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ghost-bxrd · 27 days

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I beg of you, more selkie Jason please 🥺. You hc about lil pup Jason saving dick was adorable. I need more, respectfully.

Gladly 💚💚

Jason retreats to the cave pools whenever he’s sacred/insecure and doesn’t resurface (apart for the occasional breath) for a long while. The first time it happens post finding out about his selkie heritage, Bruce thinks Jason must be sick and calls several vets and Leslie to cover the range of both human and seal diseases

Dick loves cuddling with Jason when he’s in his seal form (pretty sure I mentioned this before but it bears repeating ksksks)

One time when Dick is sad Jason looks like he bit on a lemon before draping his seal skin across Dick’s shoulders. Dick is too stunned and touched by the show of trust to stay sad much longer (mission accomplished)

Bruce has hours of footage of seal!Jason doing happy little spins in the cave pools and making little pup squeals. Every single video has at least three backups on different servers.

Bruce offers to have an actual pool installed for Jason to swim in (somewhere that’s not the caves) but Jason declines because the cave pools are perfect to hide.

At least one of the family take Jason to the ocean once a month minimum. Jason is too overwhelmed by the expanse of water he refuses to leave the car at all during the first trip. Dick takes him back a couple days later and just sits down with him in the shallows for an hour before Jason allows himself to shift. Later that day Bruce gets a short video to his phone that shows grainy footage of a grinning Dick diving through the waters with a wide eyed seal pup at his side. Alfred thinks Bruce is having a stroke because the man’s never worn such a big smile on his face before.

Alfred discreetly asks Leslie to test Jason’s blood for any deficiencies. Not much is known about Selkie physiology, so a lack of fresh seafood might be detrimental to his health. Thankfully that is not the case.

Dick tries getting Jason to do tricks with a ball exactly once. Jason insists he didnt know how strong his tail flip would kick the ball back in Dick’s face, but Dick can see the little shit laughing from where he’s nursing a bleeding nose.

The first time Bruce sees Jason waddling over the rough cave floor with his soft seal skin he panics so much he actually starts yelling for Alfred to “get down here right now!” and scoops the bewildered seal pup up in his arms to deposit him smack dab on the first flat and smooth surface he can find to inspect Jason for scrape wounds.

Jason eventually apologizes for the trick ball incident and proposes a peace offering by showing Dick some choreographies of swimmers performing together with the seals. Him and Dick end up learning an entire show and perform it for Bruce and Alfred for Dick’s birthday. (Dick misses the circus, and while this is very different from what he had once, this… this comes close. And nobody is in danger of falling)

Jason is hyper aware of his family’s inability to hold their breath for long and keeps close watch on them in the water, nudging them back to the surface when he considers it too long 🦭

#selkie au #Selkie Jason Todd #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam #robin #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth #batdad #batbros #batboys #headcanon #alternate universe #Selkie

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box-of-roses · 2 months

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'*•.¸♡ Machine Heart♡¸.•*'

Characters: Sakusa, Y/N

Synopsis: Sakusa is going to learn why you don’t take things for granted in the most brutal way possible

Warnings: Vomiting, Blood, CHARACTER DEATH, Crying, Regret

Words: 2k

A/N: I was listening to music and found this song. It really sets the vibes if you listen while you read

Valentine’s Day. How funny it all sounded to you now. You’ve been with the same person for five years. The first year was wonderful, he got you a bouquet of flowers and wrote you a wonderful heartfelt letter. The second year was okay, he still gave you flowers but ones you had already told him made your nose itchy. The third year is when it started going downhill and going fast. He worked, you can’t be too mad at him for doing his job…but he forgot. He had forgotten a lot that year. Your birthday, your anniversary. He hadn’t forgotten his teammates' birthdays. He hadn’t forgotten the anniversary of joining his team. He had forgotten you though.

The fourth year is when you started getting angry. Your lovesick eyes scanning the posts from friends of their significant others. The rings gleaming around their fingers. Why couldn’t he care again? What made him stop caring? You made a dinner and waited up for him to get home. When you awoke the next morning though you found his shoes by the door, the bedroom door closed and yourself still asleep at the table. Food ice cold and candles gone out. Light coming from the bathroom along with the sounds of running water.

The fifth year was when you started rethinking everything. You hadn’t prepared anything this year, too tired of being cast aside. So what if the flame of his love went out? You still had someone. It was when he posted a message for his friends telling them Happy Valentine’s Day. He couldn’t do something that simple for you? You started thinking of what you had done.

