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hijackalx · 1 month

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Headcanon thingy, but who would the boys (Gale, Astarion, Wyll, and Gortash) react to seeing their lover trying on lingerie?

felt like testing my drabble skills so i added a lil something extra to them 😎💗 enjoy pookie!!

GN!reader

SLIGHT NSFW BELOW

GALE

likes when you surprise him with it. wear some under your clothes as a little treat for when he’s undressing you 😌✨

you look so good that it makes him trip over his words. he’s too busy ogling your body to pay attention to what he’s saying. will have him laughing like a nervous virgin 😹

LOVESSSSS garters. can’t keep his hands off of them. particularly loves the way your thighs strain beneath them when you’re on your knees

instantly wants to enchant the bottoms to make them vibrate and watch you get off like that (don’t ask if that’s actually possible my brain functions on horny not logic)

your outfit is inconspicuous, plain— perfect for covering up the lingerie hiding beneath. you wait patiently in his lap as he unwraps your silken robe, biting back a smirk.

he pauses to take in the sight of the lace hugging your skin, how it flows so delicately around your shape. he tuts, shooting you a familiar, frivolous grin. “feeling naughty tonight, are we?” just moments later, his hands move to rest on your bottoms, a seemingly harmless action that results in a soft buzz and a gasp. “i can work with that.”

ASTARION

insists on going with you to pick some out. follows you into every dressing room to “make sure it fits right” lol. so picky but mostly because he loves watching you try them on

his favorites are flowy/frilly types, like babydoll tops or satin robes. also LOVES stockings of any kind

makes you feel like an actual doll ✨🌸 repeatedly tells you how perfect you are and can’t keep his hands off you. will also try to get you flustered by whispering really dirty stuff about how you look into your ear

likes when you have fun with it and show off for him— be cheeky. do a little spin. bend over in front of him. be prepared for him to pinch or smack your ass though

he sits comfortably on the dressing room bench as you approach him. “how about this one?” you pull your bottom lip in playfully, placing your hands on his shoulders as he takes your body into his grasp.

“mm,” erupts from his throat, watching as his lithe fingers slip over and under the fabric sparsely covering your skin. “now, this one i like.” he places a slow and deliberate kiss to your exposed abdomen, his ruby gaze flitting up to meet yours; there’s an impish glint to them that tells you he doesn’t plan on waiting to have you any longer.

GORTASH

likes to make sketches of you wearing it. has so many drawings of you in compromising positions with it on. definitely keeps them for when he’s alone

loves corsets and bustiers because of how they emphasize your chest, especially in blacks and reds. crotchless panties also drive him INSANE

the sluttier you act while wearing it the better. don’t try to be modest (there’s honestly no reason to be anyway, he’s a freak fr 😹😹)

a sucker for fishnets. likes to take them off and use them to tie your wrists together. will also shove them in your mouth/gag you with them on occasion

his dark irises glance up from his work every so often to study your decorated figure; they follow the arch of your back, the heart shape of your ass, and linger on the exposed area between your thighs more often than not.

“lower,” he directs, and you immediately respond by deepening the angle of your back. he hums contently, scribbles some more, then adds, “spread your legs further.”

you comply once again, happy to flaunt your body under his gaze. the corner of your lip pulls upward, anticipating your reward for being such an obedient little muse.

WYLL

bust this out on your honeymoon and he gets SOOO flustered. i’m talking stuttering/looking away/rubbing his neck

his favorites on you are lacy teddies— especially in blues, purples, and whites. more traditionally sexy styles really get him going

lowkey so obsessed with how you look in it. the kind of thing that’s on his mind 24/7. almost always asking you to put it on for him at the end of the day with a little pout 😹💗

LOVES when you strip for him nice and slow, especially how you tease him by carefully revealing each skimpy garment beneath your clothes. a lapdance is also mandatory

you spot the anxiousness simmering beneath his lax surface— he longs to touch you, but you’d rather toy with him a little more.

prowling closer to where he sits, you slowly unbutton your blouse. with each maneuver of your fingers, you reveal the lingerie lying beneath, watching how his hungry, needy gaze fixates on it.

he inhales sharply as you straddle his lap and take his hand in yours. he lets you guide it over your ornamented body, his eyes heavy with desire as he mutters a low and raspy, “you’ll ruin me.”

#bg3 #astarion #enver gortash #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #astarion x reader #enver gortash x reader #gale dekarios x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #my headcanons #bg3 headcanons #drabbles

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luveternals · 5 months

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paring: 4. simon 'ghost' riley x artist male reader. cw: introvert reader with low self-esteem, there's a waiter whose love language is food, ghost has selective mutism(tell me if I got anything wrong), swearing, the seafront location was originally inspired by Naples' Lungomare, Italy. <- posto da visitare assolutamente, guys. a/n: bam! they thought I was gone, but I ain't. Lol guess whose first language isn't English. anyway, new posts' schedule: still to be decided (check the my pinned post). ~ ~ ~

You've seen this trend around for a while and decide worse case scenario people get offended, call you a creep, and you won’t be able to show your face to the public ever again.

What could possibly go wrong?

Put on the brave face, man, you tell yourself taking in a fortifying breath. It’s not that they don’t know how much of a loser you already are.

Not wanting to be the stalking weirdo on the train or subway, you choose a nearby café. They know you here, at least. Though, you can’t decide if it’s for the better or worse.

The waiter is already setting up a tray on the counter when you open the door, and from the cheeky little wink he gives you, you know it’s for you. Noah knows your goto morning food and drink, though you never told him. He found out all on his own — honestly, you don’t even recall having a favorite to begin with.

“There he is,” he says and pushes the tray towards you when you stop at the counter, “precious little artist. Punctual as ever.”

You try to smile, but it pulls at your lips and you know it looks nothing but awkward. “How do you know I might change my order today?”

“Are you going to?”

You shrug.

“Thought so.” He pokes at the tray and points at your table, set way at the back of the café. “Now, this better not go cold, hmm,” he leans forward and squints at you, “I mean it.”

You huff at him and turn away with the tray in hand. “Whatever, mom.”

“Oh!” you hear him gasp offended, “kids these days.”

Idiot.

One thing is certain, being a loyal customer of theirs has its little perks. One being your usual table has an unspoken reservation on it. Every time you come here, it’s there for you. The fact that people don’t usually sit this far from the counter unless there’s no other option is an appreciated bonus. You place the tray on the table, set your bag on the empty chair next to yourself, and finally take a seat.

Unsure of how to start, you pick Noah as the first subject of your little experiment. He’s been nagging you about making a portrait of him for ages now, so you know for a fact he’s not going to mind.

You start your sketch with his beaming face. A circle for the shape of the head. A downward line at the center to keep everything spaced correctly. Find the position of eyes and nose. Shape of the face. Erase the lines you don’t need anymore.

You brush off the little eraser crumbs away and raise your head to check his face again. He’s turned away though, and your attention slides to the customer in front of him waiting for his turn.

He’s a hulking figure, dark wear and face mask covering mouth and nose. You’ve never seen him around before.

Noah's café is small and cozy, tucked away in a little corner. Tourists don’t really pick this as their first choice.

You move to draw on an empty part of the page.

“Oh ho! Looky here.”

You jerk and almost fall off the chair at the sudden presence peering over your shoulder. "Jesus, fu— what the hell is wrong with you?”

He steals the sketchbook and flips through the pages. “Love struck, aren’t we?” he snickers, inspecting the lastest drawings you’ve added to your collection.

You snatch the book back and fight the urge to check if anyone heard. “I thought I told you not to touch without permission.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and raises his hands before him, “I just… it’s been a while since I saw you draw so passionately, and I got curious. thought you lost your muse.” He glances down at the sketchbook and gives you a playful grin, “I guess you found a new one?”

“It’s been an eternity, are you ever going to talk to him?” Mr I-don’t-know-how-to-mind-my-own-business sets a second pastry you never ordered beside your empty plate and lean over to look at your current drawing.

“Can you, like, leave me alone?”

“You’re an artist,” he says with the flattest tone, “without me, who would keep you fed and hydrated and alive, you?”

You purse your lips and raise your chin to stare up at him. How dare he? You don’t need no one’s help to take care of yourself, thank you very much. It’s not like you forget time passes when you're drawing and end up with only breakfast in your belly all day. it happened, sure. Still.

“You know what, you’re being a real pain right now,” you say and stand intending to leave the café and head to the park or something.

Of course, your action is too abrupt and you end up bumping into someone who was making their way to a table near yours. And catastrophe happens.

When you turn, you realize the person you knocked into is the man you’ve been drawing these last days. Even worse, his eyes are locked onto your open sketchbook right on the spread littered with portraits and drawings of him.

Fuck.

Here comes the part where he thinks you're a weirdo and leaves the café with the intention of never coming back.

“Oh, hello!” Noah says and wiggles his fingers at the man with an overly cheery expression. “My friend here was just about to come and talk to you about these,” he says, gathering your drawings and shoving them into your arms, “he’s a little shy, so he needed a little push,” he adds, then shoves you towards the other man.

You stumble but recover quickly, and when you turn to glare at your friend he simply sends you a wink and mouths ‘don’t be a loser and ask him out’.

“He’s not even being subtle at it.” You don’t expect the man to talk to you at all, or to stay after that to begin with. There’s amusement in his voice and when you meet his gaze, you find a soft look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. From this close up, his eye color catches your attention and you have to refrain yourself from leaning closer and finding out how it is that it seems to change from hazel-brown to blue and back. “Yeah,” you say again and drop your attention back to your things to stop yourself from staring, “he’s an idiot. But he's a good friend despite it all. He pretty much keeps me alive by shoving food into my face.”

Talking to Simon is not as awkward as you'd told yourself it'd be. He doesn’t judge you for all the drawings you did of him and instead compliments you on your skill. He does tease you, though.

“If I knew I was being stared at for so long I would have posed.”

“Shut up.”

“Need a model? I could do naked as well if you want.”

“Ugh.”

His laugh is contagious and you're helpless, so the teasing doesn’t stop.

Friendship with him is not the same as with Noah.

The waiter is a beaming ball of life, open and bold and buzzing with energy. You love him but, sometimes, spending time with him is quite exhausting.

Simon on the other hand, he knows silence.

He sits at your table, book in one hand and tea in the other, enjoying the simple company that is your presence despite not having said a word since the simple greeting you shared this morning.

Noah gives you a thumbs up from over Simon's shoulder.

“Why don't you just use a normal pencil for sketching?”

You peer up at him, hunched over the page. He's not even looking st you, but you know he's waiting for answer, curious and with real interest.

The first time he asked you a question, you've fumbled with your words unsure if he cared at all and if you'd scared him of with your chatter. Words aren't for you, but the longer you talk about the same thing on and on, you figure he doesn't mind and didn't ask just to have some awkward small talk. And so you blabber on about how it makes it easier to distinguish the first quick sketch with a color and the details you've added later with another.

He's eyes are pinned on you now, and you find you don't really mind being stared at like you thought you would.

“Ask him out.”

You haven’t even reached the counter and Noah is already at it. “Can you not?”

“Precious, I can see the love struck dreamy smile you give him from a mile away,” he says, adding a second steaming cup to your tray. “Introvert doesn’t mean allergic to people. You’re not the complete failure at socializing you imagine yourself being.” He pushes the tray towards you and leans against the counter. “youst case scenario, if he says 'no' I’ll go with you.”

You grimace. And then wide the look off your face when you register your reaction. “I mean— it's not that I don’t like you, it’s just that—”

“Wow, man. Wow,” he scoffs, “this is worse than when you left the sketch of my face half done.”

Oh, fuck. You forgot about that one?

“Whatever, man,” he says with a roll of his eyes, his lips twitch at the corners. “If he does say 'no', I'll buy you that kit you’ve been swooning over for the past month. Best quality color and all that.” He waves at you to move along, only to pull your tray closer to himself again and popping a tiny little pastry right in the middle. Then sends you off to your doom.

“I've been thinking,” you blurt out in response to his ‘mornin’’.

Simon pauses right about to take a seat, raises an eyebrow and finally settles down. “Have you, now?”

