#absent apparel

[call-o-the-omen]

[1/3 Slots] Guardian Commission

Will use same lineart, it's a template.

Flatprice of 700g/kt [1:1000 ratio], half of the payment can be done with treasure at max.

-The example art is not entirely finished, but accurate in essence.

Note: The beard is absent so if you give me a male guardian i won't include it. Also won't add multi-eyes and primal eye effects.

•For dragons with no apparel with exception of ones that read as markings/patterns on body. Same goes for skins, if there is a flower on the skin i'll paint it as 2d instead of 3d object.

Background colour can be changed, to red, turqoise etc.

Please message me from in game, user is Kraggarok.

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#2 note: Added missing spikes on the tail to thr sketch.

#flight rising art #dragons #flight rising #flight rising commission #flight rising guardian #creature art #flight rising blog #fr guardian #dragon art

[pathfinders-forge]

Little Thoughts Made Big

Pathfinder’s Forge is spearheaded by a trio of queer, sapphic friends, Sarah @kalevalakryze, Sprout @coldcutfruit, and Cass @cmbdragon98 The three came together when beginning to more actively partake within Star Wars fandom, settling themselves amongst a niche of folks who were particularly excited about wlw focused art and writing! Absently, after going forth on our individual journeys to create separate print shops and projects that contributed to the wider Star Wars fandom, we lamented to each other on how unfortunately small the cut of profit was, for artists who didn’t really have the space and means to create their own prints or stickers within their own homes. Not everyone has a studio space with everything they could ever need, after all. However, it was a bit of luck, that Sarah was able to purchase and make full use of a 3D printer, to help create armor pieces for cosplay! We noted all the incredible stuff that was possible with the printer, how just some pure tenacity and proper space to host it all, really pulled fantasy into reality. “Wow, haha,” we each thought, “Wouldn’t it honestly... Be a bit easy? To make our own shop? To make the items we wanted the most for ourselves? A 3D printer is crazy, how much harder could making stickers and prints possibly be...?” Thoughts became quite real after an evening of pure impulsiveness and active brainstorming. The next thing we knew, we had come up with a store name, we had social media, we had an email to use for business purposes, and we had a fierce wind under our sails. It wasn’t too long after, that we took a leap, researched deeper into what goes into beginning a print shop, we even put out the necessary paperwork! As of January 8th, 2024, Pathfinder’s Forge became an official business, with our headquarters located at Ohio, USA. It’s with the help of Sprout and Cass, the two lead artists who help create designs for stickers, prints, and apparel, that the concept of putting a proper amount of profit into artist’s hands is made real!

#star wars #stickers #etsyseller #etsy #pathfindersforge

[classickook]

paper hearts (part nine): cross that line

pairing: stephen strange x widow!reader

summary: you and stephen finally admit your feelings for each other!

warnings: mentions of ptsd and forced sterilization, swearing, kissing, domestic fluff

word count: 7.6k (i'm so sorry omg)

a/n: a million apologies that this took forever to post but i hope it's worth the wait ! i'm really happy with how it turned out so please share your thoughts! also, huge thank you to @singhfae for discussing some ideas with me, i appreciate you <3

series masterlist | main masterlist

can i come see you?

please.

your last text glared up at you from the screen and you groaned lightly before tossing your phone to the other side of the bed. were you being totally ridiculous? missing him like this? asking for him to come visit after less than a week of being apart? technically, he had been the one to suggest such a thing, but you texted first! what did that say about you? did you appear too desperate? lonely? would he see you as nothing but a childish girl pining away in her bedroom without him? 

you shook your head to clear the incessant thoughts swirling around and tugging you in different directions. he hadn’t judged you for anything thus far, so why would he now? he had been honest with you regarding his feelings and affection for you, and it was about time you did the same. what was so wrong about that?

with another groan, you sat up in bed and bowed your head in defeat. what a mess you were. 

just then, the room glowed with the familiar sizzling sparks of a portal, and before you knew it, stephen had stepped into your bedroom from across the city in a matter of a few moments all while you underwent an absurdly frustrating spout of internal turmoil.

“no need to cry over me, sweetheart. i’m only a portal away.” the snide remark warmed you immediately, his infectious sense of humor and husky voice that you missed more than you cared to admit felt like the calming presence after a storm.

you sat up straighter and pushed your shoulders back as you eyed him from across the room. “who said i was crying? you practically jumped at the opportunity to come see me. i didn’t even have to suggest it.”

his lips turned up into that damn smirk that drove you crazy, bordered by the dark goatee that appeared just as neatly trimmed as the last time you saw him. likewise, his salt and pepper hair was slicked back aside from the loose strand that always curled across his forehead. the familiar red cloak and blue robes that he usually wore were absent, replaced by sweatpants and a light blue hoodie with the inscription ‘columbia university’ on the front in white lettering. he looked humorously casual, practically the polar opposite in appearance compared to the sorcerer apparel he donned himself in every day.

fuck, how could you have missed him this much? it felt like ages had gone by. how had that happened? you had stayed away from the sorcerer for far longer than this, what had gotten into you all of a sudden?

“the invitation was implied,” he continued, taking another step further into your bedroom, eyeing the organized shelving and spotless desk on the other side of the wall, crisp sheets folded over to where you were currently seated and pillows stacked to the side. you suddenly noticed how your room here seemed far less homey, almost vacant compared to the one you now thought of as home back at the sanctum. it was too clean, too empty without the fairy lights and colorful knickknacks with which america had helped decorate your other room. you supposed you missed that too—the sanctum, that is. america too, of course, and wong. 

“did you fall asleep on me over there? is my mere presence boring you that much?”

your head swiveled up to stephen, not even realizing that you had completely spaced out while thinking about your home away from home; although, now that you truly thought about it, the life you had built at the sanctum held all the features of a typical home that you had been without for so long, and you ached to return earlier than you had initially planned.

you faked a yawn, dramatically vocalizing your ‘exhaustion’ to him. “sorry, doc. i forgot how dreadfully dull your voice is. i’ll have to get used to that again.”

he huffed in mock indignation. “i can’t believe i came all this way just for you to criticize me. maybe i should head back since i’m clearly not very welcome here…”

kicking your legs off the side of the bed, you jumped up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. “not so fast, old man,” you said with a quick shove against his shoulder and he smiled down at you, cerulean eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that you loved—

loved?

you cleared your throat before continuing your routine teasing, having so much to catch up on after days away from him. “what has the great doctor stephen strange been up to without me? can’t imagine how boring things must have been.”

“it has been quite boring,” he replied bluntly, before adding a gentle, “i missed you, too, by the way.”

you blinked up at him owlishly, suddenly feeling a bit breathless at his close proximity. stepping back, you forced a self-satisfied smirk onto your lips. “glad to know my absence was noticed.”

“the sanctum doesn’t feel the same without you,” he said carefully, softly. “it’s much too quiet without your constant ridiculing”–you faked a dramatic gasp at that to which he responded with a boyish grin—“and i had no one to help me with the cooking. you should see the sorry state that the kitchen is in. wong nearly kicked me out.”

you shook your head and tsked, “oh, doc. how have you managed this long without me?”

his grin dimmed slightly. “i have no idea.” 

you had a feeling there was an underlying meaning hidden somewhere beneath those words.

the room suddenly felt stifling, much too warm, and you quickly glanced away before you said something that might just ruin what the two of you had going. 

“i almost forgot,” he added after a pause, pulling your attention back to him as he pulled something out from beneath his robes. it was a parcel, small and neatly wrapped in shiny paper. he handed it to you and you noticed the faint tremor to his scarred hands. you took the package gratefully, albeit quite confused, and your forehead scrunched as you surveyed the wrapped object. 

“what’s this for?”

“today’s your birthday,” he responded quietly. “happy birthday, y/n.”

you blinked in stunned silence as you swallowed passed the growing lump forming in your throat. he knew it was your birthday? you had almost forgotten if not for the small celebration that your fellow avengers had thrown together for you. a new set of knives from bucky, a pair of combat boots from yelena, and a stupid joke of a gift from sam who just so happened to surprise you with a cookbook. the others knew how much of a disaster you were in the kitchen, but little did they know that you had turned into quite the chef thanks to stephen.

“how did you know it was my birthday?” you questioned, schooling your features and forcing some amount of strength into your voice to hide just how fragile you felt in that moment. 

“turns out there’s quite a lot you can find out about the avengers on the internet.”

your lips quirked up at the corners. “did you google me, doc?” to which he responded with a sheepish “perhaps.”

you laughed loudly at that. “i can’t believe you,” you said with a halfhearted shove to his chest, allowing your hand to linger for just a moment longer than was probably necessary. 

“we’ll celebrate together when you come home.”

“oh no, it’s okay, you don’t have to do anything—”

“i want to,” he interrupted, “and america has a surprise for you as well.”

you bit your lip and acquiesced with a small nod. “all right.” your gaze then drifted back down to the gift and you teased at the wrapping paper with your index finger. “so what’s inside?”

“open it and see.”

peeling back the paper, you found a simple leather box beneath that revealed a tiny, delicate heart-shaped locket on a thin gold chain that winked up at you. “what—” you glanced up at stephen who had been watching you closely the entire time, gauging your reaction with a hint of trepidation in his expression. “what is this?”

“it’s a necklace,” he stated obviously, though his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. you noticed the tense pull of his shoulders as he stood before you, clearly nervous as you processed your reaction to the gift. you definitely weren’t expecting something so heartfelt or genuine, it was intimate, in a way, something that a real couple would do; exchange gifts, that is. it was as if stephen was giving you the very heart beating within his chest, hoping that you would take care of it for him.

it was simple and small enough that it wouldn’t get in the way during training or missions, and you appreciated that detail he had put in with extra care and thought. you peered at the necklace with a sharper eye, noticing a sort of glow coming from the locket. you clicked it open to see an opalescent orb that was just faintly noticeable in the center. you glanced back up at stephen again, silently asking for clarification.

“i placed an enchantment inside,” he answered smoothly. “it will allow you to see the truth in any situation and navigate through secrets and lies. thought it might help with the whole spy-sorcerer-thing. might enhance your abilities in various situations,” he added as a faint blush rose in his cheeks. “and it’s simple enough to not raise any suspicions so it’ll blend in without a problem.” 

you bit back a smile at the way he was rambling as if rushing to explain the thought behind his gift. he really put so much effort into this and you wondered how long he had been planning it. you pressed your thumb against the cool metal of the locket, feeling a sort of thrumming energy behind it that must have been coming from the enchantment inside. the more you thought about it, the more you realized how much of an advantage this little gift would be giving you. 

