of my favorite poets i think that i would combust <- so many things in my brain and i can not remember most unless i’ve obsessively read over their work 90 times minimum sorry.

but….

i think that most of my inspiration comes from music with lyrics that capture me and long bouts of daydreaming, nowadays. i also like to visit abandoned places or overgrown parks when i need a place to think or just… feel for ambience. my favorite places in the world right now are this huuuge swamp full of alligators with a tiny cemetery that’s at least two hundred years old (like fifteen people have died there in the last decade & i will never be one of them) and a park that houses a supposed werewolf (no matter how many treats i bring it is yet to be seen… pain… but it is dreadfully silent there and a park keeper once told me “watch out!! that thing is big and super ugly!!” which i think is very funny). i would not recommend doing things like that however unless you are of similar stature to me (insert chad meme) or go with a group!! do not get eaten by a giant dogman, please.

in conclusion I am NOT immune to good cover art or the appeal of pretending to be a lil knight in the old wood…

^ syl reveal pt 2

[flowerbloom-arts]

"Moomin and its casual relationship with religion/Christianity is something that's truly understated by the fandom or forgotten about entirely and I think it's one of the more fascinating aspects to dive into. I dunno, I could ramble about for quite a bit."

Please do! I would love to hear it. If thou wished so. That is.

Okay SO.

I'm gonna elaborate in that I don't know what Tove's relationship to religion/Christianity is? I know she had a Jewish friend who had to flee the country in WW2 and she probably celebrated Easter and Christmas but otherwise I haven't read anything on her views of religion or what flavor of Christian she is, so I'm just going to base this entire post on what we see within the franchise and try not to speculate on what the Janssons believed.

But like, anyway, the subject of religion in Moomin is pretty subtle in that uhhhh

... maybe it's not too subtle... but I blame it on people not reading the books or comics and watching the 90s and 2019 series as it is almost clean of religious dialog or plot points except for, like, the existence of Christmas I guess.

And the existence of Christmas instead of, like, some unchristian equivalent to it in Moominland is telling in itself. What alot of people don't realize that despite all the magic and shenaniganery that happens in Moominvalley, Moominland is still a sort of.... slightly tweaked, absurdist portrait of the real world. In the books there are references to Mexico, America, Finland itself; Moomintroll mentions venetian curtains which implies the existence of Venice, Tarzan as a pop culture icon is referenced. In the comics the Moomins time travel to Wild West era southern USA, ancient Greece, Ancient Egypt, they wanted to travel to 18th century France but they forgot to switch the location, there are references to Soviet Russia and Australia gets mentioned and the Moomins travel to a Mediterranean beach town which is basically a fusion of 2 real life Spanish towns down to the combined naming (Although Majorca also still exists??), brands like Old Smuggler's and Lyle's Gold Syrup and Maxwell House and Lipton get shown directly on the pages... so many other things... point is, Moomin isn't a fantasy world separated from the real one and with all of this you can't argue about alternate origins of the Christmas holiday, it just is there as it is celebrated in the real world.

In Comet in Moominland, Sniff name-drops the Moses of the Bible in reference to Snufkin being found in a basket like him and the kids have a conversation about how dangerous it was to send a baby down a river:

‘Haven’t you got a mother?’ asked Moomintroll looking very sorry for him.

‘I don’t know.’ said Snufkin. ‘They tell me I was found in a basket.’

‘Like Moses,’ said Sniff.

‘I like the story about Moses,’ said the Snork. ‘But I think his mother could have found a better way of saving him don’t you? The crocodiles might have eaten him up.’

‘They nearly ate us up,’ said Sniff.

‘Moses’ mother could have hidden him in a box with air-holes,’ said the Snork maiden.

‘That would have kept the crocodiles out.’

Mr. Hemulen begs the heavens to protect and preserve him:

‘Heaven protect me!’ gasped the Hemulen,

(...)

‘Oh, heaven preserve me!’ exclaimed the Hemulen,

In Finn Family Moomintroll, Muskrat makes more tangible references to Heaven:

(...) the Muskrat gloomily sucking his moustache. 'The earth can crack and fire come down from heaven for all I care (...)