Your eyes kept staring at the simple post. Photos of him smiling with his friends. Telling them he cares about them even though he doesn’t say it much. That he didn’t know where he’d be without them and that he couldn’t live without them. You didn’t want to be upset at his friends. You’re not entirely sure that you existed. There weren’t any posts of you with him on either social media account.

He decided early in the relationship that it would be better if the public didn’t know. You just didn’t realize that also meant his friends. His family. You felt like you had wasted five years of your life. You couldn’t stop loving him though. He was still the light of your life. Even if you weren’t the light of his. That’s when you felt a tickle at the back of your throat.

You grabbed a glass of water and took a few sips. That didn’t help, it was a grainy feeling like you were swallowing sand. You rushed to the bathroom as the feeling went up your throat. Making it just in time you leaned over the toilet. As your body heaved flower petals came out of your mouth. So did blood. You had heard about this before. Hanahaki. You were going to die. You had been trying for years to get Sakusa to love you again. This was just the final nail in the coffin. Ha, coffin. You’d be in one of those soon.

Your body heaved again. More petals filled up the water. Blood splattered against the sides of the pristine white seat and walls. You knew you were going to have to clean it up before Sakusa got home. You wondered to yourself when he had become Sakusa again. When did he stop being Kiyoomi? Was he ever really anything other than Sakusa to you? More petals fell out of your mouth. It was getting hard to breathe and your vision went black.

You’re awoken again by the door opening. Your eyes fluttered to life. He was finally home. On Valentine’s Day. The day you realized you weren’t going to be alive for much longer. What a sick joke everything seemed to be. You flushed the toilet and began to clean up the mess you made. You heard a knock at the door. Checking your appearance in the mirror you took a paper towel and wiped away at the blood coating your lips and edges of your mouth. Opening the door you’re met with the man who caused this demise.

“I’m going out with my friends tonight. I trust you’ll be safe while I’m gone.” You nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go have fun with your friends!”

“I wasn’t asking permission. I just found out you were home and didn’t want to be questioned first thing after stepping through the door.” He turned around and you closed the door. Maybe this was for the best. He talked to you so coldly that you actually shivered. You didn’t want to just give up on life but you didn’t want to subject anyone else to your problems. Perhaps any proof of your existence was already wiped from the house.

There was one photo of the two of you in your bedroom. Not his bedroom. Your bedroom. You had been okay with having separate rooms in the beginning. You had a lot of things and so did he. What was so bad about having separate spaces and spaces where you were able to be together. Except you were never together anymore. There wasn’t a shared space. The house might as well be yours because of how little he was there.

You knew he wouldn’t be there often. I mean he had away games all the time before you moved in together. But it was different. You felt your eyes well up with tears as you reminisced about the past. At how sweet he used to be. The apartment seemed much colder than it had been before he came home. You didn’t dare leave your bathroom though. You didn’t want to run into him. He was about to go out and seeing you would ruin his day.

The pricking in your throat started again. At this rate you were going to be dead before the day's end. It was harder to breathe than before. You rushed to sit back down. You didn’t want to hurt yourself more than you were already. You should have left him. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him no matter how much it hurt to stay. It hurt more to think about leaving. As flowers came out of your mouth you wondered who would be at your funeral. Tears ran down your face as you realized he would show up. But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would pretend he didn’t know you.

What was he going to do when he found your body. It would be limp and grey, blood lost and flowers around your lips. They began sticking as the blood dried. You wondered if the flowers at your funeral would be the same ones you were currently choking on. This disease is poetic in a way. Love and flowers were both beautiful if taken care of properly. Love could sprout and blossom and cause more things to grow. Love could also hurt. It could grow thorns and you could bleed and choke and cry. Love could be just as deadly as it is life giving.

You knew that the next part was the thorns. The stems and sharp edges scraping your throat as they would come up. You couldn’t stop crying. Why you? What had you done to deserve this besides being unloved. Is it really your fault that he didn’t love you anymore. You felt it was unfair. Why didn’t he throw up flowers? Why couldn’t he feel what you were feeling? You were back to anger. The tears were hot as they rolled down your cheeks.

You picked up one of the flower blossoms. They were beautiful. Blue. White in the center. The disturbing factor was the blood that got caught in the folds and tears of the petals. The way it dripped onto your hand. The contrast of the blue and red. It made you think of the contrast between the two of you. Your vision started going in and out again. You grabbed the water you brought with you and drank more of it.

You tried to clean yourself up as you picked yourself off the floor. You looked terrible already. Because you knew what was going to end you left the bathroom and picked up your phone. The object that started this mess.