“thank you, doc,” you said, pouring sincere gratitude into your tone as your eyes flitted back up to meet his. “this is great, really. i love it.”

stephen flashed a smile back at you, almost boyish in the way that it pulled at his cheeks and he appeared somewhat flushed as the two of you locked eyes. he was so sweet in that moment, and so unlike the usual stoic and sarcastic sorcerer he appeared to be around others. maybe this was his way of opening up to someone after such a long time, of offering a piece of himself to you of all people. you felt emotional all of a sudden and cleared your throat in an attempt to maintain your composure in front of him. 

“would you help me put it on?”

he nodded as he removed the necklace from its box and stepped around you, shoulder gently brushing against yours as he passed. a quiet incantation of a spell you had heard him say before met your ears in a low whisper; it was the one he had used to steady his hands all those months ago to stitch up your arm. 

stephen’s fingers were warm against your skin as he shifted your hair out of the way, now loose from its usual braid due to the late hour, and settled the locket around your neck to rest just below the space between your collarbones. you could feel his breath against your nape as he stood behind you, trailing his fingers across your skin in a barely-there touch as he clasped the golden chain at the back. a hot flush crept up your neck and you hoped he couldn’t hear the catch in your lungs as you released a shaky exhale. 

“there,” he murmured before taking a step back and returning to his original position in front of you, cerulean gaze flitting down to the locket resting comfortably against your skin. you could barely feel it now, it was as if it had always been there.

“thanks.”

he smiled warmly at you, lips turned upwards in genuine gladness. “i guess i should probably let you rest now, it’s late.”

“okay.”

“i’ll see you back at the sanctum soon?”

you nodded, then suddenly paused as your eyes dropped to his wrist where the sleeve of his hoodie slipped down as it raised to open a portal, remembering something that had been niggling in the back of your mind but you hadn’t quite built up the courage to ask until now. perhaps you felt a bit closer to stephen now after the events of that evening. “hey, doc?”

“hmm?”

“i’ve been meaning to ask… what happened to your watch?”

“i threw it out.”

you balked at him. “but… i thought—”

“it doesn’t serve a purpose for me anymore,” he replied simply, offering you a small smile, then, “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, doc,” you whispered as a portal once again materialized in your bedroom, silently watching as stephen stepped toward it and disappeared on the other side, wishing you could follow him.

you returned to the sanctum a few days later, opening a portal inside your bedroom to drop off your bags before announcing your presence to stephen and america. 

as you placed some items back in their usual homes, you noticed something resting on top of your bed. upon further inspection, it appeared to be a medium-sized box messily wrapped in colorful tissue paper with a small card taped to the front. you smiled to yourself, realizing that this must have been america’s gift that stephen had mentioned to you back at the compound. you reached for the card, loving the little heart that america drew beside your name on the front, and read the message inside.

happy birthday, y/n!

today marks the first birthday we’re celebrating together so i hope it meets your expectations!!! i’m so happy to have you in my life and i don’t where i would be without you, or what would have happened if you hadn’t saved me and included me as part of your family. i feel so lucky to know you, and i’m glad i fell into your and stephen’s universe. anyway, i thought a camera would be a good gift for you so you can create some lasting memories with us here! 

love, america 

p.s. stephen helped me pick it out but don’t tell him i said that, it was supposed to be a secret ;)

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you peeled back the paper, revealing the image of a very nice-looking digital camera, just as her card had indicated. your vision blurred at the heartwarming message and thoughtful present. america really put a lot of consideration into choosing the perfect gift for you, something that she thought would benefit you and truly brighten your day. you had never received a gift like that before, and you didn’t know how to feel. it was like your emotions were on overload and you needed to compose yourself before going downstairs to the others. wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your shirt, you carefully moved the camera box from your bed to your dresser where you would later find a permanent home for it. you couldn’t wait to start capturing all the special moments of your new life and hang them up in your bedroom; the walls did seem pretty bare and needed a bit more personalization anyway. 

blowing out a breath, you studied your appearance in the mirror hanging on your wall—loving how the heart-shaped locket resting between your collarbones winked at you from your reflection—before stepping out the door and down the massive staircase. you were about to round the corner into the kitchen when you heard the familiar voices of stephen and america, and it sounded like they were talking about you.

“what do i say?” came stephen’s voice.

“how you feel,” america snarked back like it was obvious. “duh.”

“that’s very helpful, kid. thanks.”

you snorted at that. their little father-daughter banter was awfully adorable, and it made you happy to see them so comfortable with each other now. 

“i don’t know!” america continued. “you’re the adult here. tell her that you love her.”

stephen sighed. “i did that already and she didn’t believe me. if i take it any further, i might just end up scaring her off for good.” he let out a humorless laugh. “why am i even telling you this? 

please don’t repeat what i said back to her. i’m only going to make a bigger mess of things.”

“hey,” america said gently, tone light and comforting in a way you hadn’t heard before. “it’ll be okay. things will work out for you two, i promise.”

“i’m not so sure about that anymore, kid… she probably doesn’t even want to be with an old man like me.”

“stephen…”

you anxiously chewed at your bottom lip as america attempted to console him. you hadn’t realized that this had been eating away at him and upsetting him so much. hearing the genuine vulnerability—and insecurity, even—in his tone from a powerful man such as himself, because of you, felt like a shock to your system. a cocktail of dread, built, and worry soured in the pit of your stomach at this new revelation, festering there until you felt like you might be sick, all this time, stephen had been so concerned that he might scare you off and push you away from him with no more second changes that he was rambling like a lovesick teenager. 

he really does love you, you thought. stop being such an idiot and tell him how you feel! 

you were about to take a step around the corner to make your presence know when a familiar outline of red fabric suddenly peeked at you from the other side of the wall. 

“hasn’t anyone ever told you that eavesdropping is rude, sweetheart?” 

shit.

“thanks for ratting me out!” you whisper-shouted to the cloak. “i thought we were friends.”

the sentient fabric responded with a little twirl as if pleased by its little tattling stunt before floating back to rest on its owner’s shoulders. upon rounding the corner, you found stephen smirking at you with a grinning america beside him; you wondered if her cheeks hurt. 

“kinda part of the job, doc,” you replied smoothly, hoping your joke would mask your embarrassment at having been caught, by a piece of fabric, no less. 

“heard all that, did you?”

“you want me to be honest?”

“always.”

“…yeah. i’m sorry, i was on my way to the kitchen and i heard you say my name so i just… sorry.”

“it’s all right, i’m not mad. if anything, you should be mad at me.”

“you? why?“

stephen eyed america where she still stood next to him, the teen’s gaze flitting back and forth between the two of you as if she were watching a tennis match. “do you mind giving us a moment?”

“oh, sure,” she agreed innocently and moved to take a step out of the kitchen but you stopped her before she disappeared.

“wait.” you met her in the doorway and leaned down to pull her into a hug. “thank you for my present. i love it.”

she returned your embrace tenfold, squeezing your waist tightly and rocking the two of you back and forth. “you’re welcome, y/n. happy birthday.”

you pulled back and ruffled her hair a bit, shooting her a quick wink once you had finished.

“meet me in the sitting room when you’re done?” america asked.

“sure thing, kiddo.” you watched her leave the room and close the door behind her before turning to face stephen, feeling nervous for what he was planning on saying to you. “so…?” 

“i’m ruined,” he said suddenly.

you eyebrows furrowed. “ruined? what are you talking about?”

“these hands,” he said, looking down at the marred skin with a disgusted frown pulling at his lips. “they’re hideous and can’t do damn near anything they used to. i have to use a spell at every moment of the day just to keep them steady.” he turned to face you fully and your heart nearly cracked at how desolate he appeared, he just looked so… sad, broken, alone. “you could do so much better than me. there’s probably someone much better suited for you and far younger… i’ve just been wasting your time, haven’t i? trying to force my feelings onto you and pushing you away in the process.”

“hey,” you said, reaching for his hands to stop his self-deprecating ramble. “don’t say those things. i, for one, love your hands,” you admitted honestly, watching in silent amusement as his eyes widened, “always have. i just never told you—i haven’t told you a lot of things, actually. but, if you must know, i don’t want anyone other than you. i like spending time with you, and i feel safe here, which is definitely a first. you make me happy and like i can completely relax and let down my guard here—i’ve never experienced that before. you’ve opened so many doors for me and shared little pockets of joy and things i’ve missed out on. i can’t thank you enough for that.”

you could’ve sworn his bottom lip trembled slightly beneath his goatee but didn’t mention it. 

“and by the way,” you said with a small smile, squeezing his hand lightly, “you’re not even that old, doc. but i guess i have a thing for more mature guys.”

“not that old, huh?” he asked amusedly. “you wound me, sweetheart.”

you snorted. “your ego can stand to be knocked down a peg or two.”

he barked out a laugh and then gently flicked your chin. “you’re a real brat, you know that?”

“maybe… you like it though, don’t you?” you asked smugly. 

“i do.”

“thought so,” you replied and then parted ways so you could meet america in the sitting room, as promised.

upon entering, you were surprised to see countless pillows and blankets set up around a large television screen, fairy lights similar to the ones in your room decorated the exterior with a warm glow. trays of food were spread out along the coffee table: fruit plates, pretzels and cheese, as well as mini cupcakes with swirled frosting. 

“what’s all of this?” you asked as your eyes took in everything that america had set up for you.

“it’s your birthday celebration!” she announced happily. “i thought we could hang out in here until dinner, maybe paint our nails and watch some movies together.” she pointed to a small stack of dvds on the floor. “stephen had a few lying around. he said these are classics and that we definitely need to watch them! what do you think?”

you bit the inside of your cheek as tears threatened to spill over. you had certainly done enough crying lately, even though these were the happy kind, you didn’t want america to question you or worry; however, a watery smile curled its way onto your lips and you beckoned the teen over for another hug. “this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you whispered against her hair. “thank you, america.”

two movies later, you and america had both finished painting your nails, of which neither of you had ever done before, so it was certainly an interesting experience, and all of the snack plates had been wiped clean.

as the two of you giggled to each other about a particular scene from your recent movie, the smooth velvet of stephen’s voice sounded from the kitchen and you turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed with an endearing smile pulling at his mouth. “what would you girls like for dinner tonight?”

you returned his smile as america voiced her opinion, and you blindly agreed with whatever she chose as your gaze remained focused on the sorcerer across the room. 

all your life, you had been lost, floating through life without a home or family, but now… you were lucky to say that you had two. 

a child was running toward you, at least trying to, as her chubby little legs stumlbed over the wooden floor in hesitant steps. she was a firecracker just like you, as stephen always said, eager to learn and prove herself, even at such a young age. you smiled at your husband from where he followed closely behind your daughter, both index fingers held tightly in her little fists as he guided her over to you.

