#Is that bad end art i did just silly or was it a hint?

[am0ngtheb0nes]

August 19, 1987

Its been three weeks now, and this handprint hasn't faded at all. Despite its appearance, it actually doesn't hurt that much. It only seems to ache when I'm alone or in the loneliest hours of the night - the ones where I find myself more and more frequently pulled back to that place. I should tell someone - I should tell Julia - but I can't bear the thought that she wouldn't believe me. I just hope that this is some kind of phase, and it will fade again. Even now, as I write this, I can feel that horrible cold. I need more blankets. -- Exerpt from the diary of Wren Saint-John

#my art #art #original character #oc #ttrpg character #epistolary #Wren Saint-John #I look forward to seeing if my fellow players will see this #Rip Julia your boy is fucked up #Is that bad end art i did just silly or was it a hint? #whos to say #those blankets wont help him #there isnt much that can really help him now

[imarvelatthestars]

Built to Fall

a submission for the 2024 clone bingo event hosted by @karttaylir-darasuum , as well as the bad batch @cloneficgiftexchange - my gift to @221bshrlocked !!!

Pairing: Hunter x f!Reader

Content: tbb s3 happy-ish ending AU (our s2 survivors + Crosshair live happily ever after on Pabu), mutual pining, some angst; title inspired by "Mind Over Matter" by Young the Giant

“You’re getting better. You might end up better than me one day.”

Omega’s nose crinkles playfully. “I’m not sure Tech would call that a good use of my skillset.”

“Well, Tech’s not here. Arts and crafts are way more fun than ship schematics anyway.”

“You’ve got that right,” she says, and you think she sounds just like her brothers.

She’s a smart kid, probably the smartest kid you’ve ever met, so she catches on to new things fast. Her fingers are agile and quick, and her mind is always running. How she hasn’t outsmarted the entire island by now is a mystery to you.

Today’s lesson, if you can call spending time with the sweetest and funniest soul in the galaxy a lesson, is learning how to string kukui nuts and shells into a necklace. There are plenty others who have mastered this art, who craft elegant strands of nuts and shells that look more like art than mere jewelry, and Omega is definitely better at it than you are, but it makes you smile, gives you something to do when your hands are restless and your mind is prone to wonder. And it helps that you can barter with your nicer pieces.

The waves roll gently up and down the shore, bubbling over the rocks and soaking the sand that’s crumpled up by your feet. There aren’t many seashells left, which means you’ll have to go hunting for more soon. You’re just about to suggest it when an embarrassingly loud grumble comes from deep in your belly. You freeze; Omega’s bright, attentive eyes flicker to you, and you both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

That’s how he finds you – lounging in the sand, your leggings rolled up to your knees, and cackling like a goblin.

“Having fun?”

Hunter’s shadow falls lengthwise over you. He’s placed his hands on his hips in a poor imitation of a scolding father, but his faux seriousness is entirely marred by the smile he doesn’t bother to hide.

Omega grins. “More fun than you are!”

“Now that I believe.” He steps around you so he can crouch in the space between you both and your heart very much doesn’t jump at the new proximity. Definitely not. “What’s all this?”

“We’re making necklaces. See?” Her latest creation is promptly displayed on her splayed fingers.

He takes a moment to study it. The shells are tiny already, but they’re even smaller in his hand, dwarfed by the length and breadth of his thumb and forefinger. You’re not sure why you notice that out of everything. It’s a silly thing to notice.

“You did this all on your own?” he marvels.

“Well...” Omega looks to you with a hint of shyness. “I had a little help.”

She's far too modest. “Very little,” you correct. “I just showed her how.” One of your baskets is quickly exchanged for Omega’s necklace, much to Hunter’s surprise. It is, after all, half full of stranded shells and nuts. “She’s a natural.”

Hunter’s brows shoot so high up his face until you’re half afraid they’ll jump right off. He looks to Omega, then you, then back to her. “You made all of these?”

For a moment it seems she’s not sure how to respond. She scratches awkwardly at the back of her neck for a bit, hesitant, even flustered, before finally nodding. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

“Omega,” her brother sighs, and it’s all tender and proud, the way a father should be. Something warm alights in your heart at the sight. “These are wonderful.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He smiles, and so does she, and that secret desire you pretend not to have, the one that delights at his nearness and the gentle affection he bestows so generously to his siblings, the softness hiding beneath his battle-hardened exterior, explodes inside your chest like a blossom finally unfurling.

“I hate to pull you away,” he continues after a moment, “but it’s time to eat.”

Omega groans but doesn’t protest beyond that. She’s quick on her feet, gathering up her things and haphazardly dropping them into the basket she then perches on her hip. You, on the other hand, are a bit slower than that. Pabu works many miracles, but it doesn’t make you any younger or faster, no matter how refreshing the sea air may be. Your own basket of seashells and kukui is organized and fastened shut, then your shoes gathered in your hand, and then – and then you find Hunter’s hand extended to you.

You brush off your shock as quickly as you can, hoping it doesn’t linger, that it isn’t noticeable, and take the offer with a smile that matches his own. The contact is brief, far too short for your liking, but it quickens your pulse enough that you fear your heart will catapult from the cavity of your chest all because he looked at you, touched you, and it’s all you ever dream of.

His fingerprints still burn into your skin long after his hands have withdrawn. You almost wish they would scar if only to have a physical reminder of him when he’s gone.

“Thanks.”

He nods, and the sun shines golden on his face. There’s a wordless moment where he extends his hand to you again and you think he’ll take hold of you a second time, guide you off the beach like that, and you’re not even sure you’ll survive such a thing, but then you realize he’s asking for your basket. And you’re disappointed, but so, so relieved.

“That’s okay, I got i-”

His fingers curl around the basket handle, gentle but firm. There’s no room for discussion, not as he tugs it free and settles it under his own arm, not as he tells you in everything but words that he will carry this thing for you, he will carry anything you need, anything you want, and you never need to ask. You only wish that he would do it because he cares.

“You don’t have to do that, y’know.”

Hunter’s brow furrows, but you blink and it’s gone. “I know,” he says.

The walk from the beach to Shep’s house is relatively short, but it always flies by when you walk it with him. Perhaps because he makes you feel safe, secure, because he makes you smile when no one else can. Perhaps because you never want these moments to end. Perhaps because, if you’re really honest with yourself, you know that he fills the part of your heart that longs for more, no matter how uncertain you are if he would ever allow himself such a thing.

Dinner at Shep’s is never a simple affair, but it’s always happy. Good food, pleasant chatter, the sound of Omega, Wrecker, and Lyana’s laughter, Phee’s gently barbed remarks and Crosshair’s witty retorts, Batcher barking and huffing between gulps of food, and even the more serious conversations shared between Hunter and Shep tend to be more comforting than not. It’s home, plain and simple. It was never meant to be, not for you, but somehow… somehow that’s exactly what it’s become. He doesn’t know, at least you don’t think he does, but none of it would’ve happened without him, without that too-good heart of his beating fast and strong below his bones, that heart you wish you could call your own one day.

Funny how easy it is to be foolish, isn’t it?

“You’re quiet tonight.”

Shep’s followed you to the balcony where you’ve chosen to watch the last remnants of the sunset as the colors bleed into the clouds and the dark, stormy shroud of night begins to fall.

You tilt your head back, trying and failing to catch a glimpse of the starts through the clouds. “Sorry. Just had something on my mind, I guess.”

He nods, as if he understands, and you truly think he does. He’s a wise sort of man, kind and smart in a way that only experience can provide. “You know you can always speak your mind.” His forearms find the lip of the balcony the same way yours have. “If something’s bothering you-”

“It’s not you, Shep.” You don’t dare say what it is, but you almost wonder if he knows. “I have a little too much to think about sometimes, y’know?”

“I do,” he says, and he nods again. You think he’s about to say something else, but he’s stopped by the weight of a hand upon his elbow, the gentle intrusion of Hunter’s presence as he steps into the conversation.

“Sorry to interrupt.” He gestures to the expanse of clouds as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. Though for him, you suppose it is. “We’ve got bad weather incoming. Probably best for everyone to head home now.”

Shep agrees, and the others are quick to hurry back to their own hovels or to the Marauder, but Hunter walks you home. You both know he doesn’t need to. And, you think, you both know he’s only doing this because he feels duty-bound. It hurts, but you revel in his company all the same, just for these few moments.

“I should go,” he says once you’re both inside, dripping the beginnings of the storm onto the stone floor, but he seems loathe to admit it.

You both spare a glance out the window. The rain’s already coming down harder than it was just a minute ago. It’s pattering hard atop the roof and there’s enough force behind it that you’re almost afraid it’ll blow your windchimes clean off.

“Hunter, you’ll get soaked. At least stay until it’s eased up a bit.”

That’s the least you can do, isn’t it? After everything?

But rather than immediately accept the offer, Hunter grimaces. His entire body stills and starts to shift away from you, not a lot, not even in a way that might be noticeable to anyone else, but you know him, his tells, all the subtle ways his body responds to the world around him. You recognize immediately that he’s uncomfortable and that knowledge hits you right in the gut, sharper than a vibroblade.

He shakes his head, politely. “No, I, I should go. I’ll be fine.”

It’s the fact that he refuses to even look at you that does you in.

And you know you should let it pass. Really, you do. Take the blow and roll with the remaining punches the way he and his brothers do, but you’re not strong like they are, and your heart is so much more fragile than theirs.

You sigh. “Why d’you have to be like this?”

Impossibly dark eyes flicker in the muted lighting, landing somewhere near yours. “What?”

“If you don’t like me, Hunter, just say it. You don’t have to pretend, okay? That just makes it worse.”

His tattoo crinkles as his face shifts, each line of inkwork rippling until he’s frowning at you so intently that the weight of it feels enough to crush you. Then his head tilts and the coils of his hair fall over his eyes, and he’s so beautiful that you think you might cry.

“What are you talking about?”

Maker, is he really gonna make you say it?

A brief turn of your shoulder gives you the spare moments you need to compose yourself, and as you survey the tiny hovel you’ve turned into a home, you find yourself thinking again of that last night on Ord Mantell. The night you realized Tech was dead and Omega was gone, and you knew your life would never be the same again…

It’s a goddamn Imperial fleet. You’ve never seen so many ships at once before. They crowd the sky, faintly and briefly illuminated by streaks of lightning and the few pricks of light coming from the city as they descend. You don’t know why they’re here, but you don’t really need to. You know there’s only one thing on Ord Mantell precious enough to draw the Empire out here and it’s not any one of the petty criminals or their shady deals passed under the table and off the books.

If you had any of their comm channels, you’d be satisfied with asking if everything’s alright, if they need a place to stay. But you don’t. Instead, you run. It was a boring night off anyway.

The bar is trashed when you get there. Tables overturned, blaster marks scorched into the walls. Cid’s nowhere to be found and neither are the clones, and it leaves a terrible, sinking feeling in your gut. None of this is right.

Stumbling back outside, you see a handful of Imperial ships lifting off, one already shooting for the outer reaches of the atmosphere. Whatever they’d come for, they’d clearly found it, and Maker, you prayed it wasn’t any of them. Anyone, anything but them.

You come stumbling into the landing zone just as the boys come through the far end, already approaching their ship. Your throat is raw and your entire body hurts from being pushed far beyond its usual limit.

“What, what happened?” you gasp between desperate mouthfuls of air, hands clutching your knees as you double over. “The Empire-”

It’s then that Hunter comes swooping into your personal space, so close that he takes up every inch of it, totally filling your vision until the shadow of his tattoo and the dark glinting of his eyes is all you can see. There’s no time for your stomach to flip or your face to flush hot. There’s only time enough for him to grab you and push until your back hits solid durasteel. It’s cold, sharp, violent where it digs into your back, but no colder than the quiet rage you see carved into Hunter’s face now.