That observation wasn’t fair to your phone. It wasn’t the phone’s fault he didn’t love you anymore. You wrote messages to your parents and friends wishing them well. You set it up to send in a couple of hours. With how quickly this was developing you figured you’d be gone by then. Funny. The universe didn’t even try to give you a chance to fix this. It had as little faith in someone loving you as you did yourself. Your eyes no longer welled up with tears. You were coming to terms with what was going to happen. You wrote your last note and went back to the bathroom.

The letter was sat by the door. On the little table where you put your keys. You silently secluded yourself as you felt your lungs fill up with flowers that wouldn’t come out.

It was a few hours later when Sakusa finally returned home. As he set his keys down he noticed a note. He picked it up and began reading it.

‘I’m not doing this to make you feel guilty. I would like my funeral to be a small affair. Please let my family know this wasn’t their fault. I loved you. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you, you’ll find me in the bathroom. I wanted the least amount of mess cleanup for you because I know you hate blood. Thank you for caring about me in the beginning. I love you, take care of yourself.’

The paper fell through his fingers. What did you mean he would find you in the bathroom? His feet carried them to your bathroom. He was scared to open the door. When he did his fears came true. There you were flowers growing out of your mouth. Blood plastered around your mouth. And skin, your skin was grey and you laid there lifeless.

What had he done. He could have prevented this if he continued loving you. He should’ve continued loving you. He does love you. He loves you now that he can’t have you. He misses the things you would do for him. He misses you.

He sits in the bathroom for hours. Just holding your hand. Wishing he realized this would happen. He feels so stupid for requesting the things he did. He regrets not showing you off when he could. He regrets not loving you like he should. He wishes he could kiss you and you would wake up. He wishes he could wake up and that it was a dream.

He wishes he could love you like he used to. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he hears a knock at the door. His stomach growls and his throat feels dry. His eyes are red and puffy as he swings the door open. Atsumu is standing there. He hadn’t heard from his friend for two days. Seeing his state he comes in and hugs him.

Sakusa pushes him off. “It’s my fault. I’m the reason they’re dead.”

“Who’s dead Omi?”

“Y/N.” Atsumu doesn’t ask who that is, he can tell that Sakusa cared for you. He’s curious why he had never heard of you before. He doesn’t want to push him right now though. They sit there for the rest of the night. In the couch in your home, surrounded by the things that reminded him of you. Atsumu only gets up to make them food. Considering Sakusa’s state he figured he hasn’t eaten. He wishes he could do more.

Sakusa tells him not to go into the bathroom in the master bedroom. Atsumu doesn’t ask why. Atsumu just hugs him and lets him cry.

I hope you guys enjoyed! I got this request and thought it was perfect to post for Valentine’s Day. My askbox is open if you want to send in a request. Like this was, you can find that here. If you liked this consider checking out my other works! Love you guys!!! <3

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

Masterlist

#hq x reader #haikyu x reader #shroom writes #haikyuu angst #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa imagines #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi angst

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myoddessy · 1 year

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out with the old, in with the new | w2s/harry lewis

summary —new accounts, new lifestyle, new clubs every night. an insight into just what—and who—youtube's non-youtuber it girl got up to during her split from harry

*once again following the lead of @whoetoshaw and her bog universe's iconic breakup era ALSO, one of the twitter threads is rlly grainy and I'm sorry abt that, i couldn't properly fix it so you have to just zoom in on it 😭

2023, January

2018, July.

liked by zoeleonards, taliamar, masonmount, and 11, 824 others

yourusername lay all your love on me 🌻🍹☀️

tagged: zoeleonards, chloemitchells

zoeleonards london reality, greece fantasy 💔😞

yourusername ibiza couldn't come sooner!

wroetominter OMGOMG IVE DREAMED ABOUT YOU RETURNING TO SOCIAL MEDIA

ynfan omg shes glowing 🤩🤩

chloemitchells mykonos has never looked better 🤤😍😘

yourusername love u, lover girl 😘😘 ❤️❤️

2018, August.

liked by chloemitchells, tobjizzle, leahwilliamson, and 20,349 others

yourusername snuck behind a dj booth and had a blast, had a few more shots than I should've, fell more in love with my girls. ibiza, you will forever be famous 🍾✨️

zoeleonards it was nice having the hotel room to just myself and Chloe for a bit x 🤣🤭

ynfangirl DOES THIS MEAN THE MASON MOUNT RUMOURS ARE TRUE??

chloemitchells @ynfangirl who's that? never heard of him 🤷‍♀️

ynloverrrr it HAS to be true

freyanightingale beautiful girl ❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

sidemenfav the way that her, freya, and talia still like each others posts and support each other 💔

liked by yourusername, taliamar, and freyanightingale

ynandharry tobi likes every one of her posts, too. they really are family no matter what 😭