“that’s it, baby. come to mommy,” you encouraged, feeling tears well in your eyes at seeing your daughter taking her first steps, a giddy smile pulling at her rosy cheeks as she babbled incoherently.

she giggled proudly with each unsteady step as you coaxed her forward, kneeling on the floor with open arms until she was barely two feet away. as stephen released her, still within arms’ length, your daughter stumbled slightly and nearly lost her footing when the flash of red fabric from stephen’s cloak intercepted before she fell. it scooped her up and floated the young child over to you, and joyous laughter bubbled past her soft pink lips at the action.

“good job, baby. you okay?” you asked your daughter as the sentient fabric laid her gently in your arms. “ mommy and daddy are so proud of you.”

stephen joined you on the floor, a watery smile pulling at his lips beneath his beard, and the two of you enclosed your daughter in a hug. he leaned over her where she clutched her little fists into the fabric of your shirt, and kissed you softly. “i love you,” he whispered.

“i love you, too—” 

the warm atmosphere of your home abruptly morphed into the recognizable malevolence of the red room. you were tied down to a cold metal slab, restraints tight against your ankles and wrists, as a faceless individual pushed you down the hallway. fluorescent lights burned your vision as you were moved further inside, quickly approaching the daunting double doors that leered at you up ahead. dread soured in your stomach at what you knew was waiting for you.

your limbs struggled against the restraints, thrashing and screaming to be released, but no words came out. your vision went dark and then pain flooded your veins, agonizing, vicious pain that you couldn’t escape. 

“let me go! please let me go,” you sobbed, cheeks drenched with tears and throat aching as if razor blades had nicked you with each swallow.

“wake up, sweetheart. come on, open your eyes.” a familiar voice echoed within the cold and unforgiving cage of your nightmare, coaxing you back to the real world and away from the clutches of your hellish past.

“there you are,” stephen whispered into the quiet of your bedroom at the sanctum. the twinkling fairy lights along the windowsill and the new camera sitting atop one of your shelves welcomed you back, comforting you with their familiarity. the man in front of you brushed away strands of hair that had fallen into your face, sweat peppering your forehead. “you okay?” stephen asked. 

you nodded.

“do you want to talk about it?”

this time, you shook your head and remained silent, still shaken from the dream. 

“okay,” he whispered, running a gentle hand over your hair. “do you want me to leave?”

your watery eyes lifted up to his, glittering a pale blue in the moonlight shining through the window. “no,” you croaked, “please stay?”

“of course,” he responded without hesitation.

stephen reached for the covers and folded them aside to crawl in next to you where you had scooted over to leave space for his larger form. he offered his arm out to you and you immediately leaned into him, allowing him to wrap you in his embrace, feeling far warmer and safer than you had in a long time. it felt nice to have someone to lean on, to wake you from your constant nightmares and dreaded memories, to hold you as your demons ghosted through your mind at random moments of the day. 

he held you close, cradling you in his arms and resting his chin atop the crown of your head. footsteps approached and a gentle voice sounded from the doorway. “is she okay?” america asked worriedly. 

“yeah, kid,” stephen replied, the quiet rasp of his voice brushing passed your ear and soothing you further. “she’ll be okay. you can go back to sleep.”

your arms tightened around his waist as dread settled in your stomach at having woken not only stephen, but america too. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled into his neck and felt your bottom lip wobble pathetically.

“hey,” he scolded gently, tightening his hold on you as well, “do not apologize for this. i’m glad it woke me. you shouldn’t have to deal with this alone, sweetheart.”

the tears continued to trail down your cheeks in quicker succession at his sincerity. you didn’t deserve stephen strange in your life, but fuck, were you lucky to have him.  

as the remaining fragments of your nightmare dissipated, stephen silently held you in his lap and cradled you until your crying subsided and your breathing returned to normal. you swallowed passed the lump in your throat and voiced the main terror of your nightmare aloud. 

“i can’t have children.” you felt stephen stiffen beneath you and you were sure his eyes were on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him now, instead, keeping your head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck. “which is fine, i suppose,” you continued, “but i would’ve liked to make that decision for myself.

“part of the graduation ceremony is forced sterilization,” you explained, voice quiet now, almost inaudible. “makes for better assassins that way. no attachments or obstacles to hold you back. who would’ve thought being a mother was so frowned up?” you had accepted your fate by now, but sometimes the reminder that you could never have children crept up on you from time to time, just to torture you that much more. 

a scarred hand appeared in your line of vision and then stephen ran a thumb along the tear tracks on your cheeks, offering that small amount of comfort that meant so much to you. his jaw was clenched while his eyes appeared glossy as if he could see into your past and the way it still held you in a chokehold, even now, you were still unable to shake free from its clutches no matter how hard you tried; it was like stephen really saw you. “i’m sorry that choice was stolen from you. i’m sorry for so many things,” he said, meeting your gaze fully as his hands trailed down your arms to gently play with your fingers. “and i disagree; you would make a wonderful mother. i see how you are with america and you’re so good with her. any child would be lucky to have you to look up to.”

you smiled sadly. he said just what you needed to hear, what you’ve been wanting to hear for years—from anyone—just someone to show sympathy for the things you had gone through. “thanks, stephen.”

a slow smile stretched across his lips. “you called me stephen.” 

you scoffed softly, “don’t get used to it,” and shifted slightly to rest your head on his shoulder. 

“you wouldn’t want me...” you continued quietly, heart heavy in your chest as you voiced your biggest insecurity to him.

“how do you know what i want?”

“i’ve done terrible things, stephen. i can’t… sometimes the memories and the guilt get so bad, i can’t even get out of bed in the morning. i just feel so weighed down by my actions and my mistakes, like it’s going to drown me, and all the lives i took—” your voice broke off as tears clogged your throat, and you hated how weak and vulnerable you sounded. “what if i’m not worth all this? don’t deserve this life? you should be with someone who is actually good for you and who can… can give you children. i can’t—”

“hey, stop that,” he admonished gently, wiping away more tears that had spilled over. he cradled your jaw, caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb as he continued, “don’t say things like that. you were forced into that position, you didn’t have a choice. you were separated from your parents at a young age, had your childhood stripped from you—you wouldn’t have done those things otherwise, and i know you, y/n. you’re strong and resilient and irritatingly stubborn sometimes, but you’re also the sweetest and funniest person i’ve ever met. i swear i’ve never laughed as much as i have with you. you make my life better, so don’t say for a moment that you don’t deserve to be happy or enjoy this new life. you’ve been on your own and taking care of yourself practically your entire life,” he continued softly. “i can’t imagine how terrified or confused or lost you must have felt all that time. so let me in, sweetheart.” there was that pet name again. god, it almost broke your heart how softly and reverently he spoke to you. “let me take care of you. you’re not alone anymore. i want you and your past, present, future—all of it. nothing about you is imperfect to me. i want your mornings and your nights. i want you on your best days and your worst. i want you to trust me and to come to me for anything. i want you by my side and in my bed. i want you in ways that nobody else has had you before. i want you, y/n. all of you.”

“stephen,” you croaked, and you could feel your bottom lip wobbling pathetically. 

he smiled kindly, a noticeable twinkle in his eyes as he gazed at you. “we’re okay, sweetheart. don’t give up on me, because i’m never giving up on you, okay?”

you tilted your chin in understanding, then allowed him to pull you back into his chest as he settled against the pillows.

“sleep now,” he whispered. “i promise i’ll be right here.”

with that, you felt tired again and noticed that the residual effects of your nightmare were completely gone, now replaced by comfort and warmth as sleep encased you in its pillowy embrace.

you awoke the following morning to an empty bed, however, a small piece of paper had been left behind where stephen had last been seen.

rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you reached for it and smiled at the familiar scrawl of stephen’s handwriting.

meet us downstairs once you’re up. –S

you went about your typical morning routing, washing your face and brushing your teeth, tying your hair back in another intricate braid and getting dressed in casual clothes for now until training would commence at kamar-taj in the afternoon. just before stepping out the door, your gaze flickered to the mirror and you adjusted the front strands of hair that fell in front of your face, blowing out an excited yet nervous breath as you exited your bedroom.

the scent of freshly-brewed coffee that you had missed in your time away invaded your senses as you entered the kitchen, finding the table filled with cut fruit, stacks of pancakes, a jug of orange juice and cups of steaming coffee.

you took a seat in your usual chair, smiling up at stephen as handed you a cup, offering a quick wink before sitting down as well, with america already eagerly awaiting breakfast on your other side.

taking a sip of the dark liquid, you groaned in satisfaction as the familiar taste of stephen’s coffee, made just the way you liked it, coated your tongue. “the coffee didn’t taste the same over at the compound,” you stated as you gazed longingly into your mug, happy to drink as much of it as you wanted again.

“so you’re saying you missed my coffee-making skills, but not me?” stephen asked amusedly.

you shot him a teasing grin. “i didn’t say that.”

“hmm.”

once breakfast came to an end, you and stephen moved out to the library to continue your lessons as america had offered to clean up the kitchen, stating that she would be practicing some new spells she had learned that would help speed up the process. you weren’t entirely sure how that would play out, but stephen seemed confident in her abilities so you trusted it, happy to see her growing and learning more with each day.

before you knew it, hours had flown by while in the library with even more books staring up at you, one draining spell to remember right after another. some were easier than others and you had kept a list of particularly difficult ones that you needed to brush up on.

stephen had been continuously helping you with various spells, acting as a mentor of sorts with tips and tricks that had helped him in his own study of the mystic arts. he was so fucking smart, it never ceased to amaze you. stephen was always so patient with you, keeping you company and bringing copious cups of coffee—“not too many though,” the good doctor had warned—and snacks for you as you continued to read and pour over endless pages. 

“you know,” he started carefully, pulling your focus away from the spell book you were currently pouring over, “it’s so hard to sit here and be close to you and not kiss you.”

you chewed at your bottom lip as you worked up the courage to voice what was on your mind and had been for quite some time that you continued to brush aside, but you figured you had denied your feelings for the man long enough; you just wanted to fall into him completely, let him in like he had finally done for you. you trusted him, and god, did you love him. that level of vulnerability with another person scared you, but you wanted it more than anything. “you can kiss me,” you said softly. 

his eyes widened slightly before he flicked his finger and then your chair was sliding across the floor before planting itself next to his. he wrapped his hand around the seat of your chair to pull you even closer until you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. 

he raised a shaky hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down your cheek to cup your jaw. “you’re so pretty,” he whispered. “so perfect.”

