#I will go back and add the rest of the image descriptions

[secretlystephaniebrown]

I Read Nearly Every Appearance of the Lazarus Pit Before Flashpoint and All I Got Was A Headache: A Meta Commentary

So! The Lazarus Pit!

The Lazarus Pit is obviously an iconic part of the Batman Franchise. We encounter it everywhere, from the Under the Red Hood movie, to the Lazarus Planet event which just ended.

But has the Lazarus Pit always been this way?

It's comics. Of course not.

Very long comic rant with citations below!

The Nu52 and following reboots obviously overhauled Lazarus Lore so completely they're functionally a different thing, so I'm not talking about them. Today, instead, we're talking about post-crisis/pre-Flashpoint Lazarus Pits, their contradictions, and what we can make of them.

The Lazarus Pits have been around nearly as long as Ra's and Talia have been, and even before they appeared, it was clear that Ra's had some method of extending his life.

Batman (1940-2011) #235

The first Lazarus Pit itself seems to be in a chalet in Switzerland, and it's very different than what we will later associate it as. It is instead, a mortuary slab that lowers itself into a pit of "bubbling liquid"

Batman (1940-2011) #243

In these early versions, the Lazarus Pit is portrayed as a medical invention that Ra's has used to extend his life.

It is shown to have consequences, which fandom has, of course, latched onto.

Batman (1940-2011) #244

Here, we see the Lazarus Madness described as including "the strength of ten men", and he is able to be able to resist nearly all attacks from Batman and Lo Ling.

In addition, Ra's claims that he has used the pit too often, which is shown to be the driving force behind his interest in Bruce and his legacy.

Batman (1940-2011) #244

Later appearances of Ra's and the pit throughout this era add a few more interesting tidbits.

He claims that only he can use the Lazarus Pit... but puts Talia in it in that same issue, claiming that it's okay if it's just a quick dip.

Batman (1940-2011) #335

Is Ra's lying about no one else being able to use the pit? Almost certainly. He will start putting anyone he wants into the pit soon enough.

Those with a keen eye might notice that the Lazarus Pit is already going through some aesthetic changes: we're still seeing a slab being lowered into a small pit, but now the liquid within is orange! This will come up a lot!

Next up we have the storyline Grant Morrison refused to read: Son of the Demon.

In Son of the Demon, Ra's claims that there was an earlier version of the Pit, before the final version Bruce has already encountered. In this version, he claims that Mellisande, Talia's mother, was pushed into this proto-pit, and it killed her.

Batman: Son of the Demon (1987)

Denny O'Neil will later retcon this in 1993, claiming that Talia's mother died of a drug overdose, and Ra's refused to bring her back.

But it is consistent in early versions of the story that Lazarus Pits, if not entered with proper care and with the right preparations, can be dangerous.

Bride of the Demon is the next storyline, and Ra's BRINGS the Lazarus Pits in this one. Ra's finds himself a hot MILF girlfriend and puts her in the Pit to make her younger so she can give him kids.

Batman: Bride of the Demon (1990)

This Lazarus Pit is shown to be more experimental than past versions, with Ra's and Dr. Weltmann attempting to prevent the Lazarus Madness factor.

Ra's later puts a child in the pit as a bribe to his father, but the kid had possibly been dead too long, and it was hinted there were going to be long-term consequences for the actions... which were dropped. As was the wife, who was supposedly pregnant at the end of this story. Comics!

This is the first time that limits on the Lazarus Pit are presented, but it is certainly not the last. This idea that there's an upper limit on how long someone can be dead for before a Lazarus Pit doesn't do anything will come back again.

Batman: Birth of the Demon finally brings in a more mystical aspect to the Lazarus Pits, which so far have been vaguely scientific. In this story, we are introduced to the fact that Lazarus Pits are located on the convergence points of leylines (which in-universe have something to do with the electro-magnetic field). Ra's's approximate age is revealed, and it is shown that Bruce and Ra's have been fighting a real-estate battle over sites where Lazarus Pits can be built.

Batman: Birth of the Demon (1992)

In flashbacks, we learn that Ra's figured out how to build a Lazarus Pit, and was not actually the first person to use it. Instead, it was for the son of the Sultan Ra's worked for as a physician.

After the Sultan's son went mad, killed Sora, and blamed Ra's for it, Ra's had his vengeance... by putting the son in a false Lazarus Pit.

This pit was sabotaged by not being built on a Leyline. So uh... be careful with those, I guess!

So in short: by the end of this era of Denny O'Neil/Mike Barr Lazarus Lore, we know that anyone can use a Lazarus Pit, but Ra's controls them with his knowledge of how to create them. Bruce can find where they should be by tracking leylines, and will pass this knowledge on to others over time.

We then enter a new era! The Chuck Dixon era, to be specific.

Chuck Dixon has surprisingly few retcons for us. We first really encounter his take on Lazarus Lore in his mini series Bane of the Demon, where Bane works with Ra's and co.

We get a brief recap of the lore here:

Batman: Bane of the Demon #3 (1998)

We are now introduced to an interesting new layer: the Lazarus Pits can be predicted, not just detected. Ra's has headquarters set up all over the world, in places where Lazarus Pits not only are, but will be. Some pit locations appear to remain the same throughout the years (Ra's has built numerous pits on the location of the first site: at least three that we know of), but generally, Lazarus Pits seem to be a one-time deal.

Ra's clearly has dedicated most of his life to these pits; to acquiring their locations, to predicting where they will be, experimenting with how to make them better... so obviously, he guards the formula for how to make them extremely closely, right?

Well. Not according to Chuck.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (1989-2007) #145

And if you've noticed that head of green hair on the ground there, that's right folks! BRUCE WAYNE PUT A DEAD JOKER IN A LAZARUS PIT HE MADE HIMSELF.

Bruce justifies it by telling Alfred that if he does this, it means Ra's can't use it later. However, it does not change the fact that Bruce put the Joker in a Lazarus Pit. No I'm not going to be over this ever. Jason might have a point, actually.

Ra's decides, after this, that he wants another wife. And he picks Dinah Lance! But whoops, as it happens, Dinah was tortured and can't have kids (also lost her Canary Cry), way back in Green Arrow, before Ollie died! So Ra's decides to throw her in a Lazarus Pit. It... doesn't go well. Lazarus Madness + Restored Canary Cry = one destroyed building.

Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #33

Oh look! We've got locations! And of course every other Lazarus Pit we've seen or will see except Birth of the Demon is nowhere near any of these convergence points!

So! To recap the current state of the lore: Lazarus Pits are a combination of science and magic. They are an alchemical creation, built on leyline nodes. Generally, they are one-use only, or at least they require centuries to be re-usable. They can resurrect the newly-dead, but but Ra's is very cautious about letting other people use them, probably because he's a control freak, and he doesn't have too many of them left.

We depart the Dixon era and enter... the Nyssa Raatko era.

Nyssa is introduced in Death and the Maidens, with Greg Rucka, who is a huge fan of Denny O'Neil, still sticking pretty close to the original lore.

Here, we see that Bruce has still been on his kick of preventing Ra's from building more Lazarus Pits by buying up real estate where they could be. This forced Ra's to try to reconcile with his daughter Nyssa, who he gave a Lazarus Pit to sometime in the 1700s.

Batman: Death and the Maidens (2003-2004) #1

"But hey!" I can hear you say. "Isn't part of the thing that you mentioned earlier is that they're one-use?"

Well they are! For Ra's.

Nyssa, however, is a smart lady.

Nyssa, at some point in her life, figured out how to make a Lazarus Pit reusable. So she's been getting a lot of mileage out of this baby, and has been since the 1700s.

This story also presents an explanation for why the Lazarus Pit is sometimes green and sometimes orange: Nyssa's is orange and Ra's has green ones. I guess maybe the earlier orange pits that Ra's had were him trying to make them reusable like Nyssa? Hmm.

Batman: Death and the Maidens (2003-2004) #4

When questioned about it, Nyssa tells Talia that there used to be more pits, so he was less protective of them when he gave her this one.

Batman: Death and the Maidens (2003-2004) #6

At the end of this storyline, Ra's is dead, Nyssa is the new Ra's al Ghul, and according to Bruce, she has the only Lazarus Pit left.

Batman: Death and the Maidens (2003-2004) #9

Nyssa pops up again in Batgirl, facing off against Cass, and brags about her special pit again. Cass and Shiva both get dips in it. Fun times!

Batgirl (2000-2006) #69

Yes, the torture hooks are a reoccurring feature of Nyssa's pit. I don't know why.

But wait! A brief interlude!

Jason Todd came back to comics in a storyline: Under the Hood, in 2005, which wrapped up in 2006. We weren't told how Jason came back in the story itself, but a few months after Under the Hood ended, we get Batman Annual #25, which shows Talia shoving Jason into a Lazarus Pit while Ra's was using it.

Batman Annual #25 (2006)

There's no discussion about if this is a weird dip. He's got brain activity again though!

This is revisited again in Red Hood: The Lost Days, but it doesn't really add anything from the point of Lazarus Lore, except that Ra's posits that Jason, having already been resurrected, could have suffered some long-term consequences, unlike literally anyone else who had a dip.

Red Hood: The Lost Days (2010-2011) #2

Anyways, enough Jason! Nyssa gets killed off-page in OYL, so she's gone now, Talia's running the show and oh fuck it's Morrison-era. And Morrison never bothered to read any other Ra's or Talia story because it wasn't Silver Age or something. So... retcon time!

The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul attempts to retell Birth of the Demon, but with a few retcons. The pits were discovered, not made, being the official point in which the Lazarus Pits become purely magical phenomena, rather than a work of alchemy.

Batman Annual #26 (2007)

Bruce also mentions that the Pits are connected to actual waterways, which is a massive difference from the shallow pits from earlier eras.

This era does however confirm the concept that older bodies, further along in the decay process, probably shouldn't be dipped in the Lazarus Pit. At least, Dick convinced Tim of this fact after a little while.

(Also White Ghost wants a perfectly healthy, alive Tim to bathe in the Lazarus Pit, and this is never explained. Maybe it was a distraction?)

Nightwing (1996-2009) #139

In this era, and the Batman: Reborn era following it, the Lazarus Pits are pretty absent, but the few references we do get from this point forward (including in Red Hood: The Lost Days, which are published in 2010-2011), tend to use the Morrison-era canon that the pits are natural. And also we're back to having a lot of them, instead of just Nyssa's singular one in the Balkans, and, since Ra's has a new young(er) body, there's no sense of urgency to buy up/prevent him from making new pits. Potentially, Dusan/White Ghost took advantage of the fact that the Bats thought Ra's was dead to buy back the real-estate and make new pits, but that's using the pre-Morrison lore. I guess in Morrison era, the Bats just... don't know where Pits are until they find one, and then they blow it up.

We also no longer see any one-time-use limitations. One could assume that Talia figured out the formula Nyssa used to keep the pits reusable and told Ra's, if we're trying to merge the canons.

And that's not even counting whatever is happening in the post-Flashpoint era. Lazarus Planet gives me a headache. Let's not talk about it just now.

Anyways, in short: I think the artificial, single-use Lazarus Pits are way more fun. But anyways, here's the citations to help you decide what YOU think Lazarus Lore should be!

#Steph Speaks #Steph Reads Comics #The Lazarus Pit #Ra's al Ghul #Bruce Wayne #Talia al Ghul #Bane #Nyssa Raatko #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Barbara Gordon #I had more images but there's a 30 image cap so you guys don't get to see Ted and Babs dealing with Lazarus Mad-Dinah #DC #I will go back and add the rest of the image descriptions

[dotster001]

For Tuna:Blackmail End

A/N: for those who asked if I was still doing endings to "for tuna"....yes. I know it's been a while, but I'm slow and have depression! I'm sorry 😭

Part One Part Two Part Three Choose another ending

"Congratulations Leona! Don't blow this."

"It's dishonorable," Jack muttered as he listened to Grim and Leona outside the door.

"Heh, yeah," Ruggie said, not really listening. 

So you were going to end up with Leona, huh? He had his suspicions, Leona had to be one of the wealthier students at this school, but it didn't make the sting any less.

Grim was smart. Whatever story he would spin, you'd no doubt fall for.

"I gotta go," Ruggie muttered, walking away from the door.

"Ruggie," Jack called after him, but he didn't want to listen to what the goody two shoes freshman had to say.

He needed to clear his head. He'd never have been able to be with you. He didn't deserve you, and even if he did, he couldn't support you. Not when he was already supporting his granny, and all the kids in his area. You certainly were also capable of working and helping to support him and his family, but legally, you didn't exist in this world. It would be hard.

Especially if Leona rescinded his invitation to continue working for him after graduation. Which he would, if Ruggie "stole you".

Ruggie realized he had wandered himself over to the courtyard. He sat under a tree, leaning back with a groan. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to get the image of you on Leona's arm out of his head.

"Ruggie!" 

Man, he must be hallucinating. You were burned in his mind, and in his ears, apparently.

He felt someone standing in front of him, and cracked open an eye. You were smiling at him excitedly.

"Can't you see I'm trying to rest?" He snickered.

You rolled your eyes. "You hang out way too often with Leona."

"Well he is my esteemed employer," he laughed. His eyes flicked over to your hands. "Whatcha got there?"

"Oh! They're dandelions. Before you come at me, they're seeding, it's too late to eat them."

"Then why are you holding them? And so gently, may I add."

You gently, slowly, handed him a seeding dandelion. Then you sat down next to him.

"Blow on it. Make a wish."

"Huh?"

"Just trust me! This is one of the only ways we can do magic where I come from!"

He sighed, but you looked so earnest. So he made a silent wish, and blew on the dandelion, just as you did the same.

"So what did you wish for?" You asked sweetly. He opened his mouth, but you grinned wickedly. "Just kidding! You can't tell me, or it won't come true!"

He rolled his eyes. "That's not how magic works. Besides, my wish is never going to come true anyway."

"Not with that attitude!"

"Not with any attitude. It isn't going to happen."

He leaned against the tree again. You sat quietly, scrutinizing him.

"Well, I wished for a man."

Ruggie snorted at your abrupt change in attitude.

"Any particular man? Remember, if you tell me it won't come true. Shi hi hi."

"Oh hush," you snorted. "Let's see, he's kind."

So not Leona, Ruggie thought with an internal, evil snicker.

"Someone who'd help me fix the dorm, even if he's already super busy. Someone who goes out for a snack, and comes back with a dessert that tastes like sardines. Someone who accidentally started my cat son on a pointless quest to find me a wealthy bachelor so that he can earn mine and Grim's love with tuna."

Ruggie blinked a couple times, slowly mulling over the clear description of himself.

"Huh."

"Yeah. Huh. Still not a wish that's gonna come true?"

He bit his lip, looking off into the distance.

"It can't come true," he tried to sound calm, but he couldn't ignore the bitter tint to his words.

You stiffened. "Oh. Any particular reason why?"

"I can't support you, Y/N. You deserve the world. And I can't give it to you."

"Well, you're thinking super far ahead. I won't even graduate until a year after you. Plus, I don't need supported. I'm a big kid. I can work."

"You deserve the world," he repeated, looking over at you with palpable heartbreak in his eyes. "And my one chance to give it to you will go away once we're together."

"Dude, you're completely losing me. What the fuck are you on about?" You raised a brow.

"Leona offered me basically a lifetime gig with him after graduation. But he's as in love with you as I am. And he's not exactly the most reasonable dude on the planet."

"So you love me too?" 

He rolled his eyes. "That's what you got from that? Of course I love you! I wouldn't fix your shoddy building for free, now would I? I'm not that good a person."

"Sure you are," you said softly as you pushed a stray piece of hair off his face.

"You're missing the point! Leona-"

"The Ruggie I know wouldn't be worried about the jealous anger of a kitty cat who isn't even dating me," you said sternly, and his mouth snapped shut. Logically, you were right. But-

"The Ruggie I know, would join me as I take a trip to Savannahclaw with the intention of blackmailing his ridiculously wealthy housewarden, so he can keep his job and date his true love."

He couldn't even remember the trip, or how it got to this specific point, but damn, were you sexy snapping at Leona about this.

"And another thing!"

"Sevens, shut up, herbivore. You're hurting my head," Leona groaned tiredly. "And my heart. Do you really think I'm this cruel?"

"Huh?" You seemed just as startled as Ruggie felt.

"Sevens, you clearly love the guy. Just cause I'd definitely treat you better, doesn't mean that I'm an ass who would punish Ruggie if you both feel the same way about each other."

He gave a pointed glare at Ruggie. "Does he feel the same way about you?"

Ruggie nodded quickly.

"There. I'm not a monster. You're a good worker, it'd be stupid to lose you over something like this. Just be careful," Leona snickered, and leaned in close, his eyes predatory, his smile smug, "you slip up, I'm going to be right there."

"Fair enough, shi hi hi," Ruggie extended a hand to Leona, the both of them participating in a handshake.