2019, January

liked by pierregasly, zerkaa, mabel, and 30,568 others

yourusername we're able to have semi-classy girls trips, who knew?

tagged: zoeleonards

chloemitchells gutted I couldn't make it, I miss u two beautiful girls 😭❤️

yourusername CHLO!!! it wasn't the same without you, babe xx

zoeleonards I missed placing bets on who y/n was gonna make a move on 💔

yourusername IM NOT THAT BAD ZOË JESUS

chloemitchells yeah, give her some slack... it's usually placing bets on who's gonna make a move on her 😉

ynfanpage queen we need tips on how to live our best lives because you are teaching us all rn

yourusername 1) the only long term relationship you need to focus on is the one with yourself. 2) surround yourself with people you love and support & who will love and support you. 3) learn to not give a fuck what anyone else things because everyone's too busy in their own heads to care ❤️❤️

taliaminterr how is your life so aesthetic?? irl gossip girl vibes!!

yourusername babe trust my life doesn't look like this day to day, I only show the fun bits. rn it's 4am and I've got four day old greasy hair, dried mascara under my eyes (I watched UP without taking off my makeup first), and I'm eating cereal and drinking flat coke zero. I am not the standard you should aim for 😭😭

ynslover I love how open and honest she is about her content. she's actually such a good role model

liked by taliamar, freyanightingale, chloemitchells, and 19,519 others

yourusername apparently people think the party life in my photo dumps is my day-to-day? babes, if I can teach any of you one thing in life, it's that half the shit you see online is fake. half the 'candid' moments are staged, same goes for almost every picture you see. so here's a little dump of my actual reality

zoeleonards yeah guys she's actually so messy it's insane. it makes me want to move out

yourusername SHUT IT. zoë has about three different vases of dead flowers in her room because she forgets to take them out.

zoeleonards that's nothing on the old cups in your room

yourusername BLOCKING U

ynslover how does it feel to be the most relatable influencer ever even though you're not an influencer?

taliamar omg you've still got the vinyls!!

yourusername ofc, babe! I needed something to remember our days of charity shop hopping

2023, January

#harry wroetoshaw #harry x reader #harry lewis #harry lewis x reader #wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw x reader #w2s #w2s x reader #w2s imagine #sidemen #the sidemen x reader #the sidemen #social media au #talia mar #miniminter #ksi #tobjizzle #freya nightingale

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itsgrimeytime · 9 months

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Magnolia in May (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1...

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: rumors.

[[ A/N: Also, am I so inspired by this concept that I wrote a second part in a day? Maybe so... 👀👀👀 Anyway, thanks for reading!!! ]]

You realized pretty quickly that you hadn't gotten the man's name, only his daughter's first. It was a bit frustrating, and even more so as your Headmistress continued to ramble on about timeliness and arriving on time.

You knew the lesson, it had been drilled into your head since you'd been late to school once at age six. It only grated on your ears now.

There was a thought there to tell her it was because of a man -she'd be so delighted, her whole rant would be long forgotten. But another part of yourself wished to hold it back -to keep this man and his darling daughter in your brain for no one else to see.

It was a rather selfish thought, but having never seen the two before you assumed they were travelers -they'd be gone soon enough. And without his name, it would be rather difficult to describe to a Headmistress all about social standing. He could be a farmhand for all you knew, an overdressed farmhand, sure, but one no less.

"Y/N," Headmistress pursed her lips -a grainy sort of disgust in her face, "-are you even listening?"

"Yes ma'am," you cleared your throat, moving to cut into your pancake, "-sorry, I was a little distracted, what have you asked?"

Elisa frowned, set deep into her face and you wondered how she'd been so smiley before with how heavily ingrained it looked, "I asked, young lady, what distracted you on your trip? It's not normal for you to take such time! So what happened?"

You paused, quickly eating a bite to buy some time -unsure if you wished to speak the truth. The more you thought about it, you found it rather stupid -the man was surely gone and it wasn't anything to concern them. You were a lady of age, and speaking to a man hardly was anything to talk to your parents about.

"Mrs. Sweets had some new dresses in the window," you lied -carefully dabbing your face with the napkin (you had noticed the new dresses but it had hardly taken any time at all), "-I wanted to look at them closely, and lost track of time, I suppose, I truly apologize."

"Hmm," the Headmistress pursed his lips -seeming to evaluate your words, "-lesson learned, I presume?"

"Very," you replied -simply, wishing for the conversation to navigate elsewhere.

And just as it seemed to (Maggie saying something that the Headmistress just had to dispute), there was a heavy knock on the door.