“You sold us out.”

You’re too confused to be offended. “What?”

His forearm finds your throat and presses until you’re properly pinned between him and whatever unyielding thing he’s backed you into, and when you look up at him, you find that you’re afraid of him for the first time in your life. He looks murderous.

“Hunt- Hunter! What are you talking abo-?”

“They took her.” He's clearly furious, but there’s a deceptive calm about him that rattles you to your bones. It’s not the calm and quiet demeanor of a battle-hardened soldier, but the cool and distant resolve of a man on the edge of desperation. “Because of your boss. Care t’ tell me why?”

You struggle to look over his shoulder to the others behind him. None of them have come to your aid, though Echo looks like he’s about to. And Wrecker... What the hell happened to put him in a neck brace? You look back to Hunter, seeking his face for something you’re not even sure you know how to name, only to find his body wrapped in bandages and his face bruised. Something’s not right, something more than just the Empire.

They took her. Took… who?

You glance at the others again. Wait. Where’s Tech? Where’s Omega?

His words pierce through your heart when they cycle round your head again.

They took her.

No.

Your boss.

She wouldn’t. She... she couldn’t. To them, maybe, but to Omega?

“Hunter,” you croak with a voice that cracks under the weight of your horror, “where’s Omega?”

Nostrils flaring, he presses harder into you until you actually choke, his teeth bared and gritted, flashing white against his skin. It’s the most monstrous you’ve ever seen him. “You tell me.”

You’ll kill her. If he lets you live, you’ll march yourself down to the parlor and kill Cid yourself. Doesn’t matter that you’ve never flared beyond the supernova of a rookie punch, you’ll level a blaster at her head. That is, if Hunter permits you to live past the next few minutes. You’re honestly not sure if he will. But then, if you’d kill for Omega, you don’t think you want to know what kinds of atrocities her brother would commit. Perhaps you’ll learn firsthand.

Echo stops him, but he cuts it concerningly close. Air rushes through your lungs so quickly that it hurts, and you find yourself wilting until your legs give out.

His voice wrapping around the syllables of your name is enough to bring you back to the present, to the cold, dismal reality of the disaster of a relationship your friendship has become. You look to the hand at your wrist, the long, calloused fingers and the scars that crisscross his knuckles, the swirling tattoos atop his bones that disappear beneath the cuff of his sleeve, then up to his shoulder, his chin, the flared base of his nose, and then to his eyes. You swear you dream of them every night.

“What is it?” he asks in that deep, rumbling timbre of his.

You’re so heartbroken that all you can do is smile. “What do you think?” Flashes of an offered hand, the lifting of a basket, the quirk of a smile when you crack a joke or the lifting of a brow when you manage to surprise him, the lingering of his gaze when the nights draw dark and your mind is dulled with sleep – they all filter through your thoughts in a single instant. “You don’t have to keep making it up to me. What happened on Ord Mantell is done, Hunter. I just…” You shouldn’t say it, you should keep it buried deep inside your heart and let the wound fester until you burst, but now that you’ve started you find you can’t stop. “I just wish you’d stop killing yourself trying to earn my forgiveness when I gave it to you a long time ago. Especially when I know you hate me.”

The storm rages on while you fall into silence. The wind whips and whistles against the windows, the rain pummels the ground, and all the while you wait for Hunter to finally admit what you’ve known to be true for the past year.

Instead, he loosens his grip until his hand falls away and you hear, rather than see, the dropping of his shoulders in the way he sounds utterly wrecked when he mutters, “Is that what you think?”

Your breath stalls in your chest. “Isn’t it true?”

“No,” he says too quickly. Like he’s lying, like he’s trying to cover his tracks.

“Hunter-”

“You really think that?”

“Fuck, of course I do!” You turn on him and gesture to the awkward, uncertain tilt of his body as if it were the most offensive sight you’d ever seen. “Look at you, you don’t even want to be near me! You act like I burn you half the time we touch. What the hell else am I supposed to think?”

If ever you’ve seen Hunter wish he could crawl into his skin and die, now would be it. All it does is further affirm what you’ve long suspected, and it kills you, the same way it’s been killing him to re-earn your favor. You can’t do this anymore. You can’t pretend like you’re not head over heels in love with him, despite how much he hates you, despite knowing he might have killed you once not so long ago. Despite everything, you love him. And he will never love you back.

You storm to the door and slap your hand against the controls. It hisses open as the sharp winds of the storm come bursting in. Half the house seems ready to blow away, but you don’t care.

“Get out.” Even though it’s the exact opposite of what you want. “Now.”

And because he hates you, he acquiesces. Head bowed low and his eyes cast to the floor, Hunter steps outside without so much as a farewell, and he takes your heart with him.

You’re not sure how much time passes between then and now. It could be a whole hour, or a few seconds of your heartbeat thundering inside your ears. Does it matter?

“I wish I’d never met you.” He’s almost certainly gone by now, but you find yourself wishing that he could hear you. You want him to hurt as much as you do now. “I wish I’d never fallen for your stupid face.” You rub the back of your hand over your eyes and nose, and it comes back wet with your grief. “Wish I’d never gone to Ord Mantell, and I wish I’d never fucking met you, and I wish, I wish…”

Say it, says the little voice in the back of your head. You’re too tired now to fight it.

“I wish I could’ve loved anyone but you.”

No one responds. There are no frantic confessions of mutual feelings, no gentle knocking at your door. Not that you’d expected there to be, but a part of you had hoped. No, Hunter’s gone and you’ve made a fool of yourself for no reason at all. You dread to think what tomorrow will bring in this storm’s wake, how the chaos will have torn your new home into tatters, how Hunter will watch you with the same distant, burning eyes that break your heart and stitch it back together all at once, how the island will feel as foreign as it did the night you first arrived. You’ve already started mourning the daily gathering’s at Shep’s, the way Wrecker makes you laugh and Phee tells her stories, and Hunter loves Omega like the daughter she almost is, and now it’s all gone, forever, and maybe, just maybe, you were lost to the depths of your heart that very first day that the Marauder touched down on Ord Mantell and the squad came into Cid’s. Maybe you were never meant for finer things like requited love and a place to belong to.

It’s this endless spiral of illogical conclusions and shattered dreams that Hunter returns to. You never hear the door open, nor the worsening of the storm, but you do hear the soft squeak of his boots on stone, the gently trembling exhale of his breath as he squats beside you. You turn as he comes to you, your face damp and snotty, and it’s embarrassing, but he doesn’t care. How could he when he takes your face in his hand like he was made to do it? His headband is soaked and his hair is dripping wet, the tight coils of his bangs now plastered to his skin.

“Don’t cry.”

You only cry harder, but this time Hunter pulls you to him. You let him. He’s soaked, just like you said he would be.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers with your head tucked beneath his chin and your shoulders shaking under his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

 “You left,” you sniffle.

One of his hands finds your neck. It’s cold, but the touch sparks tendrils of warmth down to your toes. This way, your head is tilted back and his is inclined toward you, almost as if…

“You asked me to.” His breath fans across your face, down your throat, dipping low like the path his eyes take as he assesses you. “I don’t hate you. I never have.”

You could fight him on it. You could, but you can’t find the words. You can’t find any words. You don’t know what to say. Kriff, you can barely think right now with the way he’s holding you, watching you, how completely he fills every one of your senses.

“I don’t… know how to do this. I’ve already hurt you before, I don’t- I can’t do that again.”

There’s a hesitancy there, though. You see it in his eyes, in the set of his bones, somehow managing to pull away from you while still staying so deeply entwined with you. He’s unsure all over again, perhaps even as unsure as you are.

“Hunter…” Your hand finds his face, unbidden but perfect all the same, and he leans into you. “I already forgave you. You don’t have to-”

“I heard you.”

He… Huh?

Frowning, you start to pull away as you blink through the confusion and the watery film along the bottom of your eyes. “What?”

He tightens his arms about you to draw you closer and while your pulse skyrockets, you’re not sure if it’s because you’re terrified that he’s so close or panicking because he’s just close enough. You can smell him, now – the faint tones of sweat and sea salt and the wine from dinner – and you swear it’s enough to capsize you. Hunter lowers his gaze, then his face, so, so close to yours that he’s the only thing you see. And you think, you hope, he’ll kiss you, but you’re afraid of what might happen if he does.

“I heard you,” he says again, softer this time. His brows have pressed together above his nose as he focuses upon the spot just below your own. “Cyare… All this time, I thought I didn’t deserve you. I didn’t know.” His nose bumps yours. “Cyare,” and you hope one day he tells you what it means, “can I?”

You don’t need to ask what he means. You only have to nod. “Yes,” you murmur, and that’s when he kisses you.

It’s a cautious thing, so hesitant and timid, but Maker it’s beautiful. Even if this is all he ever gives you, it would be enough to know that he tried, that you learned his taste and his touch when it felt like the world was crashing down around you.

“I’m sorry,” he says before trying again, more frantic, more eager as his mouth presses into yours.

“I forgive you,” you promise before burying your hands in his hair.

The next few moments are a flurry of adrenaline and kisses peppered on skin, the rustling of fabric and the creaking of the sofa when it takes your combined weight. Hunter seems to have found his confidence along the way, and you’ve found your courage, and it ends with his teeth at your lips, and your tongue at his throat, and confessions pouring from you the more he gives and the longer he takes.

“I couldn’t, couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He nips at your jaw. “It’s always been you, Hunter. Always.” He kisses your cheek, then your brow, then the corner of your mouth, hands trailing across your hips and arms as he goes. “I love you. I’m sorry for everything, I just love you so mu-”

His kisses steal the tail end of your confession, drawing into his mouth to mingle with his own until you swear the two of you become one.

“’s alright, mesh’la, ‘s alright. I know.” The bump in his nose is a caress against your cheek as he nuzzles into you. “I feel the same.”

It’s not perfect, this thing between you, and it isn’t easy, but it was always worth fighting for. You were always meant to fall for Hunter, and he was always meant to fall for you. You hope you never stop falling. And he swears never to stop catching you.

prompt(s)/inspiration: “You’re always on my mind.” | “Why can’t you see that it’ll always be you?” + jewelry

taglist: @moodymisty @the-rain-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite @kaminocasey @arandomnerdsblog578

#hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #hunter tbb x reader #hunter tbb x you #hunter #the bad batch #2024cbe #TBBE24

[shepherds-of-haven]

I know it will never happen, but after hearing those voice claims on Patreon, I would pay ungodly amounts of money for a Fire Emblem-esque SoH game. Like, I don't know where you would even start, but if you did end up deciding to make one, no bank would be safe from me 💰

Hey, never say never! A Fire Emblem-esque ShoH game would be a dream! 🥹 You never know, who knows where my future in game development goes after this entry gets published?... I can dream too, right? 😂

Actually, if you want some little-known trivia, before I started working with ChoiceScript, I actually made a proof-of-concept intro for Shepherds as a JRPG-style turn-based pixel game back in early 2017! It was basically just to learn the engine, RPG Maker (my thing seemed to be throwing Shepherds as a story template at any new programming language I came across), and didn't follow the prologue of our version (no Caine or Prihine, the protagonist just gets plopped into Haven right away and joins the Shepherds), but I built a whole map of Ashtown and Whitestone in it; that 100-hour venture ended up planting the seeds for some of the stuff that takes place in our version of the game! You could explore every nook and cranny of the Shepherds' compound and Ashtown, talk to several hundred NPCs who all had their own routines and walkabouts around the city, and even play minigames and engage in turn-based party combat!

Unfortunately, it was all made on the 3DS version of RPG Maker, so it's not shareable as a demo unless you have a 3DS and are willing to download a free app (but Nintendo pulled the servers for the 3DS, so I don't even think that's possible anymore). I do have some bad pictures I took of the 3DS with the demo running, though!