“Yeah,” you say and tap the end of your pencil against the table. “Yeah. Do you like the park? No, wait. Do you like going to the park with me— would you…” You take in a breath and raise your gaze to the ceiling, “really, now?”

After a long moment, you shift your attention back to him ready to try again. His eyes are shining, little wrinkles decorating the corner of his eyes.

The mask covers it, but you know for a fact that he's smiling.

You feel your cheeks going warmer and you have to fight the urge to backtrack and hide behind your sketchbook. “Do you wanna,” you say, “go to the park with me?”

It's an oddity to find him already seated, no tea in sight either. From the look Noah gives you, after a month of simon coming in every day, this is a novelty for him as well.

You bring your tray to the table and sit beside him without a comment, only a simple greeting and a gentle smile. You set a cup of tea before him, alongside one of the sweets Noah refused to take back when you told him it was probably too much food. He actually looked offended by the comment.

“It’s double the stuff he usually gives me, Simon,” you say when he tries to have you keep it, “just eat it. Or better, help me finish it all, I beg you.”

He stares at the food for a long moment, then visibly gives up on convincing you. He doesn't touch it though.

The tea goes ignored as well.

You purse your lips. Well, that won’t do.

“Say,” you start and tilt your head to catch his gaze, “do you wanna go out for a walk? There’s a place I wanted to show you.”

He watches your face, then shifts his attention around the café, on Noah and finally on the food he left untouched.

“I'll have Noah put everything in a bag. I know he won't mind.”

He hesitates, but nods.

You smile at him and beam when the gesture seems to lessen the tension on his shoulders.

You bring him to a local bookstore. Like with the café, this is a little business famous mostly in the neighborhood. It’s never overly crowded but there’s always a kid or two binging their current read.

You leave him to scan the shelves and move to do the same not far.

Hah! They’ve finally restocked the stationary corner. Hooray! You definitely don’t need another journal, but no one can stop you from staring at them with gut wrenching despair.

Would Simon like it if I bought him one?

At the thought you turn to search for him and find him already making his way to you with a new book in hand.

You've got the membership card here so you manage to convince him to let you pay. Both for his book and the journal you're holding.

You don’t know many places to visit, but those you are familiar with are the best for those who don’t care for ‘crowded’.

The seafront isn’t one of them but you hope the view will make up for it.

It’s a risky move, but you think you’ve grown close to him enough to know he's quite comfortable with being by himself, but sometimes silence isn't what he wants or needs.

Noah told you you’re a pretty good observant and that analyzing the world around you is what makes you an artist. So you hope he wasn’t making that up.

There's a little corner towards the end. Here the view is partially covered but when you check his face, you're glad to discover he doesn't seem to mind at all. He hasn't said a word at all since you met this morning, but his attention has been pinned on you all day even after the nonsense rant you've gone on about AI art.

You pull out a thermos from the café’s cute, little bag and hand it to him like an hesitant offering. His tea has been kept safe and warm inside all morning, but you don't know if he'll accept it after earlier.

His eyes soften and he takes the thermos with the same care you've handled it with, and holds it in both hands like he wants to keep it safe.

A spark of hope warms your insides, so you take out two pastries and hand one to him. "He's going to make me eat more tomorrow," you say and take a bite, as if to show him Noah does know how to bake — oh, yep, he really does. God. "And you haven't had breakfast yet. Please?"

It takes a moment, but eventually, he turns away from any unwanted gaze, moves his face mask out of the way, and brings the food to his mouth to take a bite.

It slow, delibeate and so very careful, but he's eating, and now you finally understand. How Noah cares so much about keeping you fed.

~ ~ ~ a/n: I'm not entirely sure if I got it right. Here's what I was thinking: noah is there to keep the reader from neglecting himself; ghost is a new face at the café and with a little push they become friends; reader starts taking care of ghost end consequently takes care of himself. comment, reblog and/or follow. yadda, yadda, yadda, this blog feeds off feedback or it'll go boom! don't just like please...

#simon ghost riley #x top male reader #call of duty #top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 #second person pov #original writing #story day

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curse-you-slenderman · 11 months

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FIRST DOODLE DUMP OF THE ACCOUNT!!! followed by my cheeky little comments on em!

Let me just say that not all of these will happen, these are just for fun and for me to get a hang on the dynamics i want to portray, since i'm a visual sort of person.

let's start with doodles that don't include reader

Me? projecting? nono, why would you think that? anyways, these three, in the CYS universe are autistic. Will they tell reader? will i have the capability of writing their autistic traits correctly? who knows!

Someone is mad, so whoever he is talking to, they better shut up. I'll leave it to yall if this is the host or the protector of their system ;))

Snack time! Remember to always feed yoru canibal demon friends!

Funfact! BEN is the only character who has two entirely different appearances that reader will be able to see. This is because the ARG BEN is too good to go to waste.

I... I don't like Jane's hair in this one. it's decent, but not curly enough. Anyway, sibling coded characters bonding time!

Now for the moment yall been waiting for, THE INTERACTIONS WITH READER!!

Helen and I, express our love for someone by drawing them or stuff for them. Love me that.

Reader, let Liu forget his past plz. Since Liu, like Jane, are one of the less... psychotic of the bunch, it will be fun to see how he will interact with Reader and the similarities and differences from him and Sully

This was supposed to be a quick doodle, until i put a video of an hour and a half and basically rendered the sketch. It's cute tho! Tim is pinning hard in this one!

Rule: Don't touch the new person. LJ: haha, touching said person goes honk honk :o)

It's an interesting dynamic, really. She wants to protect you. Maybe there is a reason why, maybe don't. If you choose her "route" you may find out.

YIPPE I'M DONE! I've been holding away and adding more doodles for a while, and i wanted to share them with yall!

don't mind almost half of the x reader ones not having one of reader's most characteristic thing (the collar)

their designs are being worked as the time of this post, and i soon will show yall their official designs for the fic, but for now, have these!

whenever i'm done with the designs, you all are welcome to draw fanart! the tag is #cys fanart!

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monstersandmaw · 2 years

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If you are doing the one-word prompt game, then, scarecrow for my prompt

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Wow. This one really got away from me, but then again, I probably owe you a longer story after all these years anyway! Thank you for the prompt! (heavily inspired by this haunted village ambience video on YouTube that I listen to a lot while writing).

Contents: a rather lonely male scarecrow x artistic gn reader, haunted village, a cheeky magpie, a cute rabbit, lots of soft fluff, sfw Wordcount: 2987

(prompts closed)

___

The last rays of sunlight glanced off mounded clumps of moss that choked the old, drystone wall on your left, and gave them all a little glint of gold. Part of you almost believed that if you were to risk a closer look into the cracks between the stones, you would find fairy coins and gems stashed there for safe keeping. Mud splashed up your boots from the rutted, potholed road which wound away down the hill, and off to your left, the looming beech wood whispered and rustled constantly, sending spiralling copper leaves out into the open fields to the right of the road.

Between the trees, twilight now began to pool and stretch, spreading like an ink stain over the carpet of fallen beech leaves and driving off the sun as night took its turn to watch over the woods and all the creatures who dwelt there.

A tawny owl took up a call from somewhere nearby. The broken half-refrain that sought a mate to complete the melody rang softly between the still trees, and you sighed, hoping he’d find a mate.

You’d heard about this place, the abandoned village in the valley, and had been travelling on foot for days to reach it with your sketch book in your bag and enough food to last you a week if you were careful. To your surprise, you glimpsed bright, fat, round pumpkins growing in the fields on your right, their coiling tendrils spreading merrily across the roughly tilled earth despite the place having lain barren and empty for generations. No one who lived within ten miles of this place ever dared come down this road, and yet there were fresh crops still growing in abandoned farmland.

“Full of ghosts and demons that place is,” the old baker’s wife had hissed at you that morning when you’d bought a loaf for the journey at the nearest town. “Don’t you go wandering around there…”

As you’d left that small, riverside town, with its creaking water mill and ringing blacksmith’s, a tall young man in a dark green cloak had come up to you and pressed a charm into your hands. He’d had a sharp, serious face and deep, black eyes, and people had whispered in the pub the night before that he was the witch’s son. You’d looked down at your hands and found a smooth disc made of antler with a familiar stave rune carved into it.

“To keep you safe,” he’d said, and turned away. You watched him walk a couple of paces before he stopped, sighed, and turned back to you. “I’ve been there,” he said. “To the village. Don’t take anything from there unless it’s given to you first.”

Unnerved by his odd advice, you’d just nodded, thanked him, and donned the protective amulet. It had warmed against your skin as it hung on its leather cord around your neck, and you ran your fingers over it a few times as you walked, thinking about this words again.

Now, as you peered over the planks of a rotting, dilapidated fence overlooking the village, you caught sight of a twisted old apple orchard swathed in evening mist in the wide, verdant valley off to your right, and what seemed to be a dark figure standing in the centre of it. Your heart fairly stopped beating until you realised that they weren’t moving at all, and it was only the faint breeze tugging at the corner of an old coat that was catching your eye. It was a scarecrow.

You camped that night in the only house that still seemed to have a solid, thatched roof, lighting a fire in the cold grate and sleeping in your bedroll on the flagstone floor rather than occupying the empty bed that had been left behind. It felt rude and presumptuous somehow.

After a spot of breakfast the next morning, you banked the fire and left your belongings neatly by the hearth, and looked around the small, single-roomed stone cottage before leaving. “Thank you for letting me sleep here,” you said aloud to no one in particular.

It seemed a bit silly, but it also important somehow, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a magpie flapped its wings in the rafters above and laughed at you. “No harm in saying thank you,” you muttered to it, and stumbled out of the door, embarrassed.

Your morning was spent wandering the village, getting to know the layout of the old, tumbledown buildings, but your afternoon took you to the ancient apple orchard where you found the scarecrow again, standing sentry in the centre of the trees with his arms spread wide, almost in welcome.

You came to a halt in front of him and looked up into his weathered face, surprised at how friendly his features were. Sure, his face was made of sack cloth and bits of pale straw stuck out at the cuffs and hem of his linen shirt, but the roots that had been chosen for his hands all had four fingers and a gnarled thumb, and the branches that made up his legs beneath the brown broadcloth trousers stuffed with straw were in proportion with the rest of his body. He had big, leather boots on which, like the rest of his clothes and the wide-brimmed, leather hat he wore, were in far better condition than they had any right to be after he’d been presumably hanging on his post for a hundred years or more.

“I almost want to offer you an apple,” you chuckled nervously. “Don’t worry, I haven’t come to thieve from your orchard. I’ve just come to draw the trees. I hope that’s alright. You mind if I sit with you a while?”

Obviously, you got no answer from the silent scarecrow, and although his face was warped with age, it seemed to have a kindly, almost curious set to its vague features, and the stitched mouth seemed to smile a little at the corners.

You sat with your back resting against his post and lost yourself in the careful skate of charcoal and graphite over paper, drawing the speckled feathers of a thrush as it hopped about looking for snails, the curve of the old, white gate that hung off its hinges at a jaunty angle, the lines of the roofs of the village with their ribcage rafters showing, the twisting trunks of the trees like gnarled hands reaching up from the earth to share their fruits with the world. Your magpie joined you for a while and hopped about, chattering away to himself, and you laughed as he began to play with a fallen leaf for a while before flapping off and leaving a single feather behind. You drew that too, lying in the dewy grass, but left it where it lay. The warning of the witch’s son reminded you not to take what had not been offered.

It was only when a cool breeze caressed the back of your neck like a lover’s breath that you jolted and realised how long you’d been sitting there.

The had light faded unnoticed from the brilliant pinks and oranges of sunset to the calm, quiet lilacs and blues of dusk that you blinked, and you could barely see three feet in front of you now. It was only because your paper was white that you could see the marks after all. Fog rolled in from the edges of the low-walled orchard, but despite the way the white fingers crawled across the grass, it didn’t seem threatening in the least.

Groaning and rolling your neck to ease the built-up tension and stiffness, you set your sketchbook down and clambered to your feet, joints creaking after so long in one pose, and you stretched out your back as well. You looked up at the scarecrow and frowned. You could have sworn he had been looking towards the gate when you’d arrived, but his head was bowed down now and looking in your direction.