The room fell abruptly silent, the only noticeable noises being the slight clink of silverware and the creaks of the old chairs. Your father was the first to stand, making his way to the door with a confidence you'd wished you inherited.

The man who stood there was short, a cap situated on his head and a determination in his eyes, "This the Greene residence?"

Your father answered, a little uncertain -blocking the man's eyes from farther into the house, "Yes, I'm Dr. Hershel Greene, is this about work?"

"No sir," he responded -respectful and quite direct before extending a hand forward, a thick piece of paper exchanged between them, "-your family has been invited to the Ball, come next Tuesday. Mr. Grimes personally requested your presence."

Headmistress couldn't hold back a gasp, as Father took the paper -skimming over it with a heavy sort of look, "Personally?"

"Yes, sir. He insisted I bring it to the residence directly."

You thought back to the man, and his insistence on buying you more -just for the lack of one. Poking around the fruit on your plate, you frowned. He was probably married after all, he did have a child -someone as charming as he was most certainly bound to a wife.

Before you could dive further into your sudden despair, your father joined back at the table -slow and sure steps. Opening his mouth to say something, he didn't get very far before the Headmistress snatched the invite out of his hands.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she skimmed over the words, she seemed to digest it (like it could be a fake).

You furrowed your brows, as she seemed to stall.

"I'll be looking forward to your presence signed Mr. Grimes," the Headmistress read out loud -a grin large and wide, "-he wrote us a note! He must be in search of a wife!"

"Miss Elisa," Father tried to calm her, now sitting back in his spot at the table.

"I'm only thinking optimistically, Hershel," she responded -tone much more controlled but still quite touched in tone, "-wouldn't it be wonderful for the girls to have suitors?"

"I'd rather not discuss speculation," your father leveled with her -eyes set in a certainty that not even the Headmistress could refuse.

And that was where the talk of the invite ended.

Your father was rather stubborn in his restrictions, and starting any sort of rumors about a man he respected was far below his limit. It wasn't even mentioned until that Saturday afternoon at the seamstress.

"Beth, dear," Headmistress hummed -rapting her knuckles on the small room she'd been dressing in, "-how does the blue one fit?"

It was a beautiful blue dress that matched her eyes with pillowing sleeves -layers of fabric heavy on the skirt. The cotton seemed soft to the touch, and you thought it a very good match to your sister -she'd suited it well from what you assumed. Beth hadn't shown the dress to you yet.

"It needs to be tightened," she echoed with a huff -frustrated, "-I can't reach-"

"Alright, alright," your Headmistress responded, her tone calming and direct -as she navigated into the room to help.

With that, you sighed deeply. Rather unamused by the extensive shopping you found yourself currently in, you enjoyed getting new dresses, really. It was just a long process, and for whatever reason, the Headmistress had always focused on you last.

It was rather stuffy in the store, dresses hung up in any corner they could. They were beautiful, truly stunning works of fabric and ribbon -you'd trailed your fingers along some of the layers with keen interest. It was always rather fascinating to study how the dresses were made, each individual stitch had its own purpose and you enjoyed the complexity of it.

Maggie grabbed your attention, motioning to a rather fluffy pink dress -detailed by too many rather large ribbons. She pulled it up to her side, posing like she was prim and proper -a grin biting on her face, "What do you think?"

You smiled, always amused by her antics, "We might need to-"

Your eyes caught on the window framing behind her, and there was someone so familiar there. You'd only seen a glimpse, but it had struck you so intricately, your eyes peered the area looking for whoever you recognized-

And then, you saw him.

He was still rather overdressed, darker button-up detailed by a lovely light blue ascot tied around his neck -it looked satin. Actually, he looked much fancier with a peacoat of a rather deep blue splayed across his shoulders, and hair still a little tussled from the day -brown curls resting still rather perfectly. He seemed content on a bench, Judith not present -as he looked on in front of him, absorbed by something quite heavily. You stilled, he was still here?

With a quick thought, you realized just how close the shop had been to the markets -it was a short walk, and you'd done it often. You had a wonderful view, well... right where he was seated. It was treacherous thought flooding your mind that he might be waiting for you.

"Y/N?" Maggie waved her hands in front of your face, starting to match your eyes towards where yours lay on the window, "What are you looking a-"

She stiffened. You hadn't been quick enough to divert her attention, as her eyes skimmed over the figure without much report. Maggie was a very upfront woman, after all.

"Who-"

"We might need to look elsewhere!" you finished your thought, rather loud and squeaky, as you quickly turned to a few other mannequins, "-what about this one, Maggie? I think the color is exquisite, really-"

"Y/N-" she spoke at full volume before you caught her eyes and made a shush motion -head tilting toward the dressing room.