Is this a proto-Chandry or just some random clown? ↑ If you keep bugging him he starts adding the below to his speech lol: ↴

Dog!! You can sneak a peek at Trouble hanging out in front of the Shepherds' compound on the left: this version of RPG Maker only allowed for premade assets, so the character art for the Shepherds themselves was extremely limited... 😔 ↴

Thieves Guild, though the player doesn't know it because Rafe won't move until later in the game: the only hint present in the "prologue" is that there are little wanted posters of Chase all over the city, but this particular one, if you read it, has the words altered to: "WANTED FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE AUTARCHY BEING VERY HANDSOME" ↴

Miscellaneous stuff (Qael-Qanaeon, Arta and Hal's house, etc.) ↴

Shepherds' compound! I only took screenshots of a few of the rooms, like a sparring gym, Blade's office, the main atrium (there were two guardian 'Viveks', lion gargoyles named Leo and Lionel, and they'd randomly stop you if you walked by them to engage in some silly random dialogue and generally be a nuisance before letting you get through the door), the refectory, one of the dormitories, etc.) ↴

#Shepherds of Haven #random #RPG Maker #sorry this was so long-winded lol I went hunting for the photos and took a trip down memory lane #have to make a part 2 because I ran out of my allotted number of images in 1 post LOL #long #long post

[wepsi]

Are you trying to entice me dear?-Barbatos(smut)

(Not my art! Go follow @ alyss_why on Instagram!)

Female reader

Cw: fingering, tail

Scenario: What started out as a innocent punishment of having Barbatos serve you all day, turned out to be the greatest reward.

Barbatos was usually a very calm and reserved demon, but he could never back down from a competition. Unlucky for him it was a scaring contest and Mammon was playing dirty with a rat. The loser had to obey the winners wishes for the whole day, and lucky for you , you won! But maybe this wasn't all a coincidence, you've been eyeing up the butler for a while now. Asmo was the one who noticed how head over heels you were, and gathered everyone to orchestrate the whole thing.

Not wasting the chance, all day you do seemingly normal things like shopping and baking, but trying to give him flirting touches and glances. Despite your efforts it seemed futile, Barbatos was cool as a cucumber and professional as ever. Getting desperate that the day was ending, you scheme up something bold.

"Barbatossssssss could you draw me a bath please, I want to relax after this long day."

"Absolutely master."

You close the bathroom door but didn't lock it. stripping yourself naked and step into the water, it was perfect temperature water how did he even do that? Trying to put on your sexiest pose, you yell for Barbatos, putting a hint of worry in your tone as if you were in trouble. Barbatos rushes in the bathroom thinking that you might be hurt, just to see you in a silly pose.

"Will you help bathe me Barbatos? The punishment is you have to do all of my request."

"Y.Yes master"

Barbatos looked a little shocked for a second, then come over to you with a smirk. Taking off his gloves and rolling up his sleeves (which was so hot) kneeling down next to the tub, he dips his hands into the water.

"Do you have a sponge or a towel master?"

"Oh I don't, that's too bad you're going to have to use your hands."

"Are you trying to entice me dear?"

Instead of answering, you grab onto the edges of the tub to lean in and give him a kiss on the lips as a yes. He grabs onto your body wash to lather his hands, and start washing you. He surprisingly starts with your neck, which felt really gentle and sweet. He washes your arms rubbing both his hands around them. Then he washes your stomach, back and legs. Growing disappointed at him avoiding all your intimate parts, you grab onto his wrist and put his hands square on your breasts.

"Ansty aren't we?"

He grabs onto your chest and squeezes, earning a eep from you. His touch still gentle but it felt, different... He lathers the soap all over your chest, and slightly pulling on your nipples. He had the same calm smile but there was a sinister vibe to it. Seeing how much you wanted him, he finally travels his hand down to your sex. He plunges his hand in the water, feeling up your thigh and ending up at your folds.

He runs his hands up and down your folds, while inching his face closer to yours. He massages the hood on your clit, before pulling it back to stimulate it directly. Whimpering against his hand, you needyly grind on him, wanting more. His hands move back to your chest, making you whine at the lost of pleasure. Do not worry, because you see Barbatos antlers start growing from his head, and you feel his tail slithering into the tub.

You lean forward once more, trying to kiss him again just for him to tsk you away. Wanting to get a full view of your face as he enters his tail in you. His tail slithers in, and enters into your needy hole. Though it wasn't thick it was so long, easily probing your womb, the scale also adds extra texture. He precisely uses his tail to hit all the right spots in you, and just when you think it can't feel any better, the other tip of his tail delicately circulating your clip.

He finally accepts your lips, gently sucking on it and your tongue that you keep trying to push down his throat. He chuckles and find it cute how thirsty you were despite being surrounded by water. You open your eyes slightly to see him just to find his emerald eyes staring back at you, closing your eyes out of shyness you try focusing more on the way he is pleasing you.

You hear the water slightly swishing from his tail, and your building moans into his mouth, you really wanted to hear his moans too. His hands were massaging your breasts, occasionally rolling your hard buds in his fingers and pulling them. His tail steadily plunging into you, and the other one teasing you from the outside. The pleasure now slightly overwhelming it was hard to stay up and maintain the kiss, the first time you pull away Barbatos forcefully grips your chin and pull you back on his lips.

Just when you were about to climax, all the activity stopped. Barbatos pulls away from a very confused looking you. He calmly rinses you off, and drain the bath water. Helping you up and out, and pats you down with a towel as if nothing happened.

"Why did you stop? Keep going Barbatos!"

"I cannot comply with that order master, because I am going to please you to the best of my ability."

He finishes drying you, and picks you up princess style buck naked, to walk back into his room. With you clinging onto him blushing like mad hoping no one else is around.

to be continued...

..............................................................................................................................

Check out my master list for more content!

Check out my kinktober content!

#obeyme #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me barbatos #barbatos om #barbatos smut #shall we date barbatos #obey me kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #smut #obey me barbatos smut

[anartisticalniche]

Spoilers for the new episode

Okay, before getting into the new episode review, i wanna address something real quick, and I believe you all know what it is.

So before anyone asks, yes, I have been staying up to date on the drama situation.

Imma just say that what Glitch did is awful and very unbecoming of an Indie company for animation, and the employees did not deserve this kind of treatment.

However, this will not stop me from watching SMG4 as a show and draw fanarts of it.

Joining this fandom was the best decision I ever took, and I've meet so many wonderful people that inspired me so much during these past few months, taking me out of an art block and lack of inspiration to do art projects that I had ever since 2020.

So for me to just leave isn't really on my plans, at all, and I will keep doing what makes me happy, and I also have to thank SMG4 for it.

I will not obviously support Glitch by buying their merch, as I do believe they need to apologize for their awful behaviour towards those that didn't deserve this.

Once done that, and once they try to better themselves, I might try to rethink on my decision, but for now, this is my stance on it.

And now, onto the review!

This episode made me had a stupid silly grin the entire time ajhjhsjhds

like, I love how this was Luke and James just hanging out and messing around, and then they went: "This could totally be a video lol we should do that in universe-"

So we get SMG4 and 3 hanging out and playfully arguing with each other on their opinions on their friends and what kind of places theyd have on a power tier list XD

The just giggled like idiots and argued, but this has to be the most playful and friendly approach they had in a while, ever since the WOTFI 2023.

They weren't at each others throats, and it was a breath of fresh air, and a way to show how these two interact when theyre cool with each other

Now you're gonna say: "But this was Luke and James interacting, its not similar to how Three and Four interact. So this is just them using the characters to rappresent themselves."

And my answer to that is that no, it isnt.

You could think of it as a meta way of the guys interacting, but including in universe scenes and voice acting at the beginning and end of the video, makes it so that this is something that Four and Three would do, as friends.

Their relationship is growing more and more, and its a clear sign that these many episodes with these two as protagonists makes it so that its hinting at the next short arc being focused on them.

Now I dont know if it could be a good or a bad sign, but it is a sign nonetheless.

And i cant wait to see what it could develop into.

#smg4 #smg4 spoilers #nichetalk #tw drama

[l-flyhight]

Im getting rather annoyed

No. Everyone has the right yo ship what they want. Whatever brings you joy. This is but my opinon thats it. No judgement no shame. Im venting.

Now im a bit of a multishipper. Like to see some diversity in art you know? But never have i met such people that are so angry or vicious as tipo shippers. Kung fu panda po x tigress

Where do i start with this? Never in the course of the films have at any point do they show or hint that their crushing on each other. No romantic coded scenes. Nothing. So thats unfortunate why i don't see what all you lovley people see because i dont.

Tigress tai lung and po are conected in the parent upbringing sibling cycle. But hey ship whatever you want.

Now this is where people start to hate on me but let me clarify no hate nor disrespect to anyone. Im sick of looking at kung fu panda art and what? 97% of it is tigress? How abertary. Dull. What about the others? Do they not deserve as much attention? Clearly not.

As for the ship people get my goat "make it canon" blah blah. In the art of story telling to have it rondomly their into each other after like nothing? Makes for bad writing.

I do enjoy anything kung fu panda related but the ship for me anyway just doesn't fly. Those whom are super into the franchise are like yes they are but those who have seen all three films and enjoy them are like what? No.

Again if your going to ship them why on earth is tigress oc? Like shes all happy and silly? No.

Still here? Angry yet? Fuming because my trained animation degree with honors head doesnt comprehend what apparently im missing? Well thats ok.

Now i know alot of people who are actually nice but ive met vicious fans directing their hate towards me. Death threats. Vulgar language. The works. Made me just not want to draw anything kung fu panda related due to it.

Now recently due to the encouragement of others i did draw ship art. Dragon knight? Yes. Why? Because its actually hinted at in such a badly written way. I wont get into it. Thats a rant another time.

Now as something that i personally dont like and that goes across any anthro media is interspecies relations. Not a fan. However their ate acceptions to the rule and that has alot to do with the universe in which the fandom is set. BNA for example. The grimior of zero explains this perfectly, interspecies actually doesnt matter due to the world building. But in cases like zootopia or kung fu panda (films only) interspecies relationships arnt explored nor shown.

As for tipo po loves kung fu thats it. The only time he has ever shown any interest in a girl is meimei. Drops his baobao bun. Pupils dilate. yes theirs a but the illusion broke when she spoke soooo that doesn't really count.

Still here? Well good for you. still pissed at me for not conforming to liking what everyone else does? Well that too is ok.

If you ship tipo thats cool. Heck ive seen art. Some of its nice. Art is art and a ship diesnt define a person. But stop with the viciousness po will probably never end up with tigress. But thats a good thing. He doesnt end up with anyone. That way everyone wins. But the viciousness and anger and the make it canon because insert reaons here is so stupid.

Stuck around? Read my vent? Great. Please refrain from commenting anything vulgar towards my person and remember. Opinon.

Ship whatever you like. Awesome. Great.

Now piss off. Im tired.

(Brit humour)

#kung fu panda #rant #personal rant #rant post #tipo #shipping #leave me alone #vent #shitpost

[ten-cent-sleuth]

A Galling Yoke, Part 9

<- Prev | Next ->

for the “Look at me when I’m talking to you” and Location: Art Gallery squares on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

Despite the bitterly disappointing nature of your last conversation, Sherlock did continue calling on you to “keep you apprised” of his progress. He always stayed much longer than would have been deemed appropriate for a proper afternoon visit, sticking around so you two could toss ideas back and forth about possible next steps, possible hints, possible culprits. There were a frustrating amount of possibles.

Sherlock had consulted his contacts in Scotland Yard circles and had combed through old cases to look for precedents in capturing hired killers or their hirers. He wasn’t having much luck, and his colleagues weren’t so eager to help anyway when all they saw was Sherlock humouring a family friend with an unofficial investigation. For your part, you were content to take a back seat in the field work now; as much as you appreciated Enola’s insistence all those days ago that you would be an asset to Sherlock, you just didn’t feel up to roving around London anymore.