"Sevens, you two are so difficult to understand," you muttered. Ruggie turned towards you with a grin.

"Now that I have my future secured, you wanna know my wish?"

"What was it?" You asked, clearly having a guess.

He stepped close to you, nuzzling his nose against yours. "You promise it'll come true?"

You hummed.

"I wished for a box of a dozen donuts."

You turned on your heel, stalking away, and he laughed after you. "Obviously I wished for you!"

"Whatever, Ruggie."

He chased after you gleefully, for once looking forward to the future.

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @neech @kazumify @owlisbuffering

#for tuna #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

could you tell me more about spoonflower? i'm interested in uploading my own designs, but i'm not entirely sure how it works or how much it pays. thank you!

Sure! When you first upload your design, it'll look like this.

The standard DPI for printing on all the fabric sites I've seen is 150, and since I made this pattern at 200 DPI that means Spoonflower will print it bigger than I want it unless I change it here. So I click on the "change DPI" thing, type in "200" and click "change". Sometimes I find it doesn't save, so I always go back later to check and make sure it did save the right DPI.

(You can avoid this by just changing your image to the right DPI before uploading, but sometimes I want the option to make it a bit bigger, just in case.)

If you want to make multiple sizes of the same pattern available you'll have to upload a different version for each one and change the size individually. For example, I drew my Bathroom Dinosaurs pattern pretty large and at 150 DPI, and left that as is for the big version.

But I wanted a small version too, so for that one I changed it to 670 pixels per inch so it'd print much smaller.

You write in the title, tags, and description, and you can put any links to other pages or references in the "Additional Details" section.

(Leaving links isn't usually necessary, but sometimes it is, like how I wanted to leave a link to the original 1760's teapot for my crinoid fossil pattern.)

At this point, you can order things printed with your design, but nobody else can yet. You have the option to show the design publicly, but I like to keep it private until I've ordered my proofs and can sell it.

Now, to order proofs! DO NOT GET THE CUT SWATCHES!!! They are SO much more expensive than getting a fill-a-yard, because cutting and packaging all the little pieces is a lot of extra labour. Wether you have a few designs, or a lot, just get a fill-a-yard.

To make a fill-a-yard you first need to make a collection. Collections can be either public or private, so I keep a private collection called "new designs to proof", and I put all my new designs in there until I've ordered them. You can also add other people's patterns to a collection, so if you have extra space to fill up or you want little bits of a bunch of other people's patterns for a quilt or something, add whatever you want to your collection.

On the collections page when you hover your mouse over one you'll see a little patchwork symbol show up in the middle along the bottom edge, and you click on that.

That'll take you here, and you choose a layout and a fabric.

For some reason the fabric options here are a bit limited and vary depending on the layout. I like to get either the 1 yard/42 designs in cotton poplin, or the 2 yards/48 designs in cotton sateen, but there are plenty more you could try.

I'll click the latter for this example. (The squares in this one are the perfect size for pleated face masks, and I have a few made from mine and my friend's fabrics.)

Then you just click on a design and click on however many squares/rectangles you want it to fill. It usually takes a few seconds for them to show up.

You can have just one little sample of each, or you could make half the fabric be one design and fill up the rest with little samples. (That's what I did for my brown monster waistcoat - I printed juuuust enough of a fill-a-yard to cut out a waistcoat from, and the rest was other samples.)

You can change it around if you want. Once you're happy with it, put it in the cart and buy it!

I'm not going to order this one since it's an example with designs I've already proofed, but here's what my monster patterns looked like when they arrived.

Also, I want to point out that you could VERY easily make some really fun pride flags using the fill-a-yard! You might have to have it be only part of the fabric, depending on the number of stripes, but you could make it be any texture or pattern you want. Here's a quick example I did with other people's patterns by searching "(colour) marble texture".

With only 4 stripes I'd have to fill the rest of the space in with something else and cut it off, but it would still be pretty big! (The edge of that purple stripe looks jagged in the preview, but they print perfectly straight.)

I have not done this, but someone should! Just wash it, trim the blank edges off, hem it, and you've got a flag!

(Don't do this with the 2 yards/4 designs option though, it looks like nice stripes in the thumbnail but it's made for infinity scarves and there's a gap and dotted line down the middle for cutting. Bleh.)

Anyways, once your samples arrive you can make the designs available for sale! If you have any changes you'd like to make, to the size it prints at or the pattern itself, you can make them now.

I found the small version of the Bathroom Dinosaurs print was too small when I first got my proofs, so I just reduced the DPI a bit.

And you can replace the image with a new, edited version by clicking "upload revision".

So when my brown coffin pattern printed really washed out and grey, I replaced it with a more saturated version and was good to go, no need to order another proof.

Down at the bottom of the design editing page you can now click on the options to list it publicly, and to sell it on fabric and/or wallpaper. I make all of them available on fabric, and some on wallpaper if I deem them to be appropriately large.

They'll pay you 10% of the sales price of the fabric, or slightly more if you sell over a certain amount in a month. There's a whole page of questions and answers about it.

You also get a 10% discount if you order fabrics with your own designs. (Although, personally, if I'm ordering my own designs on fabrics for me then I'd prefer to get them from somewhere like ArtFabrics, since they use reactive dyes instead of inks, so their blacks actually print black and don't make the fabric stiffer like Spoonflower's do. And also because they're here in Canada so there's less shipping cost. Sadly they don't have an option to sell your designs though.)

Spoonflower also has weekly design contests which are announced a few weeks in advance and have pretty big store credit prizes (the first place one is 200 USD), and I've entered a few times, but I don't vote often because Spoonflower is such a huge site that there are frequently over a thousand entries and it's really time consuming to scroll through them all.

Ok, that's everything I can think of! I also put all my patterns on sone things on Redbubble, since they have options for repeating patterns on some things.

#ask #spoonflower #fabric #advice #I'd been meaning to answer this one for WEEKS

[llumimoon]

making an AU based off a show based off a doll line means I go WAY TOO HARD on trying to figure out the fits.

here are the designs for the Ever After High AU !!! :D the story this time around is like. WAY too complicated to explain in one post but like the super duper summarized version is this:

For generations the citizens of Ever After have been following the tradition of signing a magical contract in the Storybook of Legends promising to relive their parents' fairytales to keep the stories alive. But there's a bit of an uproar when the newest Evil Queen in ages refuses to follow her destiny and things start to get a little complicated as the students at Ever After High realize that maybe not everything has been played by the book in the past. When Normal breaks a magic mirror he REALLY wasn't supposed to find, his life and story are thrown into chaos. Add in some wildcard Wonderlandians and now nothing's going according to the script. Is a happily ever after really possible?

The AU doesn't follow the show to an exact T, we mostly borrowed some elements and the initial Raven and Apple conflict so there's quite a lot of surprises in store :3c

(EAH AU made by @rindomness, @kaseyskat, and I!! <3 :])

Edit: more designs

image description under the cut

[ID: Four Images of dndads season 2 characters in an Ever After High AU, the first two images being design pages and the last two being doodle pages.

Image 1: A character line up of three designs, from left to right Scary Marlowe, Normal Oak, and Hermie Unworthy. They are each labeled with the fairytale characters they represent, from left to right Evil Queen, Snow White, and Mad Hatter. Hermie has a speech bubble that says "Hello ~ Audience! (yes you looking here)". On the far left Scary stands with her left hand on her hip and her right hand resting palm up with swirlfs of magenta and purple magic coming up from it. She has a serious look on her face and is wearing black mascara and purple eyeshadow. Her hair is various shades of purple to pink and is put up in a side ponytail with a spiky silver hair accessory along with a silver chain around her forehead. She is wearing a black cape with a magenta underside and a sleeveless ankle length dress and long fishnet gloves. The dress has a fishnet neckline and a purple jewel with silver wings on her chest that connects to the hood of her cape. There are chains that connect on he bottom of the jewl to loop around her back. She is wearing a black corset with silver lacing and the bottom of the corset is embellished with silver feathers and a stylized silver crow head. The skirt has a slit down the right leg that is connected with a silver chain and has a dark purple mesh layer on the top half of it. She is wearing black leggings underneath and platform ankle boots that are also decorated with mesh, chains, and lace. She has spiky silver bracelets and fingerless gloves on the back of her hand that connect to a silver ring with a purple gem on her middle finger. To her right stands Normal who is at shoulder length height to Scary and stands up to Hermie's eyes on his left. Normal stands with his right hand up holding a red apple and his left hand playfully posed out by his side. He is smiling cheerfully with an open mouth and has one green and one brown eye. He is wearinf a small tilted red and gold heart shaped crown with a teal bow on the bottom. He has short curly brown hair. He is wearing a white high collared shirt with long sleeves, lace details, and puffy teal shoulders. He has a short red cape attached to a big red bow with gold trip on his chest and a gold apple brooch in the center. He has a brown belt with a gold buckle and gold chains connected to the belt loops. He has puffy teal shorts with three red slits on each side and a white lace trim. He has sheer white tights with white vertical strips and red and white boots with gold detailing and a brown heel. To his left stands Hermie who has his right hand holding a teacup filled with tea at his stomach and his right hand is up to wave at the viewer. He is smirking and has teal hair with various turquoise and pink highlights. He is wearing a purple and magenta striped hat wirh a teal polkadot bow. He also is wearing teal glasses with a circle and square frame with purple and pink lenses and a rose gold glasses chain. He has a striped teal vest that has a long coat tail with pink and purple detailing on the underside. He has a rose gold pocket watch in his vest pocket and a purple and magenta bow on his chest. The collared shirt underneath is a light striped pink and lavender with puffy sleeves that turn into big circle sleeves with a lace trim. He has pink and purple gloves with a magenta ribbon around his wrists. His skirt is mid thigh length and has three layers, the top layer is magenta and has teal and purple polkadots, the second layer is vertically striped with pink and lavender, and the bottom layer is lavender lace, and the whole skirt has rose gold detailing. He has thigh high horizontally striped socks with lace trim and teal, pink, and purple heel boots with purple bows and laces.

Image 2: A character lineup of two designs, zoomed in so that the lower legs are cut off. Link is on the left labeled Prince Charming while Taylor is on the right labeled Queen of Hearts. Taylor has a mischievous smile on his face and his fist in the air as he shouts "Off with their heads!" while Link has one hand up to stifle a laugh and a fond expression and the other hand rests on the hilt of his sword on his belt. Link is dressed in white and gold princely attire that matches Normal's color scheme and a similar but longer red cape and a teal belt sash. He has gold shoulder tassels and a simple golden crown. Taylor has red streaks in his hair and two heart shaped space buns. He also has a golden crown with red heart shaped gems on them, a heart card earring, and a red collar with a heart lock charm. His dress has a high white neck collar that goes around the back of his head and connects to a short jacket with puffy red and black striped sleeves and a white lace trim and golden heart lapel pins connected by a chain. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and is split down to his waist in a V shape in order to mimics the appearance of a white heart on his top. The dress then flares out into a big poofy skirt that has frills at the bottom and has big red and black stripes on it. A sheer top skirt has a white and gold checkered diamond pattern on it. He also has white and red striped tights and black mary janes with a red heel and a golden heart clasp. He's also holding a golden staff with a red heart jewl at the top.

Image 3: A dark grey doodle page on a light grey background. Normal is standing with an exasperated expression on his face and is squatting with his arms out shouting "Am I the only one who cares about following our destinies!?". In the bottom left corner Link os holding Taylor in a princess carry, the both of them grinning with their eyes closed. An arrow is pointing at Link that is labeled 'was supposed to be Norm's prince'. Scary is in the bottom right turned toward Normal with her tongue sticking out and her middle finger up. Her bangs obscure her face. Hermie is in the top right looking at the viewer with his hand cupped toward his face saying "Don't worry, he'll figure it out" with a knowing smile. His eyes are obscured by his glasses.

Image 4: A dark grey doodle page on a light grey background with a sequence of events that go from left to right down the page. Normal is looking desperately up at Scary and clutching an injured arm while Scary looks concernedly down at Normal with her hands hovering. Behind her stands Hermie who's in a intense thinking pose with a hand on his chin. Scary says "Norm what-" and is interrupted by Normal saying "I need your help. I didn't know where else to go." Hermie has a thought bubble above his head that says "Is this im the script?" The next section has Hermie snapping with his eyes closed saying "I'll make it a comedy then, that'll fix it." The next section shows a loud bang on the door behind Normal who looks surprised and the section after has someone outside the door say "Oh thank GOD," while Normal sighs in relief. The last section has Scary with a frustrated look on her face and her hands up with magic energy coming up saying in all caps "Ok what the fuck is going on." /end ID]

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads s2 #dungeons and daddies season 2 #cal draws #eah dndads au #scary marlowe #normal oak #hermie unworthy #lincon li wilson #taylor swift dndads #described #this au is marloakworthy qpr and romantic swiftli in the B plot LMAO #hermie does have 4th wall breaking powers tehe #and yeah all the kiddads are gonna play a role in the plot #Lark and Sparrow ESPECIALLY. #if u want to know what roles they had before Sparrow was also Snow White while Lark was . the Huntsman . #the destiny usually goes to the oldest sibling but its a bit of a mess when twins get involved #and yeah. Hero does exist. I wonder what happened to her . :] #we also p much made it so Wonderland = Hell since its also a diff dimension from Ever After #which means all the Close Fosters are Alice in Wonderland characters #its very very fun . esp bc they have diff attitudes towards stories and destinies #this au is simultaneously very silly and also very tragic #sorry Norm we gave u the worst complex known to man . idk how it got worse from canon but it did . #marloakworthy get to go through All The Horrors while swifli hold hands and skip through a flower field

[casualartisanninja]

This was a long time coming.

So, first of all I’m sorry that this took me so long to make, but there was a lot of information to sift through. I’m not planning on coming back to Tumblr in any capacity beyond this but the truth needs to be out there. (And if you're curious about the profile picture/description/etc, I had to dress this blog up a bit so it didn't look like a bot and trigger any algorithms.)

Content warnings for this post: 

Heavily discusses kinks and has screenshots of fetish art

References grooming/pedophilia accusations

References transphobia/harassment accusations

This is going to be an EXTREMELY long post with lots of screenshots, so the rest is under a cut.

Edit: Here is the end of the post so you can read it all at once. https://www.tumblr.com/casualartisanninja/747977941832613888/loose-ends

The incident in Hobqueer’s server

I think a good place to start would be the spark that set off this whole chain reaction. 

I’m not sure how long I’d been in that server for when the NSFW in general incident happened. But one thing’s for sure - I didn’t start the conversation about NSFW topics. Like I mentioned on the Reddit post where someone had found me and started accusing me under my comment on the Janitor.AI post, I saw the people there discussing mpreg and oviposition. I looked at it and thought “wow the rules are a lot more lax than I initially thought!”. Yes, I know, looking back, that should’ve been a huge red flag. I also know that, looking back, I should never talk about NSFW in the general chat- even if everyone else is doing it. “If so-and-so jumped off a cliff” and all. I’m really sorry that I did that, and it was definitely a lesson for me.  But I really wasn’t thinking about that at the time. It wasn’t my intention to hurt anyone, and I especially wouldn’t have done it if I knew minors would be there. I know it wasn’t an 18+ server, and it was just a frankly idiotic move on my part. I just saw “Sniper pregnant” and pictures of the mercs with big bellies, and let my better judgment and reasoning get clouded.  However, the way that they’re portraying this incident is extremely intellectually dishonest. Gabriel failed to mention in his callout post that those minors were looking at and sharing fetish art of the mercs, leaving out most of the context for those. Thankfully one of my friends from Chipspeech (who I’ll leave anonymous) joined the server to check and see if the fetish art was still there. It was. Hobqueer and the moderators never deleted any of the discussion, and worst of all they left the fetish pictures up in full view of everybody. One person, who later admitted to being a minor in a dm, even gave a pretty graphic description of a tentacle hentai/mpreg comic. Be warned, this contains NSFW content. I blurred the names of anybody who isn't mentioned in this post.

I've run out of room for images, so I have to add the rest in another reblog. This will be a very long thread with a lot of images, so please bear with me.

#mavisposting #xxcherenkov-gremlinxx #allegations #accusations #explanation #debunking #tf2 fandom #chipspeech fandom

[iceman-soup]

request!

sorry if you've done this already, but what would Ghost and Soap's first leave together look like? could be sfw or nsfw, everything is up to you

yes yes yesss this is sfw because my descriptive brain took over, also autistic ghost supremacy 🫶🫶

ghost x soap

Simon wasn't ready to meet Johnny's family yet. Hell, they'd only been dating five or so months before deciding to stick with each other on leave, and by that point it was far too stressful and overwhelming to think about meeting a whole bunch of new people to mask around and make good impressions. Ghost needed the time off to re-regulate, and honestly, Soap wasn't up to introducing a boyfriend he had barely warned his mother about beforehand.