"Everything alright, girls?" your Headmistress asked, most likely from your tone only a few seconds ago. You'd been thoroughly embarrassed it had even left your lips -so loud and not very graceful.

Maggie, a simple master at her craft, replied -without a flinch, "Yes, ma'am. Y/N just slipped on a skirt."

"Right, yes," you spoke, trying to contain the rather squeaky tone your voice had taken on, "-there are some quite long ones."

Headmistress must've accepted this answer, as she no longer responded -assumedly preoccupied with the dress mechanics, you briefly wondered how it had become so complicated. Before the more pressing matter made itself known.

Maggie was a hair away from jumping up and down right there in the seamstress shop, eager to be in on the loop. She'd gotten that trait from Ms. Elisa, you assumed.

Her voice was much quieter now, "Do you know him?"

"Oh, no-" you answered a little too fast, judging by the mischievous glint in her eyes only gleaming brighter, "-I just think he's rather handsome, that's all."

As if on cue, the man looked in the direction of the window of the shop. You don't know why, maybe the old man on the corner had grabbed his attention or the little boy who was currently chasing a butterfly down the street. It didn't matter, because his eyes neatly settled on you.

As if you were the only one on the street. Your cheeks turned a fantastic crimson at the mere thought-

And then, they shifted -flickering to your side. Where Maggie stood, grinning brightly and waving to the man. You were going to kill her.

With a little questioning look smoothing across his face, he raised his hand and waved back. His right hand, you noticed. (There was no ring.) You bit down the little flutter your stomach had done, bashfully raising your hand to wave as well.

The smile that stretched across his face was incredibly telling.

Maggie grinned even wider, not turning to face you, "You know him, how do you know him?"

"Well-"

Before you could say anything else, the man seemed to falter for a minute -turning to his side and grabbing something you couldn't quite see. He then lifted it, seeming to try and show it to you. It seemed to be a delicately woven basket one with much better craftsmanship than your own. You hadn't known what to expect in it, except-

Oh, he was waiting for you. He had the berries.

Your sister couldn't hold the pose, now fully turning to face you-hands gently taking your arms, "He's got a present."

"It's not quite a present, really-" you started.

Maggie didn't wait, eyes darting to the room where your other sister and Headmistress stayed stationed. Before she seemed to decide something -a familiar determination sparked in her eyes.

"Go," she whispered.

You opened your mouth, "What about-"

"I've got it," she reassured, a sort of warm affection bubbling up her voice, "-I'll lock them in there if I have to."

You rolled your eyes, knowing better than to argue with your sister, "I'll be quick, I promise."

Maggie rolled her eyes and pushed you to the door -scampering off to find whatever distraction she intended on using. God, you truly loved her.

As soon as you exited the shop, the man raised to his feet -almost on instinct. You frantically looked across the street, keeping an eye on oncoming carriages -before hastily making your way to the bench where he now stood.

He was laughing by the time you got there, the sound sent a familiar buzz up your spine, "In a hurry?"

"A bit," you answered -brushing a bit of dirt off your dress at the commotion, "-let's say I'm on borrowed time."

"I could've come to you," he said, so genuinely that you found you had to remember your point of being here. He apparently had a way of making you forget what you were doing.

"You couldn't," you responded, before scrambling to explain, "-wait, that sounded a bit rude. My apologies, it's just my Headmistress would lose it if she saw me so much as speaking to a man. She wants to marry us off, and any living breathing specimen is of enough quality to her."

"I'd hope I was better than a specimen," he smiled, a lilt in his voice that sounded quite close to teasing, "-do you refer to lots of men as specimens, Ms. Greene?"

"Just you," you quipped and he broke out into a sort of laughter -head thrown back, pure joy. You were quite proud of yourself for that one, holding your head slightly higher at the boost -smiling at his contagious one.

"Right, well," he added, clearing his throat to try and regain his composure, "-I'll keep note of 'at. Oh, and before I forget, here's the berries I owe ya."

And then, the basket (which surely was worth more than everything you currently wore) was extended to you. You could already see that it was filled with an assortment of berries, not just the single blueberry Judith had actually eaten.

"Oh, I couldn't, really-"

"I insist," he repeated, familiarly, and you found you couldn't quite fight the man in front of you.

"At least take the basket back, sir," you urged, a bit mesmerized by the handwoven pieces, "-I can't imagine what it's worth."

"Think of it as a gift."