Partly because the case was at a juncture that required Sherlock’s network and strengths more than yours. Partly because the temperature had dropped and you didn’t want to test your bad knee. Partly because you and Sherlock were back to that uncomfortable reliance on “Good afternoon” and “How are you?”, though with a little more variety thanks to the work you could discuss. And—the factor nobody else knew—partly because you were uneasy in any public situation at the moment.

“You have been rather shut in since Lord Coltidge visited us, ma’am,” commented Mrs Rogers one quiet afternoon. “The knocker has been down from the door all week and you have not taken a single walk. Is everything all right?”

A sip of your tea chased away the lump in your throat. “Of course, my friend. I am simply weary of the ton’s gossiping and must recover my tolerance for it in time for the upcoming Season.”

She looked neither convinced nor prepared to push. In truth, you had revealed more to her than you would to Sherlock, though his prying gazes were far more frequent than her single inquiry.

He knew something was up.

But you would feel silly telling him about it. You felt silly simply experiencing it. Your father had offered no proof, had very little authority in Town society, and yet…

You set aside your cup and saucer in order to stand and walk to the window. Ignoring Mrs Rogers’s watching you from her seat, you looked at the carriages and pedestrians on the street below and wondered how many had apparently heard.

Your father had no reason to lie, after all. When he had told you that your “skulking about” the East End and “confronting” Miss Algar had whipped the upper circles into a frenzy about a scandal surrounding the Voss family, you had been incredulous—not because you disbelieved him, but because you had not expected anyone to care what you were doing on Cable Street. Who in the world had seen or heard of your presence there and had wanted to dig deeper, deep enough to unearth your husband’s betrayal?

Lord Coltidge had not cared to inform you of that detail, however, only of all the whispers people were sharing about the new light in which they saw you. A wave of nausea washed over you, and you shut your eyes against it.

“Ma’am…” You had heard your housekeeper come up beside you moments earlier, yet her voice startled you.

“All is well, I assure you, Mrs Rogers,” you told her, though you still did not dare open your eyes.

“Certainly, ma’am. I only meant to ask whether you planned to accompany Mr Holmes out today.”

“I do not believe he shall come to invite me, Mrs Rogers. It is long past when he normally calls on me.”

“That is true, but if he were to arrive…? It would do you good, I think.”

You hummed in halfhearted agreement. If giving her the response she wanted to a hypothetical improbability would ease some of her worry for you, it was hardly a sacrifice. “Yes,” you said, “I would accompany him.”

“Splendid!” replied Mrs Rogers. “I shall fetch your pelisse.”

Your eyes flew open. “What do you—?” They caught on a familiar figure coming down the sidewalk, nearly at your door. “Mrs Rogers!”

But the clever woman was already out of the room. You shook your head, but a chuckle overtook your groan with little struggle.

To Sherlock’s visible surprise, you met him at the door, ready to go.

“How did you know I was to invite you on an outing?” he asked.

“Whether an invitation was forthcoming does not signify,” you answered. “If you had had no outing planned, you would have had to improvise one, for Mrs Rogers shall not have me remain indoors this afternoon.”

Your housekeeper tisked dismissively through a smile. Your butler looked pained to hand you your cane.

Sherlock looked even more befuddled but managed to bid the Rogerses adieu as he led you outside.

“I almost did not come today,” he informed you after a moment’s awkward silence. “I did not wish to go to you empty-handed, and I was stuck in a bit of a rut. Professionals do not leave loose ends, that much has been made clear to me these past few days. To err is human, of course, but if any missteps or oversights would have been minimised from the onset, could they have survived twelve years in the shadows? Without a motive to find the conspirator or a trace to find the contractor, how are we to move forward?”

A thread of wistfulness wound through you at the gentleman’s earnestness; this is exactly what you had thought of when faced with your father’s sanctimony.

“You know what this means, do you not?” the earl had asked you.

Defiantly, foolishly, you had remained silent, spitefully comparing his righteous tone with the sincerity you had taken for granted when Sherlock urged you to partake in his thought process. Defiantly, foolishly, you had made no attempt to hide your ignoring your father, and he had shouted—

“Look at me when I speak to you! Are you even—?”

“—quite all right, my lady?”

You flinched, jolted out of your distraction. “Forgive me, Sherlock, I was not attending.”

You braced yourself for the offended huffing that Sherlock always managed when he learned somebody wasn’t listening to him, and you were left slack-jawed when he instead grinned.

“What amuses you?” you demanded.

“It is only that I was explaining why I ultimately decided to come see you despite the case’s stagnation, and you are proving my point!”

Heat flushed through your face. “Well, what was your point?”

“Of late, your mind has been preoccupied, has it not?” He didn’t wait for you to decide whether to be honest or to attempt to lie to a human lie detector. “I shall not ask why; I endeavour only to ease that mind somewhat, if I can.”

Any hope of an intelligent—or even intelligible—response fled in the face of his tiny, hopeful, almost bashful smile, so you settled for a tiny, grateful, almost bashful smile of your own. Reddening, he spluttered on—

“Of course, I hope to refresh my mind as well, to gain some insight into this case of indirects by allowing the brain to attack it indirectly.”

Though you would normally find entertainment in Sherlock being flustered, this time you found only grief that a brick wall now ran through your friendship and guilt that you had erected it. But if he could make an effort to move past the suffocating fog of “childhood friends and first loves” to the clear blue sky where romantic feelings cast no shadow, so could you.

“Where, exactly, are we going?” you asked.

Sherlock straightened his shoulders, a sly look chasing away the distress on his face. “It is not altogether exciting, I fear: only a certain building at Trafalgar Square, which I have heard from certain sources is trying a new initiative due to the success of a similar one in York…”

Your brow furrowed. Trafalgar Square? What would Sherlock take you there for? The pigeons? Uniquely Sherlockian, of course, but not much for him to get sly about. St Martin-in-the-Fields? Mm…definitely not.

You whipped your head around to gape at Sherlock, who was looking even more impish at your realisation. “The National Gallery?”

His broadening smile was answer enough.

“I had thought it closed,” you said. “Are they not adding a new section that the public is not meant to…?” Trailing off, you thought back to the clues Sherlock had teased you with. “The York Art Gallery. It is known for its Great Exhibition Hall. Goodness! Is that what they have been building at the National Gallery, then? The grand opening would be the talk of the ton, I have no doubt, and I have heard naught…”

With a low hum, Sherlock pulled you closer to whisper, “It is not yet the grand opening. I simply have an in with one of the managers, ever since one of my investigations provided him much-needed assistance a few years ago.”

You would have gaped more if you’d known how. “You would use one of your contacts for a casual outing?”

He pursed his lips and glanced away. “It is not a one-time arrangement,” he defended himself, “so I may as well make use of it. Since I would not appreciate the opportunity as much as you, it was logical—” He glanced back with wide, horrified eyes. “That is, not logical, only…only…”

Your gaze dropped to the ground. Oh, goodness… Had you really reduced the great Sherlock Holmes to walking on eggshells around you? How could you possibly fix the mess you’d made of things?

“You like art very much!” he blurted out.

Your eyes shot back up. “Er—”

“At least, you did when we were young,” he said, looking ahead instead of at you. “I remember how much you enjoyed studying art theory and history, and I assumed you retained the passion due to the collection of artwork I noted in your home…”

“You noticed that?”

You flushed at your outburst, and Sherlock did not reply. You weren’t sure whether to be grateful for that reticence or not.

Pushing past your blunder, you ventured, “I do like art very much. I am sure I shall enjoy this excursion, but even if I do not, I apologise for apparently wool gathering so often that you noticed. Just now, I was…thinking of my father.” And you almost told him. You almost told Sherlock about Lord Coltidge’s reprimand, about the dreadful self-consciousness it had awoken in you. You almost told him about your biggest concern out of it all—

“I thought you were past all this, Daughter, all the insolence and the foolhardiness. Clearly not, if you would so carelessly handle the identity of your husband’s mistress.” The earl had sneered so zealously you had almost thought he was actually pleased with this turn of events. “Now that you have bandied about that you and Edmund did not have a happy marriage, you shall be the prime suspect of Scotland Yard and gossip corners alike when Holmes proves Edmund’s death was not an accident!”

—but one look into your friend’s sharp, bright eyes and you knew he would be troubled if you spoke a word of it.

This. This is how you could possibly fix the mess you’d made of things! Letting year-old hurts spill out of you had done no good; you would spare Sherlock any more of your woes, and that included the stifling shame of all your acquaintances knowing you were slighted by your husband as well as the suffocating anxiety of all your peers about to think you were involved in your husband’s murder.

With one stroke, you wiped away thoughts of your predicament and painted on a reassuring smile for Sherlock. “Do you recall how we met?” you asked him.

“Of course,” he scoffed. “How could I— That is, how could anyone forget walking down a corridor in their house like any day and coming across a strange little girl rummaging through it?”

You rolled your eyes. “How many times must I tell you I was not rummaging! I was merely leaning on that chest of drawers to better inspect the painting—”

“That is arguably more bizarre, you realise.”

“Well. Either way, I only had the chance to wander off and look at your corridors and corridors of family portraits because my father had brought me along when he visited with your parents. In a way, it is his fault we are friends, is it not?”

A corner of Sherlock’s mouth turned up. “I doubt he would appreciate that interpretation. As for me…” He leaned his head forward to look at you. “I would like to think that we would have run into each other eventually, regardless of your father’s involvement. Perhaps it is ridiculous of me to rely on the thought of…”

“Of inevitability?” You couldn’t quite keep the disbelief out of your voice; Sherlock couldn’t have faith in something so close to the concept of fate, could he?

But he looked away, and you hurried to reassure him, “We were both inquisitive children of a similar age on neighbouring estates. Perhaps our connexion was indeed…” You found yourself trailing off too; somehow, you couldn’t get the word inevitable out anymore.

With a shake of your head to clear it, you realised you were entering Trafalgar Square. You let the awkwardness melt away as you leaned heavier into Sherlock’s arm and grinned up at him.

“Oh, it is sinking in now,” you breathed. “Sherlock, I thank you for this. It is the height of thoughtfulness.”

He opened his mouth, then slowly shut it and opted instead for a rigid nod.

Sherlock led you across the square, tightening his hold when you jumped at the noisy and nearby take-off of a group of pigeons, before showing you through a side door of the National Gallery and past its standard wings into a renovated-looking section that you’d never visited before.

Letting go of Sherlock and wandering along, you drank in the hall of paintings, as clear and clean as any well maintained home you’d visit, but sunnier and, of course, more colourful. What home, well maintained or not, held this many paintings? Displayed this much warm red and bright yellow and deep green and swirling blue? You were floating off the floor as your head whipped left and right, trying to absorb as many of the various shapes and sharp lines and masterful strokes as you could.

Though you did not forget yourself enough to start rummaging, you were overtaken by a sense of lightness—the lightness of giddy freedom, the lightness of pure and unfettered enjoyment—that you could only remember from childhood, and you would not have been surprised if your steps were as skippy and your movements as twirly as they had been the day Sherlock found you admiring his hall of paintings. But in this room full of beauty and creativity and devoid of judgement and shame, how could they not be? In this room where Mr Sulyard did not haunt you, Lord Coltidge did not hound you, and indeed the only company was the person you most lo—

You skidded to a stop and stared agape at the wall. No, no, no. You could not entertain such foolish thoughts! You could not harbour such foolish sentiments! Your feelings had to be muddled, that was all—

“Interesting,” came Sherlock’s voice at your side. “You were enraptured by all the tints and brightness of the art around you, I noticed, but you pause to consider the solitary piece in monochrome.”