“so are you,” you said shyly, feeling your cheeks heat at his close proximity and the way he was looking at you, eyes deeper and darker than you had ever seen them as they flitted down to focus on your mouth. 

stephen breathed out a laugh at the unexpected compliment from you, affection for you pouring off of him in waves. “not even close,” he retorted. “how did the multiverse come up with someone like you?” he thumbed at the plush of your bottom lip and watched in silent awe as you nipped at it gently, a satisfied grin spreading across your face at his expression. 

his scarred hands cupped your cheeks and then his lips descended on yours, the scruff of his goatee scratching you lightly as his fingers held you steady. soft lips molded around yours, each kiss becoming firmer than the last, the warmth of his mouth opening up to you as his tongue coaxed the seam of your lips so he could taste you. 

your hands instinctively lifted up to clasp around his wrists as you opened yourself up to him, kissing him and falling deeper into this pit he created in your heart. the fingers linked around his wrists felt his pulse thrumming in his veins, similar to your own heartbeat that was pounding fast enough to jump from beneath the confines of your ribs. 

you kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until your lips felt swollen and bruised, but it was all so worth it. truly, you never would have thought this moment would come and your senses were becoming overwhelmed with all things him. you pulled back a fraction in an attempt to catch your breath, and his lips lingered on yours as you moved back as if chasing the feeling of your mouth against his. a flash of hurt fell over his features as if he was afraid you would push him away, yell at him, or storm off and leave him again. his hands were still cupping your cheeks, thumbs pressed against your jaw and holding you so carefully, but his touch felt like it was practically burning you now.

your eyes danced over his features, the flush in his cheeks, the wild glint in his blue eyes—appearing brighter than they were moments prior—he was beautiful and so in love with you, you understood it now. you could feel his adoration pour out in waves as he looked at you, the fleeting touches here and there, the way he kissed you now. you believed him. 

a smile pulled at your lips, sheepish but so, so happy. 

“what?” he asked softly, slightly breathless from your kisses. 

you shook your head, words escaping you now, and grasped his cheeks to bring him in for another kiss, more eager than the first but still ardent and passionate. his mouth slotted against yours like two pieces of a puzzle and his tongue licked passed the seam of your lips again to devour your mouth more thoroughly. you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring yourself infinitesimally closer until you were practically straddling his lap, and his large hands dropped to paw at your hips. a faint moan crept up your throat and bubbled passed your lips, mixing with his matching groans, deep and heavy against your chest where the two of you were connected. 

it felt like hours had passed, though it must have been only a few minutes, until the two of you parted, allowing each other to catch your breaths and give your swollen lips a break.

“was your first kiss?” stephen asked gently. 

you winced. “was it that obvious? 

he shook his head quickly. “god, no! definitely not.”

“would it be super embarrassing if i said that it was?”

his eyes softened as he tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “of course not, sweetheart.”

“i don’t come by love very often,” you admitted, smiling back at him nervously, “so this is all very new for me.”

“so you’ve never…”

“been with anyone? nope,” you said, popping the ‘p,’ suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about where the topic of conversation was headed. “never really had the time or opportunity for a relationship of any kind.”

he swallowed audibly as if a weight had been placed on his shoulders by the revelation, knowing that he would be your first everything. “well,” he started, “i hope to be your first and your last. i know i made a complete ass of myself and i royally fucked up in the beginning”—you laughed at that—“but i promise to do it right this time.”

“i just don’t want you to grow tired of me,” you confessed quietly. 

stephen’s brows pinched together. “why would you think that?”

silence.

“y/n,” his voice turned serious, “why do you think i would grow tired of you?”

you shrugged as your gaze dropped to stare at his chest, unable to meet his eyes now. “i don’t know… what if i’m not what you thought i would be? what if your feelings change and you find someone better?”

he shook his head emphatically as each word passed your lips. “hey, no. none of that.” he reached around to clasp your hands in his and brought them up to his dusty pink mouth, laying soft kisses to your fingers and knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. “i’m never letting you go, you understand me? you’re my whole universe and i’ll love you for infinity. so don’t assume that i’ll grow tired of you, because i can assure you that i won’t ever.” his breath was warm against your hands where he held them, and it didn’t escape your notice how his lips lingered a bit longer on the ring finger of your left hand. your heart fluttered at the genuine tenderness of his affection for you. 

“i’m still in love with you,” you whispered, feeling your voice crack on the word ‘love’. “even after everything, i’m so hopelessly in love with you, stephen strange.”

this time, his lips drifted to the palms of your hands and you could feel his smile press against your skin. “i love you more, sweetheart.”

suddenly, a faint squeak sounded from the library doors, and the two of you quickly turned to see america looking in with wide eyes, taking in your compromising position where you had been straddling stephen’s lap. a toothy grin spread across her face and then she disappeared, not before you heard an excited, “i knew it!” from the teen.

stephen’s head dropped to your shoulder and an infectious laugh escaped his mouth. “we’re never going to hear the end of that, are we?”

you snickered, “not a chance.” 

taglist: @stygianoir @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @samisubi @seishoari @mischiefmanaged71 @pasta-warlord @elicheel @vesta-ro @luthientinu @torresbarnes @kikus-art @stanny-uwu @hospitaldaydream @loki-is-loved @slvtforstr4nge @sofi786 @glitterylokislut @faithinhome @mando-is-the-way @bobateadaydreams @singhfae @evelynrosestuff @lazysheepperfection @reinereinegoaway @preciousbabypeter @mayotsukia @lucimorningst4r @tis-vereon @talesofadragon @sleepdeprivedasever @wanderingfairy73 @strangelockd @cafeaueva @remuslupinwifee @kathanibennett @ironstrange1991 @strangeobsessed @strangesweetheart @lucywrites02 @kentucky-criedfricken @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @strangeions @savage-rhi

tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you for some reason, so sorry!

please let me know if you want to be added/removed from any of my taglists!

#paper hearts #doctor strange #doctor strange fic #doctor strange fanfic #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange x y/n #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #stephen strange #stephen strange fic #stephen strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x reader

[balzabul]

internet co. loid headcanons bc i never rly post/think abt them

gumi - the star of course; she never let it get to her head tho, she's just as happy staying in w/ friends and family as she is performing. she always gets ppl rly kickass gifts for holidays/birthdays despite ppl often thinking she's a little absent. she's just like that! it's not her fault!

gakupo - only performs in small private venues (his own decision) after several years of dealing w/ the stress of having to live up to his human voice provider's legacy. can tell you anything at all about any famous japanese sword from the last 400 years and is thrilled to do so

gachapoid/ryuto - V3 is a child actor/singer and has a contract with a popular kids show as the host; loves his internet co. family and is always thinking of fun day trips they could do together. V2 quit performing the second V3 was released and makes several thousand dollars a month cheating at fortnite and streaming tiktok controversy reaction videos (fsr these are the only two i rly separate by voicebank version?? i dont rly have diff headcanons for gumi/lily/etc v2 versus v3 etc)

lily - an unexpected friend and protégé of miriam! miriam's like a mother to her after she went to the retired loid's cafe and bar to chat and ended up in a whole therapy session abt being a lower quality vocaloid that isnt getting any updates. she still performs acoustic covers in miriam's cafe.

CUL - the cool weed aunt of the group; she gives gachaV2 fortnite v-bucks every time she vists. while lily struggled with irrelevance CUL thrived in it; she only produces songs for a small private label she founded, and otherwise fills her time with crossfit and volunteer work

kokone - gumi's ex; it was completely amicable and they're still good friends. Gacha V2 calls her "gumi's ex" out loud occasionally bc he knows it pisses her off. she's somewhat sensitive about never taking off like some other vocaloids, but it's not like she thinks about it much

Rana - has an unofficial rivalry with gacha v3 (not v2!) but she doesn't even realize it. she's having a blast guest starring on gachaV3's morning show and having duets with powerhouses like gumi, but gachaV3 feels threatened by another childish character voice. v2 absolutely fuels this by suggesting bigger and better opportunities to rana

Galaco (prize version) - kind of like the mysterious celebrity relative? she never got huge but her name is important enough that she still arrives to holidays in a glitter-coated limousine. she has the money to upgrade every vocaloid in the house on her own dime but instead she uses it to gift tchotchkes and ugly apparel (not out of malice she's just out of touch)

chika - originally a constituent of gumi's, she never really wanted to be a singer until gumi started performing for the big leagues; inspired by her friend she joined the same record label and the two have been inseparable since, though she doesn't get as many big shows. she and lily gossip about the entertainment business

otomachi una - a lot of the internet co. household actually didn't like una when she first got signed to their label; even gumi felt somewhat threatened by a newer, higher quality voicebank. luckily everyone realized pretty quickly that she's just a funny silly gal and doesn't want to overshadow anyone. Spicy and Sugar are separate android bodies and play "the parent trap" type tricks on the rest of the household constantly

#vocaloid

[i-did-not-mean-to]

A letter

@sortumavaara I blame you...only you...for this one!!!

(I have been feeling terrible today and this has amused me, so I am thankful, but...hmmm, I am not a smut writer haha)

Either way, here goes my small ficlet for your amazing Glorfindel drawing. I admire you greatly; I hope you know that.

(@the-girl-with-the-algebra-book, e-husband, I wrote light Glorestor smut...)

Words: 1,1 k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, crack as well...I am terrible, I am sorry

Pairing: Glorestor

Glorfindel stormed through the library, only side-stepping once or twice to avoid announcing his arrival by banging his half-hard cock against the wooden bookshelves in a poor imitation of a primitive drum, in search of the devious creature that had reduced him to the deplorable state he presently found himself in.

To his dismay though, Erestor was nowhere to be found and so the much-suffering, golden-haired elf sat down at the desk of that despicable seductor and readied himself to pen a sharply worded missive instead.

Lord

Too formal, he decided.

Councillor Erestor,

He frowned and chewed on the elegant nib for a moment before his mouth started watering and his thoughts drifted back into the realm of unspeakable desire on account of having something hard and smooth wedged between his parched lips. 

Figures that – even absent – Erestor would lead him astray, he thought, and crossed out his second attempt as well with a disgusted flourish.

My friend,

No, that was also wrong; he felt uncomfortable about starting a reprimanding letter by feigning friendship; they were notmere friends and that was the very core of the whole problem.

Erestor,

Less elegant than he would have liked, but functional. 

With a sigh, Glorfindel accepted his defeat, he’d leave it thus, at least for the time being, and focused instead on putting his confused, aching longing into appropriate words that would make Erestor see the errors of his ways.

On this fine morning, we – along with several other respected and revered members of the Council – have attended a meeting during which you have I was aggrieved to notice that you saucy minx had neglected to don appropriate apparel as befits your function and station in these esteemed halls.

Glorfindel nodded to himself; this was going great so far.

Indeed, you wore an intricately embroidered overcoat – which was very beautiful if I may say so – but I could clearly see your clavicles I couldn’t help but notice that your choice of tunic, despite the truly enchanting colour scheme you have created, was woefully unsuitable. As a matter of fact, it was so low-cut and transparent its material and design granted the innocent onlooker unexpected insights into your anatomy. Moreover, your leggings were wholly indecent for they let me see allowed any morally upstanding councillor more than just a cursory glimpse upon your shapely unclothed ankles. I am aghast that you’d display yourself so for all to lust fawn behold.