“You’ve been watching me sketch, have you?” you said, not sounding quite as confident as you’d hoped. Perhaps he’d just moved in a breath of wind earlier. “Well, don’t judge me too harshly, hm? It’s the having fun that counts, not the end result. I’m sorry I intruded on your peace for so long though.”

Again the softest, gentlest breeze wafted around your face and the pages of your sketchbook fluttered open until they stopped on one you’d done of the scarecrow himself.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You like it?” you asked, not really believing that you were actually communicating. “I’m not sure I captured your smile quite right. I can come back again tomorrow and try again though. You’ll tell me if I’m not welcome, right?”

In a flash of black and white wings that came down out of nowhere and made you yip in surprise, the magpie landed on the scarecrow’s shoulder and gave another harsh, laughing chatter at you. He almost seemed to be mocking your startled reaction. Then he fluttered down onto the grass, hopped around a bit, and stooped to pick something up. When he flapped back up to the scarecrow’s shoulder and hopped about, he had the iridescent feather in his beak. He cocked his head a few times and then stuck his neck forwards towards you.

“For me?” you asked, reaching slowly for the feather.

The bird nodded, and as you took it, he spoke. “For you.”

Your eyes went wide and you almost dropped the feather. The black and white bird danced around, apparently enjoying your surprise. Then he made another few cawing noises, flapped his wings, and then disappeared off through a gap in the apple trees. “Well, thank you,” you croaked into the silence he left behind. You knew that corvids could imitate human speech, but that had all been very… precise.

Patting the scarecrow’s chest near his shoulder in an informal farewell, you turned to pick up your sketchbook from the dewy grass and looked back one last time at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

When you stepped over the ruined gate to the orchard the next morning, you made deliberate note of where the scarecrow was looking, and it had definitely changed overnight. Now he was looking across at his right hand that was stretched out wide on the cruciform support from which he hung. In it, you saw a flash of white and a few flashes of colour, and frowned. He hadn’t been holding anything the previous day.

As you approached, you could see better what it was that he was holding, and you exhaled slowly. It was a beautiful bunch of silvery dried grasses, with bright dandelions, red poppies, and dusky blue harebells, all wrapped around with the fluffy heads of old man’s beard that loved to ramble freely over the hedgerows and walls.

“Is… Is that for me too?” you asked. “How did you get them?” An idea lodged itself in your mind and you couldn’t shake it. He was definitely able to look in different directions, so that must mean… “Can you move?”

Only the wind answered you for a long, stretching moment. Then, with the kind of aching slowness that made your heart stop, his head began to turn. Slowly, carefully, he nodded once.

You swallowed and took half a step back, heartbeat thudding. “Is it… Is it alright that I’m here?”

Again, to your immense relief, he nodded again. He moved like the rusty hinge of an old barn door.

“Can you speak?”

He paused, and for a second you thought perhaps he hadn’t understood, but then he nodded a third time.

You licked your lips nervously and looked at the flowers. “So… are they for me?”

Yet another nod was your only answer.

“Did you gather them yourself? I mean, can you… get down from there?” The idea of him roaming around the fields while you’d been fast asleep was partly terrifying and partly rather sweet, and it prompted another question before you’d even waited for the first to be answered. “Are we the only two people here?”

A warm, amused chuckle, like the crunching of autumn leaves, sounded from the scarecrow. He shook his head slightly.

“‘No’ we’re not alone or ‘no’ you can’t get down? Or ‘no’ you didn’t get them yourself?”

The gnarled fingers of his left hand twitched and then the rope that seemed to hold him lashed to the support loosened a fraction and he held up a finger in a gesture that asked you to wait, to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, stepping back again. “I get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

Another friendly laugh sounded and you watched the stitched gash that formed his mouth stretch upwards at the corners. His hollow eye sockets lifted a little too and his whole face expressed a gentle mirth. “I can speak…” he said in a rasping, reedy voice. “Though I have had no one but that wretched magpie to talk to for years.”

He spoke fondly enough of the creature, despite his words, and you smiled.

“I can move and get down, though it takes… effort.”

“Oh. Do you mind if I stay and draw some more?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“You’re welcome to come down and join me. I could even draw you again… see if I can get your face right this time.”

He laughed, and the ropes uncoiled on their own, gently lowering him down to the grass. He was about your height, though he stood crookedly, leaning against the support behind him. He kept the brim of his hat tilted down as if to shield his face from you, and he shifted self-consciously as you looked at him. He held out the flowers and you watched the way his hands moved like living flesh, though they were undoubtedly made of the roots of a tree.

You took the flowers carefully from him and felt oddly choked. “I can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers.”

“There’s not much out at this time of year, but…” he shrugged. “I found what I could. You were kind to sit and chat with me yesterday, even though you didn’t know I could hear you, and the magpie said you were polite in Old Rose’s cottage…”

“Thank you.”

Setting the flowers down beside your satchel, you drew out your sketchbook and sat cross-legged on the ground nearby. He sat as well, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting his hands lie softly in his lap. For a while he just watched you and then seemed to doze as the sun rose and lent a little weak warmth to the autumn day.

After a while, you began to ask him about the history of the village and why it had eventually been abandoned, and he talked in his rasping, faltering way for hours. A rabbit snuffled through the grass as the day wore on, and you froze, not wanting to startle it. It came right up to him, ears forward, nose twitching.

“Hello,” he murmured with a fond chuckle, and the creature leapt straight up into his lap. He cradled it and you carefully turned a new page in your sketchbook to try and capture it.

Luckily, the rabbit was in no hurry to leave, and he stroked his fingers through its fur long enough that you got three decent sketches out of it before it hopped off in search of the dewy dandelions growing between the trees. When he looked up at you and found you watching, he dipped his head again in a clearly bashful gesture.

“Want to see?” you said, waggling the sketchbook.

He nodded, and you went over to sit beside him. His finger shook as he trailed it carefully around the edge of the sketch, mindful not to smudge it, and then he looked up at you. This close, you could see the weave of the sack cloth that made up his face and the crinkles where the material pulled around his mouth and empty eye sockets. “You… I… Is this really how you see me?” he asked in a whisper barely louder than the breeze through the grasses.

With a frown, you turned your gaze back to the sketchbook to look at the drawings more critically. Was he offended? You thought you’d managed to capture the gentle way he’d cradled the rabbit’s soft body, the way his gnarl-knuckled hands had gracefully stroked its fur, the fond tilt of his head as he’d regarded the vulnerable creature in his care, but you’d also taken your time to match the way he listed slightly to one side, his broken-branch spine and crooked limbs not keeping him perfectly upright. It lent him a soft, shy quality, and you nodded. “I think you’re beautiful,” you said and then flushed hot with embarrassment.

He turned his head away and then looked back again, regarding you from the dark, shadowy hollows of his eyes. “No one has ever found me beautiful,” he said. “Not even the farmer who made me. I’m supposed to be frightening, you know? All the village children used to be afraid of me.”

“I’m sure you could be if you needed to be,” you said. “If I were here to steal apples, I mean. The rabbits aren’t a threat, and the magpie is only playful.”

“You could take anything you liked,” he breathed. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“But could you if you wanted to?”

He paused. “Yes.”

You brought your hand to his cheek and found the sack cloth warm beneath your palm despite the autumn chill in the air. “Let me stay and sketch a while longer?”

“As long as you like,” he whispered back. “You’re welcome here as long as you like.”

___

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#scarecrow #male scarecrow #scarecrow monster #scarecrow x reader #(but not DC scarecrow!!)#just an ordinary old scarecrow lad #monster boyfriend #exophilia #one word prompts #gender neutral reader #gn reader #male monster #male monster x reader #male monster x gender neutral reader

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elisabeth515 · 1 year

Text

Titanic Officer Barbie Movie Posters (and 1 fun fact about each of the officers!)

(Because why not)

Feel free to save as phone wallpapers 🙈

I’ve decided to include our babeypurser McElroy because the role of Purser is sometimes regarded as an officer role. Among all the officers, Lightoller (B), Pitman (5), Boxhall (2) and Lowe (14) survived the sinking. McElroy was the only officer whose body was recovered and identified; he was buried at sea.

Now to the fun facts!

Henry Wilde: he was already captain and was set to command the SS Cymric for the Liverpool to Boston Route. Unfortunately, the coal strike happened and his first voyage with Cymric was delayed to presumably 1st May. White Star Line decided to put him in onto the crew of Titanic as Chief Officer.

As you guys may know already, Henry Wilde is my favourite officer so it’s not surprising that I have been posting about him for this April. I also am currently doing a series of TikToks for his actions throughout Titanic’s maiden voyage as well🙈

Here’s my post about Wilde being made aware of joining Titanic

This is my post on the Crew Shuffle if anyone would like to read more about it

William Murdoch: Charles Lightoller thought his bestie’s moustache make him look ugly so he grew his moustache so that Will could shave. Nevertheless, we all think otherwise.

Charles Lightoller: of course, his role as one of the captains of the little ships during the Dunkirk Evacuation. He saved around 130 lives in it with his family yacht, the Sundowner.

Side note: currently, the Sundowner is a museum ship in Ramsgate but sadly, the yacht is in a bad condition and we need money to repair. I know I don’t have much high opinions on the British (yeah except Henry Wilde), despite having been living in England for almost 5 years, but Lightoller has been one of the most intriguing figures to me; being through 4 shipwrecks and fire, also living through Titanic, WWI, and Dunkirk, his story of hope and survival is worth a movie. If you would like to help preserving a piece of history, please consider donate to help save this famous getaway yacht little ship🙈

Donate here

And here’s the campaign video by our TikTok Lightoller Fan Club President Melissa on saving the getaway yacht

Herbert Pitman: despite suffering from seasickness, this son of a farmer had a more than half-century long seafaring career, retiring in 1946. He started his career as an apprentice, then a deck officer and when he could not pass the eye test due to colour blindness at one eye, White Star Line made him a purser and he stayed in this position for the rest of his career. Pitman served in both world wars on troop ships; when he retired, he was a Lieutenant-Commander of the Royal Naval Reserves and was created an MBE in 1948, in recognition of his long service in the merchant marine.

Joseph Boxhall: he had a very happy marriage with his wife Majory and they were very fond of their dogs. This may be a substitute to children given that they do not have children together but anyways if anyone asked why you haven’t had kids yet, tell them about the Boxhalls and their doggos 🐶

Harold Lowe: he was a hobby artist who works with watercolours, as well as wood carvings. This may come across as surprising but you should not be surprised given that his father was an artist. There are a few of Harold’s drawings exists today, including a sketch of Titanic (in which he messed up with the funnels). Oh yes, he was also in the church choir as well when he was young.

James Moody: During his South American runs, he would sometimes flirt with female passengers with his very patchy Spanish and well, sometimes he just dropped in some swear words by accident. Yeah, in case you wondered, he’s not that shy as you thought after watching Ed’s portrayal of our daring Jim in the 1997 movie (the real Jim was quite cheeky actually).

Hugh McElroy: as the ship’s purser, he was there to take care of passengers’ needs (like he’s basically the “manager”). From parrot-tending (yes, and he trained the parrot to do morse code) to organising marriage ceremonies for runaway couples, he’s there to try to help. And as a result, he was a very popular man on the ship and passengers were honoured to share a table with him.

Sources:

TitanicOfficers.com

@/Melissafairlady on tiktok (the revenge ‘stache fact)

Encyclopaedia Titanica forum (the discussion thread on Moody)

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redhairedwolfwitch · 2 years

Text

Canvases are Hard to Burn (2) - Past!Amelia Shepherd x DeLuca!Sis!Reader, Andy Herrera x DeLuca!Sis!Reader - Station 19/Grey's

Part 1

Summary: Andy isn't sure what to do after, but one thing is for sure, she doesn't know her label, but she enjoyed her night with you, but just who are you? Whereas, you're going down memory lane.

Request: hey 💓 could you write a deluca!sister x amelia fic where r is a cheeky italian which puts amelia in gay panic mode x

A/n: I plan on adding onto the Amelia x R past, but it's an old idea that @nnightskiess and I talked about last year... time flies...

A/n: this diverts from canon like a curly wurly chocolate bar, also mentions a one night stand, there's no smut but it's alluded to, so, read at your own risk, and don't ask me where this happens in canon, because that will give me another headache:)

Previously...