(...)

'(...) Well, I hope the Muskrat heaven is a peaceful place, because I shan't be here much longer.'

In Moominpappa's Memoirs, the Ghost name-drops Hell:

"By all the Hounds of Hell," began the ghost,

In Moominsummer Madness Mymble Jr believes they're going to die and euphemistically mentions Heaven while Little My whines about having to go:

‘That’s the very least,’ replied the Mymble’s daughter. ‘Try to be good now if you can find the time, because in a little while we’re all going to heaven.’

‘Heaven?’ asked Little My. ‘Do we have to? And how does one get down again?’

Emma the Stage Rat says rest in peace for her late husband:

‘Really, thank goodness,’ she cried, ‘thank goodness that my beloved husband, Stage Manager Fillyjonk (mayherestinpeace) can’t see you all! You don’t know a thing about the theatre, that’s clear, less than nothing, not even the shadow of a thing!’

In Tales From Moominvalley, Mymble says My wouldn't go to heaven if she keeps swearing:

‘If you say things like that you’ll never go to heaven,’ the Mymble started instantly,

Snufkin euphemistically uses Heaven while telling the story about his mother's aunt;

Her wonderful belongings gave her no comfort. On the contrary, they only made her think of the day when she’d go to heaven and leave them all behind her

And Sniff echoes this twice;

[Snufkin said] '(...) feeling rather like a balloon, a happy balloon ready to fly away…’

‘To heaven,’ Sniff observed drily. ‘Now, listen…’

(...)

‘I know, I know,’ Sniff said crossly. ‘You’re exactly like Moomintroll. I know how it turned out. Then one evening she gave away her bed too and then she went off to heaven and was so happy, and the right thing for me to do is to give away not only Cedric but everything I have and then hand in my spade and bucket on top of it all!’

And of course, Tales From Moominvalley has the entire short story about Christmas.

Of course, I could be missing or forgetting alot from the books but it paints a very clear picture, I think. And then in the comics...

The use of words like sin and damned and religious exclamations are used alot throughout the comic, and I can't even show all the examples I have collected because of the picture limit, but it's there.

The Black Prophet in Moomin Begins a New Life uses religious language and quite literally lives in a place called Puritan Street, he claims that any form of enjoyment or self-satisfaction is sin, such as looking attractive or eating food you like, and that one must live life in according to one's duty and the betterment of society as opposed to the hedonist view of the White Prophet to abandon all law and order and do only what one pleases.

The plot of the Lars comic Sniff Goes Good founds itself in the event of Sniff having an implied nightmare about going to hell and takes it as a sign that he should morally correct himself.

Moominpappa kept using the word damn (and damned and the blazes) throughout Moomin and the Sea.

The strange thing about the comics is that it uses alot of religious exclamations but replaces God/Lord or Jesus with Edward the Booble which is a really fascinating implication about Boobles in this world but that's beside the point, Groke is also used for more negative exclamations. Just about the only time I remember a character using God/Lord in the comics is that panel of Moominmamma saying Oh Lordy as shown above, otherwise references to God or Jesus themselves are very much missing, I don't know if it's something to do with newspaper censors or what (I could swear there was maybe a cross or a reference to the Devil somewhere in the Lars comics but I can't remember where).

None of the characters seem explicitly religious, atleast with their language, there's no church in Moominvalley or crosses thrown about, which...

Makes the 1969 Moomin series and its reboot, New Moomin, absurdly funny.

DO DO-DO-DO DO DO DOOOOO...

DUN-DUN!

DUN DUN!

DU-DUUUUNNNNN...!!

(yes that is a real church, part of a whole episode's plot, it has the cross and everything on top, I just couldn't get a better shot of it than this)

As someone who has watched the subtitled episodes available for each series I can say that it is... hilarious whenever it pops up. The usage of Christianity in such a heavy-handed way throughout the shows is very amusing but also fascinating.