The uncomfortable tightness in Glorfindel’s own breeches reached the point of agony and – checking that the door was properly closed, it would not do to be caught in such an unfavourable situation – he listlessly pawed at his groin with a small, dissatisfied groan.

This was entirely Erestor’s fault; why had he thought it not only acceptable but even necessary to doll himself up in a way that could not go unnoticed? 

He was blindingly handsome as it was, but it could hardly be expected of a living, breathing being with blood yet in their veins to gaze upon the glimpses of flesh and hints of sensuality so brazenly exhibited and not be driven to distraction.

Thus, one could not possibly fault honourable, dutiful Glorfindel for being diverted and distraught to the point where he found himself, his hand wedged shamefully between his own quivering thighs imagining they were someone else’s, in a secluded office rather than at his own desk working through his own paperwork.

He really needed to get to the end of this letter before he completely lost his mind.

Moreover, you smiled at me it has been impossible to ignore the intimate smirk you’ve produced at least thrice while you pretended to take notes. I am familiar with the extent and the excellence of your memory and thus, I nobody was fooled by your charade. Refrain forthwith, I beg prithee, from making such a spectacle of yourself. You are a dangerous distraction preventing other honest, hard-working, and entirely blameless members of the Council from performing their duties to the best of their abilities.

Yours faithfully, 

Glorf…indel

Tossing the pen across the room, Glorfindel grunted under his breath as his neglected cock demanded relief quite insistently; thinking – at length – about the way Erestor had smiled at him coyly while crossing and uncrossing those sinful legs slowly did not help to keep his voracious cupidity for that soft, white skin in check. Quite the contrary.

The more he thought about it – the mischievous looks through dense lashes and the way Erestor had spoken his name as if it tasted heavenly on that nimble tongue – the tighter his leggings grew and after looking down on his butchered letter, Glorfindel finally gave in to his burning, agonising need.

Undoing his laces quickly, he took himself in hand and almost cried out in relief; suddenly, the thought of Erestor’s delicate ankles and filigree collarbones was a welcome image that made his fingers shiver and tighten around his weeping cock.

“Oh, the things you do to me,” Glorfindel sighed, burying his face in the fabric of the chair he was curled up on and breathing in the remnants of that clean, sober smell he so loved.

His movements grew erratic, and his teeth dug into his lower lip as visions of Erestor’s smile, skin, and soft mouth flashed through his mind.

With a strangled cry, he came undone and – after having wiped every surface he might have soiled – Glorfindel made his hasty retreat, relieved now that he had not found his fellow councillor in the heat of his former…displeasure. 

It was only when he had closed the doors of his own rooms behind him that he remembered that he had left his scratched-out, inarticulate draft of a letter on Erestor’s desk.

As he retraced his steps hastily, he prayed that he would be in time to destroy every testament to his temporary madness.

“Lord, Councillor, or should I say friend? Either way, Glorfindel,” Erestor greeted him, grinning broadly at his colleagueas he slunk – shamefaced – through the half-closed door, “come in and have a seat. I am delighted to learn that my attempts at catching your attention have not gone unnoticed.”

Glorfindel swallowed frantically; Erestor had the good grace to blush bashfully, belying his confident words but that didn’t cancel the awful and wonderful truth in them.

Closing the door with a clangorous bang, Glorfindel was shocked and horrified to feel his treacherous cock stir once more at the sight of the soft, enticing smile beckoning him closer yet.

“I have taken the liberty to remove both offending garments,” Erestor whispered, crossing his outrageously naked legs very slowly. “Anything else I can do for you?”

So, that's it from me. If you want, you can link this to any kinktober prompt you want; it was therapy for me tonight.

Also, first epistolary fic (of a sort) for me.

Lots of love and my sincere apologies!

#fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes smut #*smut #*nsfw #lotr #silm #glorestor #Erestor #Glorfindel #erestor x glorfindel #I have no idea what I'm doing #stop showing me good art #lol

[into-the-elwoods]

timeline i made a while ago of the flow of events in the original short story for reference when writing :)

TIMELINE FOR DREAMS IN THE WITCH HOUSE: ORIGINAL TEXT

Gilman came from Haverhill, but it was only after he had entered college in Arkham that he began to connect his mathematics with the fantastic legends of elder magic.

He knew his room was in the old Witch House—that, indeed, was why he had taken it.

Gilman believed strange things about Keziah, and had felt a queer thrill on learning that her dwelling was still standing after more than 235 years. When he heard the hushed Arkham whispers about Keziah’s persistent presence in the old house...he resolved to live in the place at any cost.

A room was easy to secure; for the house was unpopular, hard to rent, and long given over to cheap lodgings.

nothing happens until the time of "the fever"

Gilman’s room was of good size but queerly irregular shape

As time wore along, his absorption in the irregular wall and ceiling of his room increased; for he began to read into the odd angles a mathematical significance which seemed to offer vague clues regarding their purpose

february: the fever begins

Whether the dreams brought on the fever or the fever brought on the dreams Walter Gilman did not know.

sound problems start

or some time, apparently, the curious angles of Gilman’s room had been having a strange, almost hypnotic effect on him; and as the bleak winter advanced he had found himself staring more and more intently at the corner where the down-slanting ceiling met the inward-slanting wall.

unable to focus on anything else

hen it came from beyond the slanting north wall it was mixed with a sort of dry rattling—and when it came from the century-closed loft above the slanting ceiling Gilman always braced himself as if expecting some horror which only bided its time before descending to engulf him utterly.

dreams start

brown jenkin :)

Worse Dreams!

fragment of bone appears

Gilman did not report his fever to the doctor, for he knew he could not pass the examinations if ordered to the college infirmary when every moment was needed for cramming. As it was, he failed in Calculus D and Advanced General Psychology, though not without hope of making up lost ground before the end of the term.

March: an overgrown rat darting across the shadowed mouth of a neighbouring alley had made him think irrationally of Brown Jenkin. Now, he reflected, those nervous fears were being mirrored in his disordered dreams. Keziah appears

That the influence of the old house was unwholesome, he could not deny; but traces of his early morbid interest still held him there.

dreams are getting deeper but he cant remember

end of march: he began to pick up in his mathematics, though other studies bothered him increasingly. He was getting an intuitive knack for solving Riemannian equations, and astonished Professor Upham by his comprehension of fourth-dimensional and other problems which had floored all the rest of the class.

an increase in the always plentiful gossip about his nervous and solitary eccentricity. What made the students shake their heads was his sober theory that a man might—given mathematical knowledge admittedly beyond all likelihood of human acquirement—step deliberately from the earth to any other celestial body which might lie at one of an infinity of specific points in the cosmic pattern.

April 1st: Gilman worried considerably because his slow fever did not abate.

He was also troubled by what some of his fellow-lodgers said about his sleep-walking. It seemed that he was often absent from his bed, and that the creaking of his floor at certain hours of the night was remarked by the man in the room below.

this fellow also spoke of hearing the tread of shod feet in the night; but Gilman was sure he must have been mistaken in this, since shoes as well as other apparel were always precisely in place in the morning. One could develop all sorts of aural delusions in this morbid old house—for did not Gilman himself, even in daylight, now feel certain that noises other than rat-scratchings came from the black voids beyond the slanting wall and above the slanting ceiling? His pathologically sensitive ears began to listen for faint footfalls in the immemorially sealed loft overhead, and sometimes the illusion of such things was agonisingly realistic.

However, he knew that he had actually become a somnambulist; for twice at night his room had been found vacant, though with all his clothing in place. Of this he had been assured by Frank Elwood, the one fellow-student whose poverty forced him to room in this squalid and unpopular house.

EWOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elwood had been studying in the small hours and had come up for help on a differential equation, only to find Gilman absent. It had been rather presumptuous of him to open the unlocked door after knocking had failed to rouse a response, but he had needed the help very badly and thought that his host would not mind a gentle prodding awake. On neither occasion, though, had Gilman been there—and when told of the matter he wondered where he could have been wandering, barefoot and with only his night-clothes on.

thought about flour on the floor!

As April advanced Gilman’s fever-sharpened ears were disturbed by the whining prayers of a superstitious loomfixer named Joe Mazurewicz, who had a room on the ground floor.

May-Eve was Walpurgis-Night. It was always a very bad time in Arkham, even though the fine folks up in Miskatonic Avenue and High and Saltonstall Streets pretended to know nothing about it.

For three months Keziah and Brown Jenkin had not been near Joe’s room, nor near Paul Choynski’s room, nor anywhere else—and it meant no good when they held off like that. They must be up to something.

April 16: was surprised to find his temperature was not as high as he had feared. The physician questioned him sharply, and advised him to see a nerve specialist. On reflection, he was glad he had not consulted the still more inquisitive college doctor. Old Waldron, who had curtailed his activities before, would have made him take a rest—an impossible thing now that he was so close to great results in his equations. He was certainly near the boundary between the known universe and the fourth dimension, and who could say how much farther he might go?

But even as these thoughts came to him he wondered at the source of his strange confidence. Did all of this perilous sense of imminence come from the formulae on the sheets he covered day by day?

And now, too, there was a growing feeling that somebody was constantly persuading him to do something terrible which he could not do.

And what was that faint suggestion of sound which once in a while seemed to trickle through the maddening confusion of identifiable sounds even in broad daylight and full wakefulness? Its rhythm did not correspond to anything on earth, unless perhaps to the cadence of one or two unmentionable Sabbat-chants, and sometimes he feared it corresponded to certain attributes of the vague shrieking or roaring in those wholly alien abysses of dream.

the dreams Get Worse

He must meet the Black Man, and go with them all to the throne of Azathoth at the centre of ultimate Chaos. He must sign in his own blood the book of Azathoth and take a new secret name now that his independent delvings had gone so far.

dreams are more distinct

Two of the less irrelevantly moving things—a rather large congeries of iridescent, prolately spheroidal bubbles and a very much smaller polyhedron of unknown colours and rapidly shifting surface angles—seemed to take notice of him and follow him about or float ahead as he changed position among the titan prisms, labyrinths, cube-and-plane clusters, and quasi-buildings; and all the while the vague shrieking and roaring waxed louder and louder, as if approaching some monstrous climax of utterly unendurable intensity.