"I went out last night, met someone, and she was amazing, she was kind, considerate, checked up on me... and I had no clue what I was doing was any good, but if it was horrible... then this girl was really nice to not make fun of me. Or she was great at faking it."

"Wait, wait, a girl? Since when, and you, you liked it, and her?" Maya began to smile, as Andy rolled her eyes, whacking Maya on the arm.

"Shut up. Okay. Let's just say, I was for sure not faking it, she was great. I don't really know what I am, I don't have a label, but it was great, to be with a woman, it was so great-" Andy was cut off as the alarms began to go, calling for Station 19 to head out.

///

"You're painting again? No more, what did you call it, artists block?" Carina remembered, her eyes on the paint on your hands before spotting a little on your face too.

"I was inspired." You smiled, letting out a squeak as Carina began to wipe at your face with a napkin.

///

"You're painting again?" Your brother asked as you and your siblings got situated outside of Grey Sloan to eat lunch.

"Like I told Carina, I was inspired." You replied, taking a bite of your lunch as your sister smirked.

"It was a girl, which is good because..." Carina trailed off as Andrew nudged her, gesturing to the incoming.

"Y/n... don't look now, but Doctor Shepherd-" Andrew began, leaving you to shove the rest of your lunch in your mouth and grab your belongings hurriedly, not noticing one of the tubes of paint slip out until you were hurrying away from Grey Sloan, leaving Andrew to pick up the paint with a sigh.

"Hi, Doctor DeLuca, DeLuca, was that Y/n that I just saw?" Amelia enquired, leaving Carina to stare at her with a slight glare, whilst your brother let out a hum.

"She had an art emergency and had to go."

///

You were back at your place when the frustration set in, and the lashing out began, a bedside table from your spare room sliding to the side to reveal your secret.

The art you'd made before your artist's block, before you were used, before it was revealed Amelia only had sex with you whilst in a rough patch with Link, and now they were having a baby together. Carina knew Amelia had an interest in you, she knew Amelia had kissed you, and then she spotted the pregnancy symptoms with Amelia and how she went to Link, and you were sat in your studio, staring at a blank canvas.

Because all of the canvases before that were neuroscience based, including sketches of brain scans.

You'd asked Carina to get rid of them, you didn't care how, you said, but now, there was a small watercolour canvas of synaptic transmission staring at you.

A tear dripped down your face, memories flickering in your mind.

/// Flashback ///

"I have to meet my sister for lunch." Carina had declared, about to walk away when Amelia spoke.

"I'll walk with you, I'm headed that way anyway." She replied, pausing as you came into view, sat sketching in the cafeteria.

Carina hadn't noticed Amelia's intrigue with you until she heard a phrase that had her wanting to drag you from the cafeteria.

"I'll be your muse, any time."

You should have known that Amelia could be intense and passionate with her conversations, and you hadn't assumed she was interested in you from the get-go. In fact, you just assumed she was a straight woman interested in art.

Carina knew better, plus your older sister had a better gaydar than you and Andrea, it seemed.

At first, Amelia was inspiration for your art, she offered to be your muse but you dove in deeper than figurative art, you dove into her speciality too. Thus resulting in an unnecessary amount of artistic brain scans that had your siblings rolling their eyes. Andrea said it was because you didn't focus on his future speciality, since he wasn't during neuro, but Carina knew better, once again.

It was Amelia who kissed you. You didn't know about Owen, besides he had been with your sister at one point but you had playfully gagged when your sister tried to lecture you about casual sex. But the key thing here was, you didn't know about Link, or Amelia's relationship with Link, and the kiss was during a rough patch.

Amelia had turned up on your doorstep one night, she'd taken you by surprise, so your pyjamas were the first thing Amelia took in as she looked you up and down, kissing you impulsively as you stepped backwards inside.

Amelia was still sleeping when you woke up for a moment. Brushing a piece behind her ear, your little finger brushed over her cheekbone before you fell back to sleep.

You woke up with your hand outstretched, resting on an empty bed.

Carina couldn't tell you that Amelia was pregnant, but she could let you down slowly, and tell you about Atticus Lincoln at Grey Sloan, before Amelia strung you along anymore, and broke you. You were the little angel of the family, Angioletta. It was a name you'd slowly squeezed out of conversations, but in every group chat you had with your siblings, it was your nickname.

"So, she used me? To, to, be a distraction, to, to, I don't, I can't, it needs to go, all of it!" Your shock drifted to sadness, then rage, as you hurried towards the spare room, removing art piece after art piece inspired by Amelia Shepherd from your house.

Carina tried to talk to you, but all that left your mouth was fragmented Italian, sobs, and finally, once the canvases were on the porch for Carina to get rid of however she wanted to (you didn't care), you let out a phrase that had Carina pulling you into her arms.

"I liked her, I liked her and she just used me."

/// Back to the Present ///

Staring at the canvas that was now sat on your coffee table, you reached for your phone, staring at the familiar lockscreen of you and your siblings before entering your passcode and pressing call on your sister's contact.

You were familiar with voicemail, since you usually assumed your sister was either busy with Maya, or delivering a baby as an OB/GYN. Leaving a message about finding another canvas that you needed to get rid of, you raised an eyebrow at the knock at the door.

Opening the door, your eyes widened slightly before you smiled a little, "ciao, fiamma."

Andy Herrera stammered for a moment before smiling, "hi, are you free?"

/// Andy's POV - earlier on in the day ///

She knew there was something about you that felt different than her short-lasted thing with Sullivan. He felt electric, but it fritzed out. You were grounding, you gave her a weird sense of peace she hadn't felt with anyone else. You were confident, but there was a shyness underneath, she could tell you were afraid of being used again.

"So she called you... what was it again?" Maya asked as Station 19 returned from a call.

"Uh, fiamma, it's Italian." Andy replied, raising an eyebrow as Maya gave her an expectant look.

"What? Just because you have your hot Italian doctor girlfriend... and speak of the devil!" Andy retorted, huffing at the irony as Maya embraced the newly arrived Carina.

"So, Andy, I overheard you found an Italian lover?" Carina began, leaving Andy to try reply but her jaw dropped instead.

"Called me fiamma..." Andy managed to spit out before trying to escape and hop in the shower before another call.

"Ah, fiamma, well whoever your lover is, they basically called you fiery." Carina replied as Maya's jaw dropped in realisation.

"Well, they weren't totally wrong, right?"

"I'm gonna go, get a shower..." Andy mumbled, hearing the back end of Maya and Carina's conversation before she got to the locker room.

"Lunch with my baby brother and angioletta of a baby sister was okay, by the way, I know you haven't met them yet."

"What does angioletta mean?" Maya enquired, leaving Andy to pause as she listened for the meaning of the Italian word.

"Little angel." Carina smiled, resting her hands on Maya's hips as she leaned in for a kiss.

/// Back to the present, your place ///

"I'd call you some Italian name in response, but I only know fiamma, and angioletta..." Andy admitted as you let her inside, taking a sip of your drink as Andy spoke.

All it took was hearing angioletta for you to spit your drink, covering your face as Andy's eyes widened.

"Whoah, you okay?"

"Sorry, sorry! It's just, my sister calls me angioletta, fiamma." You explained, wiping your face with a piece of kitchen towel before drying where you had spat your drink.

Andy frowned as she processed what you just said, her jaw clenched as she stared at you, eyes glancing over your features.

Could it be?

///

Tags: @immathinkerg

#andy herrera x reader #andy herrera imagine #station 19 x reader #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd imagine #grey's anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy imagine #station 19 imagine #station 19 #grey's anatomy #andy herrera #amelia shepherd #carina deluca x sister!reader #carina deluca #andrew deluca #andrew deluca x sister!reader #deluca!reader

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unethicalmorals · 4 days

Note

Tumblr crashed on me while I was writing all this and I was like 5 paragraphs in🫠

Anyways-

I'M SO CURIOUS ABOUT THE SCARS ON BISHOPS FACE YOU HAVE NO IDEA. THE ONLY REASON I DON'T HASSLE YOU ABOUT IS CUZ I KNOW YOU'LL JUST GO ":)" YOU CHEEKY SHIT (I love you still though <3)

MAX GRRRRRR I AWAIT YOUR RETURN MY BELOVED

TRANS ORANGE YEAAAH 🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

When it comes to writing orange honestly I'd suggest you approach it the same way you'd approach writing smut for any other character. It would depend on whether or not she's had bottom surgery obvi, but overall she shouldn't be treated very differently from other characters! At most someone might be surprised if she whips out her dick (Then again, Lethal Company takes place in the 2500's, people probably don't care as much by then [hopefully])

TALL ROBIN YOU'RE REAL TO ME‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

God Wrench my fave piece of shit (I'M FUCKIN LYING EVERYTIME I SAY I HATE WRENCH...... I'M A FRAUD, HE'S TO FUNNY FOR ME TO GENUINELY DISLIKE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 PLUS HE'S LITERALLY ME SOMETIMES I CANNOT DENY WE HAVE SIMILARITIES)

ALSO I *****SEE***** THAT LITTLE SKETCH OF RABBIT AND DOVE KISSING. I AM LOOKING *DIRECTLY* AT IT👁👁👁👁

HYBRID AU HYBRID AU GRRRRRR

I keep putting your little guys in situations..... I love them too much💚🧡❤️🤍🖤🩷🧡 (there's like 2 other au's I have in mind that I haven't even talked about yet)

Hybrid au Bishcky(?) Is soooooo so good to me because i think Bishop is like, 10x worse at acting like he isn't into Lucky. He is so obvious it's painful for other people to watch

You know how cats rub themselves against you in order to scent mark you? Bishop keeps doing that to Lucky, all the damn time. Whether it be making sure to rub up against Lucky when they pass by each other, lending him his clothes every chance he gets, or just blatantly rubbing his face up against Lucky (Lucky hate-Loves the face rubbing. It's cute until Bishop runs his face against Lucky's and then Lucky is painfully reminded about Bishop's beard) Lucky just assumes this is a weird way Cat people express their friendship towards others (He does not notice that Bishop does this to exclusively him)

Lucky will find out eventually, and when Bishop is confronted about it he becomes worlds #1 gaslighter like HELL he'd admit to what is essentially putting a big sign on Lucky that screams "THIS IS MY BOYFRIEND" To literally everyone within radius

Lucky doesn't really mind though, he's flattered honestly, and maybe a bit flustered too

Though.... it is a bit rude for Bishop to just leave his smell all over Lucky without even telling Lucky about it first, practically claiming him.... it's only fair if Lucky gets to "Claim" him as well in his own way, right?👀

(I'M JUST SAYING...... GROWER LUCKY + KNOT??????? I'M GOING CRAZY)

(Thinking about the knot process..... Lucky holding Bishop so so close to him as he gently grinds into him.... giving Bishop sweet praise [I saw the damn Bishop likes praise comment] and cuddling him and kissing him as he waits for his knot to come undone.... Bishop takes him so well- *EXLPODES*)

ALSO I SAW THAT BISHOP LIKES CUDDLES COMMENT.... FROTHING AT THE DAMN MOUTH GRRRRRRR

Thinking thinking thinking about Lucky and Bishop entangled in one another on a cold night, Lucky having his tail draped across the both of them while Bishop purrs so loud Lucky can feel the vibrations in the taller man's chest.... UGHH💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚

And Lucky being a Squirrel-Dog (Squog💀) is so fun because I think he'd have to keep himself from getting to excited while in public..... the amount of times he's accidentally knocked tables over because his big-ass tail started wagging is too many times to count and each time is more embarrassing than the last😭😭😭

Also thinking very heavily about the Avians and wing preening

Avian wings are sensitive, especially at the base. Most of them only ever let people they trust preen their wings, let alone touch them in the first place

Dove obviously let's Rabbit take care of her wings. It's one of the rare moments you'll find Rabbit so gentle and focused on her task, delicately realigning her feathers, removing any dirt or grime caught up in there. Rabbit likes to tease Dove on occasion, gently rubbing the base of her wing, feeling how Dive shivers under her touch, letting out the faintest of moans 🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️

Robin loves Wrench.... she really does.... but oh my god she does not trust that guy to preen her wings, at least not before excessive training. If Robin needs her wings looked after she will most likely go to Lucky (his hands are so small! He's so precise with his work) and if not Lucky she'll go to Max or Captain 1.0 (All 3 of them often help Robin with her wings on hangout days)

The first time Robin finally trusted Wrench with her wings he was so nervous! He tried to play it off he really did, but Robin was able to see right through him, and honestly she found it cute. Wrench honestly did a good job his first time! He's not as good as Lucky, but with more practice he'll get there eventually!