So instead the two taxi'd over to Manchester from the airport, arriving at a tiny, cheap flat with even cheaper security cameras dotted on each outside wall and above the front door. "Enough of a deterrent, even if half don't work," explains Simon, seeing Johnny looking around curiously. He unlocks the door and pushes it open an inch, baited breath for a couple of moments as he appears to listen for anything unusual, before opening the door properly, flicking on the warm overhead lights and pulling Soap in by the hand, who gazes at the inside of his flat whilst Ghost locks the door again.

"Dinnae take you for an interior designer, Lt," John grins, glancing at the taller man before going back to admiring the space. It's dusty, sure, but otherwise not quite as awful as expected, and although cramped, holds a feeling of comfort and rest. The two are standing in the kitchen, cupboards naked oak wood and counters hand-painted daffodil yellow, the honey-coloured floor tiles chipped but superglued back together. The image of Si sitting cross-legged on the ground fixing them fills Soap's mind, his heart fluttering at how domestic his lieutenant suddenly seems.

There isn't a wall between the kitchen and living room, and Johnny takes that opportunity to wonder straight through, taking note of a comfy-looking secondhand sofa to cuddle up on together later. An old TV with a jumble of cables is stood upon a coffee table, which simultaneously doubles as an actual coffee table, evident by a few mismatched coasters with just as many water marks as the surface they're supposed to be protecting. Splintering wood in the tried-to-be-aesthetic bare floorboards are covered by a granny rug which contrasts the baby blue walls surprisingly well. Two doors lead off from the living room, and Ghost walks over to the first one, opening it to show the other.

"Bathroom," he comments as if it isn't obvious. There's nothing extraordinary about it, but Soap does notice his unwavering loyalty here and on base to his very specific shower products - of course. He nods and they move on, entering the fourth room. Si hovers at the doorway whilst Johnny wanders inside, taking in the bedroom.

Most of the space is taken up by a double bed pressed up in the far corner, white paint on the metal frame missing in spots, showing its age. The bedding is black with little bone prints patterning it, soft cotton and all matching. Shoved next to the bed is a chest of drawers, one of the handles missing and replaced with a nail bashed into the wood. Hung up precariously on the picture rail over it is Simon's formal uniform - clearly unused for years due to his skilful avoidance of social events. Again, the floor is stripped of carpet (the bedroom in slightly safer condition than in the living room) and the walls are painted, this time a pale pink and dotted with glow-in-the-dark plastic stars.

"Never got them as a kid," Ghost mutters, gesturing to the stars and then the general soft colours of his flat. He shuffles awkwardly on his feet, avoiding eye contact - and subsequently his boyfriend's loving smile too. "You want something to eat? I don't have anything," he adds quickly.

"We can go doon to the chippy?" John suggests, walking over to kiss him tenderly. "Or if you don't feel like seein' people, I could order us something." The taller man nods at the second option, then proceeds to wrap his arms around Soap's waist, burying his face into the crook of his neck and pressing his lips to the skin, simply savouring his warm embrace.

"I love you, Johnny. I'm happy you're here."

The next few days go by far too quick for either's liking. They're spent with long mornings just laying in bed, doing fuck all on their phones in the oddest cuddle positions known; alternatively, smothering each other in hugs and kisses until they have to give them attention until they're satisfied. Time is spent plodding around the flat, wearing pyjama trousers and fluffy socks and with blankets draped over their bare shoulders.

Meals are cooked with very little skill but a whole lot of try, so at least that's something. Neither go out much; just to the shops when they need something or one night to get fish and chips from the good place across the street. They eat sitting on the countertop or the sofa, watching some shitshow with a laugh track that winds Simon up.

Evenings involve making out during conversation, quietly murmuring and laughing between kisses, chests pressed together so their hearts can talk directly. Ghost realises he's never felt so safe and content on leave before this one night when they're lying in bed, a dim lamp the only light in the room as he runs his fingers through Soap's hair, now slightly curly from growing out whilst not on base. It's quiet, but not in the lonely, terrifying way it usually is when he's alone in the flat, left to his own thoughts for however long between deployments.

Maybe, just maybe, leave will become something that he doesn't dread anymore. And perhaps next time - he thinks, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead and flicking off the lamp - it might be nice to meet Johnny's family.

#thank you for the request!!! #i feel like in general their first leave together would be a little awkward #ghost wouldnt really know how he's supposed to act with a guest in his flat #but the guest is soap so everything's all good #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod fluff #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #autistic simon ghost riley

[bomberqueen17]

archway stencils

i keep forgetting to post about this. I did my archway stencils this past week!

[image description: looking through an orange archway, stenciled with turquoise stars in an alternating pattern, to see the deep teal wall stenciled with larger gold stars I did earlier]

progress shots and discussion under cut!

[image: the stencil, with a central eight-pointed star, and then the partial alternating star in the corners; the stencil is mounted diagonally so that the main star is centered on the archway trim, and there's a corner above and below]

I futzed around a little and this was the direction that worked. I'd thought about just doing that central element and repeating it freehand, but this was easier to line up..... but then to finish it, i would have to do TWO additional passes with the stencil, one on each side.

[image description: the archway in the background with the central element alternating with just the middle of the second element, as left behind by one pass of the stencil; I'm going to have to go back and fill in the sides of the second element. But in the foreground, I am holding my cat, because she insisted.]

I had Help. she wanted me to do this instead of paint. The whole time. She was incredibly persistent.

[image: the archway with one of my secondary passes complete, and the stencil stuck on diagonally showing how I have to separately fill in the left and right of each of the edge elements.]

I had experimented with just plopping the central element over this corner thing, and using that to fill in all the rest at once, but you see how the central element has long diamond-shaped "petals", but the other one has the shorter inward-pointing "petals" in the middle, and then longer petals on the sides? Yeah the longer petals are not shaped like the central element's, even though they look similar-- they are wider throughout. So to blend them with the half-petal deposited by the first pass of the stencil, it looks wonky as hell. And it does look better having a fully different element for every other star, instead of a blended sort-of-weird half-different one. So the long hard way it is; I went all the way down doing the left half then went to the other doorway and did the left half and then came back and did the right half, in totally separate passes, because you can see you have to tape the stencil down over the existing element, and if it were at all damp you're ripping paint off when you do that.

This stencil company does make specific border stencils for some of their designs, and I sort of thought this one was intended for that kind of use, but clearly it's not. I mean it worked fine so I'm not actually annoyed, but I did have to think about it a lot.

Some process notes: I did not use specialty stencil creme for this, I used my sample pot of a slightly lighter shade of the paint I used for the walls. it was semi-gloss because that's what they had for sample pots, and that worked out fine. I put it into the same plastic half-a-cannoli-box tray as before, and used the smaller stencil brush, and I did not really have to add drops of water, as the paint was less thick, but I had almost zero problem with bleeding-- all my problems were that I had to overlap the stencil while still damp and would sometimes get paint on the back of the stencil that then smudged onto bits I didn't want paint on. Paint also built up on the stencil really horribly because I was using it more intensively-- doing the whole wall it was kind of spread out over the huge stencil, but this was a single element. Being able to see through the stencil helped in positioning, so what I eventually wound up doing was that I would position the stencil, tape it down, wipe it clean with a rag, adjust the position, use it, move it to the next location, wipe it clean with a rag, repeat.

It was so hard to get the second element lined up-- you see how the "petal" is done in two pieces? well it never quite lined up and there was always a gap-- that eventually I pulled a plastic milk jug out of the recycling, traced the stencil on it, and cut out a stencil that was *just* a full copy of that half-petal mirrored so I could see if the stencil wasn't going to line up cleanly, I could just focus on lining up one of the petals, and leave the other blank and come back and add it with the standalone whole-petal homemade stencil. Good thing I'm a dab hand with an exacto.

[image description: a star stencil 3/4 complete, but the diagonal petals have gaps in the middle of them] Here's a problem example, and I was getting this on about half of them.

[image description: a piece of flat white plastic, an exacto knife, a cutting board, and a stencil element cut out of the white plastic.]

So instead I would rotate the stencil so one of the petals was good, and leave the other one off entirely to come back and do later.

[image description: looking from the living room through the stenciled archway to the kitchen, and this face of the archway is painted purple, and the wall is repainted to a consistent sunny yellow.]

I know that the most hinged thing to do would have been to just do all the trim orange, and then the wall yellow, and let it be, but I could not resist being fussy and doing the living-room-facing trim back in the living-room-trim purple color. I fortunately was able to find the original pots of paint from when we painted the living room, and it was still good!!!! (mixed in august of '07! amazing) so I repainted the living room wall where it was primer-white after the reconstruction. Looks pretty seamless now! But I have one more light switch faceplate to paint, it looks like. Hmmmmm what color.

The last thing I have left to do is the corner above the front door, where this newly-repainted yellow wall intersects with the wall above the front door that I decided should be kitchen-teal.

I could just do the corner as a flat normal transition. But I want to try to do something fancy, some kind of like pixel-dissolve or like, the stencil bits sticking into the other color, or something.

For now I've painted a cereal box and stuck it up there and I am going to put stenciled attempts on cardboard up there to see what they look like before I commit.

[image description: the corner above the front door of the house. the wall below is the kitchen wall and is teal. the wall above the archway is yellow because it's the living room. the wall above the door is not fully painted but is mostly kitchen teal. the corner is a cardboard cereal box painted yellow on one side and teal on the other, cut to fit.] it is an awkward junction! The most hinged thing would be to keep it simple-- would have been to just do all the trim orange and then the upper wall yellow and just make sure the corner was sharp and clean.

But I'm not that hinged, so I might as well do something that calls attention to it, LOL.

#about the author #kitchen remodel #stenciling #paint #diy

[bigdogdeluxxe]

It was getting more difficult to touch myself, and I knew you had noticed. I would try to reach across the mammoth swell of my belly, bunch up the lard until my man tits and rolls pushed up into my chins, until I was holding my breath, and could only barely get a grip on my dick. But I would catch you observing my struggle with a grin. In the back of my head, I knew getting bigger meant eventually losing contact with it, but I didn’t expect it to happen so soon. I didn’t expect to be struggling and wheezing this early on. I thought I had another 100 pounds at least before that happened.

One morning as I’m eating my breakfast spread, I notice you adjusting the weight gain boards in the gainer room. The gainer room is where I spend most of my time, a room in your house dedicated to getting me fatter, fattening me up. On a cork board, you have pinned pictures of chairs I’ve broken, clothes I’ve torn out of, all with the date and a little heart drawn on each one. An example: we went to a Mexican restaurant a few months back, and I squeezed myself into one of those flimsy white plastic chairs. Halfway through the meal, the thin legs buckled and the chair, for lack of a better description, disintegrated. I was left sitting in a pile of plastic chips, looking up at you, my grinning feeder. Before you helped me up, you snapped a picture of me sitting amongst the pieces. And when you got me to my feet, you showed me the pic and said, “I knew that was gonna happen.”

An electronic screen in the gainer room displays measurements and milestones. You enter the data into your computer, and the graphs update, the stats raise, and I see my gains distilled into numbers. But today, you add a new column. “D.” I try to think what it could be.

You walk over to the couch and pat my belly.

“Stand up real quick,” you instruct. You pull the coffee table with my steaming breakfast spread away from me so I have room to maneuver.

I groan. This will take a little work. I brace my feet and ankles and push myself off the couch. After a little bit of struggle on my part, you extend your hand and help me the rest of the way. I watch the muscles in your arms contract as you help haul me to my feet.

“Lift your belly.”

I do as I’m told. I slide my arms under my gut and lift it. My belly is warm heavy in my arms, but the position makes it hard to breath. Without missing a beat, you tugs down the front of my pants and underwear.

“Hey--!” I start, but then you are massaging the tip of my dick, and I’m totally yours.

You work me with your hand, using your other hand to fight back the fat starting to encase my dick.

“Can you remember the last time you saw your dick?” you ask with a smile.

It’s hard to catch my breath as you continue working me. “When you took a picture of it. Otherwise, it’s been months.” I can’t see it, but I know my dick is hard.

You stop jerking me off and grab a nearby tape measure. You hold the tape measure under my gut, and I feel the fabric from the tape along my dick.

“Wow,” you laugh. “You can drop your belly.”

I do, and I feel the pull of it on my lower back as it plops. You go over to the computer and type in a number next to D.

3.

“You used to be 7 inches,” you say as you type on the computer. “We’ve managed to shink your dick by four inches. If I’m doing the math right, by the end of this year, that number should be—” You hit enter, and the image on the screen changes. Now, it displays a graph with a line dropping to the X-axis, to 0.

“You should be totally encased before Christmas. You’ll just be a belly, a fat pad, and a nutsack, until those are hard to find too.” You smile devilishly. “It always amazes me that you let me do that to you.”

#bhm weight gain #gay gainer #fat piggy #gainer fiction #gainer fic

[the-kr8tor]

Scarlet Leaves

Pairing: Fae! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 9.6k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader, Smut implied, CW food mention, CW spiders, TW arachnophobia, CW vomiting, CW religious images, CW death, TW violence, TW blood, CW gore, CW injury, TW animal injury/harm, CW body horror, TW Suicide.

This chapter tackles dark themes, read at your own discretion.

A/N: if there's any warnings I forgot to add, please tell me so I could add it in. Endings are linked below, same warnings apply.

Navigation

The Fall Masterlist

PART III <<<

You open your eyes to the colour green, the grass under you grazes your legs, a delicate emerald fabric over your palms. Your skirt the same shade as the grass below you, camouflaging your form, not knowing where you or the ground starts or ends.

You're drowning in green, but you don't mind as the wind blows cool air behind you, a breath of reprieve from the searing heat of summer. Your fingers expertly fill in a tattered hole in the fabric, dainty daisies littered all over the cloth, all lovingly interwoven within the sea of green.

Pink dahlias accompany your side as your previous companion is nowhere to be seen. Too busy with your needlework, you haven't noticed where he went. Wondering where he went, you Look up from your handiwork, gold fills your vision, brilliant brown dotting around it, rescuing you from all the viridescent.

“Where did you go?” The voice is your own yet foreign in your ears. Tone soft and gentle like the air gliding behind you. You can't control your own body, like an audience watching a scene unfold.

“Out” He leans back, lips in a sly smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. His hands hide behind him, vines dance under his skin.

“We are out, web weaver.” You gesture around the hill, the tall oak standing proudly next to you in a protective stance. “Were you scaring the villagers again?”

“Only the hunters, love” he kneels before you, taking his hand out, laying a lily right behind your ear. The heart under your ribcage beats rapidly. “And the occasional children, someone needs to teach them not to wander off.”

He beams at your bewildered face, heat rising to your cheeks. “Where did your tongue go?” Ramping up his teasing, he plops his head over your lap, crushing his cloak under him. “I think I am quite fond of the view from down here”

You stifle from rolling your eyes, scoffing, you feign anger. “You just ruined my work!” Trying to pull the fabric from underneath him, he laughs loudly at your predicament. “You are an absolute menace, web weaver”

He smiles up at you like you've held up the moon just for him. You'd be lying if you weren't looking down at him all the same. Silence fills the area, the wind carries the sound of birds chirping as he holds up his knuckles to your cheek, wiping at the sweat clinging to your skin. Like muscle memory, you lean towards his touch. Closing your eyes, you savour it, akin to a man dying of thirst finding an oasis in the middle of the desert.

Humming happily, he retracts his hand back only for him to slide it down towards your hip, a provocative action but you don't protest or even move. Instead, you let him rest his large palm over the cotton of your blouse, quietly wishing there isn't any barrier between him and your skin. He feels it too, the lightning passing through your body to his immortal coil. Exhaling, he straightens himself out, expelling any compromising thoughts.

In your disappointment, he lifts his hand off your form. But he couldn't completely part away from the contact, he opts to hold you by the hem of your blouse, mindlessly playing with the cloth. You're completely enamored by him, and he too is the same for you.

A question appears in your mind, judging from the current state of your relationship with the being before you, you're sure he would answer.

“Why do you call yourself ‘web weaver?’ Did someone name you that?”

“Why? Do you not like it?” he dodges the question.

“Just curious” there's disappointment hidden in your voice. “It is a long title, you need a nickname or something similar or one that fits you”

“So, you do not like it? I am willing to take other names, if you have other suggestions”

“Quite the opposite, I am partial to ‘web weaver’ and I do have some ideas”

He leans to his left, face dangerously close to your stomach. You smile shyly, lifting your hands to bravely hold his jaw, gently scratching his nape with your nails. Surprisingly enough, he doesn't fret.

“Tell me” purring, voice tantalizingly sweet. He sighs in content.

“Hobart”

He cracks his eye open a smidge, bright eyes peeking through. “Hobart?” Testing the name on his tongue, he repeats it once again.