It's important to consider that these are a japanese production, and these days, Japan only 1% of the population is self-proclaimed Christian despite the celebration of Christmas and the Christian-style weddings they perform. I couldn't get exact data on Japanese religion in the 20th century but it's doubtful that Mushi Productions, the studio that made these shows and is based in Tokyo, was particularly influenced by the religious colonialism of western Japan (please correct me if I'm wrong, I know I'm not a historian but this stuff fascinates me).

The absurd presentation of these elements feel like it comes from a fascination with the religion than any tangible experience on how mundane, rural European Christians act or believe? Like it's kind of parodying it to get across the fact that this is supposed to be taking place in Europe? The praying, the constant references to Heaven (unrelated to death), Hell, God or the Devil, Snufkin and Moomintroll compelling the Hobgoblin with the Power of Christ, the church that was never in the source material, it's all a bit tacky and I love it??

This element is less present in New Moomin probably due to criticism but it's still very much there. It's probably one of the stranger bits of the series besides the violence of Moomin 1969, but like the rest of the adaptation it feels like it's done in earnest despite its lack of adherence to the source material.

...

All this to say, there's probably a Moomin Jesus who died for their Moomin sins in canon and that is still absurdly funny to think about in an abstract sense after all this time.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

DiscoPunk in their sophomore album

BackAlleyJazzLettuce _________________________

With guitarist Hobie Brown as frontman and bassist Diane Pastors on lead vocals, DiscoPunk is back with another hypnotic, hip-rocking, house-shaking, groundbreaking blend of funk fantasy and rebel rock.

Available wherever you buy vinyls. Or as a free playlist on Spotify & Deezer.

[feat. Royal Blood, Jessie Ware, Gorillaz, No Doubt, Kimbra, & early era The Black Eyed Peas]

Spin it on Spotify Drop the disc on Deezer

BONUS:

Alt covers and Tracklist under the cut (annndd rambling about Diane and Hobie)

ALT COVERS:

Full color - Vinyl Cover / Lights Out - Deluxe Ver.

The Tracklist: In case you'd like to listen to only the rock or funk, or are just curious which song is more Hobie and which is more Diane - I've colorcoded :)

blue for Hobie (rock), pink for Diane (popfunk), and purple for discopunk(-ish) ** - indicates the songs I think match the character/vibe best

disco tits - TOVE LO

** Hella Good - NO DOUBT **

Riot Rhythm - SLEIGH BELLS

** Momentary Bliss - GORILLAZ ( feat Slowthai) **

Hey Baby - NO DOUBT

Hey Mama - THE BLACK EYED PEAS

Lo/Hi - THE BLACK KEYS

Dum Diddly - THE BLACK EYED PEAS

Freak Me Now - JESSIE WARE

MANiCURE - LADY GAGA

FROOT - MARINA

Boilermaker - ROYAL BLOOD

Don't Phuck With My Heart - THE BLACK EYED PEAS

Good in Bed - DUA LIPA

Selfish Soul - SUDAN ARCHIVES

New Gold - GORILLAZ (feat Tame Impala)

Knee Socks - ARCTIC MONKEYS

** Free Yourself - JESSIE WARE **

Come Into My Head - KIMBRA

Figure It Out - ROYAL BLOOD

Take - LUX (feat. Kimbra)

Disco Club - THE BLACK EYED PEAS

and if you read all the way down here, thanks! tell me which cover you liked best if ud like pls :) i hope a kind stray animal of your choosing gives you affection next time u leave the house

_______________

and also AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (*whitney houston whistle*)

im SO happy with how hobie turned out

this just started off as drawing practice and uhhh me wanting to draw these two in an alley smoking reefer and partaking in pre-marital snogging and SUCH, but then it became an album thing and then i was like then i need to make a playlist so i did and i coukdnt choose a cover

and now these are my phone wallscreen

but as you can tell!!! i have like a whole story beginning to end with covering them knowing each other for YEARS and AHHH id never write it out but i love them like i already know what imma draw next

and if you read this far i actually love you thank you so much