Captain almost never gets his wings preened. He's not keen on asking for help, and he doesn't fly around that much anyways. So it's fine. Probably.

That's a lie it's NOT FINE‼️‼️‼️‼️ Dove was the one who noticed that Captain had blood feathers. BLOOD FEATHERS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ the moment she spotted them she was dragging Captain back to her house and forcing that man to sit his ass DOWN so she can fix up his wings

It takes a loooooong time since Captains wings are so big, but she eventually cleans him up properly. It becomes a routine for them (reluctantly on Captains part), Captain comes over to Dove and Rabbits and allows Dove to clean up his wings, making sure he doesn't get any infections. Robin eventually joins in to quicken the process for all of them

Pink wants to preen Captains wings SO FUCKING BAD IT MAKES HIM LOOK STUPID‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ FUCK

He promises he won't purposely touch the base of Captains wings he pinkie swears that he won't poke and prod at him in all the right places that'll get Captain riled up he SWEARS on his life he won't lean in and kiss the base of Captains wings just to see how he reacts HE SWEARS HE SWEARS HE CAN BE TRUSTED TO PREEN CAPTAINS WINGS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GOD FUCK-

DIVERSITY WIN!!!!! THE ASSHOLE CREWMATE IS NONBINARY🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 (also they're kinda uhhhhhhh👀👀👀👀👀 errmmmmmmm👁👁👁👁👁 I am certainly looking at Jay)

Also the Killer Lucky au is coming along👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽 turns out there's uhm... a LOT more that I'm writing down than I originally intended😅😅😅 (I'm basically making a fanfic at this point, this is the first time I've had to write something down in the notes app before I sent it to ya XD)

-Watcher

NIGHTMARE SCENARIO OHNOO‼️‼️‼️ 😭😭

Yeah :)

I have to force myself to not think about Max and the rest of the old crew (the other two that fill out the crew,,, ahgrrgrrrgr) Obviously I am not doing a very good job at that 😌🤭

AHH THANKS!!! 🧡🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵🧡

I'm already updating the height chart just for her✍️😌

Wrench just has that undeniable rizz that makes everyone love him hasjdknl; ((I've accidentally made Wrench incredibly relatable - I see this as an absolute win!!)

👁👁 My little yuri magma sketch? 👁👁

❤️🤍❤️🤍(Seconds away from smooching~)❤️🤍❤️🤍

ALSO THIS ONE IS FROM BY FRIEND!!!

Anyway-- I love the Domestic AU and the Hybrid AU with all my heart,, oughhh they are so happy 🥺🥺🥺 Just a bunny rabbit and her birdie~ 💖

Please keep putting them in situations,,, I'm in love,,, 🥺 I want to write a oneshot or two so bad-- (LOOKING- PATIENTLY WAITING- LOOKING- LOOKING THROUGH THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE--)

Oh god, this fool can't NOT be obvious about it! I don't think he knows the word subtle,, (Maybe Lucky just makes him go-- 👀👀)

SCREAMING AND CLAWING AT THE CARPET AHGRRR!!! Have I told you how much I love your mind?? Because oh my god,, 🥺🥺 Kitty Bishop rubbing his face all over Lucky,,, oughhh-- (the feel of beards can be so very hit or miss sometimes 😔) HE DOESN'T NOTICE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ OH MY GODD ‼️‼️‼️‼️ Oh, Lucky,, 🧡🧡🧡

I'm giggling so much with a big smile on my face reading this,, (I keep reading this ask a lot,,, ggrrr) 💞💞💞

Bishop can try,, he'll be great at it too until Lucky pushes just a little bit more,, he won't need to say anything when his face is already giving away the answer~

(Grower Lucky + Knot is an insane combo and it makes me weak,,)

👀👀 I am looking,,, incredibly,,, disrespectfully👀👀 💥🧡💥💚💥🧡💥💚💥🧡💥💚💥🧡💥💚💥🧡

BANGING MY FISTS AGAINST MY DESK, HNUHNBJyhu7 ohmygoddd,,,, WATCHER YOUR MIND--- RHGRJRR ‼️‼️‼️‼️ LOVE LOVELOVE BITING BITING (affectionate) BITING BITING 💞

Lucky's big-ass squog 💀 tail knocking over anything and everything is fucking hilarious 😂 Poor guy can't catch a break 🧡🧡🧡

👁👁 Avian wing preening 👁👁

Dove and Rabbit being so gentle and soft with each other,,, OUGHHHHRGRGRG GR!!!! THESE TWO,,, ‼️‼️ ❤️🤍

Wrench would try his best for her,,, which is unfortunately NOT that great 😶😶😶 but at least it's not too bad,,, (Robin needs to put this man through a wing-preening boot camp)

Also-- the crews hanging out together,,,, ahhhh 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 They are all friends!!! They are all taking care of each other!! <3

CAPTAIN IGNORING TAKING CARE OF HIMSELF AHGRGRGRG!!! (I am actively exploding reading everything here,, I keep coming back to read and I just explode again 💥💞💝💞💥💞💝💞💥) AND BLOOD FEATHERS?? NO NO NO!! I'm so happy Dove is dragging this oversized bird brain and getting him some much-needed help!! (Imagining Dove dragging Captain while ranting about how important it is to preen the wings and practice self-care,,, she's so small compared to Captain that it's actually comical <3)

WE ALL KNOW PINK IS UP TO NO GOOD, ESPECIALLY WHEN HE'S ALLOWED TO BE SO CLOSE TO CAPTAIN-- HIS HEART IS HAMMERING SO FAST,, HE'S SO EXCITED!!

🎉🎉DIVERSITY WIN!!🎉🎉 (👁👁 Porsha's designs are so so good,, hehjeehe 👁👁)

Waiting so, so, SO patiently 😌 I'm over here sitting on my hands, kicking my legs in the air and swing from side-to-side 🤭🤭 I AM SO SO SO EXCITED WHEN YOU'RE READY TO SHARE IT AHGRGR 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

#ask #watcher #tsitd #hybrid au

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fruit-of-infidelity · 8 months

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Somehow, Scarlett made her way into Ryuuto’s house. Maybe the few black feathers under the open window was enough of a clue… However, she spotted him earlier than expected, his silhouette sitting on an armchair (reading? Sketching? Pondering?) with his back facing her forced her to freeze in place for a whole second, but she couldn’t back away now!

And so, assuming he already felt her presence anyway –either by instinct or by her perfume–, she simply walked over to him. Quickly. Soon enough, a pair of gloved hands covered the Vampire’s eyes from behind, “...hello~” the soft voice of the redhead Ghoul greeted him, “ha~ppy birthday~ Did you miss me? Well, you don’t get to see me just yet—” Admittedly, there was something she ultimately regretted bringing along, but it was too late to get rid of. In the meantime, she gently but firmly covered his sight from her spot behind the seat, trying to add some mystery while she still could.

“... it is a little embarrassing. I haven’t come bearing gifts this time, but… you see, the bakery was closed, I don’t know how to cook, there’s no way I’d bring a whole musical instrument all the way here by myself to play something, and—… sigh. Gifts are getting harder and harder to make, and it’s all your fault.”

Despite the pouty tone of her ramble, there was a little disappointment hidden in that sigh, directed to herself for the most part, of course. Nevertheless, she quickly recovered. The hands that held his face tilted his head back just as gently, enough to ensure that her eyes would be right above his when she finally allowed him to see again.

“...But I won’t let that stop me from trying. So, I thought…” looking into an upside down version of Ryuuto’s green hues, she offered a cheeky smile, “...what if I spoiled you myself today~? You get to choose how, but don’t make me regret this and take too much advantage of my special gift, okay? It so happens to be something I rarely do for anyone, as well... fufu, so? Do we have a deal? Or should I come back tomorrow with a cinnamon roll instead?”

Her hands slowly lowered to rest on his shoulders. Her own hair, despite her attempts, did not completely hide or exhibit the particular choker she decided to wear for that occasion...

[ Ryuuto's head lifted as he sensed her movement. Dropping by without so much as a warning? How inconsiderate~. Still, his patience served him well; As she covered his gaze, in anticipation of what was to come next, a smile snuck upon his lips. ]

"I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me."

[ Despite this taunt, he didn't interrupt her further as she spoke thereafter. Instead, he was willing to sit back and let her explain herself, and this surprise visit. There was oh-so many quibs that danced on the tip of his tongues at her excuses, but he repressed his desire to be a complete pain-in-the-ass, and - instead - found himself without any need to speak as he was directed to gaze into those all-too-familiar purple eyes. ]

"Ambitious~. You think you can spoil me... all on your lonesome? I'm a hard man to please, you do realise? Fufufu."

[ His eyes flickered down to that choker the very moment she let it come into view, and he drew in a breath. Not because he needed to breathe, oh no... But something about the sight before him suddenly urged it from him. ]

"You know, I rarely say no to a cinnamon roll..."

[ Biting at his bottom lip oh-so softly, pretending to contemplate her offer - although he doubted he was fooling her - he finally found just the right words to answer her. ]

"But, I suppose that depends on how you taste."

#(( IM SO SORRY ROX AAAA #(( finally got around to answering this godly asks ksdhfkfhd #(( no pressure to reply at all or whenever but #(( all these birthday asks really had me wanting to interact with ryuuto SO bad.#(( i miss him and feel like i can suddenly write him a lot better after that weird unexpected break ;-;#sakamaki ryuuto #ryuuto sakamaki #ask #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers oc #dialovers #kindan-no-kanojo #scarlett wakahisa

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rpf-bat · 11 months

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samy/niko and no. 9 please 🙏🏻💜

and happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈✨️

Happy Pride, Alex! 🌈 I almost didn't recognize you, with your new url and pfp :0

I feel like something....bad… must've happened while I was away? But at this point, I'm kind of afraid to ask 😅

Anyway! Here's 740 words worth of Samy pining.

9. “Fine, you can use me as a pillow.”

Samy stood in the middle of Helsinki Central Station, trying to look nonchalant. He definitely hadn’t spent twenty minutes debating which earrings he should wear today, and he certainly hadn’t splashed on more cologne than normal. Because this was not a date. He was just accompanying his bro to the tattoo parlor.

“Hey!” called out a familiar voice, and he turned towards the sound.

“Were you waiting long?” Niko grinned.

“Nah,” Samy shrugged. He absolutely had not arrived half an hour early, with butterflies in his stomach.

“Oh, here’s the train,” Niko noticed. “Perfect timing.”

He boarded the train car, and Samy quickly followed him. They sat down beside each other.

There weren’t a lot of passengers onboard. It was only eight o’clock.

“….Nice glasses,” Samy said awkwardly, after a moment.

“Oh, thank you,” Niko smiled. “I normally just use my contacts, but lately I’ve been wearing these more.”

“It, uh, it suits you,” Samy nodded. He wasn’t sure what his deal was today. Normally, he was anything but shy.

Chill out, he warned himself.

“So,” he asked, finally finding his words. “What are you getting done today?”

“It’s going to be a big sleeve this time, on my right arm,” Niko explained.

“Oh, wow!” Samy’s eyes widened. “Nice. It’s about time you filled up your right side. It was looking so blank and sad compared to your left.”

“Hey, not everyone gets new tattoos as often as you,” Niko laughed. “Do you even have any room left on your body for more?”

“Yeah, I’ve still got some space on my legs,” Samy replied. “I was thinking of getting a little something on my knee, while you’re doing yours.”

“What kind of design?” Niko asked curiously.

“Not sure yet,” Samy confessed. “I think their new apprentice has a flash sheet on the wall. I’ll have to take a look at it. What about you?”

“So, I’m going to get an astronaut,” Niko revealed. “But, he’s going to be like, swimming in the sea. And there’s going to be a space whale behind him.”