“Hobie for short, I have always liked that name. Sounds…modern”

“Is that the only reason?” His arm loops around your waist whilst you continue to cup his face affectionately. A breeze passes by, carrying a dandelion flying freely.

If someone would come across the scene, they would've thought a pair of lovers are enjoying the sun together; not an otherworldly being and a regular human who has found herself uncharacteristically attached to the living myth before her.

“It is a strong contender, the same goes with the name ‘Gabriel’ I suppose”

He scrunches his nose, an act so human you forgot for a second what he really is. “I prefer the former. You have thought it through, clever.”

“It has been eating at me, I cannot keep calling you web weaver or my tongue will get tied”

“Hobie it is then” his thumb presses softly on your skin.

You grin, sunshine making your eyes sparkle in delight. “That was easy”

“You thought I would put up a fight?”

“Yes, because you always do. It took me days just to convince you to let me mend your cloak”

“Yet, I still said yes” Hobie reaches up to cradle your face, swiping at the sweat stuck to your eyebrow, he slowly pulls you down towards him.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, frozen in elation. “You said yes” you said against his lips, yours only grazing his, the friction enough to spread goosebumps all over your arms. “Hobie–I”

He hums, eyes flickering down to the plush of your lips.

“I might love you, and I do not think I can manage it”

He meets your glimmering eyes full of love, “I will, if you cannot, I will manage for the both of us”

Hobie meets with your lips in a chaste manner, you swear your heart stopped beating. He pulls away for a second “Because it is you, and only you, my–”

You wake up covered in sweat, blades of grass right under your healing palms. His cloak protects you from getting poked by the grass. Your eyes look up at the mysterious light floating above Hobie’s abode, providing an eternal morning.

“You're awake”

Sitting up by your elbows, you look at him sitting a few feet away from you, legs crossed over the other, hands occupied with cutting a blood red apple.

“I didn't notice that I fell asleep” the cloak feels soft under your touch, reminiscent of the dream you had. Wind rustles past softly. You narrow your eyes suspiciously, “you didn't have anything to do with that, right?”

“Do you think of me so cruel?” Hobie points at the ground next to you with his knife. “You tired yourself out from making those” The wooden handle looks old and worn out, but the steel still has its shine, a sharpness that could cut bone.

Looking down, you see a pile of crowns made from daisies. All woven by your hand, judging by how your palms smell of flowers. There's one that's not yet completed, the circle broken, edges unconnected.

Picking it up, you rattle your sleep deprived brain on why you started making a bunch of them. You don't even know how to make daisy crowns in the first place.

“How–? Did I make these?”

“Mm-hmm” he replies, mouth full with an apple slice.

“Huh?” you lay back down, admiring your handiwork under the light.

“Hungry?” Hobie tosses an apple at you without warning.

The fruit bounces and slides before it reaches your waist. You look at him with a knowing look.

“Right,” you roll it away, back towards Hobie. “I'm good.”

“It's literally just an apple, no tricks” with a flick of his hand, the apple rolls back to you.

“Sure,” sarcasm rolls off your tongue. You play a game of catch with him.

“I can't lie, remember?” The apple rolls back and forth.

“No,” you emphasize the word with a roll of your eyes.

“You trust me enough for you to sleep here but you can't trust me with a single apple?” He rolls the fruit in between his palms. Brown eyes stare at you teasingly. “You have a weird way of measuring faith in people”

“Accidentally sleeping here doesn't condemn me to a life here. An apple does”

“Because you know the stories so well with your offerings of honey and milk” his smirk grows wider with each banter.

“It was outdated information”

“Thought you humans have a way of accessing infinite knowledge” he lays down, the light shines on his perfect skin. Facing you with a soft smile, his hand still on the apple that's held to his bare chest.

“We do, but that doesn't mean the information is still accurate after centuries. Some things change”

“Not all” He looks away from you, eyes fixated on the sky above.

After a beat of silence, the name still rattles around in your mind's eye. The dream seems so vivid you could still taste his lips on yours. You chance it, hoping he doesn't slice you to bits with the knife near him.

“Speaking of” you nervously lean to the side, facing the being in front of you. With an apprehensive exhale, you bravely ask him. “I've read a book in the manor’s library. A book about the fae” you lie once again.

“I'm guessing a story book then?”

“No, it looks…old and less storybookie”

Hobie raises a confused eyebrow. “Storybookie?”

“Y’know, it doesn't look like it was written for children. No pictures, just a bunch of words.”

“Words too big for you?” He chuckles at his own joke. Still avoiding your face.

You ignore his comment with a silent scoff. In your quest to get answers for your so-called dreams, you place a lilt in your voice, hoping it gets his attention.

“Hobie”

His face slowly turns back to you, big brown eyes staring at you intently. Lips slightly parted, he awaits for your next words, hanging onto every breath.

“There's a name there, it's only mentioned once so it's intrigued me”

“What name?” The space between you gets smaller and smaller with every second that passes.

“Web Weaver. Do you know what it means or who held it”

“Why do you think I would know?”

“Because,” you gaze at his eyes, there's anger pooling in them. Yet you continue on, your heart rattles loudly under your rib cage. “I just know”

The fierceness fades in his eyes, replaced with yearning. “It was my name”

“Was?” You breathe a sigh of relief, relieved that you didn't anger an ancient being. “Why web weaver?”

“How does it feel to be human?” He questions back, you're enamored by his gaze on you and you only.

“Don't dodge the question” The gap between your bodies is now an inch away, so close you could see the vines under his skin, blue flowers blooming among the thorns.

“I fear you won't comprehend the answer to your question” his old world vocabulary peeks out. Hobie whispers to you so you're the only one in the world that could hear his voice.

“And you won't understand mine. Guess we're even.”

There's a shakiness in your voice. Not from fear, but from realization. Talking to him gives you warmth, warmth to bask in, to comfort your soul, to love till your dying breath. You've never been more besotted in your entire life and you've only known him for a few weeks, weeks that feel like years to you.

There's excitement blooming in your chest even though your gut tells you there's danger ahead. Perhaps that's the reason why you're excited— the danger thrills you down to your bones.

Goosebumps appear on your arms despite the heat, Hobie leans over you, blocking the light, engulfing him in a halo. You're seeing God peer down on you.

He gently caresses your arm, laying your goosebumps back down and you keep forgetting to wear the necklace around him.

Your fingers twitch, itching to dance along his skin. There's a raw emotion behind his eyes, one that you can't decipher. Hobie pulls away, standing up, reaching down to you. Your hand connects to his, and you swear you hear tiny bells chime from somewhere.

“Why do you let me hang around you so much?” you stand toe to toe with Hobie, hand still in yours.

“You're in a questioning mood. It's the same reason why you keep coming back here”

Heat rises in your cheeks, you don't even know why. “It’s just—most people would have left by now”

“Not a regular person, remember?” He squeezes your hand just before he releases it. Turning away from you, Hobie addresses you over his shoulder. “Or have you forgotten already?”

You don't answer, not knowing what to say. Sometimes he makes you forget that he's a being beyond comprehension, a man more human than anybody you've come across. Then you get reminded he's not, that he's unfathomable to someone like you.

—

Exiting his domain, the fresh crisp autumn air greets you back. There's patches of ice left on the soft grass from when it rained last night. The sun slowly sets in the west, orange and pinks swirl in the sky. Leaves crunch under your trainers as you trudge the thicket. You've acclimated yourself with the woods, but it's still unfamiliar, your red ribbons tied around the trees help you in finding your way out.

You look up with a fond smile on your lips, watching how the sunlight peek through the leaves, letting the cool air kiss your cheeks. There's scurrying under the grass, birds chirp their night song. Your hands glide along the tree trunks and the silky ribbons, using it to guide your way. Your vision is suddenly cleared from treetops, the heavens in full display just for you.

You find yourself on the foot of a hill, one that looks so familiar yet strange. Not remembering this hill as part of your usual trek out, your mind is confused on how you got there in the first place. Trudging up the incline, you grab a long stick to help prop you up.

“Wow”

Breathing out, reaching the top, you watch the sunset bathe the hill in its heavenly glow. You chuckle softly to yourself, you can't remember ever seeing a magnificent sight like this in the crowded city.

“Pretty” you spot a large oak standing tall and forlorn just along the edges. Its tree trunk is dark with no leaves growing along its branch. It looms overhead, ancient and alone.

You expect its leaves to rustle when a wind passes, you're mesmerized by how grim yet beautiful the tree is. It’s alone and sickly, but it stands tall despite the elements and time ravaging its wood.

You decide to continue walking back to the manor now that the sun is merely minutes away from saying goodbye. Soon it'll be dark, soon there will be no light to guide you.

Carefully walking, you feel gravel under your feet, craning your neck down, you see no grass or any greenery. Just a circular patch of death, the soil is black, a deep contrast from the viridescent and orange around you. It matches the oak tree in a poetic eerie way.

You step away from it, the scorched earth sends shivers down your spine just from standing over it. The smell of burning wood hits your nose abruptly. A sense of dread and fear around it, turning your stomach inside out.

“There's something wrong here” You whisper above the wind. Promptly hasting your steps back towards the manor without looking back, afraid something else might gaze back.

—

As the weather grows colder your relationship with Hobie has gotten warmer. The dreams get more vivid, images of fireflies flying in the dark, bumblebees buzzing in your ears, Hobie’s sweet caresses and alluring voice makes it more enticing for you to stay asleep and forever live in the dream. Thanks to Nellie’s morning wake up call, you wake in time.

The strong feelings towards him all feels weird at first, there's always a push towards him, controlling you to call his name and yearn for his searing gaze. There's a mysterious longing, an affection that's completely unfounded. Perhaps the dreams helped you in realizing your emotions towards Hobie. Whatever it is, it has you in an iron grip, refusing to let go. It seems it has the same effect on Hobie too, there's always an immediate response the second you call out to him in the thick woods. His eyes never leave yours, how his touch would linger everytime your skin connects.

There's that electricity flowing between you both, something that makes sparks appear when he holds you. With every tentative touch there's affection behind it, soft smiles bring a promise. You want him to make a home inside your heart, stay there until he's molded himself in your arteries, until your veins run with him.

It's not all desire though, there's a profound need to be near him, to talk well into the night, share stories from almost forgotten memories. Conversing with him until your voice is hoarse from all the talking and laughter. You could just start talking about the surrounding woods and the next thing you know you're well off chattering about your deepest emotions like you're chatting with an old friend you haven't seen in years. You find making him laugh is the best part of your day.

You've grown to look forward to the banter every time you've finished your daily work. Dare you say the favourite part of your day is entering the woods. At first you would only go whenever you're bored or needed company from the isolation. Nellie’s the best at not making you feel so alone, but you still need someone who answers back. The once a week visit turned into twice a week, then to every other day, until you arrange your so-called meetings with him every single day.

It's basically routine now, but you don't always come to him, even though your soul screams to be by his side. That's why you're out in the woods with a basket of autumn flowers and berries you've foraged, it's the closest thing to being with him, to silence the raw hunger without indulging yourself by calling his name.

You have to slowly acclimate yourself by spending the entire day without ever seeing him. You've found him addicting, from his voice to his very presence.

And you're in withdrawal.

You dread being alone again when your contract ends. You'll find it hard to live day to day, still too used to your routine at Mudwood manor. So you're back in the thicket, so close yet so far from him with an excuse to go out and forage for… you don't even know, you just needed an excuse.

The wicker basket grows heavier in your arms the more you forage further into the woods. Which might not have been your best idea, especially when more eerie sounds enter the thick brush, eyes seem to wander around your form, watching, learning your movements. But you wanted to get out of the manor at the same time to be close to Hobie, and escape from the stifling stares of the paintings.

You could go to the small village, but you don't feel comfortable roaming even though you've been in the estate for almost five months. The villagers’ whispers and narrowed stares just get to you, even if you try not to.

You wanted to still be close to home.

But the grounds around the estate feels empty too, with crumbling foundations from ancient buildings that haven't been maintained and exposed to the elements, its brick and wood façade crumbling with just a gust of strong wind. The only building still standing inside the estate's land is the mausoleum, and you're not too keen to hang around the dead quite yet.

The place that you've found yourself most free in, a place where you feel safe in— the woods. You have A sense of belonging within the grove. Especially knowing that Hobie is one call away just in case something much worse decides to come after you.

You know he'll be there.

Rolling around the black cherry like berry in between your fingers, you keep finding your train of thought always leading towards him. Just the mere idea of him seems to relax you, bringing you a sense of peace that you've only felt while with him. You know it's wrong, wrong to feel this way towards the fae. A being that with one twitch of his finger could strike you dead, or make you fall to your knees. Which he hasn't done, not yet anyway.

You don't feel alone in the world anymore. With his company and Nellie's, you haven't smiled this much in a long time. The job was supposed to be isolating, unforgiving to the human need to socialize. With them in mind, it doesn't seem so bad, you should thank them both before you leave and end your contract with O’Hara, which is coming up sooner rather than later.

Taking a handful of berries, you stuff them inside the basket, the juice rubbing off on your palms. Bringing it closer to your mouth, tongue sticking out to taste it. A hand stops you from tasting the sweet nectar, webs wrap around his wrists, crawling towards your hand.

“Don't” you look at with questioning eyes, Hobie’s voice stern and commanding.

“Hello to you too”

“D’you want to kill yourself?” Hobie lets go of your hand, grabbing his cloak to use it in wiping your hand clean.

“No?” you watch closely as he gently cleans your hand free of juice.

“No? You're not sure?” He quirks a brow, still wiping every crevice of your palm.

“It was a question because I wasn't trying to kill myself.” You savour the skin on skin contact.

“Good, you're just stupid then.” You glare at him. “The plant's called ‘Belladonna’ or ‘deadly nightshade’ if you're more familiar with that name”

“Oh” you look down at your basket full of what you've thought to be blackberries. “Shit, I didn't know. Maybe I should've brought that book with me from the library”

“You should've.” Hobie finally lets go of your hand, already languishing the lack of contact. “What're you doin' here? Haven't I warned you enough about the things roaming around here?”

“What are you doing here? I didn't know you could even leave your abode”

“I can, only briefly” He leaves out the part where he feels a stinging sensation whenever he's outside, it's annoying at best, still, it pains his bones just to step outside.

“Are you okay?” You notice the sweat glistening on his forehead and how his eyebrows are subtly knitted together. “You look…” human? Sick? “Tired”

He tilts his head slightly. “You worried ‘bout me?”

Rolling your eyes, you decide to quip back. “Nope, you just look extremely ugly right now” a massive lie on your end. He could be wearing a trash bag and he would still be inhumanly handsome.

“I didn't know I had a mirror for a face” Hobie takes you by the sleeve of your coat whilst you gape at his roast. He chuckles softly at your reaction, brown eyes crinkling in happiness.

Entering his abode, more flowers have sprouted since you've met him. Flowers that don't usually grow in this weather: dandelions, daisies and watercolor roses sway in the wind. The willow tree stands greener and stronger than before. The table still sits in the middle of the glade, food from his realm lay forgotten, swept to a corner of the table. The food you've left for him is the centerpiece. Bread you've made from ingredients you've found in the pantry, fruits cut in misshapen pieces, butter from the fridge and an empty thermos of tea. The place looks and feels more homely. More human.

You drop the basket of poison right near where the ‘other’ food lay discarded.

Flopping down on a chair right next to his, you breathe in the warmer air, eyes closed, basking in the otherworldly warmth. Your skin glimmers in the light, a soft smile on your lips, head hanging over to the side of the marble chair; your neck in full display.

Hobie stares, swallowing the lump in his throat, knuckles tight. His instincts, his innate desire to defile you, to sink his teeth in your skin, biting, taking. Instead, he doesn't, you deserve so much more than that, deserving of affection and care that borderlines on love. Love that exceeds expectations, love that transcends through time. You're more than his desire.

You're sacred in his eyes.

The chair to your left scrapes along the grass, he sits next to you, he hasn't sat on the head of the table since you've decided it was alright for you to sit on a chair instead of just standing around.

You lean your head towards him, eyes cracking open, your smile growing wider.

“Hello there” you whisper the words to him like a secret only to be kept between you two.

Hobie blinks slowly, smile slowly spreading, he finds yours infectious. “Hello yourself, making yourself at home?”

“Mm-hmm, I want to savour it”

“Savour it? You can always come back here whenever you want”

“I know that, Hobie. My contract’s up.” You sharpen the knife. “I only have a week left here” then you stab him right through his heart.

He inhales sharply, sitting up right. The wind stops breezing past, stilling. Light slowly fading.

“Alright, this is goodbye then?”

“Of course not, I can always visit. Sure the drive is far and long and I'll technically be trespassing. But I can always visit”

“Don't come back” he says it softly, pleading almost. “It's better if you don't visit” Hobie stabs you with the same knife.

You try to find the humour in his voice, finding none but a straight faced Hobie, none of the life you're used to. “Why?”