"No," you reiterated, "-this must've cost a fortune. I can't-"

"Ms. Greene," he straightened, blue eyes glazing over your face in a way that almost worsened the crimson stain on your cheeks -something of fond, "-it's a gift, an' I'd be rather honored if ya accepted it."

You sighed, a bit defeated, "Alright, thank you, sir. I have no way of repaying you though-"

"How about a-" he began, fidgetting slightly with his coat -as if he was nervous. Why would he be nervous?

"Y/N," Maggie hissed across the courtyard, a sort of nerves in her eyes -you knew she'd already been cutting it close.

"I'm so sorry," you spoke, trying to genuinely portray it in your voice, "-really. If I see you again, please do approach me. Maybe we can have a complete conversation?"

He smiled, noting before you could leave, "Will do, Ms. Greene, enjoy the fruits. I got quite a wide selection, didn't know what you'd prefer."

"I'm sure they're lovely."

And then, without much of a notice, you rushed back into the seamstress shop -only chancing a look back when you came back inside. When you did, he stood in the same place -eyes intently focused on you, and gently waving his hand.

You laughed, timidly waving back.

Maggie was staring at you as you turned around, the gleam from earlier only sparkling even brighter.

You started, trying to stop the train before it even started, "Maggie-"

"You're telling me everything."

Then, the door creaked open -Beth (still in the dress she came in) as her eyes settled on the basket you held carefully in front of your skirt, and your Headmistress rumbling something about corsets.

"Girls, I think-" she started, before faltering, her own eyes settling on the rather extensive stash of fruit you'd gathered, "Where did you get that?"

The Headmistress was already making her way to you, brushing her fingers over the woven material -much like she had handled the invitation. So delicate as if it was the finest piece of china.

"Just someone repaying a debt," you answered, vaguely.

Ms. Elisa furrowed her brows, glancing at you with a deep, questioning gaze but you refused to break, "An expensive debt, I assume? That craftsmanship could probably pay for three new dresses from scratch, dear."

The Headmistress continued her path to the dresses, calling out to Beth to join her -leaving you stunned in your own path.

"Everything," Maggie reiterated, her tone doused in much of the amazement you'd felt.

"Everything," you agreed.

#rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may #rick grimes

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whalesandstars · 7 months

Text

Photograph

Nahida & Wanderer [Platonic, Hurt/Comfort]

We still miss the people we’ve lost, but we’ll move forward and create new memories with new people, capturing moments until we become a collage of a life well-lived.

Wanderer ran his thumb on the smooth surface of the photograph cradled on his hand, tracing every curve, every feature of the people inside the frame, redrawing the lines of shock in shock in Paimon's face just when a bug landed on her shoulder, the arc on Traveler and Nahida's face as they laughed, and the sharp angles of his frown as he annoyingly scolded the group of fools he was in.

"Isn't it wonderful to have photos like this?" Nahida's smile was as bright as the clear sky above as she gazed at her own copy of the photo, "Being able to preserve a moment in time, capturing the emotions and all the colors in a single snapshot." Melancholy swam in her eyes like a fish left alone in a sea where two tails once waded through, "To see the people as if they never left."

"Time stops for no one, yet..." She held the photo against her chest, the same way a splitting image of her cradled her in her arms, "Wouldn't it be nice if we can turn back time and drag it on so the future doesn't come, so people we hold dear don't have to fade like the sun's light when evening comes. If only we can make a moment last forever."

A glimmer in Wanderer's eyes, a sparkle of wishful thinking.

If...

If he could make a moment last forever,

A moment where the flames never came to devour every smile, every laughter--everything-- and did not have the chance to crumble them into ashes trampled on by fate,

Then they would be here with him,

Laughing,

Dancing,

Calling him with the kindest of smiles.

Yet he stood in the present, watching the past play back like a grainy film lost in the sands of time.

Let me stay right here,

Just a little longer,

Just a minute longer,

Just a second longer,

Just until I learned how to live without all of you,

Just until I learned to breathe in the new breeze,

Just until I learned how to live.

He inhaled and let the fresh scent of the new day replace the sigh he exhaled, "True, but to live is to never be at a standstill. Isn't that right, Lesser Lord Kusanali?"

She gazed at the birds that flew from a branch to the morning sky, "Yes. To live is to move forward until we have traveled enough to weave a life made up of numerous moments tangled together."

