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#I LOVE THIS AND I CHERISH YOU
soosoosoup · 13 days
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Funk branch au
Au and branch design by @bbc-trolls
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artilite · 2 months
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the sloops got me. they got me bad
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temeyes · 4 months
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reached 10k on twt!! drew a faralex dood to celebrate!!
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academiaipromise · 2 years
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so i watched everything everywhere all at once again yesterday and having seen the movie before made the line “you have unlimited potential because you’re so bad at everything,” which when I initially watched hit like a joke, wreck me. the idea that having hopes and dreams and hobbies that are half pursued isn’t wasted time rather proof that you yourself are limitless just. yeah. leave me be please.
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TA-DA. IT'S FOR YOU!!
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TYSM FOR THIS VANESSA!!
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archfey-edda · 5 months
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For those who don't like Ren surviving being the AU instead of the first idea.
(I also may or may not have made this for a short fic based on the art because I got attached to these guys)
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solarisfortuneia · 2 months
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— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.
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and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.
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✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)
✦ featuring: alhaitham.
✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.
✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)
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he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 
he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.
he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.
he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 
he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 
“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 
the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.
“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 
desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 
please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 
please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 
please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  
“— just wake up, beloved.” 
by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 
no. no. this can’t be happening.
he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.
“alhaitham—” 
his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  
“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 
those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.
i love you. 
he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.
until he can’t smell camphor anymore.
every person has their curiosities. 
they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.
for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.
after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?
alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 
number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 
he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.
and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 
you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.
you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.
‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”
alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.
and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 
“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 
“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”
“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”
those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 
but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.
alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 
“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,
i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!
oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,
wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”
you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.
loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.
but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 
a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 
he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 
a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.
 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.
“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.
 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 
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✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?
that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this
when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.
thanks for reading.
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raptorrobot · 5 months
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to see the sky for one last time
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thefaeriecreek · 1 year
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I kept repeating this nonstop during my time with Tulin
Bro how they gonna play the Vah Medoh theme in the wind temple and not have my man in this game, idec that he’s dead and in hylia’s light or whatever now. I'm gonna commit a human Rito transmutation, it's fumkin smoochin' time, rebobby.
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crystalflygeo · 9 months
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Morning coffee? Morning tea... ft Neuvillette + fem!reader
cw/tags: this is just SUPER tender and vanilla sex ngl. Pet names (in french!!! <3) dirty talking if you squint?? itty bit of somno maybe? idk how to tag this y'all just smut with feelings.
notes: HI I DISAPPEARED AND COME BACK TO OFFER YOU NEUVILLETTE. I love him so much, I am down horrendous I love him I love him I love him AAAAAAAAAAAAA. The self control I had to practice not to make him speak full sentences in french lmao.
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The room is dark and silent as you shift on the bed, yawning. You blink drowsily and realize you were asleep, only dreaming of Neuvillette’s soft touch, the brush of his hair, his gentle kisses and nuzzling, reserved only for private settings. You roll over and rub at your face, but the bed is empty.
Hm? Where is your husband?
It is very rare for Neuvillette to leave like this, unannounced. He’d always give you a kiss, hushed whispers telling you he has some business to attend to before slipping out of the room. Sometimes he doesn’t want to wake you and leaves a note instead, but now as you look around, albeit half-asleep, there is nothing…
Did something happen? You frown.
His side of the bed is still warm though, his essence lingers in the room, on your skin. He was definitely here not too long ago. The familiar scent of his cologne teases your nose and you decide to burrow into his pillow to chase it, hugging the soft thing wishing it was him.
Today was a day off, there was no need to worry about work or other responsibilities. Though you suppose Fontaine’s Iudex’s responsibilities never end…
You sigh and cling tighter onto the pillow, closing your eyes and desperately trying to recapture the essence of that dreamy state, sliding deeper under the warm comforter and rolling onto your side in the middle of the bed, slipping into memories of the night prior.
Neuvillette’s deep voice, the delightful sparks of electricity as his hands roamed your body and that feeling of being so full, complete and sated as he slid deep inside you from behind.
Oh, how you love him. Always so reverent with his affections.
Somewhere between the reminiscence of a high pitched voice you barely recognize as your own moaning his name, and Neuvillette’s low tantalizing whispers as he urges you to come all over his cock, you barely register the soft click of the door.
The subconscious is a funny thing and part of you wonders how can he be there and in your little fantasy at the same time.
Deep in the middle of your struggle between here and there, there is a soft rustle of fabric, and then the sharp clink of porcelain coming from the bedside table, sounds that pull you back from the drowsiness.
“Hmmm… Neuv?”