“Because it's better”

You sit up, anger and confusion mixing together. A foul concoction. “Better for whom exactly?”

“For the both of us” He speaks monotonously. The knife twists in your gut.

“You know it's not, we both know it's not” you scoff. Shaking your head, hiding the tears collecting in your eyes.

“It is and I know”

“Yes, because you're all knowing and better than me” You spread your anger before him.

“I am” His eyes swirl into gold, no colour brown that you fell for.

You shake your head, standing up quickly, the chair falls, cracking the marble. “Okay then” masking the shaking of your voice with a clear of your throat. “Goodbye Hobie, it was… nice, yeah nice”

Not bothering to look back, you cross his threshold, leaving his abode. He gazes at his feet, forlorn yet there's no regret in his heart.

“it’s better for you” he tries to convince himself.

—

You stomp angrily inside the manor, the door bangs loudly as you close it with much frustration. Silent tears flow out, you sniff, rubbing it off with your sleeves. “He doesn't deserve my tears” you mumble.

The ringing sound from the living room makes you jump, “fuck!” The landline rings excessively, annoying your already angry state. You walk over to it, “I'm coming, christ”

“Hello?!” You answer the phone with hostility.

“Hello? Y/N?” Miguel's voice replies back, you regret your angry tone immediately.

You compose yourself. “Hi, Mr. O’hara. Sorry about that, I keep getting prank calls” A half lie, the phone rings in the dead of night every other day, good thing you're a night owl and you answer the empty calls. You're almost always reading through the night or annoying Nellie. Still, you find it weird that no one answers back.

“Are you okay?” Miguel sighs. There's a loud screeching sound in the background.

“Yes, are you okay? There's a weird sound on your end”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” There's shuffling in the background. “There, I'm in a quieter place. Is everything alright with Nellie and the house?”

“Yes, everything’s in tip top shape” you cringe at yourself.

He sighs, “Alright, good. Something came up and I gotta stay here a couple more weeks. Are you okay with that? Of course I'll add it to your salary, if not then it's okay.” There's a muffled clanking sound behind him.

“Yes, of course that's alright. I can't leave Nellie yet anyway” The said dog perks up from her sleeping position on the leather settee, wagging her tail, fluffy ears down.

“Thank you, Y/N. I'm off, thank you again”

“Of course, Mr. O’Hara” you click the phone down. Sighing, lumbering your way towards Nellie.

You lay over her dramatically, face full of her fur, hands mindlessly petting her, she huffs in return, letting air out her nostrils.

“Oh, Nellie, it's just us now, old girl”

She barks timidly in return.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it's my fault. Shouldn't have been there in the first place” you cuddle closer to her, she doesn't protest, wagging her tail from under you. “I'd be lying if I don't miss him” murmuring the words, your eyes start growing glassy once again.

“Fucking asshole”

—

It's been a week since you've seen him. Everytime you walk along the edge of the woods with Nellie by your side, you can't help but yearn for his presence. Purposely stopping by, a chance to see him again, even just a simple sign that he wants to see you again. Alas you don't get a trace of him, the woods are eerily quiet in your absence, there's a darkness permeating inside, spreading, echoing, longing.

Nellie tugs you away by her leash, with a bark she guides you back towards the manor. You look over your shoulder, a sudden scent of death whizzes behind you. Goosebumps rise on your skin, a shiver down your spine, perhaps it's a good idea to stay away for a while.

You sleep restlessly, waking up in intervals. Nellie helps though, she now sleeps on the foot of your bed. Her soft snores lull you to a rare dreamless sleep.

“Wake up”

Your ears perk up at the sound of a chair moving across hardwood floors, then almost immediately the scraping stops. Alarm bells start to ring out in your head. The first thing you grab is the nearest and sharpest thing inside the room, silently uncapping the fountain pen, the sharp tip glistens in the moonlight. You tiptoe over to your bedroom door.

Slowly opening it enough to peek through, your heart sinks down to your stomach at the sight of torch lights moving around the ancient walls of the manor.

Hushed whispers can be heard from downstairs, they creep and snicker, tamping down any loud noise whenever they bump into furniture. But you heard them, holding the fountain pen with an iron grip, you close the door as quietly as you can, locking it right after.

“Why are you shushing me? There's no one here” a gruff voice yells out. Making you stop in your tracks, Nellie fully wakes up, alert, wide eyes staring at the door then back to you.

“Still, shut the fuck up!” Another man whisper yells, “this place is old, we might wake up the dead”

“Idiot, you still believe that? What are you five?” A male unfamiliar voice chides in.

There's three of them. Your lips wobble in fear, knees threatening to give out from under you. Your room is on the third floor, too high up to jump down, if you decide to risk it, you would most definitely break your legs or worse. And how would Nellie get out if you survive the fall? An older dog like herself wouldn't make it if she fell that high up.

So you decide on a split second decision, it's either the bathroom or the wardrobe. You surmise that if they would get inside, they would check the bathroom first; giving you ample time to run downstairs and get to your car. So you make time to grab your key inside the drawer, pocketing it inside your sweatpants.

You make your way towards Nellie, grabbing her by the collar, there's no time to be polite but you still guide her as gently as you can– taking her towards the large wardrobe. She doesn't protest, letting you lead her inside. Sitting down next to her, closing the double doors– its hinges creek, you cringe at the sound, loud enough for them to hear the squeak. Once closed, you move the coats back in its place on the rack, acting as another barrier between you and the doors.

You hope it's enough to protect you and Nellie.

She sits down obediently, eyes trained outside. Your hands ache from how hard you're gripping onto the pen.

“Nellie” you whisper, “stay quiet, please.” With shaking hands, you pet her by the ear. “They might not even check here” you reassure yourself. Nellie stares you down, a face you've never seen her make before.

She scooches closer to you, protecting your body from the outsiders. Her fur warms you, calming you a little. Nellie huffs once footsteps walk up the stairs, every step acting like a death knell, counting down to the inevitable.

You pray to every deity there is, your mind wishes that Hobie’s with you, he would know what to do. You desperately need a bright idea for an escape, anything will do in hopes of ever seeing him again, to live through this nightmare.

There's footsteps in the doorway.

“It's locked” the doorknob rattles, tears start forming in your eyes, blurring your much needed vision.

“Move, I'll open it” voice muffled nonetheless frightening you with how close the sound is.

Covering your mouth, body trembling in fear, silent tears flow freely. Your hands tremble, the pen leaving indents on your palm, angry marks sears into your newly healed wound, opening it once again, your life flowing out of you.

Bang!

The sound makes you flinch, whimpering as Nellie looks on. The door is in danger of opening from the harsh kick.

“Christ! You're being too loud”

“We're in the middle bumfuck nowhere, no one's gonna hear”

Bang!

Metal hinges fall on the hardwood floors, scraping towards your hiding place.

“One more, hurry up! The good stuff must be inside”

“You wanna fucking do it yourself? Get off my back”

Bang!

You tamp down a scream when the large door bursts open, falling harshly on the floor, Nellie covers your entire body with hers, stance at the ready. A bundle of nerves sit on the bottom of your stomach, clinging, waiting with baited breath.

One whistles out, “Big fucking room, search the place, the safe must be in here”

“You fuckin' search it, you're not the boss” he seethes, voice fading towards somewhere. “I'll look through the other rooms, you stay here”

The other intruder clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Look who's acting like a boss. Asshole”

Heavy footfalls march towards the bathroom, you shiver, heart thundering inside your chest. Your soul is familiar with the feeling, anticipating your fate.

The doors to the bathroom creek open, you hide your frightened face on Nellie's shoulders like a child hiding behind their mother's skirt. Soft fur tickles your cheeks, you hold onto her, anchoring yourself.

“Goddamn, these faucets must've cost a fortune.” Judging from his footsteps, he seems to leave the bathroom “I don't have time to dismantle those. Now, where in the world is that safe” you hear boots thump on wooden floors, getting closer and closer towards the wardrobe.

Clutching the sharp pen, you wipe your eyes free of tears with your sleeve, brows furrowed in anger, lips trembling.

Right before the wardrobe doors split open, Nellie lunges, growling like a woman scorned. Her large canines bare at the man clad in black. With a quick movement, she aims for the jugular.

Blood gushes out, spraying your face with hot crimson. Nellie's snout covered in the same shade, her mismatched eyes wild with anger. Her body growing larger by the second, paws as big as your head, claws digging into the man's torso–shredding his skin down to his bone.

You hear a woman whisper “Run!” In your ears.

With a pained yelp, the man gurgles, slowly drowning in his own blood, Nellie's fangs still buried in his neck— a sea of red coating the polished floors.

Sparing Nellie one last look, she devours the man, sounds of tearing flesh playing over and over in your mind. A knife glistens in the moonlight, stabbing your protector in her stomach, a last ditch effort to escape.

Running away, pen still in your grip, you run into another man, crashing your body into his.

“What—?” He holds you by your shaking shoulder, dark eyes full of bad intention.

You don't waste time in lifting the pen, stabbing him in between his ribs. Blood leaks out, dripping into the carpet. He staggers back in surprise, still holding onto you, his back hits the bannister in a second, losing his balance.

He takes you down with him.

Air escapes your lungs as you plummet down to the foyer, closing your eyes, you brace for impact. A vision fills your mind, a memory perhaps, a memory that's definitely not your own. Or maybe one that you don't remember.

You fall simultaneously with your other self, the smell of salt and sea fills your nostrils. With your hands tied behind your back, the large stone weighing you down, helping you sink further and further into the deep. Bubbles float above you as darkness swallows you whole. Lungs filled with saltwater. You don't fight the current because it wouldn't have mattered.

It would always end like this.

You hit the ground in an ugly crunch of bones and skin, groaning, gore staining your head. Iron wafts your nostrils. The once clean home is now dirtied with crimson and shattered wood. There's ringing in your ears, hands and back filled with shards of glass from the vase that used to decorate the foyer. Chrysanthemums litter the floors, petals crushed– bloodied and broken.

You spot the open door, cold entering inside, the full moon beckons you over. Crawling to it, glass pricks your forearms, staining the antique carpets. Legs pulsing in pain. With one eye open, ichor gushing out from your forehead– you have one place in mind to seek sanctuary. Someone to help you in your injured state.

“Please” you can barely recognize your own voice, begging to get to safety, pleading to whoever is watching over you to let you live.

Just this one time.

“Liam!” A woman yells from the second floor, fast footsteps echo out in the estate. She grabs you by the foot, dragging you back inside, away from escape.

“You fucking bitch!” her shrill voice dampens your screams of protest.

You try kicking her with the last of your strength, but to no avail. Her razor-edged nails dig into your skin, your palm slides over to a sharp shard of glass, you immediately bend at the waist, stabbing it into her hand.

She yells, letting your foot go. The woman slowly took the shard out of her hand. Flesh opens up, muscle peeking through the wound. Heaving, she has ember in her eyes, you have fire in yours.

As you stand up on your feet, glass and splinters leaving jagged edges over the soles of your bare feet. Lips parted, your eyes catch a glimpse of the man you stabbed taking slow strides in front of you. Bloodied hand now holding on to the weapon you used. Scarlet flowing freely over his mad eyes.

He spits out blood, platinum hair covered in his own gore, teeth stained with crimson. “You weren't supposed to be here”

“You should've left while you had the chance, girl” the woman holds her own hand, trying to stop the bleeding. “or at least not cause problems for us. You had to be a hero, huh? No matter, we can handle you” she brandishes a knife big enough to butcher you.

The man beside her snickers, “And to think I was about to help you, I was the nice one y’know” he drops your bloodied pen, replacing it with rope from his belt.

“Fuck you” gritting your teeth, you curse at them with calmness you never thought you still had.

“Feisty, oh we'll have our fun with you!” She hits you with the butt of her knife, you flinch back, enough to lessen the impact, but the pain still leaves you blind for a second.

Doubling over in pain, she takes the chance to kick your stomach. Bile rises up in your throat, acid comes out of your battered mouth, smearing the floors. Now on your knees, the man tries to kick your spine but you're not going down without a fight. You take his leg just before it collides with your back, holding it, twisting it down with your whole body until he falls flat on his face.

“Bitch!” Knuckles hit your cheek, your nose cracking under the pressure.

You lay in a fetal position, shielding your head with your stained arms, ichor spread around you, seeping out of you, covering you. They kick and hit as a punishment, numerous voices laugh in your ears. The soft soil on your back, staining your clothes, tire tracks left on your skin, lower body nowhere to be seen. The blood stained tracks on concrete, your vision disappearing.

With your last strength, you time the kicks where they stop for a brief second near your face, grabbing her ankle, you bite a chunk of her Achilles heel. She falls on her back unceremoniously, screaming and cussing.

You spit out her flesh, showing off your bloodstained teeth with a cold smile at her partner.

“Fucker–!” He lifts up his boot, ready to strike you down.

A flash of black and white and then he no longer stands before you. His body flinged away, Nellie biting his head off in one feral bite. Head rolling to the soles of the woman.

“What the fuck!” The lone woman yells, a grave mistake she would soon learn.

Nellie sharply turns her head, fangs in full display, claws tapping on the floor, stalking her prey. Her once soft fur is all sharp and upright in fury. She pounces on the intruder, her entire body hiding the deed from you. You could only hear her screams and skin tearing into a bloody mess. Blood flies out of her like leaves blown away by the wind.

With one last squelch of skin and blood, Nellie stops growling, silence envelopes the entire manor.

“Nellie?” You breathe out, throat scratching like nails on a chalkboard.

She looks over her massive shoulder, fur covered in shredded clothes and guts. Her eyes are the only indication that she's the same dog you used to walk around the manor, the same one who sleeps by your bed since you got her back. The same Nellie you've grown to care for.

“Come here” you reach out to her with your shaking hand, she taps it with her snout, warmth

coating your palm. “You saved me, good girl” she nuzzles her head, huffing out in content, tail wagging in delight.

Bang!

A gun goes off, Nellie whines, dropping her dead weight right in front of you. Her essence flows out of her like a rushing river. She shrinks back to her normal form, an old border collie lay before you, whimpering in pain, eyes pleading for help.

“No!” Your voice breaks, hands searching her fur for the wound. Tears slide down your cheeks, leaving a trail of skin free of blood.

Looking behind you, another man stares at the sight in horror, intestines decorate the ancient walls, stray teeth litter around the floors like petals. Blood paints the halls of the great manor. His companions lay dead, bodies growing cold.

“You!” his voice shakes, the barrel of the gun pointed over your temple. He slaps you with the butt of his gun, you fall back down on the gore filled floor.

Everything hurts, your head pounding like a drum, arms stinging, nose aching, your lungs fight to inhale air. The beautiful chandelier you admired is your only audience to the grim scene that unfolded. And the only witness to your impending demise. You try to reach for the keys inside your pocket, resulting in the man stomping hard on your fingers, your bones crack under the pressure.

The man spits maliciously at your pain enveloped form, with a blink an older woman does the same.

“Witch!” She points her crooked finger at your tied form. The spectators scream in agreement. Faceless crowd jeering for your demise.

Snow covers the hill you were once safe in, snowflakes stick to your wet lashes, wood and timber at your feet, the thin white shift you wore doesn't shield you from the cold; in spite of the weather, you're warm. The searing heat burns your skin. Flames rising up, melting the ice underneath. The smoke burns your lungs, coughing, eyes stinging from all the tears you've shed.

“I am innocent, please!” You plead to deaf ears. “Spare me!”

One throws a rock at your shaking form, it hits your bare shoulder, the fire grows closer, it licks up your feet, scorching, burning. You screech in agony, calling his name, hoping he appears despite knowing he won't, can't.

“Hobie!” You feel yourself turning into ash. The growing life inside of you savagely ends abruptly.

“Hobie” clinging to life, your lips forming his name, instinctively calling for him. A whisper, a prayer just for him.

Furious wind rushes inside, the burglar shields his face with his arms, his face mask falling off his face. You crumple further into yourself, whimpering from all the searing pain.

Suddenly, the air stills, the sound of splitting logs, creaking and lumbering, you can smell morning dew through your broken nose. Spiders skitter onwards, black and red dots crawling all over the man. He screams in fear, trying to shake them off as the arachnids march on. Numerous more enter, engulfing his entire body. He hits the walls in an attempt to kill them off, they scatter away like dust, running away when the sound of nails scraping on wood can be heard.

He looks relieved for only a brief moment, then despair fills his entire being. Fear clutches your heart, eyes glued to the sound. There's a lull in the chaotic moment, silent as a monastery.

Lithe fingers slowly furling over the door frame, nails as dark as death itself emerge. Bones creaking, trees cracking, breaking apart at its roots. Your soul sings whilst you feel your heart stop, green whizzes past in a flash.

He stands there, an enormous stature, cloak draped behind him, an ocean of green, a flash of red in his eyes— his hand wrapped around the man's throat, nails digging and drawing pinpricks of scarlet. The pistol falls on the ground, metal striking the wood. He gasps in terror as you watch on with wide eyes.