Night of April 19th--20th: In another second he was out of the abyss and standing tremulously on a rocky hillside bathed in intense, diffused green light. He was barefooted and in his night-clothes, and when he tried to walk discovered that he could scarcely lift his feet. A swirling vapour hid everything but the immediate sloping terrain from sight

He was good for nothing that morning, and stayed away from all his classes. Some unknown attraction was pulling his eyes in a seemingly irrelevant direction, for he could not help staring at a certain vacant spot on the floor. As the day advanced the focus of his unseeing eyes changed position, and by noon he had conquered the impulse to stare at vacancy. About two o’clock he went out for lunch, and as he threaded the narrow lanes of the city he found himself turning always to the southeast. Only an effort halted him at a cafeteria in Church Street, and after the meal he felt the unknown pull still more strongly

so with great resolution he headed against it and dragged himself deliberately north along Garrison Street. By the time he had reached the bridge over the Miskatonic he was in a cold perspiration, and he clutched at the iron railing as he gazed upstream at the ill-regarded island whose regular lines of ancient standing stones brooded sullenly in the afternoon sunlight.

keziah + BJ seeen on island

-The southeastward pull still held, and only with tremendous resolution could Gilman drag himself into the old house and up the rickety stairs. For hours he sat silent and aimless, with his eyes shifting gradually westward. About six o’clock his sharpened ears caught the whining prayers of Joe Mazurewicz two floors below, and in desperation he seized his hat and walked out into the sunset-golden streets, letting the now directly southward pull carry him where it might. An hour later darkness found him in the open fields beyond Hangman’s Brook, with the glimmering spring stars shining ahead. The urge to walk was gradually changing to an urge to leap mystically into space, and suddenly he realised just where the source of the pull lay.

It was in the sky. A definite point among the stars

What was the meaning of this new thing? Was he going mad? How long would it last? Again mustering his resolution, Gilman turned and dragged himself back to the sinister old house.

Mazurewicz was waiting for him at the door, and seemed both anxious and reluctant to whisper some fresh bit of superstition. It was about the witch light. Joe had been out celebrating the night before—it was Patriots’ Day in Massachusetts—and had come home after midnight.

witch light baby

Perhaps Frank Elwood could tell him something, though he hated to ask.

When he climbed to the second story he paused at Elwood’s door but saw that the other youth was out. Reluctantly he continued up to his garret room and sat down in the dark.

ELDER THINGS DREAM!!!

ilman awakened in his bed, drenched by a cold perspiration and with a smarting sensation in his face, hands, and feet. Springing to the floor, he washed and dressed in frantic haste, as if it were necessary for him to get out of the house as quickly as possible. He did not know where he wished to go, but felt that once more he would have to sacrifice his classes.

desire to head north

After about an hour he got himself under better control, and saw that he was far from the city. All around him stretched the bleak emptiness of salt marshes, while the narrow road ahead led to Innsmouth

resists the pull once more

Plodding back to town and getting some coffee at a soda fountain, he dragged himself into the public library and browsed aimlessly among the lighter magazines. Once he met some friends who remarked how oddly sunburned he looked, but he did not tell them of his walk. At three o’clock he took some lunch at a restaurant, noting meanwhile that the pull had either lessened or divided itself. After that he killed the time at a cheap cinema show, seeing the inane performance over and over again without paying any attention to it.

bout nine at night he drifted homeward and stumbled into the ancient house. Joe Mazurewicz was whining unintelligible prayers, and Gilman hastened up to his own garret chamber without pausing to see if Elwood was in.

balustrade figure :)

dazed stupour

keeps contemplating the nerve specialist

He had stopped at Elwood’s door on the way, but had found all dark within.

flour on the floor!

pull north again

But that moment was very brief, for presently he was in a crude, windowless little space with rough beams and planks rising to a peak just above his head, and with a curious slanting floor underfoot.

The Black Man

sign the book <3

april 22nd: a pain in his left wrist, and saw that his cuff was brown with dried blood. flour undisturbed

His ears were ringing horribly, as if with the residual echoes of some horrible noise heard in dreams.

bathes and contemplates the dream

He knew he did walk—and the thing to do now was to stop it. He must ask Frank Elwood for help.

Elwood was in, thank heaven, and appeared to be stirring about. There was time for a little conversation before leaving for breakfast and college, so an account of his recent dreams and fears

His host was very sympathetic, and agreed that something ought to be done. He was shocked by his guest’s drawn, haggard aspect, and noticed the queer, abnormal-looking sunburn which others had remarked during the past week

As for a plan of action—Gilman had better move down to Elwood’s room and avoid sleeping alone. Elwood would, if awake, rouse him whenever he began to talk or rise in his sleep. Very soon, too, he must see the specialist.

Braced up by Elwood’s companionship, Gilman attended classes that day. Strange urges still tugged at him, but he could sidetrack them with considerable success

hat night he slept on a couch which Elwood had had the landlord bring to the second-story room, and for the first time in weeks was wholly free from disquieting dreams. But the feverishness still hung on, and the whines of the loomfixer were an unnerving influence.

During the next few days Gilman enjoyed an almost perfect immunity from morbid manifestations. He had, Elwood said, shewed no tendency to talk or rise in his sleep; and meanwhile the landlord was putting rat-poison everywhere.

crucifix

Paul Choynski thought he heard sounds in the halls and on the stairs at night, and claimed that his door had been softly tried, while Mrs. Dombrowski vowed she had seen Brown Jenkin for the first time since All-Hallows. But such naive reports could mean very little, and Gilman let the cheap metal crucifix hang idly from a knob on his host’s dresser.

For three days Gilman and Elwood canvassed the local museums in an effort to identify the strange spiky image

April 27th: rat hole apepars in Elwoods room

Elwood was out late that night, and Gilman waited up for him. He did not wish to go to sleep in a room alone

The next day both youths felt very tired, and knew they would sleep like logs when night came. In the evening they drowsily discussed the mathematical studies which had engrossed Gilman, and speculated about ancient magic and folklore

as Gilman and Elwood retired, too sleepy to argue further, they heard Joe Mazurewicz reel into the house half-drunk, and shuddered at the desperate wildness of his whining prayers.

violet light seen again

baby dream

April 29th: The instant he opened his eyes he knew something was terribly wrong, for he was back in his old garret room with the slanting wall and ceiling, sprawled on the now unmade bed. His throat was aching inexplicably, and as he struggled to a sitting posture he saw with growing fright that his feet and pajama-bottoms were brown with caked mud. For the moment his recollections were hopelessly hazy, but he knew at least that he must have been sleep-walking. Elwood had been lost too deeply in slumber to hear and stop him. On the floor were confused muddy prints, but oddly enough they did not extend all the way to the door.

Descending to Elwood’s room he roused his still-sleeping host and began telling of how he had found himself, but Elwood could form no idea of what might really have happened.

Gilman mechanically attended classes that morning, but was wholly unable to fix his mind on his studies.

At noon he lunched at the University Spa, picking up a paper from the next seat as he waited for dessert. But he never ate that dessert; for an item on the paper’s first page left him limp, wild-eyed, and able only to pay his check and stagger back to Elwood’s room.

Gilman sat in a daze all the afternoon, and Elwood—who had meanwhile seen the papers and formed terrible conjectures from them—found him thus when he came home.

ust what had really happened was maddeningly obscure, and for a moment both Gilman and Elwood exchanged whispered theories of the wildest kind.

April 30th: here was no sleep for either of them that night, but next day they both cut classes and drowsed.

walter wears the crucifix

Late at night the two youths sat drowsing in their chairs, lulled by the rhythmical praying of the loomfixer on the floor below. Gilman listened as he nodded, his preternaturally sharpened hearing seeming to strain for some subtle, dreaded murmur beyond the noises in the ancient house.

He saw that Elwood had dropped asleep, and tried to call out and waken him. Something, however, closed his throat. He was not his own master. Had he signed the black man’s book after all?

He hoped the electric lights would not go out.

The Sacrifice

Gilman found on the floor, catatonic

During the day the patient regained consciousness at times and whispered his newest dream disjointedly to Elwood. It was a painful process, and at its very start brought out a fresh and disconcerting fact.

Both, though, agreed that they must leave this ancient and accursed house as soon as it could be arranged

The crowning horror came that very night. Elwood will never forget it, and was forced to stay out of college the rest of the term because of the resulting nervous breakdown.

cast aside all thought of his lease and within a week had moved with all his older lodgers to a dingy but less ancient house in Walnut Street. The worst thing for a while was keeping Joe Mazurewicz quiet; for the brooding loomfixer would never stay sober, and was constantly whining and muttering about spectral and terrible things.

As soon as Dombrowski left it the pall of its final desolation began to descend, for people shunned it both on account of its old reputation and because of the new foetid odour

Indeed, there were always vague local tales of unexplained stenches upstairs in the Witch House just after May-Eve and Hallowmass.

Elwood, whose thoughts on the entire episode are sometimes almost maddening, came back to college the next autumn and graduated in the following June.

It is rather fortunate that Elwood was not in Arkham in that later year when certain events abruptly renewed the local whispers about elder horrors. Of course he heard about the matter afterward and suffered untold torments of black and bewildered speculation; but even that was not as bad as actual nearness and several possible sights would have been.

March 1931: a gale wrecked the roof and great chimney of the vacant Witch House, so that a chaos of crumbling bricks, blackened, moss-grown shingles, and rotting planks and timbers crashed down into the loft and broke through the floor beneath

bones :)

#whispers #in a response to a request to post more....some notes from my witch house section in my personal discord server

[consoledacup]

Not a question, just piggybacking off the 4x18 post + your response. But pls give your thoughts on anything I said.

I want to know how & when Spencer knew Layla was one of Jordan’s favorite people lol (4x18). & if it was bc he peeped them spending more time together, then the secret dating could’ve been so much better with him & liv spying on jordayla. Tailing them as they snuck around to more places than JUST the studio.

I think Spencer was noticing the closeness developing with jordayla, specifically Jordan's affection for Layla. Not in a romantic way because he had no idea until 5x09.

But steadily, he realized they were like, best friends. He might have seen Jordan worrying about Layla when they were all at the hospital for Coop, he might not have. But Layla moving into the Baker house definitely signified how close she really was to their family.

And Spencer saw Jordan just go completely full steam ahead planning her over-the-top bday party that JJ set up. He even told Liv Jordan wasn't gonna like it when he found out they had returned the piñata, thus altering Layla's party.

He saw them get chummier. Like, they were always together and involved in their Vortex, but they tended to pair themselves off now. So Layla probably went to a lot of the parties JJ threw at the beach house when she was in town. And she and Jordan most likely hung out together.

Jordan might have casually mentioned that he was gonna be a buffer between Layla and her dad at the Baker house, and he might have seen them together at Preach's thing the next day. And Layla, Jordan, and Liv went to the gym opening together, so again, he's discovering how close Jordan and Layla are becoming. He doesn't put any weight on it or think about it one way or the other, but there are a lot of opportunities for him to piece together.