Blinking, you scrambled to take in the painting you had been staring at—or towards, really. The plaque helpfully informed you it was a portrait of Queen Margaret of Anjou, and Sherlock helpfully informed you of who exactly that was by reciting—

“She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; she is a woman, therefore to be won.”

It took you a moment, but you recalled attending the start of Drury Lane’s run of Henry VI just a month or two ago. You turned towards Sherlock with a retort on your tongue and only stumbled a little at the startling discovery that he was looking at you rather than at Queen Margaret.

“I never did grow fond of Suffolk,” you said, “though I did like one of his lines near the end of Part One. Oh, how did it go again? ‘Marriage is a matter’, and something about attorney deals…companions or what-have-you…then: ‘For what is wedlock forcèd but a hell, an age of discord and continual strife?’”

Sherlock looked at you so long, so searchingly, that you braced yourself for another vulnerable conversation. But just as he seemed about to open it, he shook his head and smirked lightly.

“I do not much like Suffolk either,” he said. “I am not a great fan of Shakespeare’s histories in general—”

“Be they too inaccurate for thee, sirrah?” you teased. He shot you a look.

“—but I at least enjoyed Henry VI for Saye’s character, as minor a role as he may have had. In particular, I enjoyed his line, ‘Ignorance is the curse of God…’”

“‘…Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven,’” you concluded in unison.

You and he locked eyes, and the gallery echoed with silence for a long moment. He inched closer—or was that just a twitch?—and you froze. Your heart was racing, but your body froze.

And Sherlock looked away first.

Now, your heart shot to your throat. The only other time Sherlock had ever looked away first from anyone, as far as you knew, was that first day you and he had been reacquainted. Gracious, why did he make you panic? Why did you make him uncomfortable?

“I actually appreciate—” you started.

“Perhaps we ought to—” he said at the same time.

“Forgive me—”

“I— No, I apologise—”

“There is no need. What were you saying?”

“No, no, you may speak first, my lady.”

Your smile was taut but, hopefully, not too brittle. “I rather appreciate the Bard’s decision to write histories,” you said. “Studying the past would be fascinating and useful regardless, but with a play, those figures of study become more understandable, more relatable, and therefore more edifying. The plight of King Henry VI, for example, would not seem nearly so human to me if not for Shakespeare.”

Sherlock hummed in concession. “The playwright does succeed in portraying Henry as a good-hearted and therefore sympathetically naïve fellow, rather than simply a good-hearted and therefore hatefully weak king.”

“The measure of a man is on a different scale from the measure of a noble,” you agreed. “And it was all the harsher a proportion for Henry VI because of his father.”

Gravely, the detective nodded, but then his countenance lit up the way it did when a thought caught fire in his mind. “I suppose Lord Pashbroke shall be in a similar plight when he inherits and becomes Lord Coltidge instead.”

You grimaced. “I had not thought of it that way, but yes, I reckon you have the right of it.” You turned back to Queen Margaret and sighed. “I love William, but truly, I am glad he shall not be king.”

“I am sure he has the courage to protect England if the need arose,” said Sherlock with a chuckle, “but yes, the earldom shall be enough for him.”

You also chuckled—for William, more than enough. Another Henry VI quote popped into your mind then, but you brushed it aside in favour of continuing the flow the conversation had finally found. “Were you not going to say something as well, sir? ‘Perhaps we ought to…’?”

“Ah, yes! I was simply going to suggest a section of the exhibit you might like…”

The afternoon passed pleasantly. Although awkward moments poked through the bubble you and Sherlock had created around yourselves, they shortened rather than sharpened with time, so you returned home confident that you two could rebuild your closeness, your r—

Your friendship.

That’s all it was. That’s all it ever would be.

You wouldn’t even be surprised if that’s all it had been. Maybe all you had felt for Sherlock at Ferndell was admiration and endearment. Yes. Yes! Then, surely, all you felt for him here and now could not be more than that. Could not be… Could not truly be…

Shaking your head, you concentrated on your household tasks for the rest of the day. It was only as you did your nightly ablutions that your mind wandered back to that other Henry VI quote you’d thought of earlier.

“’Tis much when sceptres are in children’s hands.”

The line, though moving and memorable, had not seemed pertinent to your conversation with Sherlock: easily brushed aside. But why had your mind supplied it, then? Something about the conversation had made you think of it. What had you and Sherlock been discussing…?

Of course. William, dear brother. Still… Though he would always be your baby brother, he was hardly a child, and certainly not one with a sceptre in his hand. Your father was still Earl of Coltidge, as much as you believed the power did not sit well in his hands, and likely would be for years to come, unless some health-endangering issue lay in hiding beneath the surface or some apoplexy-inducing event lay in wait around the corner.

You snorted to yourself; if Lord Coltidge suffered an apoplexy, it would probably be by the hand of his own theatrics. The man was no good at coping with crises, much preferring to kick them under rugs and never talk of them again, even minor ones. That weakness was likely what had first pushed you away from seeing him as a fatherly figure, as a support or protector. Simply another role of his that did not sit well in his—

You stopped dead in your movements.

Another role of his.

Lord Coltidge was not merely an earl—he was also a father. Just as you had told Sherlock a few days ago, you had felt the need to make up for his parental lackings with William as a child. What if your brother had once felt the same need to do so with you?

Sceptres in children’s hands.

Yet that was nothing so terrible. Regrettable, perhaps, and another black mark on your father’s character, certainly, but… Something niggled at the back of your mind. When would William have needed to step in as a support or protector for you? What would have motivated him…?

Sceptres in children’s hands.

For the plain truth was you had not needed a father in a very long time. You had adapted your childhood to need no parental affection save for the occasional smile or compliment from Eudoria. You had found love and laughter enough from your London friendships and household. You had even survived a dreadful marriage without a hint of paternal concern or—

Oh, blazes.

The letter. The hitman. The motive.

The sceptre in a child’s hands.

Your brother had killed Edmund.

Thank you for reading, and if you have been following along the series since July, thank you for your patience. Thank you especially to @every-username-is-taken-damnit and @sailorguardianwannabe for (probably unknowingly) providing me the motivation to complete this update by your comments. :3 I hope this chapter, despite its delay and possible consequent differences in tone, is okay. Feedback is always welcome! :)

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

[flbrokensoldier]

If you're not open you can ignore this!

Plz fluff

Anyway, what about a Mercy X female! Reader,

so hear me out, imagine Mercy keeps dropping hints of liking Reader and flirting with her but Reader just doesn't get it so Mercy has had enough and barges in readers room to confess, only to find little pictures of reader and mercy together that date years ago.

In the end Mercy finds out that reader has had a crush on her for years, you can decide what happens next

-Mei Mei your faithful servant ;)

I LOVE THESE KINDS OF REQUESTS OMG, I had to do it. AHHH

I hope it lives up to your expectations, I did have a LOT of fun writing it so I hope you enjoy!

Mercy x Female Reader

"Words Are Hard."

(God this gif is cute 😭)

Man, time sure flies when you're with someone you genuinely enjoy the company of. It had been a good few years since Mercy, well Angela was first introduced to you. You both instantly clicked, practically becoming buddies overnight. However this friendship occasionally escalated on Angela's end, not to an uncomfortable extreme though, she only said silly and sweet things. Sometimes she said things more than that but you never understood why.

To Angela though, you were a goddess. She loved the way you moved, the way you flipped your hair, and the way you twirled your hair around your fingers. Everything was just so beautiful to her, like an art that nobody had mastered the way you did. She certainly loved to compliment your outfit, your hair if you did something out of the usual with, or she'd compliment something as small as your smile and laugh.

Oh god, how she loved your laugh. She could have sworn you were an angel because your laugh sounded like a symphony of angels. It was such a sweet symphony to her, she couldn't get enough. Sometimes she would purposely say a bad joke just to hear you laugh.

And your smile, god your smile. She loved your smile so much, she could have sworn it would sparkle if it could. Seeing your smile, just watching a grin come across your face or a small smirk when you were teasing the other agents, it made her melt.

This is when she realized she fell for you and she fell for you hard. She didn't know what to think at first, she usually buried her emotions so she could focus on her job. After all, being an agent requires a lot of focus emotionally and physically. So she did that for years until she realized it wasn't working. Even after Overwatch disbanded for a while and then grouped up, you took her breath away as if it was your first time seeing each other.

Only recently did Angela catch onto her habit of flirting with you. Before she knew she did it but she didn't know she did it this often. Little comments here and there, yet they were filled with such a sweet tone.

"You're looking very beautiful today Y/N!"

"I love what you've done with your hair!"

"My goodness that outfit makes you look ravishing darling."

"My day is much better with you in it Y/N."

"I suppose this will be another beautiful memory between us!"

The more Angela thought about it, she realized she had enough. She had to tell you. She absolutely had to. She couldn't keep herself from not saying if anymore. She wanted to feel your soft embrace and your warmth. She wanted to cuddle with you and finally call you hers.

She somehow walked all the way to your door already after a mission and a lot of thinking. Now she stood outside your door. She took a deep breath and knocked on your door, awaiting anxiously. She held her breath too, she didn't notice though.

You answered, wearing some sweatpants and a spaghetti strap, obviously had showered by now and in your comfy clothes.

"Oh hey Angela. What brings you here?" Your voice was so innocent and aloof.

"I.. I have something to tell you." She spoke with some confidence in her voice.

"Oh, alright.. Why don't you come on in for a bit? I have some food I should watch." You walked away from the door, heading to the kitchen.

She walked in a few steps, closing the door behind her. She eventually grabbed your hand softly, looking at you with a serious look.

You looked concerned but you stopped and turned to look at her. "What's up?"

"I can't hide this any longer.." She started, looking down for a moment, trying to gather confidence.

"Okay.." You looked worried now.

"I.. Think I like you Y/N." She paused. "Not think, I know I do." She confessed as she looked into your eyes, such a passionate fire filled them.

You looked shocked but it melted into a soft smile. You slowly tilted your head, to the direction of a picture. Angela slowly looked over when she looked shocked.

There it was, that picture of the little date you guys went on after knowing each other for only a month. Angela looked genuinely happy and she wore a beautiful light blue cowl dress, her hair was down for once too and it was curly. As for you, you wore a nice two piece that had a white top with black floral lace with a black shirt skirt that complimented the top so well.

She made a slight gasp and looked back at you.

"Truth be told.. I've liked you for a long while too.." You rubbed the back of your neck.

She looked shocked for a moment before to melted into a smile. She soon encased her arms around you, holding you still for a moment. Pretty soon she looked into your eyes, how she could get lost in your eyes.

"Well, I'm glad.." Angela smiled as she cupped your cheek.

"Agreed.." You smiled softly at her. "Anyways I should get back to me food.." You hesitated. "I suppose this makes us a thing then?"

"If you want it to be." She smiled at you.

"Obviously." You snickered.

"I hoped you would say that." She snickered softly.

"Well let's eat and we can talk more while we eat huh?" You offered.

"I'd like that." She nodded with her smile never fading.

"Perfect."

This was just the start to a beautiful relationship between you two.

(HAPPY NEW YEARS, SURPRISE! <33 ALSO TY MEI MEI, I SAW THE ASKS AND YOU'RE SO SWEET AHHH! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!)

#mercy x reader #mercy #angela ziegler #x reader oneshot #oneshot #mercy overwatch #overwatch #overwatch 2 #enjoyyy #<3333 #her <333 #shes precious

[enassbraid]

-> 𝐃𝐨 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮?

You’ve always been fascinated by all kinds of art, especially visual arts. Deciding you should pick it up as a hobby, a certain friend comes to mind when you think of getting tutored…

Ena Shinonome x gn! Reader | Requested by anon, reposted cause it flopped

Cw - idiots in love but no established relationship Genre - fluff, mutual pining

It was evident in your search history you had no idea what you were doing. Not even a toddler would search up “How to start sketches.” But you wanted to start off strong and only continue to improve, so what other way to do it then tutorials?