You witness a myth come true right in front of you.

Spider legs unfold behind him, ripping his cloak, it twitches, the sharp ends poking and prodding at his victim. With a quick movement, Hobie impales the man with his eight legs, right through his torso, neck, legs, groin and eyes.

A life ends once more, a waterfall of warm ichor flowing down, spreading across the hardwood, staining your already blood-soaked clothes.

Hobie lets the corpse go, falling loudly and mercilessly. The corpse's dead eyes stare upon yours. The image would forever stay with you.

He kneels before you, spider legs retracting into his back; fury subsiding in his golden eyes, brown mixing in. Humanity seeping through him like the blood coating his hands. You observe through half lidded eyes, his scent masks the death around you.

Hobie hovers his knuckles over your ruined skin, he avoids the angry gashes of broken skin.

“Clover, what are you– what have they done to you?” For the first time since he saw you last, He feels helpless, a childlike fear under his otherworldly eyes. “I'm so sorry”

You wheeze out a reply. Crimson coated hand reaching out for him. He cups it gently, gore blending together. A vision of him holding you amidst the dark, flushed skin upon bare flesh, fluttering body under his, lips over your neck, nipping and kissing, passion rolling out in waves, love hanging in the air. Desire fulfilled.

“Hobie–” a raspy breath escapes, you don't recognize your own voice anymore.

“Don't talk, I've got you” carefully and effortlessly, he carries you.

You yelp, everything burns, your joints, your skin, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. Yet, his searing warmth comforts you, the familiarity brings a small smile onto your lips.

“I’m right here” his voice wavers, each step heavier than the other.

In that moment, you know everything will be alright.

Holding on, you paint his chest with blood that might be yours. The cold hits you, consciousness fading.

“Well? Your name?” He asks pensively.

“Rose”

“Poppy–”

Snowflakes drop to your eyelashes, melting over your skin.

“Dahlia–”

“Violet–”

The stabbing pain in the back of your skull persits, your life dripping onto fresh snow. Dirtying the earth.

“Iris”

“Fern”

You feel your legs go numb, Hobie's eyes forlorn, his bones ache, yet his grip stays strong.

“Lily–”

“Daisy, my name is Daisy”

He smiles, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Clever one, I welcome you, my name is–”

“I know you” whispering your words, Hobie stops in his tracks. Flicking his eyes down, he sees a sight that breaks what is left of his heart.

“I-I know you” you repeat it for yourself, trying to comprehend it all. Tears unknowingly let out, broken fingers brushing across his jaw.

“You do”

Swallowing a lump of blood stuck in your throat, you mumble out, trying your best to speak. “How–?”

“That's not important, you need to get better or–” he releases a sharp breath, “the food inside the abode can heal you, but it has consequences.” Hobie pleads with you with just a single look. “Do you understand what it means?”

You nod weakly. “Nellie, she's—”

“She'll be alright, that dog has gone through worse.”

You believe him, hoping that she's alright, wishing that she'll be back on her feet and waiting for you back at the manor. There's only hope now for you as the light behind your eyes dim.

You now enter the woods, your limbs grow weaker with every step. Hobie’s searing heat is the only thing keeping you awake. Your blood stains his torso red, the once green colour of his cloak now dirtied with coagulating blood. His own agony makes it harder for him to walk, stabbing his muscles, arms shaking under your weight.

“I’ve got you, I've got you” He repeats it like a mantra. “Stay awake for me, please” Hobie peers down, observing how your blood doesn't stop from gushing out, how your lungs fight to exhale air.

You have questions rushing through your mind, the answers will bring light to your very existence. You don't even know who you are right now but the pains and ache makes your thoughts foggy. At this rate you'll die before you get the answers you need.

Hobie stops abruptly, a snap of a twig from behind makes him whirl towards the sound. Then you smell it, flesh decaying, the smell of burning hair. There's something or someone shambling behind the trees, the rattling sound of chains being dragged along the path turns the blood inside your veins into ice.

Panic settles in Hobie’s stomach. He's frozen under the eyeless gaze of the entity.

He suddenly becomes the prey.

Its skeletal figure continuously drips thick dark blood onto the grass below, its bones chatter in the wind, long fingers pointing at you, bringing the large chains strapped on its wrist above, weighing its lithe arm down.

You were never welcomed here.

An image of a tall man converges with the ugly thing, suddenly, Hobie's right next to him. His entire body covered and trapped by thorny vines, pricking his skin, drops of ichor fall like dew drops on the soil.

The other being turns his head towards Hobie who struggles against the binds. The deer skull hides the fae’s face from view, his dark hair cascading around his bare shoulders. Tiny bells ring on his staff as he grabs Hobie by his jaw, sharp nails digging into his flesh.

“You bare the greatest sin” his voice a mere whisper yet as loud as an ocean wave crashing along the shores. “for what? A pet?” He turns towards you, dark eyes flicking down to your stomach. “An abomination, an affront, a mistake” the being spits venom.

“Now, she must be punished as do you” he turns his neck with a snake-like movement back to Hobie. “You've cursed her, Web weaver. Only by her own hand can cut the ties. Then and only then, she may be free from the binds you have put her in”

Hobie’s eyes are laden with fear and anger, his mouth covered by the same vines, unable to speak. His panicked eyes meet yours, tears freely flow from the brown you love.

You bravely stare at the fae next to him, fury settling in your soul, horror hidden behind the fire in your veins. He tilts his head, a sinister smile on his thin lips. There's flowers in your lungs. With a small wave of his fingers, you get flinged back.

Condemned to a deathless death.

Its jaws unhinge, a guttural high pitch sound blows your eardrums. Hobie kneels, letting you down on the moist soil just before the monster lunges for you.

Blades of grass stab your injuries. You stare up at the familiar ball of light, your fingers clutch the grass when a wave of pain hits your skull.

“Hobie?” Sobbing, you don't see him next to you. “Hobie?!” in your desperation, you yell for him.

There's an ache behind your sockets, memories flash by, once your own, centuries of despair, death and yearning. And you've lived through every single one. You feel remorse for all the lives you've lived, all the hatred and confusion that stems from the first life, from simply loving someone out of reach.

Crawling on the earth, if you bring your ears to the ground, you hear his shouts and struggle against the creature. Your soul begs for you to help him, but how could you do anything in your state? You barely feel your legs now, your right eye shut completely closed from the injury.

With your one good eye, you see your trembling broken fingers ahead of you, desperately clawing at the grass.

Finally reaching the table, you grab its leg. The table shakes briefly, a berry falls, bouncing in front of your eyes. A loaf of bread follows it on the grass.

You have a choice layed out in front of you.

You want to correct everything that your past selves couldn't. But will you be brave enough to do it? Or will you stutter like the others?

Your mind struggles to choose, taking a handful of nightshade would break the curse that's befell you all those years ago. No more struggling, no more pain and death for the next you to bear.

The cycle could finally end with you.

Or you take a piece of bread from his table and continue to live on. Who wouldn't want to live? Your body dies but your soul lives on in a different variant of you. After eating it would bind you to Hobie, you could love him till your time ends and another begins.

Why is it your problem to break the curse? Why not the next one or the one after that? Is it your responsibility to break the wheel?

Is it bad to want to live with the love of your life?

With one bite and you'll stay in this realm, even if the curse looms over your head, forever waiting for your death, whether by time's hand or another vile thing that plucks you from the garden of life. But you get to stay with him, experience what your former selves have.

Then the cycle would continue on unbroken.

Hobie will win against the creature, you're sure of it. And he'll be back here to pick up the pieces of you. You're alone in this choice.

Which one will you choose?

>>> Nightshade

>>> Bread

#the fall #the fall mini series #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider punk #spider man across the spider verse #fae! hobie brown x reader #fae! hobie brown #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #cw violence #cw food mention #tw violence #tw arachnophobia #tw blood #tw death #cw injury #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #hobie x reader #tw suicide #cw body horror #cw vomit #cw gore #tw animal injury #tw animal harm

[kingkunigami]

You know those posts on socials where people try and find strangers they befriended by chance when they didn’t exchange contact details at the time? That with Kunigami.

Kunigami spots you in the crowd at one of his games and he can’t seem to take his eyes off you throughout the match. Every time his team scores a goal, gets a penalty or play is paused he’s looking up to that same spot where he can see you again, certain you locked eyes more than once as he tries to keep his focus on gameplay.

But you stick in the back of his mind, continuing to dribble the ball down the field as the whistle is called for halftime. He wishes he could go up into the stands to talk to you, but he’s ushered back through the tunnel with the rest of his teammates.

Even when the game is over, and Kunigami’s team has lost the victory, he isn’t as sad as he usually is. He’s more sad that now he’s looking up at the same spot you were standing in before and he can no longer see you— his plan to go up into the stands to talk to you after the game now foiled as it appears you left the stadium early.

Kunigami can’t get you off his mind, no matter how hard he tries and it starts to become a hindrance on his life. He ends up trawling through Twitter, trying to find photographs of the crowd to see if he can spot you in any of them— and somehow he manages to find one. A wide shot of the pitch where you can make out the crowd in the background, pinching the screen to zoom in as the image becomes pixilated— but he can still make you out. He’s found this, but he’s still got no clue who you are.

So he decides to post a tweet of his own.

Cropping the photograph of you as he adds it to his tweet. A message about seeing you in the crowd at his game a few nights earlier, and a description of where you were standing and what you were wearing incase the blurry picture isn’t enough. Then he posts it.

And the internet goes wild. Everyone’s retweeting and quoting it to try and find you, his teammates sharing it to their pages to widen its reach— but he just becomes more deflated when the next morning you’re still nowhere to be found.

Until one evening he gets a text from Chigiri.

“Man, I think I found her.”

#soft kunigami #⚽️—kunigami #kunigami x reader #rensuke kunigami x reader

[labarch]

Threshold of Humanity: so about those demons huh?

Today, I conclude that the way Qifrey stands in doorways is the strongest proof we’ve had so far that Qifrey is, in fact, not human, but an artificial being born of forbidden magic. Or, as the witch society seems to name them, a “demon”.

Lots of images and spoilers up to chapter 69 under the cut!

On the outside looking in

Let’s start by saying that in this chapter, Qifrey is back to his old habit of looking as suspicious as humanely possible. The first page is the only one where we briefly see his eye, with a look I want to describe as sorrowful, bitter and knowing. For the rest of the scene his face will stay partially hidden, and he never looks full on at the castle guard he is speaking to. His demeanor is distant, in contrast to the guard’s confusion and panic. In fact, it is a little funny how dodgy he is acting, given that he does nothing but noble deeds this entire chapter – bringing an escaped criminal back into custody, taking his apprentice to safety, safeguarding the medical tower against further attacks with a layer of salt.

So far, this looks like Qifrey’s classic brand of guilt-ridden self-sabotage, but the framing of the scene provides extra context. The threshold to Ezrest’s castle acts as a physical barrier separating Qifrey from the other man. During those three pages, they are both often shown framed by that doorway: the guard safe within the walls, contrasting Qifrey the outsider. The first page has a gust of wind pushing his robes around him, like an invisible force keeping him back. And we do know, because Qifrey emphasises this again for us, that this castle does indeed possess a natural repulsive force that keeps out monsters.

We are told in chapter 47 that, not only drawing magic within Ezrest castle won’t function, but that the castle’s walls repels all magical artefacts. It is because of that property that, when Coco notices that the leeches have not approached the castles’ walls, Qifrey immediately concludes that their current monstrous form is the result of a magical experiment.

Of course, “demons” are not the only beings who would be unable to enter the castle: any active spell should be repelled, meaning that Olruggio, for instance, can’t enter with his beautifying mask. Coco, with the bracelet stuck around her wrist, technically shouldn’t be able to enter at all, and the same goes for the characters with active magic drawn directy on their skin, like Coustas, Dagda and Eunie. In fact, even if he were perfectly human, it would be only natural for Qifrey to not step inside, since he couldn’t go in without taking off his glasses, which contain spells both to hide his scar and to protect him from harsh light.

And yet. I can’t help but see a very pointed parallel between Qifrey’s confidence that the castle will repel monsters, and the way the castle’s entrance seems to subtly repel him. In particular because it adds on to a long series of scenes featuring Qifrey’s anxieties around unnatural, magically created beings. This is at least the third time Qifrey brings up the creation of monsters in the days before the pact, which he calls “terrifying” and “a disgusting form of magic”. If the illustrations for those scenes are a glimpse into his mind, then it’s a mind full of nightmares. During their fight, the rogue Sage Engendil also lampshades how curiously familiar Qifrey seems to be with demons. Qifrey furthermore muses that he knows demons haven’t gone extinct, and in fact are still being created by witches to this day.

The demon in human skin

In short, my opinion is that chapters 68 and 69 together strongly hint at us that Qifrey is, or perceives himself as a demon. Now the question is: what new information would this reveal give us about him, his quest, and the way he has behaved so far?

First, we need to try and actually define what does and doesn’t count as a demon in that universe. Qifrey’s first halting description is “a monster, created with magic and by the hands of a witch”. A distinction is also made between magically altered animals that have adapted to their ecosystems and are useful or at least harmless to humans, and ferocious, uncontrollable beasts. So a demon is a new lifeform, artificially created through magic, that is inherently dangerous. The petty criminal from chapter 49 that got turned into a mindless and violent mass of giant leeches ticks all those boxes. Going by that logic, Coustas and Eunie wouldn’t fall into that category despite not being able to enter the Ezrest castle: modifying some of your body parts, or being turned into an existing animal wouldn’t count. Even Sasaran from the second test doesn’t seem to count as a demon: despite being hybridized with an animal, his consciousness hasn’t been affected and so he can’t be described as an “uncontrollable beast”, just a very heavily modified human.

One other interesting tidbit: “demon” is actually name dropped in chapter 59, a while before Qifrey’s fight with Engendil, when Beldaruit muses that a king who could use magic to gain power over life and death would become a “demon king”, someone capable of creating new lifeforms at will. This ties in the concept of demons to the other themes of the recent volumes, the dilemna of healing magic and resurection magic. What this could imply is that bringing someone back from certain death through magic carries the risk of altering them to the point where they would basically become a new lifeform, which has worrying implications for Dagda.  

Going back to Qifrey though, there are three things we know for sure about him: 1) he has been experimented on with a type of magic never attempted before; 2) he looks and acts perfectly human, and 3) despite this, he is convinced that this new magic is dangerous, and must not only be destroyed but also kept secret at all costs. Finally, we know that those experiments left no visible trace on his body, because the Knights Moralis would have inspected him when they rescued him from the Brimhats (and would have soundly kicked him out of the Great Hall had they found anything). Barring other special characteristics we might not know about, what makes him unique as a demon is that he is undistinguishable from a normal human.

And that’s already more than enough to explain why he is freaking out so much.

What I like about this demon framework is that it can apply to several of the existing theories around Qifrey’s origin: whether he is a rescucitated corpse from Slistas, a silvertree turned human (I am still firmly standing behind that one), or a homonculus created from nothing by the Brimhats. In all three cases, whatever weird symptoms or powers he might have as a result of his creation, the very fact that he cannot be told apart from a human is what makes him truly dangerous. Because it shakes the very foundation of magical society.

We remember the central law of the Pointed Hats: the integrity of the human body is sacred, and therefore magic cast on the human body is taboo. A demon with a human appearance is a mockery of that principle, and a walking dilemna for the Pointed Hats. Demons used to be killed by heroes, and forbidden magical artefacts must be destroyed, but what do you do when that magical artefact is a living, breathing person?

(Speaking of, I have been wondering for a while what the Knights Moralis even do with people who have had spells tattooed on them, and especially those whose bodies have been altered. They can’t let them wander around, even with their memories gone, their very appearance would give the secret away. Do they keep them hidden in some prison or on an island, like the brainwashed witches? Asking for Eunie and Coustas, I’m worried about these kids)

From that perspective, Qifrey’s secrecy makes complete sense. The existence of demons with human faces not only raises all kinds of existential questions, but in the short term it risks making witch society even more repressive than it currently is. The Knights Moralis are already merciless to anyone seen with a tattooed spell or other evidence of having been involved with forbidden magic. Can you imagine how paranoid they would become if they literally couldn’t tell apart a demon from a human? Anyone could be a demon, pretty much.

In particular, this scenario explains why Qifrey is keeping the truth from those who might be tempted to help or protect him. After all, where would it leave Olruggio if he sided with a demon against his own society? Where would it leave Qifrey, if the only solution to erase that dangerous new magic were to destroy himself, but Olruggio wouldn’t let him? It also gives context to his line in chapter 40 “You want me to stay as Professor Qifrey? I would also like that, if it were possible”, and his description of his life at the atelier as something almost like a dream. Professor Qifrey doesn’t exist, and he has no right to live that peaceful life.