She was there at the party at the beach house where everyone praised Jordan for his winning touchdown and Spencer's fire play. They most likely stuck by each other most of the night. And he was there when Jordan announced that he'd be accompanying Layla to the studio.

And jordayla had to have told everyone that they were stuck in her studio, hence the reason why they were absent. Then he finds out either from Liv or Layla that Jordan and Layla took a road trip to see Carrie. Because he didn't react when Layla talked about confronting her, so he knew what happened. And he had the final opportunity to notice jordayla spending time together at his apparel launch.

So... he's surrounded by potential moments. Not sure if he paid attention to all of them, but when it came down to cheering Jordan up, he knew exactly to ask.

To your second point, as fun as secret relationships can be with the hi-jinx of it all, I really respected this storyline. Layla's reasons for keeping things secret came from a really pure place. Once Jordan clarified that she wasn't ashamed of him and wasn't hiding him, they were able to treat their relationship with so much tenderness and care.

So I don't mind that Spencer and Liv didn't catch on until later. And everything about 5x09 was gold. I think Daniel's humor is severely underrated. And the scenes he had with Mike and Greta were just hilarious. I also thought Spencer's reaction and talk with Jordan after was very lovely.

Also, Liv finding out when she did worked beautifully for the moment. And I loved each one of her close calls with them beforehand.

#jordayla #spencer james #all american #layla keating #jordan baker #olivia baker

[idreamcolorlife]

Benefits of Having Straight Hairs

Hair Rebonding and Smoothening is the chemical treatment used for straightening hair, nowadays when each woman looking for straight and plush hair it's the fashion of today and everybody needs to pursue the directions in the metro urban communities, fashion is tied in with looking for best patterns to follow and having said that straight hair is a fashion symbol nowadays. Gone are the day when shoes, apparels, garments are considered the fashion symbols now a young lady hair discusses more than your apparels.

The straight hair naturally or by chemical treatment mirrors all the more light reason shines a ton. One of the most amazing parts is that it's not so extreme to keep up with straight hair and it's easy to develop further hair, it's more alluring and looks healthier. Each woman needs to have long hair and it is connected with gentility, regardless of whether the hair is long or curly. The ladies having curly hair need to have straight one and the person who is having straight hair looks go for curly, so what is matter is the difference in looks the makeover because it's a natural peculiarity that everybody looking for a change from the customary practice and hairstyle isn't an exemption for it. Straight hair is famous because it's easy to make more styles and looks, you can keep up with easily and are attractive, more often than not are clean which requests to a great many people's eyes.

The dainty hair is more alluring in straight hair type, whereas assuming you are having wavy type hair having volume and breadth looks more beautiful, the age is likewise considered a variation with hair type, surface, and variety, Assuming we discuss hair health curly hair is oval and it will in general dry more than straight hair because it is easy for the oil discharged from scalp to go down in straight hair than a curly one, to that end one reason curly hair transforms into bunched up hair

# Silk and shine

Straight hair gives silk and shine look because it develops evenly and comes straight out from the scalp, the equivalent isn't in that frame of mind of curly hair because curls structure a point yet it doesn't really intend that on the off chance that you are having curly hair it can't be straight, you have the choice for chemical hair smoothening which can change any curl into the pin-straight hair, you can go for natural straightening process too for that you need to contribute your time and endeavors assuming you are living in a city like Delhi you can go for chemical treatment in a salon, just figure out on Google search 'Hair straightening and rebonding cost in Delhi' you will get a rundown of salons that offers this treatment, look at the subtleties before you at last book the arrangement with respect to travel time, salon rating, valuing of the treatment and remember to actually take a look at the surveys too.

# No need for frizz serums

Presently you don't need to use serums, no need for it, because curly hair will in general frizz more than straight hair, In the event that you have done hair rebonding, you need to quit using counterfeit straighten products like splashes, cream which inclined to more harm to your hair, heat treatments like blow-dry and heat Pressing harm your hair used on ordinary premise, straight hair after chemical treatment requires nothing, you just need to brush gently and prepared to move out any place you need.

# looks clean and smooth absent a lot of exertion

Straight hair look is a lot of clean and smooth and the best part it's easy to manage absent a lot of endeavors, clean hair looks appealing to the vast majority of the eyes, straight and smooth hair is the fashion of today, In today's time no ladies need to have chaotic and crimped hair because it's not sufficiently respectable and impacts the general looks, the certainty of having fashionable and clean hair discusses your character

# Braids easily

You can pick your style according to your solace level, having straight hair you have many choices, you can decide not to tie you hair leave without hair-band, if you need to braid it's excessively easy going and you can have different styles even in braids like, French braid, Fishtail, Rope, Ribbon, Stepping stool anything you need you can have it significantly quicker and endeavors

#youtube

[batmanwholxughs]

STARTER for @exghul​​​

     { ⛓ } – SUNSET lovingly caressed the landscape of Gotham in warm hues – slowly coaxing its departure and inheritance into the chilling palms of the evening; the more anarchic sibling. One that welcomed unease, frightfulness and CRIME, but wasn’t without its own form of endearment for humanity. It was also an assistant to the Batman, a trusted ally that never betrayed. Another exhausting day trifled in meetings demanded by Wayne Enterprises, left a lethargic exhale, and slumping shoulders to indicate the CEO’s weary state.

Apparel already swapped for more comfortable attire, appearing relatively casual within the manor, quietude was a GIFT in disguise. Absent of clambering reporters attempting to unveil a scoop, or business that required his attention. – So Bruce Wayne THOUGHT. An earpiece tracking transmissions through various stations, upon being placed to his ear, orbited in panicked claims. Of recognition towards one of Gotham’s rogues acting PECULIAR, but more than he regularly was. Joker was always unpredictable, and newfound information didn’t appear that outlandish. But, he wasn’t taking chances. Mimicking his sigh from before, Bruce passed his family’s butler on the way to his hideout.

 “ Alfred, tell Damian I’ll have to postpone taking him out, to tomorrow instead. I have to deal with this. ” GUILT unknowingly to the man, tinged the end of his request, aware of the inevitable disappointment that came from broken expectations. Without further ado, traversing the room that guarded the entryway, Bruce stood within the elevator behind hidden mechanisms and descended into the Batcave.

#VERSE 4 // before the fall #exghul #HERE YOU GO #very excited >:))

[euphorial-docx]

because there’s no update until friday, here’s a lil excerpt of opev chapter 24 <3

“Reading?” Regulus asks, shuffling further into the room with a small smile. He’s not sure if it’s discernible in only the moonlight.

James lets out a high-pitched hum, face scrunching up, “I gave it my best try.”

“Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” Regulus recites quietly to mostly himself, but he wouldn’t mind if James overhears. He doesn’t think James would mind either.Regulus pulls his shirt over his head, balling it up and tossing it into his hamper. He repeats that action with his pants, leaving him in his usual nighttime apparel, and drags his feet over to his bed. He lays down next to James, although the limited space of a twin bed makes it so he’s mostly sprawled on top of him.

It feels like a routine now. James coming up to his room, Regulus changing, Regulus laying down beside James. It’s a predictable pattern that has yet to deviate. Regulus doesn’t want it to deviate. He wants it to repeat and repeat and repeat until it’s all they know. Until they’re dependent on it.

James wraps an arm around Regulus, guiding him impossibly closer. He’s so warm that Regulus can’t help but slip a curious hand underneath James’s shirt, resting right on his chest. He feels James shiver at the coldness of his skin, but he doesn’t say a word about it. Absent-mindedly, Regulus traces the lines of his ribcage, feeling every drawn breath firsthand.

#fic: ogni parte è viva (every part is alive) #jegulus #regulus black #starchaser #james potter #james x regulus

[finalgirlfall]

While she was refusing all manner of obligation to me, keeping me at haughty distance; in hopes that her cousin Morden's arrival would soon fix her in a full and absolute independence of me: disgusted likewise at her adorer, for holding himself the reins of his own passions, instead of giving them up to her control—she writes a letter urging an answer to a letter before written, for her apparel, her jewels, and some gold which she had left behind her; all which was to save her pride from obligation and to promote the independence her heart was set upon. And what followed but a shocking answer, made still more shocking by the communication of a paternal curse upon a daughter deserving only blessings?—A curse upon the curser's heart, and a double one upon the transmitter's, the spiteful, the envious Arabella! Absent when it came, on my return I found her recovering from fits, again to fall into stronger fits; and nobody expecting her life; half a dozen messengers dispatched to find me out. No wonder at her being so affected; she, whose filial piety gave her dreadful faith in a father's curses; and the curse of this gloomy tyrant extending, to use her own words when she could speak, to both worlds—Oh that it had turned in the moment of its utterance to a mortal quinsy, and sticking in his gullet had choked the old execrator, as a warning to all such unnatural fathers. What a miscreant had I been, not to have endeavored to bring her back by all the endearments, by all the vows, by all the offers that I could make her? I did bring her back. More than a father to her; for I have given her a life her unnatural father had well-nigh taken away: shall I not cherish the fruits of my own benefaction? (L152, robert lovelace to john belford, emphasis mine)

lovelace, here, is calling james harlowe sr., a "tyrant," an "execrator" (evil person), etc. etc.—and then saying that he himself is "more than a father to her"!! (1) what might this imply about the dynamic between clarissa harlowe and james harlowe sr.? (2) what might richardson then mean this to imply about the dynamic between clarissa and lovelace? thinking about it. rotating it in my mind...!

#* #literature #samuel richardson #clarissa #i knew the harlowes were a messed-up family. i knew it.

[alexius-fr]

Want to buy RoR stuff

Hey everyone, I was absent for a while due to some family stuff so I unfortunately missed RoR!