“A space whale?” Samy repeated, giggling.

“Don’t knock it until you see it!” Niko insisted, turning red. “I swear, the sketch the artist did looks cool as fuck.”

“Well, in that case,” Samy smiled, “I can’t wait to see it.”

“I just wish I hadn’t scheduled the appointment, so fucking early in the morning,” Niko yawned. “I was up late as hell last night.”

“Oh really?” Samy blinked. “Doing what?”

“I was in the studio with the guys,” Niko explained.

“Oh, you too, huh?” Samy raised an eyebrow. “You guys are working on what - your fifth album?”

“That’s right,” Niko nodded.

It didn’t seem like all that long ago, that Samy (and the rest of his band) had been touring with Niko, promoting the fourth Blind Channel album. But, when he thought about it, he realized that it had already been a year.

“..And you guys are working on your seventh album, right?” Niko asked, pulling Samy out of his reminiscing.

“Yeah, we are,” Samy mumbled. He still wished they’d been able to find an artist in Poland, to give them matching end-of-tour tattoos.

“Fuck,” Niko swore. “I’m worried I’m gonna fall asleep in the middle of my appointment. I could really use a nap.”

“Fine,” Samy suggested, with a sly smile. “You can use me as a pillow.”

“…You sure?” Niko hesitated.

“Totally!” Samy said brightly.

He’d expected that Niko would just lean his head against his shoulder. Instead, his cheeks grew hot, when Niko laid down across his lap.

The cheeky little shortstack fell asleep almost immediately. Dammit…The back of Niko’s neck was so warm against his thighs.

Samy glanced around, suddenly feeling self conscious. They were in public, after all.

But, when he looked down at Niko’s peacefully sleeping face, he simply couldn’t help himself. He ran his tattooed fingers through the shorter man’s long, brown hair.

“….Is that your boyfriend?”

“…Huh?!” Samy snatched his hand back, when he realized the old woman sitting across from them had asked him a question.

She stared at him, waiting for an answer.

“…Yeah,” Samy replied. He wasn’t sure why he had chosen to lie. Maybe because it was weird as fuck to stroke an unconscious person’s hair, if you were just friends?

“That’s nice,” the woman smiled, surprisingly open-minded.

Fuck, Samy thought with a frown. I really wish I was telling her the truth.

#blind channel rpf #lost society rpf #samy elbanna x niko vilhelm #everybody knows these are my two favorite dudes #but this is my first time writing them together so #thank you for the prompt!

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sharkneto · 1 year

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73 for the wrapped game. Five vs his environment 🤠

Our cheeky little ruse like we weren't talking about this prompt/result last night when I was supposed to be going to bed ;) But tis for you, friend.

Spotify Wrapped writing prompt game

#73 is No Glory in the West - Orville Peck, which makes me think of, well, the West and that means cowboys and cowboys means horses and horses means Five vs his greatest enemy. So, some backstory for that alluded to moment in the Horse Fic -

cw horse death

Five frowns down at the problem.

Un-fucking-believable.

He’s been in some pinches. Been in some ridiculous situations, between his half-hazy memories of the Academy days and the much clearer memories of the past couple years working for the Commission.

This one might take the goddamn cake, though.

“No,” he tells the horse he’s staring down at, like that’s going to fix its obviously broken leg. It snorts at him, brown side heaving as its eye rolls. It thrashes a little, whether in pain or in a sad attempt to get up on its three functional legs, he isn’t sure.

What he is sure about is that he is still miles from the podunk little town his target is in. He pulls her picture from his pocket, a careful sketch made by the Analytics department because she’s not a person important enough to have gotten her picture taken by an actual camera. What she needs to die for he’s not really sure, he stopped paying attention to that bit of information long ago, somewhere after his twentieth job. What he does pay attention to is the Where and When and Who, and Analytics only got two of those right on this trip and he knows the Handler’s answer to him trying to contact them about that is a sickly sweet then figure it out, so that’s what he did.

Got the woman’s actual address from some too trusting and loud-mouthed men at the saloon, and then got a horse to ride the goddamn prairie for thirty miles to get to the next goddamn town where she better be. He’s already hours later than the estimated completion time, which isn’t his fault but he’ll get blamed for anyway. Sure, he can teleport. Not thirty goddamn miles, though.

Five sighs again as the horse writhes, graceful neck arching as sweat froths on its dark chestnut hide.

It is a beautiful animal. Dumb and inefficient, but he can appreciate that about it at least. It screams again as its thrashing knocks its bad leg.

He knows the leg is broken, felt the lurch and heard the terrible snap as the horse stepped in a poorly-covered prairie dog hole. Blinked off as it fell, safely out of the way from being crushed and at least with the presence of mind to have grabbed the briefcase with him so he still has a way out of frontier. This won’t be his manifest destiny, no fucking thank you.

He runs a hand over his mustache, the dust that covers every inch of him gritty under his fingers.

There really isn’t anything more he can do. He’s within technical walking distance of whatever that little town is. He has the briefcase, he has his gun, he has a bit of food and water.

There’s nothing he can do for this horse except put it out of its misery.

He’ll have to fill in paperwork for the expended bullet, but he can put up with that if it means not leaving the beast to slowly starve and die an agonizing death in the middle of this nothing. Or a much quicker agonizing death when the coyotes come by it in the night.

If Analytics had only done their goddamn research. Either gotten him the right town or the right date for when she still lived in the first town. But no, so now he’s here fixing their mistake for them and has to deal with this.

No use putting it off. The sun is already dipping low in the sky and he has miles to cover now on his own.

Five sets the briefcase down to pull one of his pistols from its holster. He steps to the animal’s head; it’s stopped thrashing again, is now laying quiet in the dirt and breathing heavily. It looks up at him with its big brown eye, ringed with white.

He grimaces down at it. “Sorry,” he tells it, genuine. It shouldn’t have been with him to begin with. Should have lived to step in a hole a different day.

The bang from the gun echoes through the vast emptiness of the prairie.

Five spends another few seconds staring down at the now-still form. The glassy eye stares back at him, unseeing.

That’s that.

He nods to the horse, not that it cares (now or when it was alive), and then turns to gather up his meager supplies. Not a lot of water, but he’s gone farther with less. Same with the food. The briefcase is going to be a pain in his ass to carry. He is thankful he was able to talk Tailoring down from the ridiculous boots they tried to put him in for this much more sensible pair, and that he wasn’t able to talk them out of the stupid hat he wears; its large brim has been doing good work to keep the sun off his face and neck.

Leaving the horse’s body behind him, Five starts on his way. If he was paying proper attention (he’s always paying proper attention), the horse got him a good seventeen miles before it kicked it. That leaves him with fourteen to go on foot. Not terrible. If he wasn’t getting such a late start, he could do that in a day. As it is, he’ll probably only be able to get six or so done before he’ll have to make camp.

So, he’ll get there tomorrow. Around noon. If he’s lucky, one Emilia Bragshot will be in town doing her shopping. If he’s not, it’s only another couple miles to her farm. Done by late afternoon and back to the Commission in time for dinner.

Not bad.

In the meantime, he has a long way to walk and lots of time to fill with working on the math.

He’s getting close. He can feel it.

Maybe a few hours of walking is just what it needs.

#there is One Important Detail that I hope you all pick up on #re: what five is wearing #but this was fun sail #i dont write canon five as much these days with finishing up jt and i even more rarely write Old Five #tua #number five #five hargreeves #tua fic #the umbrella academy #cw animal death #ficlet

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aggressivelyaverage21 · 4 months

Text

Chapter 16

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

Beatrice starts to breathe a little better. Shannon shows her the art of the Bo, and Beatrice gets to go on her first mission!

“Shan, check it out.” She jutted her chin towards Beatrice, over Shannon’s shoulder. “If the kid were a puppy, her tail would be wagging so hard right now.”

“Stop.” Shannon rolled her eyes, elbowing Mary as she spun slowly. “We’ve already established she’s not a puppy.” Though she was excited to work with Beatrice, the end of moments like these with Mary always felt a little bitter sweet. They were close, had been for years, but things were shifting more between them lately, and Shannon wasn’t sure if it was because of her or something Mary was doing or both. All she knew was that seeing Mary smile, feeling her easy nudges, her warmth as she hovered at Shannon’s side was something she found herself longing for.

Even now as she turned, her shoulder came to rest against the cap of Mary’s shoulder. That warmth radiating between them so easily, like they were charged in some way, without the need of anything to conduct the energy between them. As Shannon turned a smile spread into something a little more cheeky as she took in a very excited-looking Beatrice. “Okay, I see your point.”

“She’s adorable.”

“Mary.”

“You’re both adorable.”

Shannon’s stomach flipped at the softness in Mary’s eyes. Shannon knew Mary was teasing her. She knew it, but she also felt like it was more than that. A kind of more that Shannon wasn’t sure she should really be entertaining. Especially not now when she needed to focus on teaching Beatrice. “Mary.”

“Have fun with your puppy, Sister Adorable. I’ll see you later.”

“Mary!” Shannon called after her, but it was no use. Mary was walking away, her shoulders shaking as she laughed at Shannon’s expense. Shannon breathed deep through her nose as she tried to push the heat pooling in her cheeks down. Hopefully Beatrice wouldn’t notice the blush. It wasn’t like Mary had pinched her cheek or anything like that, but she may as well have, the way Shannon felt so affected by the compliment… or at least she thought it was meant as a compliment. She hoped anyway.

Shannon shook her head quickly as Beatrice approached slowly, trying to erase those surly not very nun-like thoughts from her mind like it was an etch-a-sketch. Lucky for her, Beatrice seemed so taken with the bo staff that her mouth was almost salivating. Her fingers twitched, wanting to reach out but holding in the instinct politely until she was invited. Mary was right, as usual. The kid was adorable when she was excited like this.

“You want to give it a try?” Shannon asks, extending the staff to the young warrior. She remembered how excited she was when she got to try it with Suzanne for the first time, though her mentor’s favorite seemed to be a sword. Shannon always was fascinated with the bo staff when she would watch older material arts movies with her dad. Donetello from the ninja turtles always was her favorite and it always looked so cool.

Beatrice nods and steps to the ring as she lets her fingers wrap easily around the shaft, comfortable to have something familiar in her hand. She takes a moment to feel the weight of it in her palm. It’s different than the competition staff she’d used. So much heavier than the lightweight graphite one Mei had gifted her a couple of weeks before her first competition. That one had been red, and shiny, and flashy in a way that Beatrice never thought she needed to be.

No. This one is much more like the one Mei taught her with. The wood is sturdy in her palm. Thicker. The staff was a little long for her, more for Shannon, but she’d grown up using staff too big for her anyway.

The first trick Mei had shown her was how to spin it around the back of her neck. It had taken Beatrice months to learn it, too stubborn to ask Mei to teach her. She’d just observed as Mei spun it behind the back of her neck just to catch it easily in one hand, continuing the spin. Beatrice had tried and tried, never quite getting it and coming away with tiny yellow bruises on the side of her neck that, if Mei hadn’t known better, she might have taken for hickeys.

Beatrice never asked, but that day Mei showed her how to let the weight of the staff move itself around her neck instead of trying to force it. How to spin with it, how to let the staff’s momentum work for her, how to let it carry on, how to let it flow. It was the first time Beatrice felt natural with something, Mei even said so herself before she had one of the other members of her family’s security detail snap a photo.

It was a photo that Mei cherished. That toothy grinned, freckled cheeked, little thing. Standing so tall (an attempt), so proud. With the staff in her hand, planted next to her like some kind of measuring stick, or a flag. It was at least a foot and a half too tall for her. Her gi was a little crooked, a little too big as well, but her blue belt was tied around her waist. Mei knelt behind her off to the side, holding her by the hips as she smiled too.

Beatrice didn’t know how it had made its way to her, but it had, and she was beyond grateful. The old photo with a white crease in the upper left corner, the edges of it yellowed by fingers. On the back side was a note. “29 SEP 2007, Bumble and her Bo.” a little further beneath it, in much smaller writing, “I’ll always be in your corner, Beatrice - Mei.”