Anger and hope

A final bit of character musing I want to add to this: this theory of Qifrey as a demon, and the way he wrestles with that knowledge, also sheds some light on his more erratic actions and mood swings so far. What makes his motivations difficult to follow is that he always seems tugged between two extremes: destructive anger and fervent hope. Both are actually coping strategies that he tries to use to protect himself against paralysing guilt.  

His anger at the Brimhats allows him to redirect his self-disgust towards those who made him. The true demons are those who willingly create monsters, he tells Engendil during their fight. These moments where he faces the Brimhats bring out a very different side of him, one that is confident, indignant and spiteful. Then, rather than being blinded by anger into chasing senseless revenge, he is calling on that anger to steel his resolve. He is using that indignation as a motivator to right a wrong done against both himself and witch society as a whole, even if he has to destroy himself in order to do so.

On the other hand, he seems to hold onto some hope that he might, somehow, erase the magic that created him but still miraculously keep himself alive. That is the side of him that fervently believes in the miracles of magic and in the power of creativity, inspired in him by Beldaruit, and passed along to Coco. His stance seems to be that he needs to dive into the ugly core of those experiments, and that maybe, just maybe, a way to save himself will occur to him just in the nick of time. It’s an interesting coincidence, by the way, that he is staring down the maws of water-dwelling demons while having those thoughts.

And on that note, hold on to indignation and hope when the going gets tough (but don’t brainwash your friends), and thank you for reading!

#witch hat atelier #witch hat meta #witch hat spoilers #qifrey #treefrey #sort of: this is a more general theory #I do apologise about the quality of those images #might try to fix that later #go go little demon tree go

[sonkitty]

Crowley S2 Hair Post #9

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 1, The Arrival, fragile existence

I heard David Tennant got a BAFTA nomination for his portrayal of Crowley in Good Omens 2! Yay! He did such a good job. Congrats Mr. Tennant! You're awesome!

I don't really have anything else to add, so I am moving on with the rest of the post...

Some images below are brightened as I see fit to help show things better.

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are shorter than they were in the previous scene with Gabriel. Their length best matches the length found in the park. That would be short but not quite the intended shortness after driving for enough time.

As noted in the main sideburns post, this reading recognizes Crowley as a supernatural entity but still giving something shorter than longer reading around other angels. Most likely, that's because Crowley and Aziraphale are supernatural friends whose relationship is very similar to human partners.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

While the previous scene wanted to show the streak more clearly for most of the scene, this one does not. It wants anyone looking to look really hard.

There are a number of places where I think the hair is more red and hesitate. In my previous version of this post, I noted more examples than I will in this version.

The main place where I think there is a streak, it actually moved to the right side of Crowley's head, like it did when he was driving. It's from the cut when he says, "So did I."

The main other place where I thought it might be was the line where he is talking about "exactlys".

In motion without checking frame by frame, and just watching the scene a few times, it looks more plausible on that right side of the head in a few other cuts.

I definitely cannot find a more saturated red streak right before Crowley leaves the room and says, "You're on your own with this one." That's an angle where it can usually be found.

As stated in the last post, my initial streak theory was that the missing streak in that particular cut is a clue that part is Draft #1. It could still be, but I don't know why the streak disappears when it does in other scenes that I don't think are from Draft #1. The pieces don't line up in a way I understand.

...

Hairstyle Changes

Crowley's hair is erratic here, suiting his frustrated mood.

...

The sideburns are shorter than the previous scene with Gabriel. Instead of a tidy collected swoop, he has curls going up from his forehead that actually change how they curl during this scene itself.

When Crowley closes the door, his hair has two visibly thicker curls going down, then curving up toward his left back inward, ending either in the center above his left eye.

When Crowley is thinking they "just take him somewhere and leave him there", the curls go up and out from the center creating a V-like shape.

When Crowley is talking about "exactlys", the curling of his hair above his right eye is going up in and back, much like the hair more centered and above his left eye, instead of parting away from the center of his forehead like the description above. It has a stronger resemblance to the style when he encountered Gabriel than the other styles in this scene. I think Crowley looks best in that particular cut and the ones most similar to it, for the scene.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Crowley touches the door frame on the way in, but his fingers aren't shown. Due to hand mechanics being so complex, I'm not sure what it counts for, regarding earthly objects or thresholds. I tend to assume the threshold-only touches are in the Threshold Tricks with a notable exception being when Crowley agrees to loan the car through how he touches the car's thresholds. At that point, he is allowed to do that because of his actively known but unseen pocket touch, I assume anyway. The audible slap on Aziraphale's hand before such touches on the car thresholds might count for something too.

Well, here Crowley does make a small pocket with his hand, including his thumb, even if digits get blurry as he lets go. So, I would guess it's either an earthly object touch or a null touch.

As noted in a previous post, this time Crowley actually fully crosses a threshold first with Aziraphale close behind him. He generally doesn't lead when it comes to locations outside the bookshop; Aziraphale does. The door isn't closed until Aziraphale has passed by him though, now that I think about it.

As Aziraphale enters, his reflection can be found in a push plate on the door. It's mainly his arm that is most visible though there is technically some of a blurry hand. Aziraphale visibly crosses past Crowley, so this action could be a ridiculously complex assist for whatever is necessary for the Tied Hands. I'm not sure if the Tied Hands need re-tying because if they do, I think the process is being drawn out in some special way until Crowley lets the smoke hit him later with his lightning. They'll do some things shown shortly.

Crowley makes pockets with his arms due to placing his hands on his hips. Admittedly, with the left arm, it is an assumed pocket because I can't find an actual gap showing what is behind him. I just know a pocket is there because of the lighting. Nonetheless, he touches his jacket with his thumb joints. He's very particular about his jacket touches when it comes to pocket trickery, especially the thumb joints. Part of an actual door is visually in the pocket for Crowley's right arm and torso.

The tie strands switch when Crowley closes the door:

I can see his shadow on the door itself. Shadows show up in The Pocket Trick as if to allow leniency through stretching or sharing or some other word I can't place. I suspect shadows are significantly what helps Aziraphale reach for and keep his Green in the Rainbow Connection during The Door Catch.

Getting back to the tie strands, they pop out off Crowley's chest to make a pocket at least twice:

In each of those times, there is something resembling more switching happening.

Crowley makes a pocket with his shoulder, left arm, and left hand when he emphasizes the word "him" for saying Gabriel needs to be nowhere near Crowley. Part of his watch is visible.

Knowing Crowley, the left hand and watch are up to something here too:

The main earthly object touch of the scene is at the end when Aziraphale sits in a chair. For this one, Aziraphale's back actually does touch the chair.

Regarding dialogue, Aziraphale says Crowley's name. Otherwise, there is the name of a place, Dartmoor, and a title for Gabriel with Supreme Archangel of all Heaven. Titles seem to be acceptable as name alternatives. There are several questions, probably most notable of which is, "What does your exactly mean exactly?"

...

Story Commentary

Crowley is only in this room twice during the season and with Aziraphale both times. It is the most private space we see for the two of them though Muriel intrudes in episode 3.

The lighting in this scene favors Crowley's right side, instead of his left. As such, his left sideburn looks to have more hair to increase its fullness compared to other scenes when the lighting favors Crowley's left side.

There are some cuts where a lightning imprint seems to appear in Crowley's forehead. I can sometimes spot it in other cuts during the story too. He'll be shooting out lightning later in the episode.

There are moments where I think Aziraphale sees the lightning imprint too.

Here is a picture. I've indicated these imprints in red rectangles instead of white since his lightning will be red.

...

Crowley emphasizes the word "fragile". When we eventually see Crowley summoned to Hell, I take that particular scene as a way to show his meaning. He'll be there, reluctantly, and having to manage his own movement carefully in the process.

One of Crowley's points in the argument is that Gabriel is not their friend. Other parts of the story imply he and Gabriel were friends or have some further personal history together, so that might be another part of his distraught emotions on display in the scene.

Crowley doesn't bring up the possibility of Gabriel falling, but it is something he himself has experienced so that might be an understated and even unconscious fear.

When Crowley walks past Aziraphale to start to leave, there is a hiss type sound effect. Crowley uses a demonic hiss three times when removing his sunglasses later. Otherwise, he has this hiss when preparing to leave the room in anger and another in episode 3 where he is not angry at all. In episode 3, that hiss seems to mean something more like a friendly, "Follow me."

The red on the back of the collar on Crowley's jacket can be found in this scene more obviously than it usually can:

Even though the room is a private setting, there is a partially open door visible in the background during the scene.

Both characters have understandable views of the situation they've found themselves in, so I'm not particularly in favor of one over the other on their points in the argument.

I have an overall obvious bias for Crowley in general though.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

The next intended post is very important because game tutorials are on the way! By that, I mean the tutorials are from the story, not me.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

...

Past version of this post:

Post #9 (fragile existence)

#crowley #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens s2 #david tennant #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens crowley #crowley good omens #crowley s2 hair project

[melbrewer367]

So you want to make a recolor...

I made a quick recolor tutorial for a friend group so I thought I'd go ahead and share here too. This is just a super quick guide for how to recolor an object/cas item.

There are two types of recolors. Standalone and Overrides. Overrides will replace the item/swatches that exist in the game. Standalone recolors create an additional item with it's own swatches. This tutorial works for both kinds, you just pick which one in Step 1, and then the rest is basically the same.

This tutorial also works for pretty much all buy mode items and CAS items. Anything that is tileable...I think maybe that's what you could call it...anything that can be stretched across multiple tiles, for instance, wallpapers, flooring, roofing, fencing...these types of items require a few more steps that I will not be covering here.

Ok so you want to recolor something, you need Sims 4 Studio (S4S) and a photo editing program like photoshop (there are plenty of free alternatives out there too, like Gimp is one I know a lot of people use).

Step 1! Open up S4S and pick either "Standalone" or "Override" depending on what your end goal is. Generally, you'll probably do standalone. I usually reserve overrides for permanent world items I want to change, like changing the images on the billboards in San Myshuno, for instance.

For this, I'm going to make a standalone recolor of an object so you would make sure Standalone Recolor is selected and then click "Object."

Step 2. Find the thing you want to recolor. Across the top there's filters so you can narrow it down by pack or search keywords to help find what you're looking for. Pick your item and click "next" at the bottom. A save window is going to pop up, save your file and make sure to name it something useful that's actually identifying so you can easily find it and remove it/update it/etc in the future. If you just hover your mouse over an item, it will give you the game's name for that item.

Congrats, you've created a Sims 4 package.

Step 3. (Optional) If you want to make changes to the in game display name, description, price, or style tags...you can do that on this first screen and then just hit "Apply To All Swatches." You do not have to make changes here if you don't want to though.

Step 4. This is where the fun begins. Click on the "Texture" tab. This is where you're going to get the file that you actually need to recolor. If there's a plain white swatch, I would pick that one, otherwise, I would go with whatever the lightest and most blank swatch is to make it easier on you to recolor. You just click one of the numbered swatch boxes at the top and then in the lower section make sure you have "Texture" highlighted, in this case it is my only option, and then click "Export." Another save window will pop up, just save that texture file somewhere easy to find, it'll only be there temporarily. (Or, if you want to be really smart and you plan on recoloring many things, you should make a project folder for each thing and save your texture files and things in there so you can always come back to them later.)

Step 5. So the exact tools and steps and such will kinda vary here based on what you want to accomplish and what program you use but, the broader overall process is the same. Open your texture file in an image editing software, change the colors/patterns/etc how you want, and then save that texture file. For instance, on this one I'm just going to change that pink section to a different color by just selecting the pink area with a marquee/quick selection tool and then using the Hue/Saturation tool to change the color.

Another example, this is something James Turner did in a recent video that someone asked about, you could choose some in game frames with images, put your own screenshots onto that image, and then boom you have your screenshots in game as framed photos. You would simply add your screenshot on top of the framed image as a second layer, line it up nice and neat, and you're good to go. Here's an example of what that would look like:

That's also basically how you could quickly add patterns to something. Lay your pattern image over top of the texture, change your layer style to something like "Multiply" or "overlay" depending on the look you're going for. Either way you do these, just remember to save your final product as a .png file.

Step 6. Back to S4S! Same place you were before, except now you need to click "Import" down in that lower texture section, select your texture file you just made. While you're on this screen, you should also update the colors in the "Swatch Thumbnail" section to match your new recolor, and you can also "remove swatch" to get rid of any additional swatches you don't need. Once you're done with all of this, hit save, and then go throw that .package file into your Mods folder.

Step 7. Go in game and check out your items and then pat yourself on the back.

Now you too can be cursed with this knowledge so that every time a new item/clothing is added to the game and you think, "wow I'd really like this if it was in better swatches" you can just...make those swatches.

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #tutorial #s4s tutorial #recolors #recolor tutorial

[jungkookslipring]

what abt a seonghwa fic when y/n (fem) breaks down one day when everything is seemingly fine abt abuse she had from her mom when she was akid.

y/n's really independent and admirable and hides her feelings underneath a warm friendly exterior but no-one knows what's underneath it.

idk if this is too intense, but i kind of feel like it..

haha love you

I LOVE THIS! Thank you so much for the request!

Pairings: Seonghwa x Reader

Relationship: platonic or romantic

Genre: hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of verbal and psychological abuse, crying, mentions of eating disorder but no graphic description

Mother Knows Best

Mother knows best, right? Even when she was very protective of you growing up and claimed to be a mama bear and 10 times out of 10 always acted on it, it made up for the things she’d say to you, right?Every time she said you’d look prettier without all those piercings, every time she’d comment how your body wasn’t VS material, every time she’d gaslight you and say you weren’t depressed you were just having a bad day, or “it could be worse”, she knew best, right? Your parents could do no wrong, no matter what they said was said with a purpose right? What they said, especially what she said was okay, right? They were allowed to say negative things cause they were your parents and that fine, right? Well it sure took you long enough to realize it was far from fine. It took one memory for you to break down in your bedroom. You were scrolling through Pinterest looking at constellation piercings, trying to decide which piercing you’d like to add to your collection. Maybe a double helix? Or a tragus? Or go for the more simple route and do a third lobe? There were just so many options at the end of your fingertips. You found a combo of jewelry you loved, and when you went to hit “pin”, the words invaded your brain.

“Why would you do that?”

“There is no reason for you to get those”

“That’s so ghetto”

“You’d look prettier without those piercings”

You lost it. Your vision blurred and your heart began to race, the fear from your childhood when you’d cry over something and your mom would comment

“Of course you’re crying”.

It was all too much. When you heard footsteps you threw a hand over your mouth and squeezed your eyes shut, imaging your mom storming down the hallway to yell at you, to stop crying, and to suck it up. What you didn’t expect was a dip at the end of your bed and a soft

“Hey, hey sweetie, what’s wrong?”

You opened up your eyes and saw Seonghwa, looking at you with a concerned facial expression. You shook your head, you’ve never wanted him to see you like this.

“Let’s try to catch our breath honey okay? We’ll take deep breaths together, you and me, yeah?” he asked oh so kindly. He wasn’t yelling at you, wasn’t telling you to suck it up, he was gently helping you calm your breathing. Just the mere thought of this new way of calming down actually existed was enough for your breathing to level out within maybe 30 seconds.

“Was there something or someone bothering you?” He asked as he put a hand on your knee. You looked down, worried that if you express your feelings, you’ll be shut down. Seonghwa took his hand and slowly tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I respect your privacy. I just want you to know I’m here, okay?” he said so sincerely. Your lip wobbled and before you knew it you were hiding your face in his shoulder, weeping as you held the back of his sweatshirt If he was startled he didn’t show it as he wrapped his arms around you, resting his cheek on your head. He’s never seen you so sad before, let alone shed a tear. It hurt his heart hearing you hiccup with every sob.

“My sweet girl…whatever it is, I’ll be there. I can help. I can help fix it,” he whispered. You shook your head. How? How can you fix childhood trauma.

“I-I don’t think it’s s-something that can b-be fixed” you whisper tearfully. He held you tighter and started stroking your hair. It was his silent way of saying

'I'm here, whether you want to tell me or not, I'm here'.

You let out a shaky sigh and found only a small bit of courage to tell him. You told him everything: the verbal and psychological abuse from your mother as a child, the way that abuse followed into your teens and young adult years, how you were paranoid over everything you did cause you knew she’d have an opinion on it, the fear of speaking up, the challenge of expressing your feelings, and the shame of feeling sad. Everything you let out was word vomit, and the strong confident girl that Seonghwa met was replaced with a shy, quiet and scared girl that was weeping from years of trauma. But Seonghwa didn’t care. This side of you he had never seen before and even though it broke his heart, he was relieved that you were letting go of the pressure that built up inside of you for so long that you kept trapped in a box refusing to open it.