It sounded silly, and you knew in the back of your mind it was ridiculous. But this has been something you’ve been interested in for forever now… wouldn’t starting off poorly only disappoint your younger self?

You sighed, putting the pencil down to massage your temples. ‘Think (Name)… what’s the best way to start…’

A familiar face comes to mind, a very familiar face at that. Of course! How did you not think of that before? Ena’s an artist, and she just got back from teaching younger kids how to paint the other day. She’s experienced in teaching and art… she could be a great help!

Hopefully…

Getting a hold of the brunette wasn’t easy, Ena was always sleeping in the morning, only waking up in the late afternoon to go to night classes. After her night classes, she’s secretive about what she does later in the night. You’d be lucky if you caught her at the right time no matter what.

Besides, what would you even say exactly? “Hey Ena I know you draw and I’m drawing now so you should help me draw”? That just sounded dumb! Plus, there was a subtle fear of embarrassing yourself in front of the girl, though you’re not sure why. It’s not like she’s too judgmental, and it’s something she loves that you’re bringing up.

Right, nothing to be embarrassed about… just stay calm.

Just stay calm and it’ll all work out…

You pick up the phone, dialing Ena’s number and crossing your fingers she’ll answer this time. ‘Please pick up please pick up please pi-‘

“Hello?”

“Ena! I thought you wouldn’t answer, thank god. I wanted to ask you for something, if you don’t mind..”

There was a pause on the other end, you could hear some shuffling and moving on what sounded like a bed. ‘Did she just wake up or something?’ Oh god, did you just wake Ena up?

“Ah sorry, I had to sit up so I can hear you better. What do you need, (name)?”

“You know how I’ve always been interested in the arts? Especially visual arts, especially your art…”

The girl was glad you couldn’t see her right now, otherwise you’d have just seen the way her face flushed. And if you were right in front of her right now, she probably wouldn’t be capable of holding back a squeak of happiness.

Compliments always meant a lot to Ena, as she always sought out others praise and validation. But something about that praise coming from you made her heart swell.

“Yeah I’ve noticed, what’s up? Did you get a job at a museum or something? I don’t see how I’d be able to help with that.”

“No, not that. Uh… I kinda started drawing…”

‘Why was this so embarrassing?’ Maybe it’s the fact you feel like a grown child learning your abc’s. Everyone starts drawing in pre-school, only some people take it seriously later on. ‘I could have phrased that better oh no no no…’

The silence didn’t help at all, was she holding back a laugh? Ena wouldn’t laugh at that though, would she? This entire ordeal is making you realize how bad you are at confrontation…

While you worried, so did Ena. She saw a glimpse of her old art classes, that girl who was always praised despite being a beginner… Even if isn’t your fault, she worries that she’ll be out through that same situation again.

“Sorry, I was just thinking of something. You started drawing you said? Well that’s great! How’s it going so far…?”

There was something in her voice that made you reconsider asking. That hint of sadness… it sounded off. While she seemed genuinely happy for you, she seemed to have another thought in mind.

“It’s going… average? I just started, so I’m not the best but-“

“Don’t say that!”

You pulled your ear away from the phone for a moment, Ena’s yell echoing into your room. Ouch. Maybe you shouldn’t have insulted yourself like that to her, especially about your art.

You knew about her Junior High experience in art classes, but you didn’t think she’d take offense to you insulting yourself. It had to go deeper than you thought, but now wasn’t the time to pry.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell like that.. but I can’t stand hearing you put yourself down like that. Everyone starts somewhere- no matter how good or bad you start out, you’ll get better and better overtime. It just takes practice. And… I can help you learn.”

“Actually that’s why I called you- I wanted your help learning how to draw! I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather tutor me.”

Once again, Ena was glad you couldn’t see her face right now. If only you knew how easy it is for you to make her heart melt.

“Great. I’ll be over in ten!”

“Wait, right now?”

Ena ended the call before she could hear you. Rushing to get out of bed and get ready. After all, she’d hate it if you saw her in her “unpresentable” state the way she does.

Meanwhile, you sat there stunned. Processing Ena’s words from moments ago, she had a point. You’ve only just started… you can’t be too hard on yourself just yet. Even Ena started somewhere before, and you wondered if she began strong or not.

If her drawings were bad before, you’d still admire them in awe simply because it was her that drew them. She could scribble graphite on paper and you’d think it was a masterpiece, you were really down bad for this girl, huh?

She said she’ll be over in just a bit, and you haven’t even cleaned your room! If you knew that the phone call would go so well- or even that Ena picked up the phone- you would have cleaned beforehand.

But remembering what you thought earlier, you kept it in mind while you cleaned and awaited Ena’s arrival.

‘Just stay calm.’

Besides, you have a feeling her visit would go better than either of you ever expected.

#project sekai #prsk #pjsk #pjsekai #project sekai x reader #prsk x reader #pjsk x reader #pjsekai x reader #ena shinonome #ena #ena shinonome x reader #ena x reader #ena fluff #project sekai fluff #dor writes

[idontwanttowhy]

Review: Destined With You (2023)

An instant classic...for some

Synopsis: Being a civil servant is not the easiest job, and for Lee Hong Jo, its only made worse by being transferred to a team that can't stand her. Her first assignment on this team is to demolish a centuries old shrine, which is held on the private property of Jang Sin Yu, a sharp lawyer haunted by a curse as old as the shrine. Her efforts surface a spell book with a mysterious past that only she can use. In need of a miracle, Sin Yu makes a deal with Hong Jo to use one of the spells on him, in a move that ultimately sets their fates in motion. Can love bloom in cursed soil, or will they be cut red-handed?

MZ Overall: 9/10, you had me at "I am Groot"

... aaaand absolutely not before "I am Groot." Seriously, I almost gave up on it early, thank god I didn't. When I saw the love triangle blooming I stuck around and am glad I did. If you are looking for a romcom that hits all the hallmarks (past lives, love triangle, jealous ex, etc.) you are in the right place. The leads have great chemistry, though it does feel like they are sometimes off in their own little worlds. Rowoon (as Jang Sin Yu) is great at playing a love-sick character, and Jo Bo Ah (as Lee Hong Jo) is the perfect ingénue AND doomed shaman--talk about range. Definitely give it a watch, this is easily one of my top favorites of the year (right behind Love to Hate You, of course).

MZ Review: Parks and Recreation, but make it a supernatural kdrama rom-com (no spoilers)

no one:

absolutely no one:

Jang Sin Yu: ThAtS A cRiMe!!!

Ok, I got that out of my system. This was my second Rowoon drama and now Netflix thinks he's the only guy I want to see on my screen. I'm not mad at that, but I do think if his role in this and Extraordinary You (2019) are any indication, I may need a little bit more time before I can handle the brand of lovesick desperation that he brings. Not a bad thing, but much like candy you can have too much of a good thing. I will be looking out for his stairs scenes going forward, in much the same way I have cataloged Hyun Bin's elevator scenes. (It's an art people!)

This show strikes a near-perfect balance between time spent on the side characters, developing the main couple, fanning the flames with the love rivals, and hinting at the past lives of this group. Seriously well done, I did not have any complaints in this area. Really my only gripes would be the first few episodes, which really tested my resolve on supporting womens' wrongs. If it were not for the next episode previews at the end, I would not have made it past episode three. After that, it's smooth sailing with lots of laughs, drama, and suspense as the many mysteries of the show unfold. Those first eps are why this only gets a 9/10 for me though. Otherwise, A+ work!

As I sat down to write this review, it occurred to me that the setup for the show was kind of similar to Parks and Rec, if you're mainly looking at the fact that the context for the show is a municipal parks department, leading to lots of outdoor events and internal politicking. It also works in the comedy department, because both shows had me absolutely ROLLING with laughter at the absurdity of some of the stuff going on. I cannot recommend this drama enough!

AC Overall: 7/10, could've been great but

It took me sooo long to finish the show, even on 1.5x speed (thank you, Netflix). And I was so excited at first! Like MZ, I thought the first few eps were...off, but once the show fully planted its feet I fell for the silliness, especially the supernatural love-spell aspect of the drama, and the stupidity with which those entranced acted "because of it". But the show ultimately became unbalanced, and the fantasy charm faded to reveal...a few thriller episodes within a cute and silly rom-com. It's not bad, just...took a turn I wasn't looking for at the time.

Honestly, its fine if you don't take it too seriously, and don't barf at cute moments like I currently do. Solid, just know what you're getting in to. It's definitely a cutesy rom-com with a dash of thriller and pinch of fantasy.

AC Review (with miiiinor spoilers):

It wasn't all bad! I cheeeesed at Sin Yu inadvertently confessing his "love" for Hong Jo against both of their wishes, and was curious about how Hong Jo's crush on her second lead Jae Gyeong would play out considering. It was a pretty unusual and juicy love triangle at first, especially with the fantasy aspect of Sin Yu's feelings...and possibly Jae Gyeong's...but somewhere they decided to ignore the whole love-spell part of the drama and Sin Yu just--accepted his love for Hong Jo? And Jae Gyeong barely put up a fight. And and I wasn't convinced Hong Jo actually had feelings for Sin Yu, I feel like he just wore her down with pretty words and concern. And and and I just kept thinking of Legend of the Blue Sea the whole time--much better fated love fantasy drama. But alas, I got too far along to just stop.

Hong Jo's character annoyed me quite a bit. She had a way of acting shy most of the time, but would suddenly talk with her chest at other moments...it's personal, but I really dislike the demure act when it's clear it's not real. But, Rowoon as Sin Yu made up for it in the beginning. The character was played and written well; we could feel the (delicious) inner turmoil when he recognized his feelings.

Overall, this was a drama-that-couldn't for me. But I must admit, the early, fun moments of Sin Yu fighting his inexplicable love for Hong Jo were classic in itself.

#kdramareview #kdrama #k-drama #k-dramareview #kdrama review #kdrama recommendations #destined with you #but seriously why did he just sit down and say “I AM GROOT” like that like be for real

[junkissed]

for the made up fic title thing: what about…. “such haunted halls we walk” 👀

or if you want something silly: “i put the ‘ass’ in ‘astrophysics’” ddssfhhgdhjfh

HELPMNKJDFSN 😭 i'll put this under a cut bc both of them got kinda long hehe

also fair warning the first one is soo sad pure angst there is not a hint of happiness skdgjfs skip to the second divider if you don't want to read it

send me a title and i'll tell you what i would write for it!

ooh i really like the first one!! i'm thinking a historical au. some kind of period piece a la jane austen featuring vernon as mr. darcy and it's super angsty, kinda like a cautionary tale about life and love and loss. it's told in a series of flashbacks as he walks down a hallway in a house; even though it's daytime outside, the curtains are drawn and it's just dark and dreary, reflecting his mood as he looks at each portrait hung on the wall and thinks about the memories that should be good and happy, but they're tainted as he looks back on them and remembers all the bad things that came afterwards instead. i'm thinking at the very end there's a reveal that's like, you ended up parting ways, not for some big, dramatic reason, but you just fell out of love with him and you didn't want him to feel like his love for you wasn't reciprocated and that he deserved someone who would give back to him all the love he has to give. it was such a clean break that he shouldn't have any reason to be so melancholy (it's not like you cheated on him or ran away with his brother), but it's such an unsatisfying end that he almost wishes you'd had a huge argument and blown up at him; he wishes he would have some reason to be mad at you, to hate you, but you did nothing wrong but give him a chance to experience what it feels like to be loved, because that's something you knew you wouldn't be able give him. so like a theme throughout this one is that in each painting and each memory he looks back on, he's remembering it and wondering when exactly you stopped loving him and why didn't he realize it sooner. ooh actually adding on, maybe he used to be a semi-successful painter and people would hire him to paint their portraits, but after you left he hasn't been able to pick up a brush since, and everything he tries to create comes out dark and tangled and choppy, nothing like the beautiful, bright, joyful paintings he used to make. so not only does he lose someone who brought love and joy into his life, he lost the ability to create art that captures that love and joy. so for the rest of his days all he can do is walk that hallway, staring at the portraits that remind him of better days and wishing he would've known some way to make you love him back.