Beatrice hadn’t realized her eyes had closed as Shannon started to talk to her about the staff. Her mentor had faded to little more than comforting background noise as she spoke to the weapon’s name, it’s history. Beatrice let it spin in her palm, practiced. Smooth. It was as comfortable as she had felt Cat’s Cradle since she’d gotten here. The spinning slowed as Beatrice let out a slow breath, letting the momentum of the staff carry the spin around her neck before letting the spin contine in her other palm. It was easy, mindless, as Beatrice smiled, letting the staff work, fluid and confident.

“Of course she knows how to use your fucking weapon.” Mary had reappeared as Shannon watched Beatrice with an intense curiosity. Mary was laughing now, fully and deeply at the shock and elation in Shannon’s eyes at the prospect of having someone like Beatrice to train, to mold into something better than Suzanne had made her.

She’d been waiting for this chance, and here it was. Perfect and eager in front of her.

“Language.” Shannon huffed after Mary who was already walking away again to go lift, waving her arm to dismiss the scold. Shannon hadn’t paid much attention to it anyway, the correction more out of habit than anything else as she was caught watching the young warrior find her rhythm and comfort in the weapon. It wasn’t often Shannon saw Beatrice relax into herself but when it happened, it was like watching a flower unfurl itself from the bud. Slow and natural and everything beautiful about how things should be.

Shannon allowed her protégé a moment to herself and Beatrice took full advantage. Each moment, each easy breath, each subtle move of her hand, she sunk further into the meditation of the form she’d long thought she forgot. It had been years since Beatrice had competed but the sequences of spins and tricks came back almost easier than breathing. Around and around that staff went, over her palm, above her head, changing directions at Beatrice’s will side to side and back again. Over her head. Behind her neck as she spun with it. Behind her back as she bent forward.

It was easy. Mindless. Natural. All the things Beatrice struggled to find since her and Mei had parted ways.

Maybe it should be concerning to her, that the times she felt like this were often associated with a weapon or a skill that so easily could be turned to violence. The staff. The bow. Forms and flows of hand to hand. Was that what she was? Someone who found peace in violence? Maybe it was what she was becoming more the longer she was at the Cradle.

The momentum of the staff spinning, surrounding Beatrice like a protective casing slowed a little as the younger girl seemed to get caught in thought. Shannon felt ready to break the trance. ��Hey Trouble, remember that talk we had about sparring?” Shannon raised her eyebrow, though she was smiling, easy, gentle as she pulled Beatrice from whatever planet she’d transported herself to.

“Sorry, I was just–” getting lost. Getting lost in the way Beatrice used to love, used to wish for. In a way she missed so deeply when she had Mei there to guide her.

“You can have fun with it,” Shannon shook her head, one hand up easily to smoothe over any more apology Beatrice might have. There was no need for it. Not here. Not in finding some solace, or relief from the weight she always saw settled on the girls shoulders. As nice as it was to see, they did have things they needed to work on today. “But do you actually know how to use it?” Shannon winked, teasing, challenging the young warrior in a way. Though the more urgent part of the trainer in her was almost serious.

“Yeah. Yes. I do.”

“Well, prove it,” Shannon smirks as she grabs another one off the rack.

#warrior nun #sister beatrice #save warrior nun #sister shannon #wn #shannon masters #shotgun mary #sister lilith #beatrice no last name #once a rookie #fic: once a rookie #fic: the problem of pain #lilith villaumbrosia #mary delacroix #ocs #mother superion

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ccaptain · 2 months

Text

@daybreakrising: It began with the delivery of flowers to the cavalry captain's office. A selection of blues and reds, a single calla lily and rainbow rose sitting proudly at the centre. The simple card attached had no words, merely a hastily sketched three-headed wolf with a little heart beside it.

His visit itself is not a surprise - they've had this planned for months (the Duke typically needs that long to prepare the Fortress for his absence), but Kaeya is expecting to meet him at the gates of Mondstadt late in the evening. Instead, Wriothesley is waiting for him at his house when he gets home from work, having arrived that afternoon.

The first sight that greets Kaeya upon stepping through the door is a large box adorned in the colours and design he should now be familiar with: a certain chocolatier from Fontaine, whose exquisite (and expensive) treats are the most sought after in the region. This box, however, is three times the size as their standard stock, and contains three times as many chocolates inside. It was, of course, a custom order that he paid an appropriate price for.

Well, if he cannot utterly spoil his beloved on this day of all days, what's the point?

This time, there is a card awaiting him, though its message is short and simple: Check the bedroom.

And, just in case Kaeya has somehow forgotten where his own bedroom is, there is a trail of petals leading right to the door - not rose petals (he felt foolish enough scattering petals in the first place) but windwheels, as a meaningful flower to those of Mondstadt.

Should Kaeya opt to obey the card and open the door beyond, he would find his wolf awaiting him upon a bed equally scattered with petals (rainbow rose, this time), adorned in only half of the tailored suit he intends to wear to their dinner date that evening.

Only half, because he suspects he'll be relieved of it imminently anyway, so he has merely streamlined the process.

the fact that this is a planned day they'll spend together doesn't put the slightest damper on Kaeya's happiness once he receives a very special delivery.

if the delivery person notices the flush around his cheeks and ears, they don't comment on it- verbally. the other knights peeking out of their offices and rooms to watch as what they know being the Duke of Meropide delivers their cavalry captain a very romantic present- the gossips usually flow for days, after.

in their defense- nobody has ever seen their beloved captain Kaeya acting so bashful- nor sport a lover in the ten or so years that they knew him. a little bit of teasing and curiosity is completely normal- after all, they care about their captain, too.

the fresh scent coming from the boquet fills the office, and becomes even more pleasant as they're rested in a large, tacky vase Kaeya specifically bought for this specific purpose, an happy sigh leaving his lips as he plucks the calla lily and a couple of flowers out of the composition to carry home with him- and the doodle note is kissed and tucked in his breastpocket, like every other note that comes with presents for him.

( Lisa, cheeky as always, had seen the peeking of little folded papers in it once- and her comment prompted a proud Kaeya to tell her that his pocket was full of love.

stuffed so full of little notes and doodles from Wriothesley, from Klee, sometimes from his own brother, well... he wasn't lying about it. )

it was a nice surprise- a very good touch of happiness for an extremely good day. Kaeya has a surprise ready in the brewing for his boyfriend too... a devilish, little plan, that he's thankful ( if not a bit impatient, ) about him showing up in the evening- this will give him ample time to work on his gift, too- a gift that he has planned to give his boyfriend for quite a while...

-but when he gets home and almost trips into something laid by the door, he understands that Wriothesley had a change of heart.

there's a gasp of pure delight as Kaeya picks up whatever he almost fell onto- a very familiar box, eye wide and with a certaint difficulty keeping it up with a single hand- so on the table it goes to be opened properly. his supplies of this particular chocolate, the one sent to him by the man that knows him so well, had dwindled considerably- no matter how much economy he tries to handle the treats with.

he firmly believes that the chocolate is cursed: he can't have a morsel without consuming at least three more before he can control himself.

-well, at least it's a sweet curse...

there's almost a purr when he undoes the bow and picks up a chocolate truffle from the enormous box, the taste exploding in his mouth and giving him a rush of pure serotonin. the moan he makes over it is almost pornographic-

-and then he closes the box before the bane of Chocolate Consumption can affect him.

by now, he's aware that Wriothesley must be nearby- perhaps he's hiding to make him a surprise...? perhaps behind a curtain, he inquires, as he studies a shape that isn't here...?

-and then he sees the scattered, red petals leading over his bedroom.

his heart starts hammering against his ribs- not because of an intrusion poking at his paranoia, but because he knows exactly who else has a key to his apartment and could have done this.

a boot is quickly discarded on the floor- and some little jumps to take off the other- and his fluffy cape is discarded over the nearby chair as he strides in the bedroom, mindful of not stepping on the petal-

the wide grin he gives his boyfriend must be as blinding as a star, reflecting on the happiness to see him.

and suddendly, there's no thoughts about a surprise that will have to be postponed- Wriothesley is here, half-dressed and smug about all the preparations he did.

he probably predicted Kaeya's eye lighting up, and the lad tackling him out of happiness too before they properly consume- but just in case he didn't...

well, that's a secondary surprise he receives today.

#daybreakrising #they are so cute and give eachotheR SO MUCH HAPPINESS #IM CHEWING THEM LIKE LICORICE #wrio is so romantic... kaeya will literally perish #HE HAS INFLICTED KAEYA WITH THE CHOCOLATE CONSUMING CURSE

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 2 years

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Hello, could I ask for headcanons of Snake with a s/o who has snakes of their own? Some other characters I would like to include are Cheslock, Violet, Joanne, and Charles Grey please!

absolutely!! this is so cute, I’m sorry Grey is kind of a BUTT in regard to this dfjkldafjkla

but anyway snakes are my favorite animals so I do be VIBING

Just… keep those things away from him, right? There are some things he’s just not fond of, and snakes are one of them. He doesn’t care if his S/O has them, as long as he doesn’t really have to interact with the creatures regularly. It’s not as strong as a fear (the things aren’t ghosts, after all); more he… simply doesn’t care for them.

He’ll give them water to drink or help with baths if (Name) asks, but no way in hell is he going to help with feeding. Even if he liked snakes, he just doesn’t have the stomach for that. He won’t even get as far as trying ― they ask, and he flat-out says that he doesn’t want to. At least he’s good at setting boundaries!

To be clear: if he wakes up to the beasts in his bed or anything along those lines, he will ask his S/O to choose him or them. It’s more about boundaries, again, than anything else. As far as he’s concerned, the bed is not a place for pets, it’s for people. It’s different if (Name), say, asks him to hold the snakes or lets them slither on the carpet in front of the hearth or anything where he knows they’re out and about. He’s fine with that. He just won’t tolerate them nearby, while he’s sleeping and unaware, in the bed. Otherwise he actually handles them very well for someone who’s not a snake person… for a short time, anyway.

Huh… that’s a bit different, innit? Certainly not something you see every day. Luckily, Cheslock is obviously a sucker for the unconventional, which includes pets. So he’s totally well and good with these wiggly little guys, and in fact he really likes them! That said, snakes (and their care, etc.) are something he doesn’t know too much about, so (Name) should expect a good deal of questions to answer and misconceptions to correct. He’s passionate and curious, though, which counts for a lot!

He might be a small bit wary the first few times he holds them, because he’s never really done that before. He likes it, of course; just the idea of getting bitten makes him a little anxious! Thankfully he gets used to handling them fairly quickly. It’s a great way to bond with both them and with his S/O. Plus, he’s not the least bit paranoid about constrictors squeezing him slightly to hang on!

In the future, he’s definitely going to get tattoos dedicated to the snakes, just like he’s got one dedicated to (Name). It’ll probably be like one tattoo on his leg, with all the snakes’ names winding up from his ankle and maybe some scale designs. Hell, he might even be cheeky and get snakebite piercings “in honor of the little buggers!” Don’t let that fool you, he really does care about and enjoy the snakes his darling has made company with.

Breathtaking…! Being into all the weird and strange things, seeing the beauty in places no one else might find it, he’s instantly fascinated. His beloved just keeps getting more and more intriguing, don’t they? These are exotic animals, not the ones he may see all the time like dogs or cats or even birds, for that matter. (Name) found something about them to be drawn in by, which he can undoubtedly appreciate. And, well, he must admit… the snakes are awfully cute.

Sooooooo many drawings of them will be coming practically as soon as he’s introduced to his S/O’s pets. That’s the case with any subject he gets interested in, is that he’s compelled to start drawing them. Artists! It’s endearing, though, to see him just as enthralled to draw the snakes as he is to draw (Name) themself. And he’s so incredibly talented, they’re sure to keep everything forever ― paintings, sketches, etchings, everything, because he works in a variety of mediums and they’re each just as gorgeous as the other.

He’s terribly relaxed about the idea of the snakes crawling on him. Handling them and having them in his lap or draped over his arms or anything like that doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Why should he be at all perturbed by that, really? Not only is he happy to be giving them plenty of warmth, it also takes… quite a bit to faze Gregory Violet. The company is nice, and he also can’t deny that he likes to pet whichever snakes will tolerate that kind of treatment; it’s calming, in a way. If he were just a little less vigilant (or like Edgar), he might fall asleep cuddling with them and (Name).