The bed dips slightly with his weight, and a soft caress at your hair has you stirring a little. The covers sliding off your skin and Neuvillette’s appreciative groan upon seeing your naked figure spread out before him brings you almost alert.
You feel the warmth of him sliding into bed behind you, his hair tickling at your cheek and his breath at your shoulder as he nuzzles here, planting a soft kiss. Strong arms circling your waist as he pulls your closer, your hips slotting together.
And then you hear him, in that husky smooth voice you’ve come to crave. “Ma chérie.” He beckons, soft and low in your ear. “Ma belle…” Your name velvet on his lips. Large hands shifting your body, maneuvering until you lay on your back. “Mon amour.”
You let out a soft sound of acknowledgement and he chuckles.  
Eyes still closed you tilt your head towards his shoulder, seeking to curl up to his chest and cuddle, but instead you feel his weight shift on the bed again. You whine and a tiny speck inside your head is ready to cry out for him not to leave, but before you can form a coherent sentence you suddenly feel him on top of you, his larger frame caging you, long locks sliding off his back and firm hands taking hold of your thighs, coaxing them to part.
“Let me take care of you, ma chérie.” He’s persuasive with both his touch and his words, spreading your legs gently, one of his hands sliding towards a calf where he squeezes lightly, your body soft and pliant like moist clay under the hands of a sculptor. “You’re so gorgeous… show me…” He kisses a trail down your neck to your collarbone, your chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm as you squirm a little, ticklish and aroused.
“Neuv…” You moan, eyes still closed but senses fully aware of him and everything around you. The room feels hotter, your skin simmering everywhere he touches. Your sides, your hips, your ass… lifting your bottom slightly to slide you into his lap, your legs instinctively curling around his torso and oh- “Oh…”
He shushes you gently, rolling his hips so his cock slides along your folds, teasing and rubbing at your sex, lathering on your slick and growing harder.
“So good for me…”
You whine again, eyes finally fluttering open to stare at his mesmerizing lavender ones as he ruts softly into you. It drives you insane, the want, the wait. And you claw and grip at the bedsheets in anticipation when the engorged cockhead catches on your hole for a moment before sliding again, poking at your little clit instead.
“F-Fuck… Neuv, please…” You groan breathlessly, arms reaching out for him to hold onto the pale skin of his shoulders.
He hums and finally guides himself inside, the first stretch making you keen and toss your head back into the pillow. You see his eyebrows twitch slightly, diamond pupils dilating. Your inner walls squeeze and gush as he pushes deeper and deeper. Goosebumps rising on your skin, sweat running down the back of your neck.
He bottoms out and groans, long and low, leaning into you to rest his forehead on your shoulder, savoring the way you clench before seeking out your lips for a kiss. It’s passionate, heated, but still sweet and you can’t help the smile that breaks when you taste his favorite tea on his mouth, bold, strong and decadent.
As morning light filters in through almost sheer curtains you gaze up at his face, the sharp elegant lines, his long lashes, his beautiful eyes and the slightly disheveled hair, partially falling over his face. You reach out with a hand and comb your fingers trough the white and blue locks, brushing them behind a pointy ear before sliding your hand back and reaching for a horn, petting it gently with pure adoration.
“You’re beautiful.” He says.
You make a sound that’s a cross between a scoff and a laugh, blushing and realizing that as much as you’ve been staring at him, he’s done the same. “Was about to say that myself…” You reply. You see the white pupils flicker, turning to slits and back to diamonds and a shiver runs through your body, acutely aware he’s still inside you. “I love you...”
“I love you too, ma chérie, more than you can imagine.” Your breath catches with his words, spoken so sincere, with such resolute feelings.
You are his, so wholly and utterly, but he knows he belongs to you too. Irrefutably intertwined, awakening long forgotten instincts on the old dragon. Neuvillette’s hands hold your hips again as he starts thrusting into you, filling you and then retreating ever so slowly. You bite your lip and try to push closer, canting your hips to that delicious feeling as warmth pool in your gut.
Your arms are back around his neck, fingers tangling on his hair and bodies pressing together as his pace increases steadily, gasps leave your parted lips. Your muscles already tensing on a tight coil.
Neuvillette hisses as he sinks into you, harder but not faster, aiming his cock right where you want it most, he feels you tighten around him, hot warmth sucking him right in and begging for more. It’s perfection that Neuvillette ruts into, pressing over and over. His instincts on fire telling him to lay his claim.
“I love you.” He says again, unable to stop himself.
You feel pleasure bubbling up, fast, faster than you’d thought, and intense. Your toes curl, legs gripping harder around him and your nails accidentally clawing at his back, surely leaving red marks on that pristine skin. He groans, the sound of skin slapping against skin getting louder, wetter. His thrusts aim deep, heavy and punctuated strokes that hit your sweet spot with accuracy. Labored breaths mixing together.