(tagging @duhnova for this one i want u to suffer cheol thots) okay ass-trophysics is about economics major seungcheol who has to fulfill his lab credits and of course he waited until the last possible second and every other class was waitlisted so the only class available is an analytical physics class. by some miracle the prerequisites for that class are ones he's already taken for his degree and his schedule lines up perfectly for him to take this class. reader is a physics major or something so this class is required for them. you show up bright and early on the first day of the semester and you're getting out your notebook and laptop and stuff and in walks this insanely built frat-looking dude with the fattest juiciest ass you've ever seen in your entire goddamn life, and he plops down in the seat next to you and introduces himself like he isn't the most gorgeous man you've ever seen walk into a math classroom. and the semester goes on and you kinda become friends but not really friends more like classroom friends yk? and you know cheol is smart as hell but for some reason he just doesn't understand this one concept and it sucks because the entire course is pretty much built around understanding this concept. and so you try to help him pass the class and you start becoming closer, and maybe you have a crush on him but you really definitely don't btw. later maybe there's an angsty run-in with an ex girlfriend who makes all these crazy threats and tells you to stay away from him because she knows he'll come back to her, he always does, and you're like "girl i'm literally just helping him learn physics wtf do you want from me please" and she's like "i know what you're REALLY doing... back off" and so you're like. jesus okay fine whatever. so you start making excuses for not being able to help him on the weekends and evenings and days off anymore and he gets pouty and sulky like :( my bffp (best friend from physics) what did i do? and one day he's had enough and he finally manages to corner you at your favorite place to eat on campus and he's like. tell me why you're avoiding me. and you're like "well tell your dumbass girlfriend to stop sending me death threats and i'll help you with your hw again" and he's like "??? what girlfriend i haven't dated anyone since i met you at the beginning of the semester" and so you describe her and cheol lets out the biggest longest most aggravated sigh and he explains that she is his ex but she's literally insane and he has no intention of getting back with her ever and then more drama etc etc but then FINALLY they get things figured out, there's a big moment where he passes his final and you go to hug him but he goes in to kiss you and it's 🧍‍♀️ Awkward and he gets all shy and pouty again and your face is so damn hot and you're like "why did you just try to kiss me" and he has this whole speech about how he really appreciated your help over the semester but he was hoping you would go out with him because he thinks you're really smart and pretty and he just goes on and on about what he likes about you and you're just standing there shocked thinking. this man with the ass of a kardashian is professing his love to me in the middle of a starbucks and a barista is definitely giving me the side eye but oh my god yeah i kinda really do wanna kiss him and then 🫶 kissing happy ending etc etc

#🌃 : june.writes #🌠 : ask games #savventeen #im sorry the vernon one is so angsty PLS i dont know where that came from but i love the concept of an austen vernon #i would never write it bc i cannot do angst ksjdhfsj but i feel like it would be fun to play around with perspective and- #-narration and motifs and the symbolism of color and things like that yk? #also for cheol im an english major skhdgsh i hope its not obvious i have zero understanding of math and science 💀 #fun fact ! the bffp thing is a real thing my high school physics teacher used to tell us 😭 mr. berg i miss u dearly #also also if u would like an emoji just lmk!! i see u around occasionally <3 hi i'm june btw

[davestriderascend]

the homestuck reread pt. 1 (so far)

alright lets get into it. i just finished act 5, so this seems like as good of a place as any to recap. this is already getting really long, so this post will cover acts 1-4, and ill talk about act 5 in the next post

Act 1-3

acts 1 thru 3 are extremely short, and largely center john, his eventually named friends, and johns ascent into the medium. the story is propelled by reader commands, full of pop culture references, and largely about the fun video game mechanics and jokes hussies setting up with sburb. all art has been hussies so far, and the first three albums (vol 1, 2, and 3, each one corresponding with the obvious act) have consisted entirely of mostly short songs all written for and used in flash pages. there might be one or two original ones that im forgetting, but im pretty sure the albums were just collections of songs used in the comic at this time. during this time, hussie also had his first formspring going, and occasionally made updates on their blogspot blog. she ALSO created a blog for dave, which i did, unfortunately, read.

The Characters

like i said, 1-3 are mostly just about john. rose is introduced and named at the very end of act 1, while dave is introduced and named in act 2. john is the only character who enters the medium, while panels about rose and dave mostly focus on rose acting as johns server player while struggling to maintain her wifi connection through the storm and meteor shower, and dave trying to set up his server client connection to rose. jade is teased, but not introduced at this time. very few trolls make an appearance this early in, if... any? i dont remember.

john is a chipper, goofy kid who loves his family and his friends and has bad taste in media, and i love him every bit as much as i did the first time reading homestuck. as with all of the guardians in early homestuck, honestly, johns relationship with his dad is particularly compelling, watching him roll his eyes and go through the typical rebellious teenager antics, while also witnessing that they very obviously care about each other a lot! the way he cuts through dave and roses shit and teases them is a lot of fun, and hussie does a really great job of setting up early in that these kids have been really good friends for a long time.

rose is honestly my favorite this go around. shes snarky and her humor is biting and at times childish, and her dramatics, while often just silly theatrics, often hint at really compelling emotional turmoil and backstory. shes a complex character right out the gate, with tangled feelings about her mom, her interests, and her cat, who projects an image toward her friends in order to protect her feelings. still, its obvious that if rose is ever sincere about anything, its her unending love for her friends, and its this kind of juxtaposition between this edgy, sarcastic, and grimdark personality she puts off and these warmer, goofy moments that make her so much fucking fun.

dave has a lot less focus in early homestuck, and seems to largely serve as the voice of reason and guide to john. hes the savvy coolkid, who already has shit like sylladexes figured out, and is usually the one who points out obvious solutions to john and moves the plot forward. he is also. the voice through which hussie projects a lot of the worst moments of bigotry in hs, and there are a loooooot of slurs. so. thats there. my first readthrough, i imprinted on dave instantly like a baby bird and he quickly became my favorite, but this go around hes honestly been a lot less compelling for me.

the exiles are introduced in act 2, and mostly function as silly, simple comic relief, and some vague foreshadowing as to whats to come. theyre simple characters, but i fucking love them. so much.

The Plot

early hs is probably the most coherent, plotwise. hussie has a plan in place, and shes pretty sure she knows where shes going with it. despite the randomness of the reader commands, the next step is always obvious on the horizon- getting all the players in to play sburb. its really simple, and its kind of nice to just sit back and enjoy feeling like everythings going to be wrapped up nicely (even tho it wont be). i also just like, really enjoy a lot of the humor in early hs and the video game jokes and stuff, so it was a lot of fun to read! its very reminiscent of problem sleuth at this stage. i also really enjoy the exiles, and i think the early acts are where they really get most of their attention

The Albums

i think its cool that each album has a kids symbol in 1-4, and its cool to listen to the early music that really set the stage for a lot of later, huge songs. a lot of these songs are referenced and remixed like, constantly, and its really cool listening to a song and going hey! that sounds like its got some heir of grief in there! while ive listened to a lot of the hs soundtrack, i mostly listened to later albums, so i was surprised to learn just how early toby fox started working on hs. and how much. jesus

The Formspring and Blogs

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. listen. dont read these. save yourself the agony. the blogspot is really more just the act 1 and immediate post problem sleuth era, so i got bored of it pretty quickly and gave up on reading it. it wasnt super relevant to my reread experience.

the formspring, the FIRST ONE, is much worse than the second one hussie made, and is just. full. of nonsense troll asks, stupid posts that dont mean anything, and hussie justifying artistic choices that dont need to be justified again and again to people who are just being mean for no reason. there are some really funny posts in there, and there are also some posts that provide cool background info that you wouldnt otherwise know, and there are a lot of inside jokes in hs that started on the formspring, so it can be cool to see those develop. however. there is also a lot of bigotry, a lot of hussie saying really stupid shit, and a lot of just inane questions that wasted so much of my time. it takes forever to read, and sometimes i regret it.

daves blog is. ugh. its like sbahj but he says the n word and i think thats all that really needs to be said about it. it was a really unpleasant read. on that note, i am not reading sbahj. i didnt read it the first time, im not going to read it now, and i do not care how much it references hs and vice versa. sbahj fucking sucks, and houses some of hussies worst bigotry moments, and i just. really do not want to get into that.

The Intermission

the (first) intermission is one of the shorter intermissions in homestuck and revolves entirely around the midnight crew and the felt. this is the one where the mc breaks into the felt mansion and starts breaking clocks, killing people, and fucking shit up. not much happens, other than introducing the felt and mc. during this time, the midnight crew: drawing dead is released as the first album w new songs not previously featured on panel.

The Characters

ive always been a huge fan of intermission characters. its a really goofy little sidestory in hs and feels very problem sleuth at times, but i love it a lot! still, there isnt a ton to say here, in part bc the intermission is so short, and in part bc its really about the midnight crew and not the felt. itchy, doze, trace, cans, die, stitch, fin, eggs, and clover are minor side characters who mostly just exist to die. also snowman is teased, briefly. i think clover and doze probably get the most detail work, and then. maybe trace and fin? tragic stuff.

The Album

i liked this one! its been a hot second since i listened now so youll have to forgive me if my review isnt super detailed, but it was fun to see how the artists worked together to kind of create a musical profile for the city and the crew! very experimental, very cool.

Act 4

jade is FINALLY introduced! this act focuses more on balancing all four kids, with rose entering the medium at the beginning, dave entering towards the end, and hussie finally catching us up on this last mystery friend of johns. the exiles (midnight crew included) get a lot of attention in this act, showing not only their actions in exile, but also who they were before exile, and the trolling really gets going in this act. this is also the act where john ectobiologies all over the place, and where derse and prospit start to become relevant. the trolls still havent been revealed fr, and jade still hasnt entered the medium! during this time, hussie was answering questions on the first formspring still, and vol 4 and vol 5 were released.

The Characters

this act focuses a lot on jade, especially early in. ive always had a hard time relating to jade as a character, and shes never really been one of my favorites, but shes absolutely instrumental to the plot of hs and this act really shows just how much shes contributed to setting up the game. shes also more often than not the vehicle for how we get to see the trolls in early hs, because for soem reason they seem to pester her more than anyone else??

in the medium, john gives us the best view of how sburb is supposed to be played. he goes on sidequests, talks to the salamanders, builds cool stuff, fights imps, and just sort of does what hes supposed to! similar to acts 1-3, act 4 is still setting up sburb.

i think the only trolls who really receive any kind of prominence this early in are tavros, karkat, kanaya, and terezi, but dont quote me on that.

other than john and jade tho, i think most of the stuff i have to say abt the characters in this act wld be better saved for talking abt in act 5 act 2

The Albums

im not going to talk abt vol 4 or the formspring here bc i think i already covered both in 1-3, but vol 5 was also released towards the end of act 4! vol 5 is some stuff in the comic, and a lot of stuff that isnt in the comic, and has a pretty cool album cover! this one has some songs that wind up being referenced in songs that are really well known or well loved (for example, sunslammer, which toby remixes for the undertale soundtrack (and i think also gets remixed into a song that gets remixed into moonsetter?), or crystalanthemums, which will eventually be referenced for crystalmethequins (one of my favorite hs songs)). it also has hardchorale, which was so fucking trippy to listent o that i actually posted the link to it in my liveblog. 10/10. hilarious. my favorite song on this album is planet healer, which is also one of my favorite hs songs!

thats acts 1-4 covered, so expect act 5...... soon.