Is there anyone who has some extra stuff that they’d be willing to sell to me? I would like 2 of the familliar, 3 of the apparel and 3 of the aura if at all possible! Just let me know your price in a lil’ message below or in my FR inbox, thank you <3

EDIT: I was able to get what I wanted, thank you all for the kind offers <3

#fr #flight rising

[famedroleplay]

apologies for being a bit absent on the main this past week. during this time, i was working on some updates that are now up and ready. i’ll keep this as brief as possible, so below the cut are a few group, points shop, and rules updates!

group updates

due to the current situation with loona with lawsuits and fan boycotts, i decided it was probably best to reimagine arcadia without loona. this has resulted in an updated version of arcadia with aespa, everglow, and nmixx in its model discography. the group has a very similar place in the universe as it did before, but with the storyline of “next level” becoming a viral hit last year and the group trying to maintain their increased popularity.

as everglow was moved over to arcadia, there have been some tweaks to ultraviolet as well. they’ve been renamed femme fatale but changes have been pretty minor. there was some tweaking of release dates, the addition of le sserafim as a model group for future releases, and some tweaking of positions in order to accommodate this addition. their biography has been updated as well.

nct dream has been added to cloud’s model discography. this resulted in some discography and biography tweaking and an earlier debut date of 2016.

i believe all muses who were affected by these changes were contacted last week and any claims that need to be altered will be updated accordingly as i hear back from those muns. if i somehow missed you, please do contact me as soon as possible!

points shop updates

a few updates have been made to the point shop. a few prices have been altered and a few claims have been moved around or formatted differently. two new categories have also been added: business & industry and visual & creative direction.

business & industry includes claims like original brands, restaurants and cafes, and book releases, many of which have been suggested via the suggestion box over the years. you can now also find the collaboration collection claim under this category. the former original apparel line claim has merged into the original brand launch claim.

visual & creative direction allows muses to make claims (partially) participating in creative direction for their own group, such as concept direction, styling direction, and album design. it also allows muses to make claims for directing music videos.

for now, both of these sections are considered to be experimental, so major and/or minor changes may be made to them in the future, such as potentially splitting one section into two different sections, after i’m able to see how they actually work in action. neither of these new sections can be claimed as specialties at the moment, after seeing how these sections work in action, they may be added as potential specialty claims as well.

claims now also list any and all specialties that can be applied to them under the claim itself. along with this, some claims can now fall under more than one specialty. for instance, a standalone commercial can have the acting or fashion & modeling specialty used on it and a youtube video can have a specialty applied on it if said specialty is relevant to the content.

there were some minor tweaks made to claims rules as well with the purpose of expanding possibilities, such as the acting role range from the muse’s age being upped from three years to five.

rules updates

muns may now revamp their muse after nine months since the last time they revamped the same muse if they necessary without having to wipe all of their claims and points. similarly to face claim changes, this is in addition to the initial one free revamp after acceptance which does not have a required waiting period. the time period may be tweaked in the future if necessary, but i understand certain parts of a muse written one way can eventually impede inspiration for that muse down the line if the mun’s vision for them changes too much, so i do want to make it a little easier to try to remedy that as long as it’s not happening so frequently it causes confusion for other muses.

final note:

as i try to do whenever more major updates are made, any mun who finds it may be beneficial to revamp their muse based on these updates, whether that is because updates to a group made that group more fitting or they want to redo their muse’s established claims in light of points shop additions or price updates, is welcome to a free revamp until the end of march. (note: using this revamp will reset the nine month waiting period before another revamp is possible, but it does not have to have been nine months since the last revamp to use this free one.)

that said, in a coming post, i plan to open up anything that muses did not previously have the chance to claim as established career claims or points shop claims so that muses may claim them with points retroactively for a short period. this would apply to claims related music claims newly added to past discographies, as well as creative & art direction and video direction claims in general. more information about that will come at that time, so if any of those would be the main drive for revamping, i would suggest waiting until more details about that are made available to decide whether you want to use the revamp or not.

#famedadmin #queued post

[funkypoacher]

Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing? 👀👀👀👀👀

Turned it into a prompt (go figure). Technically I answered this for Daniel/July already, but I decided to be less lazy with my answer this time, I guess. I got inspired, okay? <3

Daniel/Courier FoNV

The scene was unoffending enough. The yellow glow of a dipping, evening sun shifted across the windowpane and through the glass, dimly illuminating two growing sets of clothing sitting on the bed. These piles were clearly intended to make the bulk of tomorrow’s luggage, as they traveled lightly to New Canaan for the sake of utilizing the last of the better autumn weather, and to relieve some worry delivered in a recent letter (‘we hardly hear from you, Daniel—your family misses you’).

For all the lack-of-extraordinary stacked upon the quilt, however, Daniel still felt swindled, with both His and Hers heaps of apparel provoking a semi-horrified, mostly startled “what is that?”

“What is what?” July billowed in from the living room. Her attention was absorbed in folding a shawl twice, thrice, then throwing it on top of a yellowed, flowered blouse—a menace of material that, up until a second ago, had caused Daniel’s several double-takes to multiply into a baker’s-dozening death-stare.

“This.” Moving the shawl aside, Daniel grabbed the affronting item. “How many times have I heard you complain about this shirt?”

July’s jaw, ajar in calculation, snapped shut, having found the fib she was fumbling after. As she turned her back on him, busying with something in the dresser, she offered off-handed over her shoulder, “oh, just the once, I think.”

“It’s itchy, the lace is stretched, and there isn’t enough starch in a field of potatoes to keep its shape—I am quoting you verbatim.” Tossing the shirt whence it came, Daniel folded his arms, adding, “also you don’t like the flowers.”

“Well, they’re tacky,” July complained, immediately returning to the whatever that was so important in their dresser. “Or, rather, the print is fine for a child, but I am not that.”

Sighing, Daniel walked over to her, giving the bed quite the berth and skirting the terrible, not-so-nice choice in clothing.

“Just because it was a gift from my aunt—”

“—Means absolutely, without question, that I have to bring it and wear it,” July finished, closing the drawer a little too heatedly. Wincing at the angry, clanging sound, July sighed, as well. “This isn’t like the last time I visited your family. Back then I was just—just some heathen outsider, but, hey: I minded my manners, and I helped you make your way there without your ears becoming, I don’t know, a raider’s trophy. But now…” Head falling back, July walked past Daniel, and began frustratedly rearranging her clothing. “Now I’m a heathen outsider that tricked you away from them—”

“You’re giving my family too little credit,” Daniel interjected.

“And you have no idea how much I want them to like me,” July replied. Brow raising at her own sycophantic lean, she quickly clarified “I want them to like me enough to trust me, anyways. Which means sacrificing some style, I guess.”

Nodding acceptingly, Daniel’s head kept bobbing absently as he watched July’s hands turn to his pile of clothes. Her long, delicate fingers smoothed down collars and seams, banishing any suggestion of crease or wrinkle. 

“If you want things to go their smoothest, you should know…” Daniel’s head tilted as she turned to him. ”They don’t exactly appreciate my neckerchiefs.” He eyed the small, folded squares of cloth, reminded of the uncle who wore them often when Daniel was a child. It wasn’t only the nostalgia that pleased—he preferred their usefulness. His pockets were usually full enough with compass, knife, string, halved carpenter’s pencil, and compact sewing kit that a handkerchief was too bulky, but the neckerchief was perfect.

That said, it was also the item of clothing most often neglected by the wash, which didn’t go unnoticed by certain family members a tad too preoccupied with oaths of cleanliness.

Expecting July’s eyes to widen at the thought of doubly insulting the New Canaanites, instead it was as though the clouds let out the sun. “Oh, I know.” July grinned big, her mood shifting to absolutely smarmy. “They think they’re natty, dirty old things. Well, aunt Bonnie does, anyways.”

“You—?” Daniel shook his head. “Let me get this straight. It’s alright if they don’t like what I’m wearing—”

“Because then they’ll be too distracted to critique what I’m wearing,” July illuminated cheekily. Smirking, she added, “what’s the harm? They already adore you, you’re the golden child.”

Rolling an unimpressed sound around his mouth until it seemed humored, Daniel reached forward and picked up her pile of clothes.

“What are you—?”

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do.” Daniel, holding her surprisingly weighty skirts and blouses to his chest, offered his most serenely charming expression. “I’ll choose one set of clothing for you, and you can choose an outfit for me. That is what we’ll wear when we meet my family. Sound fair?”

Speechless for a split second, July decided “you’re on,” after which the well-intentioned offer turned to shambles. The suggestion had been made in good faith: Daniel would have chosen July’s preferred pieces, knowing they were appreciated for comfort as much as utility; however, noting the mischievous, occasionally maniacal, cackling from his wife, Daniel decided to indulge the good mood, knowing she’d been vexed since the announcement they were going home for a visit.

Three minutes felt like thirty rapid-fire seconds thanks to the rough-hewn chaos. With the dust settling came two ‘outfits’ lain side-by-side on the bed. Half-giggles and ho-hums set the general mood at ‘happily displeased’. 

“So. We’ve both over-compensated.” July’s hands rested on her hips as she tried not to laugh. “You now want me to dress like somebody’s grandmother’s grandmother—I mean, that is three cardigans you seem to want me to layer—”

“And you just got me a lot of socks,” Daniel pointed out, puzzled at remembering having seen her grab some black slacks which had, apparently, gone walking.

“If you need suggestions where to put said socks, I will oblige,” July said generously, leaning into his side.  

Happiness at seeing her less stressed led to warm feelings and a glad heart. Daniel’s arm looped around her waist as he chuckled, kissing her crown. He told her, whispering into her dark hair, “there’s only one thing you need to wear, and you’ve already got it on.” Taking her hand in his, he rolled his thumb over her wedding band, which had her soon nestling into his neck, and his arms wrapping tight around her.

“I just want things to be easy,” July said across his throat, sounding tired again. “I know they haven’t been.”

”Then we should probably pack properly because it’ll be an early start in the morning. And…” Lips twitching into a smile through her hair, Daniel added, “we should have faith that it will work out. My family will love you because I love you.”

Mingling together in a soft moment of dreamy affection, July finally pulled away with a relenting sigh. Daniel joined her efforts in straightening up what had been tossed insanely about the bed until, coming to the last set of randomly-selected socks, July held them aloft and suggested he model what he’d be wearing. The only thing he’d be wearing, now that the rest had been put away.

“I’ll put-on only this if you do,” she said, flashing the hand upon which her ring sat.

Daniel appreciated, not for the first time, how very hard it was to say no to her.

#my writing #daniel #honest hearts #july wells #this was funnnnn #and i wrote it in one sitting! i'm getting happier with my quicker easier stuff #or maybe i'm just finally learning to write? #either way #BIG THANKIES FOR THE QUESTION #the-lastcall #you are a STAR

[infinitesimal-ghost]

Despite not having thought about Sanders Sides in a hot second I had an extremely vivid dream last night where the orange side was finally revealed. 

Logan was absent, and the orange side manifested in what appeared to be almost an exact copy of Janus’s courtroom apparel, but in orange and black instead of yellow and black. He also had a fedora instead of a bowler hat. Everytime he was on screen I could literally SMELL oranges. I dont know how that worked but it did and it was wonderful.

As for his function: I have no clue what it was.

He spent much of the episode just messing with Janus (much to Janus’s dismay) and being kind of a polite & friendly idiot despite everybody’s wariness of him, but I dont think his purpose/aspect was ever actually addressed.

Of course after waking up I checked Mr. Sander’s channel itself to see if perhaps my dream was a prophetic vision, but alas! We remain orangless!

Anyways all this to say: because I didnt really have a prediction for the orange side beyond “anger kind of maybe” and “connected to Logan” (like almost everybody else lol). This is now my (super epic and accurate im sure) prediction. Polite but idiotic fedora-wearing man who smells like oranges.

#sanders sides

[dickeythomson92]

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#Serengeti