Oh, that’s… well… well, that’s certainly different! Although he’s heard of people having snakes as pets, he’s never actually known of anyone in real life (in relation to his own life, at least) who’s kept them. Like with many things, he’s quite starry-eyed when it comes to new concepts such as this. He’s been a little sheltered in terms of varied experiences, but thank goodness he’s got an escape in books. It means he’s maybe slightly startled by his S/O’s pets, and not outright terrified. That’s a win, right?

Oh, he loves it when they flick their little tongues out at him!! That means they’re smelling him, which he knows, so he makes sure to never, ever, ever change the kind of soap he uses. This way they can recognize him much more easily and won’t get confused. Plus, a couple of them seem rather keen on slithering into his hair, especially when it’s covering his face, so that’s cause not to switch shampoos either. And their tongues tickle his skin, making him laugh, so he’s never not smiling when he’s with the snakes. Once or twice (Name) has even caught him mirroring the gesture, with the snake sticking their tongue out briefly and Joanne then sticking the tip of his tongue out in return. Cuuuute.

Honestly, he’s excited to have an animal he can actually interact with, without any issues! He’s allergic to pretty much anything with fur, and although that doesn’t stop him from playing with his older sister’s cat, it does make him miserable for hours after. Joanne’s eager to go ahead and ‘adopt’ the snakes after his S/O introduces him, thinking of the creatures as his pets just as much as theirs. As long as the snakes are alright with it and not stressed, he’ll gladly lounge on the couch for hours reading with them in his lap or coiled around his arms. Being lonely has been a constant in his life before things improved, and even now he’s still shy, so… it’s nice to see him happy and peaceful like this.

… Snake play dates??? Oh, yes, most certainly, snake play dates. He loves that his friends and his S/O’s friends can just kind of be together and mess around and be snakes with each other. As long as none of them happen to get frisky with one another, (snakes will be snakes), he knows they’ll all play nice. Ergo, he and (Name) don’t have to worry so much if they happen to want to, well, be alone for a bit. Not to mention, he also doesn’t have to worry about his darling not being supportive of the snakes, because, well, they’ve got scaly buddies of their own! He’s really never been more in love than with someone who also prefers the company of snakes.

Both of them serve as snake babysitters for each other’s snakes, too. They’re happy to do it! Snake’s snakes trust (Name), and (Name)’s snakes trust Snake, so it’s really not that hard. (Name) has exactly zero problems learning all of their little quirks and interacting with them, and Snake can talk to them so it’s not an issue for him in any way. It’s rather sweet to watch them interact with each other’s pets, because it’s so clear the love and care they have. Now it’s like they’ve got one big snake cuddle puddle rather than separate groups; neither of them could possibly be more content with that, of course.

This really is something he’s only dared to dream about. Most of his life he’s been quite aware that most people he might befriend, let alone be with romantically, would probably only tolerate the presence of snakes in their life. But he’s so, so excited that here they are, this wonderful person who actively enjoys the company of these creatures as much as he does! It gives him this almost kind of inner peace knowing that they chose him. There’s someone out there, right here, who thinks in a way that he does, likes some of the things he likes, someone who would rather be with him and his snakes than with someone ‘normal’. He’s just so happy they all found each other, and he takes every opportunity to remind them that this is his dream come true.

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Charles Grey #Cheslock #Gregory #Gregory Violet #Joanne #Joanne Harcourt #Snake #headcanons #romantic #fluff #drama #drama oNLY IN THE CASE OF GREY THE BUTT!!#this is SO WHOLESOME #one hell of a queue

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admiral-mason · 1 year

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You Reap What You Sow - Chapter 8

Genshin Impact SAGAU x Iron Harvest 1920+

Late Night Prototyping

Despite Columbina's lullabies lulling you to sleep, you still somehow managed to wake up in the middle of the night.

Seeing that you were out of bed and not willing to go to sleep again, perhaps it would be a good time to try and find a place to take a shower or bath. You got out of bed, waking your rifthound buddy in the process. The Slugas also powered up upon hearing the rifthound whelp's barks. They saw you and you headpat the eight small entities. Thankfully, your room's walls were soundproof. Otherwise, people near you might have been woken up by now. Oh wait- your room is generally away from other people so it wouldn't have mattered that much.

You also noticed some clothing left for you. Ice blue robes with designs of the seven elements on them.

You entered the ocean-blue door from last night. It looked to be a hot tub, steam still floating out of it. Okay, you didn't expect this to be in Snezhnaya. You took off your clothing and entered the tub of hot water, also noticing a bar of soap to your left.

As soon as you put your foot in though- it was pretty hot. "Whoo! Okay, that's pretty hot!" As soon as you said those words, though, you noticed that some of the steam dissipated and less of it was flowing out now. Perplexed at this, you put your foot back into the hot tub. Now, it was at a temperature just right for you.

You then remembered something from the other books you read the last night. Teyvat always listens to the Divine One and their requests. Ah, now you get it.

You exited the room and came back with your robes. Taking in a more detailed view of the internals of the tub, there was a drain alongside sections where you could seat yourself.

After a good half-hour in that tub, you drained the water and put on your robes, then your coat that William Mason brought you. You slung your Polanian rifle which you left in the corner before bed over your shoulders. Then you had the idea to commit some tomfoolery and spoil the tour of Zapolyarny Palace early.

As you quietly exited your room bringing your eight friends along, you walked down the icy blue hallways of the place, only being lit up by the candle chandeliers held from the ceiling.

You tiptoed as quietly as you could. Yet you still were spotted by someone.

"Your grace, what are you doing up at this hour?" you heard someone whisper-shout. You turned around and saw Sandrone, her facial expression a bit surprised at your presence.

"I couldn't go to sleep and I decided to tour the palace all by myself." You said, a cheeky smile plastered on your face. "Why are you up, Sandrone?"

"I was just about to head to bed." She whispered. "Ah, okay then, I'll let you head to bed." You were about to walk off until she said something. "Wait, your grace. Since both of us are up... perhaps we can have some time to ourselves?" Sandrone walked up to you and smiled, putting her right hand to her heart. "You don't have to- of course, just a suggestion."

"Sure," you replied. "why not, I don't think I'm gonna go to bed anyways." You added, and Sandrone now bore an incredibly happy smile. You could feel her feelings get all giddy inside. "Then let's go!" She whisper-shouted, beckoning you to follow her.

Sandrone's workshop had a lot of metal parts strewn all over the place. A large table and work area were also present, the work area holding a sort of metal ball cockpit of sorts. You looked to your left to find a giant note board of sorts. On it were images depicting rough sketches of Lech Kos' mech. Upon comparing those images to the bits and parts, you deduced that she was trying to recreate Lech's mech from scratch. Your eight little buddies simply just sat on some soft chairs and rested there.

"Excuse me for all the metal all over the area, your grace. I was trying to recreate that gorilla-like machine owned by the one 'Lech Kos' you mentioned yesterday." She said, scratching the back of her head.

"It's fine," you said. "And I know quite a few other machines as well." You practically knew every single mech in Iron Harvest, from the PZM-9 Straznik to the SKS 300 Kaiser. "Maybe I can draw some of them for you?" You asked Sandrone, who softly nodded.

"That would be nice, your grace." She said. You took a random pencil and sheets of paper and sat down on one of the chairs, moving a small table to your area. Then you started to draw some machines, Sandrone walking off to continue to try and recreate Lech's mech.

Firstly, you'd draw a mech that you can actually draw pretty well despite its complicated looks: The Polanian PZM-13 Mocny. It's an artillery mech capable of firing without having to be deployed. It walks around on four legs, the two frontal ones capable of reconfiguring into spikes during its artillery mode for stabilization. The drawbacks of the mech were that it was slow and had terrible durability. It would never survive prolonged frontline combat.

Its cockpit is on the right side of the mech alongside a machine gun turret, and the artillery gun is on the left. You drew the Mocny from its right-side view, grasping the detail of the weird-moving legs pretty well. You also added a human for comparison.

When you were finished, you handed the design to Sandrone.

"What a fascinating machine here. A long-distance surgical striker, it seems." She initially said, already taking a liking to the Mocny. "It can defend itself too- even better. The only thing I would say is to perhaps armor those legs up a bit more, they're quite exposed to the elements in Snezhnaya." She then put the drawing of the Mocny on the wall, adding a note herself: Review design later; lots of potentials.

You then got to work on drawing another mech: The M-19 Knox, also from its right-side view (it's a symmetrical design though). This Usonian mech is based on the black widow spider and walks on a slim chassis using four small legs. It carries a large number of armaments on it as well. The midsection was entirely dedicated to dual rocket pods and twin machine guns, while the top section held four medium cannons, a singular heavy cannon, and two side light cannons.

You were a bit skeptical of this design. Not only is it going to lack ammunition for the weaponry on board, but it's also possibly prone to tipping over due to the concerning chassis the weapons are mounted on. Worst of all, it also isn't the most durable mech as well, although it's certainly more durable than the Mocny. Oh, it's also quite tall for a mech, and it needs a crew of three (one person drives in the chassis, another person works the rocket section in the middle, and the last person works the entire top section).

Sandrone seemed to evoke your thoughts on this. "Whoever designed this is certainly a gun fanatic; if only they managed to make a better chassis for this machine. And judging from the durability, this seems like a more fire-supportive machine compared to a frontline combat walker."

Sandrone put your Knox drawing next to the Mocny's. She wrote the note Notable glaring flaws; if fixed, the machine might be incredibly powerful. Now you were going to draw a mech that might piss her off: the M-8 Attucks, another Usonian creation.

The M-8 Attucks literally defies all realism and logic. Firstly, it's lower than an entire human with an extremely cramped and unviable cockpit/control room. Secondly, it has no space for an engine or ammo compartment whatsoever because all it carries is three giant cannons. The Attucks also has an inadequate range for an artillery unit, and as such is practically relegated to the niche role of surprise attacks.

Despite its flaws, however, the Attucks is a fairly simple design to draw. From the right-side view, all one will see is a bunch of exhausts. The control room is on the left side and you can't see it from the right. Goes to show how cramped this design would be.

You handed it over to Sandrone and she visibly furrowed her eyebrows. "Not to insult your drawing skills, your grace, because I'm not..." She paused, before raising her tone of voice in a slight bit of yelling. "But who had the right mind to create something like this?! This design is not only impossible unless you allowed it to defy realism, but it's also inhumane! I cannot imagine those who have to drive this thing... their bodies must feel so terrible..."

Sandrone put the design next to the Knox and once again wrote a note: Make design better for those who have to pilot this abomination!

You drew up more designs as she kept trying to tinker with her own iteration of Lech Kos' mech. She was particularly impressed with the Sd. KS 49 Grimbart, the MWF 28 Stiefmutter, and the SKS 300 Kaiser. The Grimbart had a multi-barrel rotary machine gun, which is cutting-edge, even for Fatui technology. The Stiefmutter could produce its own weapons, similarly to that of a Cicin Mage. Except now, it's larger. And more explosive. And lastly, the Kaiser was an intimidating war machine in itself. Just one would send chills up anyone's spine in Teyvat.

Throughout the hours and time she spent tinkering with her machinery, she grew more tired. By the time you showed her the PZM-9 Straznik, she simply said: "It's fine. Legs need some work though" in a very tired tone.

Eventually, Sandrone ended up falling asleep over your right shoulder while you were sitting on her couch without even noticing. A second later, when she realized what she had done, she profusely tried apologizing to you.

"Your grace, I am so sorry for what I tried-" You just put her over your shoulder again, preventing her from falling over using your left arm. A silent implication that you practically gave her the 'go-ahead' to do this. She simply leaned into your touch, smiling as she snored softly. You did this because it felt nice, to be in a position like this after being having yourself get chased all over the world.

"Your grace-" An Electro Cicin Mage said as she opened the door to Sandrone's workshop, stopping herself when she noticed you.

"...I'll leave you two be for now." She closed the door as you just stared at Sandrone's sleeping body.

Genshin Impact is owned by miHoYo. Iron Harvest 1920+ is owned by Jakub Różalski and KING Art Games.

#sagau #genshin impact #genshin sagau #iron harvest #iron harvest x genshin impact

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