EDIT: heres my recap of act 5 subacts 1 & 2

#hs reread #homestuck liveblog #thats the only tag im gonna stick on thisbc i dont care that much #recaps

[tomster1274]

OMGGG DID U FINISHED THE UPTURNED YET what do u think can i hear ur thouhts

I DID FINISH IT. I'M SOOO SAD AT THE ENDING, I REALLY DIDN'T WANT SUCH,,, IDK, AN UNFINISHED ENDING? IT JUST DIDN'T FEEL RIGHT FOR A GAME SO PACKED WITH LIFE, STORY AND ACTION. PROTAG JUST "DIED"(? MAYBE? IDK BUT IT SEEMED LIKE IT) AND IK TOO. TOT. I WANT THEM TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING.

BUT OTHERWISE, I LOVEDDD THE GAME. IT'S RIGHT THERE IN MY FAV GAMES WITH LO ST IN VIVO :DDD. THE ART WAS SO NICELY STYLIZED, I ESPECIALLY LOVED ALL THE CHARACTER DESIGNS (MOSTLY ON PROTAG, SHRIMP AND IK THO). I ALSO LIKED THE STORY SPRINKLED IN, ON BOTH IK AND THE WORLD PROTAG LIVED IN. IK WAS A REALLY GOOD CHARA TOO. MR. SOB WAS A NICE VILLAIN, I think a bit underdeveloped, BUT HONESTLY I DIDN'T MIND BECAUSE I JUST LIKED HIM BEING JUST AN EVIL DUDE TRYING TO KILL PROTAG LOL. THE MECHANICS OF SMASHING EVERYTHING UP WAS SOOO FUNNY LOL, LITERALLY KEPT ME LAUGHING, AND THE HUMOR IS SO PEAK IN THIS GAME :). SO ARE THE FIGHTS, SO TENSE AND ACTION FILLED, YET REALLY SILLY TOO AT TIMES.

I JUST WISH WE GOT /MORE/ STORY... LIKE, WHAT WAS WITH THE STORM? WHO WAS THAT FIGURE AT THE END? WAS IK GAY, C'MON GAME (IT WAS LITERALLY HINTING AT IT, I SWEAR)? SO MANY QUESTIONS... AND AGAIN, THE ENDING LEFT A BIGGG HOLE IN MY HEART :(. I KNOW IT'S A HORROR GAME BUT... IDK, IT FELT TOO WRONG, EVEN FOR A GAME ABOUT HAVING BAD LUCK THAT JUST GETS YOU KILLED FOR NO REASON. LIKE IT MAKES SENSE, BUT. MAN :(((. I HOPE IF THERE'S EVER ANY SEQUEL OR ANYTHING (PROB NOT), WE GET TO SEE THEM MAYBE ALIVE? EVEN HAPPY?

BUT YEAH. GREAT GAME!!!! THX 4 POSTING ABT IT :DDD

#Up posts #Ask box #Ben Rambles

[hyunjinspark]

my warm happy butterfly feelings evaporated by the end of the 4th chapter 💀

hana 😭😭 why bestie 😭😭😭 i wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, i want her to be happy like y/n wants her to be but when she lied to hyunjin about watching his performance + stole y/n’s words/opinion of it, and didn’t seem to give a shit..... 🔪✊😐✊🔪

she clearly doesn’t have a genuine interest in hyunjin’s hobbies and passions, which are important to him and a vital piece of him, and i’m just over here wondering how she thinks that’s gonna work out for her in the long term.... you can’t fake a relationship, well i mean you can, but not if you want an authentic match made in heaven like she seems to desire. i hope someone comes to their senses and talks to her, preferably y/n bc she needs to look out for hana’s heart as her best friend, if not hyunjin’s too as he’s not just an acquaintance anymore, because neither of them deserve.... whatever is going on here. i mean, we don’t know yet what hyunjin’s intentions are for the relationship, if hes also looking for long term or just going with the flow, but either way, hana is not the one for him (obviously, because you didn’t write her to be). he said he wouldn’t hurt hana (at least i think that’s who he was talking about), so i’m curious as to how this is gonna play out.... i’m sure whatever happens, you’re gonna write it so beautifully😭

i think as well that hana’s used her energy focusing on her romantic relationships (past and present) rather than on being observant and a good friend to y/n, which makes me sad. i’m glad y/n has felix though, even if he’s being a jealous bean rn💛

um.... also we love minho the menace. i mean i had to stop and breathe deeply because i was as nervous and embarrassed for what he was gonna say as y/n, but..... dare i say..... he’s useful in progressing the plot✨ if only slightly✨ i could be wrong, bc you didn’t give a direct hint (that i know of), but i’m hoping hyunjin, as the smart, observant boy he is, caught on to what minho was saying. because i really think hyunjin remembers y/n too, whether he’s as sentimental about it as her or not.

..... just thought about the fact that if earlier at the chateau y/n had chosen to ask hyunjin if he remembered her, and he did catch on to what minho was saying at the diner..... boyohboyohboy🤪 the mortification–i can feel it. silly goose y/n hours, for sure. she’d be regretting every decision to open up to anyone she’s ever made.

lastly, i just wanted to point out that i noticed and appreciated the purple pin that was holding up that art piece💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 little foreshadowing there?? i hope🥺

as always love you and your writing. i want to live in the slwy universe so bad😩 the way you’ve described everything like settings and people is so !!!!!! ugh, i don’t have the words. it’s so easy to get immersed in the story each chapter. and i just see so much of myself in the way you’ve written y/n, but she’s living my dream😭 when is it my turn?🤨 but yeah. you’re just so talented jade, i don’t know how else to put it. i might’ve said something like this before but i feel like i need to tell you a hundred times because i don’t want you to ever doubt yourself. thank you for being so creative and sharing that with us. so cool of you lol 🤍

hi anon ! don’t worry your butterflies will come back in chapter 5 😘 im glad you want hana to be happy, but also dislike her 😭 understandable. she definitely does want a match made in heaven but also seems to believe that it means everything will fall into place with no real effort from her side. that’s probably why she isn’t too interested in knowing more about hyunjin as a person. yes! hyunjin’s intentions are unknown too at this point.

we will see if hyunjin caught onto minho’s conversation or remembers yn…👀 that would definitely have been so embarrassing for her if she asked hyun that and then the minho conversation happened ! its a good thing it didn’t right 🤪 so glad you noticed the purple pin 📍

thank you so much for your kind words. i want to live in this universe too so bad, its peaceful and romantic and dreamy and slow. your words went straight to my heart thank u so much! also did you forget your anon emoji or do you not have one ??🧐 i love you !

#star lost with you

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe? #C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess? #there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

[goobiegoobert]

Can I ask for headcanons of Sun, Moon, & Glamrock Freddy being your s/o?

I love you so!

_________________

A/N: I actually had a ton of fun with this one! It's super sweet thanks for the request!! To add on as well I'm starting an anon list if you wanna be added just say so!

Warnings: Pet names, minor amounts of possessiveness

[ GN Reader ]

_________________

Glamrock Freddy

➤ Freddy overall in the significant other department is a standard choice!

➤ kind, loving, and patient with you no matter what

➤ the moment Freddy is pissy with you in a serious sense is the day hell freezes over.

➤ Type to show you you off to his friends no matter what! Hell, you could be in PJs with bedhead and the man would simply gush to his friends about how lovely you look today!

➤ I'm not too sure why but would really try his hardest to have a picnic date with his s/o!

➤ Maybe it's because of all those cheap cheesy flicks Vanessa watches on slow nights with nothing to do..

➤ The two of you together are just the best.. It's akin to how bubbline works in a sense to my little brain!

➤ you two are interesting characters on your own but together you two causes people to foam at the mouth and place bets on who does what

➤ Honestly didn't realize his feelings at first as an animatronic surely, literally you would have to get upset with a frown after him so constantly not getting the hint to start thinking somethings even wrong.

➤ to make up for it expect the sweetest boyfriend out there! Sure he can sometimes act a bit stern but it's for the best!! He truly just wants to keep you safe and be there for you

➤ The only times he's upset really is whenever you're hurt or someone's made you upset

➤ oh! and since he doesn't exactly understand how to make you lunches so, he'll ask Chica for help and make personal sticky notes with love!!

➤ Might have accidentally called you sport once and you've never let him live it down

➤ Also for nicknames, there's of course the obvious one being Superstar! Though others you can occasionally be graced on hearing is my dear and love dove :)

Sunnydrop

➤ It's almost like being a child again!

➤ the two of you spend your time making clay figures for each other and acting out silly little plays for the daycare kids, it's truly magnificent!

➤ oddly enough you and Sunny will curl up in the ball-pit after the janitor and staff bots finish cleaning it, just something weirdly comforting for the two of you

➤ Will spend literal hours letting you scream into the empty daycare to try and let you feel better even if these screams seem a little too sad for him </3

➤ most of the time you end up covered in fingerpaints for a dumb pickup line of him calling you art for the true beauty possessed by you, Sun's impeccable little s/o!

➤ Sadly at points, you do have to give constant reminders that no matter what you love him! because the man just has really bad attachment issues

➤ like will heavily get paranoid if he can't at least see you without being warned about it

➤ Has actually started making a huge mess in the daycare as a tantrum pissed about someone stealing you!!! Constantly worrying about if you got hurt

➤ Did someone turn the lights off..? Did moon do something to make you leave?

➤ Why would you need anyone but him if he makes those frowns turn upside down after another person makes you feel upset??

➤ Would totally call you sunshine, sunbeam, darling, but also has the stupidest names for you too at points it's gotten to the point he might mention something in the context of another being and just know it's an endearing term!

➤ Like "Oh no.. Where, oh where, has my little glitter glue gone?" and some little brat will just point in the general direction of where you've gone

➤ STANDING BY THIS. SINCE SUN CAN'T KISS HIS S/O THEY JUST PRESS UP AGAINST YOU AND MAKE SILLY OVER-EXAGGERATED KISSING NOISES!!!

➤ Also, for some reason, my tiny brain likes to constantly think he's crouching and statured the way he is for the fact he and moon stand at a staggering 9 foot something!

Moondrop

➤ Generally out of everyone here seems to be the most possessive of you as a person, hates to see anyone around you, and would need reassurance on it

➤ even if afterwords he just grumbles and carries you off for naptime

➤ Even as his s/o Moon can and will have a strict sleep schedule for you and won't take no for an answer, the moment the lights are off you're going the fuck to sleep

➤ Despite disliking most physical contact their s/o rest their little head on his lap?

➤ king will be fucking feral over it, but genuinely stays well composed despite this

➤ has likely learned how to play with hair because of you, it wasn't needed before but now it's just comforting to do in a way

➤ even if Moon swears up and down they don't like you after pretending to be asleep and hearing him simply mention how lovely you are, and just mumble sweet nothings to even reading you a book in the silence which he reaps to not enjoy is just showing a little bit of how much he does care

➤ Feel Moon would pull out with the good-ass pet names!!

➤ Good girl/good boy, Doll, pathetic dear, sweet thing, and likely calls you pet in a derogatory way but very /pos at the same time like it's very weird?

➤ Moon takes pictures of you and puts them on the wall of his and Sunny's room like it's just full of you and the children's drawings!

➤ Likely has taken you on a date of just him picking you up and going to the ceiling, whether you don't mind heights or not he will pretend to drop you at some point

_________________

#sunnydrop #daycare attendant #sunnydrop x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #drabble #one shot #fluff #x male reader #x female reader #x nonbinary reader #💾 . boo's spooks #moondrop my beloved #moondrop #glamrock freddy #getting better at tags maybe?