“Neuv, Neuv… ‘m so close, please pleaseplease-” You whisper desperate, needy.
His thumb finds your clit and you squeal as he draws lazy circles on it, lasting only a few more seconds until you can’t stand it any longer and come undone for him… all over him, gripping him tightly, head thrown back with a loud moan, eyes shutting close.
“Hah… that’s it, hng-si serré…” He mutters and smiles satisfied as he looks at you, flushed and tender, whispering tender words against your neck, love and adoration pressed against your skin before his fangs do as well. Keeping his carefully measured pace as you ride the high of your orgasm and he chases his own pleasure, releasing inside you with that same slow methodical drive and a hoarse primal groan.
You both lie there for a few moments, panting and feeling the aftershocks, soaking up on the feeling of each other. A tangled mess of limbs between sheets and blankets. Neuvillette carefully rests his body on top of yours and you coo happily, combing his hair with your fingers, scratching at his scalp gently as another kind of of drowsiness settles on you, leaving you feeling floaty and light in the afterglow of your lovemaking.   
Your bodies relax and wind down, putty against one another when he raises his head from his resting spot at your chest and kisses you again, short but not less sweet.
“Good morning, ma chérie.” He says, voice low and soothing.
“Morning…” You smile back at him. A little amused.
He slides off of you and you whimper, feeling the stickiness and a slight discomfort from the sudden emptiness. He leans over a little and reaches for something on the bedside table. “I brought you some tea.” He presents you the cup delicately, still warm.
You chuckle and scoot to sit up at the crumpled blankets, graciously picking up the cup and taking a sip. The tea is fragrant and sharp, the same taste on his lips minutes ago… ah, so that was it.
“Thank you, Neuv.” You peek at him from over the cup.
A warm tea and a good fuck… you could definitely get used to mornings like this.   
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orykorioart · 11 months
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From Aug 2022
Sliding in right before pride month ends with some old Blup sketches that I really liked.
[ID: 3 sketch illustrations featuring Barry and Lup.
The first sketch is Barry and Lup, with the trans flag wrapped around them. Barry is leaning in to press a kiss onto Lup's cheek.
The second sketch is Barry and Lup doing a fist bump, smiling.
The last sketch is a full body of Barry and Lup, out on a walk. They are holding hands and smiling at each other. Barry is holding a coffee cup in his other hand, while Lup is holding an ice cream cone. Lup's skirt has the trans flag colors.
End ID]
Also I’m open for sketch suggestions yall I’d be happy to draw Taz fanarts.
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canisalbus · 21 days
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I have to ask what drew vasco into falling in love with machete?
His snivelling runt ways were just that irresistable.
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pulsingvoid · 7 months
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not negating anybody's experience i know black sails is outstanding regardless of how or when or how quickly you watch it. but also, as a gay person who watched it in real time, you really had to be there. they introduce anne bonny and you know your pirate history so you KNOW she's a girlliker. she has a moment with max but youre not sure where it's gonna go. because it's 2014. you wait over a year for 2x01 and she and max fucking obliterate you with the sword drop kiss scene. all anybody is talking about in the tags is vaneeleanor. a few weeks later 2.05 drops and flint is not only textually gay and kissing a man but he is waging war on england, on all of civilization for taking away his male lover. you find this out after investing fourteen hours on this show that have spanned over a year and a half in your real life. not to mention the miranda stuff and silver's arc and mr scott and madi and the death march that seasons 3 and 4 feel like when you have no inkling of how it's gonna end. but you stick with it regardless because it's good and besides it's 2014-2017 and the only genre show with gay people in it is fucking... the 100? lol anyway. more gay people flock to black sails between seasons and the tag becomes more about the gay shit than vaneeleanor, thank fucking god, finally. you all dread the last season. you brace yourselves for the worst. you thank the stars this show airs weekly because watching even just two episodes together is too overwhelming. 4.08 airs. you cry. 4.09 airs. you cry. 4.10 airs. your life will never be the same. you cry so hard you catch a fever and have to stay in bed all week to recuperate. you know this was a once in a lifetime experience never to be repeated again but you can't help but hold every other show to this impossible standard.
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jinstronaut · 1 month
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kim seokjin, according to @aprylynn happy birthday apryl! ♡♡♡
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inklore · 8 months
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i love people who write for underrated characters and fandoms. i love people who barely get 100 notes and keep posting. keep writing. keep doing what they love and not letting lack of interaction completely hinder their enjoyment on here. you’re strong. you’re valid. you’re literally the backbone of the writing community on here!!!!
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franzias-cave · 2 years
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saint of joy 
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