“…so…you know I guess that’s what did it…I couldn’t take it anymore…but I’m really sorry I didn’t want you to see me like this-“ you rambled before Seonghwa oh so gently, in the nicest way possible, cut you off by pulling you further into his hold.

“Shhh shhh shhh. My y/n, you don’t need to apologize over this type of thing, bubs, this isn’t your fault, none of this is your fault,” he said with his voice only slightly shaky. He pulled back a little to cup your cheek.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t talk to me sweetheart, and I don’t want you to feel afraid to show your emotions. Your feelings are valid and no one can tell you otherwise cause it’s your body, not theirs. And I’m so so sorry your mother caused this,” Seonghwa said sadly. He genuinely felt so sorry for you.

“It’s okay…I mean…I know it’s not okay but don’t feel bad, I’ll get over it eventually,” you say shrugging. Seonghwa had sadness in his eyes as he took your hand into his.

"You are loved. You are so so loved sweetheart. You have a family who loves you, even if its just me and the rest of the seven crackheads that live in this household," he chuckled as you let out a wet chuckle. You loved them all so much, you really did. This conversation wasn't going to change the past, but it was going to help you move forward, knowing that you had the best support system, even if they weren't blood.

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateezedit #ateez angst #ateez fluff #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa #ateez x atiny #ateez hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

[theeblackmedusa]

great mistakes: pt. 1/7 {attoye}

pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5

ao3 link

summary: "i crave a love that drowns oceans"

pairing: okoye x attuma

warnings: language, mild violent descriptions, not quite smut

The world was silent as Attuma laid down, hand gently resting on her back as she slept curled into him. He wondered how he ended up in such a situation. How he'd allowed his guard to be torn down so easily by the enemy. He glanced at her parted lips and images flashed of her on their first meeting to the way she'd kissed him when their tension had swollen to an irreversible intensity.

Looking at her, it was hard to find the defensive warrior that had matched him blow for blow. He could barely tell that she'd fought so fiercely against his people as she nuzzled so peacefully into him. He feared her realization, feared the day when she would decide to flip the switch again and once more become his foe.

He tore his eyes from her and saw the sun beginning to rise through the window, detesting the fact that he had to leave her soon. The alliance made him and his people safe to roam in Wakanda, but the animosity still stood. Attuma was sure that the sight of him leaving her home would only add salt to the wound that was her title being stripped from her, which still filled him with guilt whenever he remembered that it was his fault. He was the reason that the thing she spent her life becoming had been taken away from her by a mentor who died loathing her.

Attuma slipped his arm out from under her body and sat up slowly to ensure that she stay in her slumber. He glanced at her one last time, eyes absorbing the sight of her sleeping form. Warmth filled him and he sighed, a chill coming over him at the thought that it could all be a forgery. That he may not truly be able to trust her. He stepped out of her home and made his way to the water, leaving the surface world behind as he progressed into his home.

She later awoke without him, stretching her arm out to the cold spot where he'd been. That had become their normal. A few nights together a week, him disappearing by sunrise, and steering clear of each other throughout the days they occupied the same spaces. She liked it. It was safe. There was no room for emotion with them. There was no chance of getting hurt if there was no acknowledgement of the apparent connection between them. She wouldn't have to deal with another W'Kabi situation if the alliance failed to succeed.

Okoye finally rose from her bed, making her way into her bathroom before going to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. She made a note to have a cleaning day soon because the way he smelled was beginning to permeate her home. Saying she didn't enjoy the scent would be untruthful, but letting any trace of him linger in her home would alter the safety of their dynamic.

Memories of the night before flooded her mind as she prepared for her day. Every time with him was new, never failing to excite and follow her well throughout the next day. The memories were so clear that she could still feel him on her whenever she thought about him. She shivered as she stepped out of her home, leaving for Shuri's lab.

She had reluctantly taken on the position as one of two Midnight Angels. While ensuring the princess's safety was part of her duties, her main job was to protect Wakanda. She had far less boundaries than the Dora Milaje working directly under the throne, which she was secretly thankful for. Less precautions meant less chance for failure, and with the main precaution being stealth, she and Aneka almost always succeeded.

A smile involuntarily crept onto her face as she thought to Shuri calling her to come to the lab in the morning. She'd done her best to keep herself together, but Attuma between her legs had made it incredibly difficult. She hadn't pegged him for the type to play games, but he was a jokester in his own special and torturous ways.

Okoye came back to her senses, pushing him out of her mind as she approached the lab, wondering just what Shuri had created for her to see. As much as Okoye disliked straying from what she knew, she would never deny that Shuri had something special and her designs never failed. Whatever it was, it would most likely be beneficial, no matter how long it would take Okoye to warm up to it.

"Princess," she greeted, entering the room to see Shuri surrounded by diagrams, models, and prototypes. Okoye would never understand how the princess could comprehend all of the things around her at once. It was a talent that had never failed to leave her in awe.

The two of them had grown closer since the loss of the Queen. She'd confided in her and Nakia, explained the weight on her shoulders, which they were happy to help relieve when possible.

Shuri finally turned to her, an excited smile on her face. Okoye could practically see the effort Shuri had been putting into what she was about to show off.

"Okoye, I have updates. Do not judge them before I even get to show you?" she warned lightheartedly, walking over to one of the prototypes.

Okoye walked over as well, fingers tracing the metallic shoulders of the armor and then falling to the fabric of the suit.

"I reinforced them. They take much more damage now, and much like the Black Panther suits, can redirect the force of an attack onto the attacker," she explained proudly.

Okoye smiled at her, impressed.

"They look cooler, too," Okoye added jokingly, earning an eyeroll from the princess.

"I was rushing the original design, remember?" she shot back. "Try it on?"

Okoye dressed in the suit, feeling almost immediately empowered by it. The lack of Dora Milaje armor had landed a blow to her confidence, but branding the Midnight Angel armor had restored it as she realized that she was still one of Wakanda's strongest warriors, regardless of title.

"It is not vibranium?" Okoye questioned as she looked into her reflection in the armor.

"No," Shuri replied. "In the off chance that one of them is stolen, no vibranium can be taken from it and used against us."

Okoye nodded, not wanting to pry into the thought behind the design. Shuri had grown tremendously in the time that Okoye had known her, so she trusted the wisdom that came from her experience.

Shuri continued presenting the suit to Okoye, detailing the features of the armor before suggesting they move to a training room to test it. The pair made their way down from the lab to one of the many rooms used by the Dora to train. Okoye walked in and stood in front of one of the training dummies.

"Strike it," Shuri instructed, turning the camera on in her kimoyo beads.

Okoye raised a brow in suspicion, remembering a certain video of T'Challa that had been shared under the same circumstances.

"It is a dummy, Okoye. Do you think it will hit back?" she questioned knowingly, fashioning a reminiscent grin as she thought back to her brother.

Okoye inhaled deeply before focusing her energy into her punch. It was a simple punch, one she'd perfected a countless number of years ago. Her strength combined with that of the suit, however, sent the dummy flying back into the wall behind it, shocking both Okoye and the princess.

"Impressive."

The women turned to the doorframe, both becoming defensive at the unexpected voice.

"Talokanil," Okoye spoke dryly, taking a step toward Shuri as she acknowledged the man before them.

"Warrior," the large Talokanil man responded smugly before turning to the princess. "I apologize. I was exploring and heard the noise."

Shuri relaxed, nodding. She knew, that while he could be dangerous, he was relatively harmless if he had no reason to act. She did, however, notice the tension that arose in the room. It was there anytime he and Okoye were in the same vicinity of one another, the constant urge to prove themselves as larger than the other.

The competitive relationship between the two warriors had amused her at first, but now, she saw that it had been key to Okoye reconnecting with herself. Shuri figured that without someone like Attuma constantly forcing her to keep herself sharp without the title of "General", she would lose touch with herself completely. Okoye needed challenge in her life, and Shuri could see that he was that challenge.

Okoye's head was spinning at the sight of him.

Fuck, disappear, avoid. Their perfect dynamic had been shattered in just a matter of hours.

"Okoye," Shuri began. "How would you like a real target?"

The glare that Okoye shot her could have shot daggers into her, but she did not mind. She needed her entertainment for the day, and watching Okoye fight the Talokanil warrior would provide that. Seeing what she can improve in the armor's design was a nice bonus as well.

Attuma walked fully into the room, positioning himself in front of his warrior and confidential lover, prepared to spar. Excitement filled him. He enjoyed testing her, indulging in their mutual demand to prove themselves.

"Do your worst," Shuri advised him. "I need to see exactly how much damage the suit can take."

Okoye saw the almost unnoticeable smirk that grew on his face at her words. As he locked eyes with her, she could practically hear his thoughts: I always do.

He struck first, a hard blow to her midsection but it didn't fully derail her. The suit had absorbed most of the impact and she was able to bounce back, swinging at him several times before he could land another hit on her.

Attuma held nothing back, striking her with an almost absurd amount of force, but she was matching every blow with as much intensity. Pride flooded her body when she'd kicked him so hard in the chest that he fell backwards.

The two continued their fight, knocking each other down and demanding the other to rise again. In the back of her mind, Shuri secretly wished she'd brought a snack to go along with her show. Finally, Okoye had struck him so hard that he'd stayed down. Worry filled her momentarily but he rose again, wiping away the blood she'd managed to draw from him. Attuma conceded, bowing respectfully as he backed away from her, his eyes somehow darkening before her. She studied his face, processing his expression go from shocked to warning. He'd get her for that later.

Shuri beamed with pride in her design, still taking notes for minor improvements. Okoye watched as he inhaled deeply, feeling her stomach twist at the sweat glistening over his body. It was a glow on him that she'd seen many times as he'd been on top of her or when she'd been undoing his last ounces of composure.

"You should go back to your exploring, yes?" Okoye questioned, hoping that her attempt to hide the way he was affecting her had worked.

He gave a short chuckle and a nod.

"Yes," he replied. "Goodbye, princess."

Attuma bowed his head before turning back to Okoye, taking a couple steps to her.

"Warrior," he bid farewell, not breaking eye contact as he gave her another bow before leaving.

When he finally left, Shuri snickered, raising an eyebrow at Okoye.

"What?" Okoye asked, turning to the younger woman.

"Warrior," Shuri mocked, sensing that Attuma held a different form of tension for her friend.

The women returned to the lab before parting ways. Okoye knew that if he wasn't at her home waiting for her, already, he'd be there soon. He had patience until he didn't, and she'd already drained his patience. Usually, he'd wait until the dead of night to visit her to avoid being seen, but she was sure he didn't have it in him to do that.

Not long after she made it home, he was knocking at her back door. Eagerness came over her, but she calmly strolled to the door, not wanting to show him any signs of elation.

"Are you done sulking?" Okoye asked him, earning a huff in response as he pushed past her into her door. They didn't talk about feelings, but she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to rub the fact that she'd beaten him, once again, in his face.

"I do not sulk," he responded, grabbing her forearm and pulling her along behind him.

Attuma walked through her home like he owned it. Neither of them could count the number of times he'd been there since their rendezvous began. He wasted no time in bothering to kiss her, decided she didn't deserve it after the way she'd knocked him down earlier. It took everything in him not to indulge in her kisses, but his willpower was strong. Instead he'd tease and edge her until she broke and begged for it. After finding out that she almost never begged for anything in the world, making her do it became one of his most immense sources of pleasure.

He did just that. He'd found just about every string inside of her and pulled. She unravelled before him and he kept pulling. There was nothing she could do about it and she didn't want to. After he'd finished ruining her, she found herself caught up in her mind as the room went silent. His heavy breathing had been restored to normal and he laid beside her, watching her as the gears in her head spun.

She'd done it again, made his heart soften by just existing in his presence. It almost made him sick. At first, he hadn't understood why it had been so easy for K'uk'ulkan to give in to the princess, to not kill her when he'd had many opportunities to do so. But, as she lost herself in thought, mind running so fast that she could hardly keep up with it herself, he realized that he was fascinated with her. He couldn't name the price he'd pay to have even the slightest understanding of her, to know exactly what she was thinking about.

Usually, she was thinking about him, and a majority of the time, she wouldn't be trying to. Now, however, she was wondering about Shuri's insistence that Wakanda double down on security down to every fiber in their armor. Her worry about the threat of stolen vibranium. Okoye had seen that level of attention to security few times before under King T'Chaka's rule as well as the Queen. She wondered what could be troubling the princess and if it meant trouble for Wakanda. Was there reason to mistrust those of Talokan? Where would she and Attuma stand if there was?

She'd prepared herself to be ready to dispose of him since the beginning of whatever it was they were doing. It was very rare for her to trust, and even rarer for her to trust fully. She'd been telling herself that his intentions may not be beneficial for Wakanda or even to her, so she wouldn't wind up hurt if it all boiled over. However, just the thought that it was all a game to him, that he was using her for something that she hadn't been able to see yet was making her ache.

"Do not overthink," he guided finally, a large hand snaking up to softly squeeze her neck. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his rough hand touching her pulled her out of her thoughts. "You have many responsibilities as it is. Whatever it may be, try not to worry."

With that, his hands were traveling down to her sides and he was placing a soft kiss to her temple, momentarily distracting her from her fears and allowing her to find escape in his touch. His hands were cool but soothing to her skin, and as his fingers traced her skin, the doubts of Attuma's intentions faded. It scared her, but she allowed the years of standing her guard and listening to her intuition to be pulled away as she let her worries escape her. Okoye decided that she would scratch the itch in the back of her mind later. For now, she'd just let him drown her in his absolute bliss.

taglist: @simpingforclaudette @amidalis @angel-of-death-2015 @amber-plans @goodluckdumbfuck @mikastarr222 @abbyeliza28 @skysynclair19 @midethefangirl @sunshinescribes

#okoye #attuma #marvel #mcu #okoye x attuma #okuma? #attoye? #okattuma? #attuma x okoye #fanfic #fanfiction #black panther wakanda forever #black panther #wakanda forever #theeblackmedusa

[perplexingluciddreams]

I have pictures of AFOs to show, Friday I got them back with new adjustments! Here is some pictures plus photo of new shoes I will get (not have yet, but Mum order, so will get soon) :D

Current shoes pressure in bad way, a bit too small and narrow. New shoes will hopefully be much better fitting - I fit into 2 biggest kid sizes (so I can get cool kid pattern/colour!!). Biggest kid size is out of stock in both shoe options that I like, so I got 2nd biggest (I hope it is not too tight squeeze, from sizing chart I think it will be okay)!

[Image description: A photo of Ezra’s legs with AFO braces and shoes on them, taken from Ezra’s perspective. His trouser legs are rolled up. There is two black straps over the front of his calves, just below his knees. The straps have rectangular pads under them, to protect his skin, they are also black. There is another strap over the top of the foot, at the part where the foot meets the leg. There is another same pad over there too. The photo is taken from above, at a slight tilt, so only the edges of the AFO braces are visible. Ezra is wearing grey Nike trainers, with bits of pink and purple. The right shoe is untied. The laces on both shoes are stretched wide, because of the extra space the braces take up. End ID.]

[Image description: Another photo of Ezra’s AFO braces, taken from the side. The leg closest to the camera is extended out to show off the camouflage pattern on the braces. The other leg rests in a relaxed position over the edge of the bed he sits on. End ID.]

[Image description: A side-on image of a shoe, taken from the website where they were ordered from. The shoe is a trainer style and is mostly army green and black, with black laces and a white sole. It has a red zip along the outside of the shoe. The zip goes from the heel to the top of the laces, allowing the shoe to be opened in a way that is easier to put on with an orthotic. Above the zip is a patch of camouflage pattern, and there is another small patch on the tongue. The inside lining of the shoe is red, of which a hint is visible just along the edge of the opening. End ID.]

This shoe is called “Kids Excursion Camo”, from the company “Friendly Shoes”. They are UK based, and have kid and adult shoes for AFOs and disabilities! Not all of them have the zip in the same place. They have several different styles and colour options. I am happy I fit into kid sizes because they have the most fun colours! They have their own sizing system, with a clear size chart and measuring instructions on the website.

I will do a post about the shoes once they arrive! I just really hope they fit (since I had to go with the second biggest kid size, instead of biggest kid size - I don’t want it to be too tight of a squeeze. But they say lots of width on the website, and the length fits according to my measurements, so I don’t worry too much 😊). I am excited about shoes and AFOs pattern match!!!

On sort-of-related topic, I bring up possible option of posterior walker (walker that go behind with handles at sides) to Mum, and she say she will speak to physio about it. I don’t know if it will be the best option for me, but it is worth a try! It might help me walk further and go out places, since it has optional add-ons like fold down seat, forearm platforms, pelvic stabiliser, and various other straps and supports. I am excited about having more options (even if I am stuck in bed with muscle spasm-y pain in whole left side upper body right now writing this 🥲🥲).

#words from my head #snapshots of my life #image #described #afos #ankle foot orthotics #orthotics #leg braces #shoes #disabled #disability #physical disability