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wastemanjohn · 11 months

Note

helloooo bottom!john truther and enjoyer and apologist and whatnot here. can we please please please get john fucked on his hands and knees by another hunter in exchange for information/weapons/help on a hunt? (extra extra love if dean or sam is aware of it & has to keep their mouth shut but feels TERRIBLE)

Thanks for the prompt Angel, I loved this idea. I wrote this very quickly so I hope it's alright!

cw: extremely dubious consent, pretend sam's already 18, nsft

Most kids Sam's age are at parties tonight. Celebrating the start of spring break, trashing the houses of unsuspecting parents and throwing up on each other's shoes. You know, normal stuff.

Sam? Sam barely set foot out of the school gate before Dad was upon him, ushering him into his truck, spewing precious few, undetailed words about some urgent job down south, Dean already on the way, everything so urgent - and yeah, it's not like Sam has ever been invited to one of those parties. Honestly, nothing about them even sounds appealing. But just for once, for once, he'd give anything to be at one of them. To be somewhere normal, doing something normal. Anything that's not sitting in Dad's truck with hair metal thrumming low on the radio, waiting in some low-lit motel parking lot for Dad to do some shady sounding business with some shady sounding sounding hunter. Something about silver bullets. Something about best quality, last minute, no one else holding. And something - something off.

Dad's been gone a while. He said he'd be a few minutes, but that could be hours in Dadspeak, because he never says what he means - and it's just one of the many big and small resentments snowballing in Sam's head with all the others that made a home there during the six hour drive down here. Dad's inability to keep one radio station on for more than two minutes. Dad's little pop quizzes on various monsters, with no sign of him actually telling Sam what they're hunting right now, because that would make too much sense. Dad's too-fast driving, his chain smoking, and the car stinks, Sam's hair stinks, even with the windows right down - and Sam sits in the passengers' seat, he waits for Dad, he's always waiting around for Dad, and he's trying to read a book, trying to pass the time, but his eyes are strained in the low light and his mind just won't focus and he keeps getting distracted. He absently watches the neon signs for air conditioning and cable TV flicker, hears their low buzz. There's a sad, wilted palm tree outside the reception. The door is open, leaving a cutting rectangle of grainy light on the ground, and somewhere, someone is shouting, because in motels, someone is always somewhere, shouting.

And this feeling growing like mould in the bottom of Sam's gut, this weird feeling that's starting to supersede that constant feeling of unfair-unjust that lives in Sam like blood; this feeling that his common sense tells him is stupid. But his intuition disagrees, it's kicking up a fuss, and he hasn't been able to settle since Dad got out of the car.

Because maybe there was something off about Dad's energy that fizzled with those weary neon lights; and Dad still didn't say much, and Sam still can't read the man's mind, but you don't live for eighteen years close enough to rub up against each others last nerve without learning how to spot when something might be wrong. And theres always something wrong with Dad - he's sour faced and miserable, the cause of that changes day by day - but he'd been so insistent. You don't leave this car, Sammy, okay? This guy's a loose cannon. I don't want him to see you.

Sam had snorted, and Dad had looked at him with resigned contempt; but it had faded quickly, and there'd been that something Sam couldn't put his finger on as Dad had got out of the car. Something about the way he didn't look to check Sam was obeying, something stilted in his footsteps. Something that made Sam log the path he took across the parking lot, register the room number he knocked on. The door had opened, and Dad had gone inside, but it had closed so quickly that Sam hadn't been able to see the guy. The loose cannon.

Sam didn't bother asking to go with anyway, because Dad would have said no. He didn't feel much like arguing and insisting at the time, because he was pissed about the quizzing-smoking-Dadness of the entire miserable journey up here. But the longer Dad doesn't come out, that something-weird-not-right feeling gets bigger. Loose cannon could mean anything, absolutely anything. I don't want him to see you - that phrase is really gaining traction in Sam's head. Why not? And what the hell is taking so long?

The thing is, Sam knows some hunters aren't - well - right. He knows it from the things Dean tells him with dark glee, from the way Bobby has warned him to trust anyone in this life very, very cautiously. Dad has always told him not to trust anyone at all, but Dad is paranoid and thinks in extremes, and Sam never listens to him all that much.

As time rolls on, right now increasingly becomes no different.

There's a pistol in the glove compartment. He conceals it at the small of his back, and glances around like he's being watched as he gets out of the car.

He's worried. He's only a little worried, because Dad's only been gone a little longer than reasonable, and this is stupid anyway; and Sam's only a little worried because Sam's not letting himself be scared, Dad's fine, he's always fine, and Sam is not letting images of Dad stabbed or shot by one of these not-right, untrustworthy loose-cannon hunters flood his mind until he's sick with panic - and he moves quietly but quickly across the parking lot, takes the path Dad had followed, expecting him to emerge from that quick-open-shut door any moment and chew Sam out for disobeying a direct order. Sam would welcome it. He'd let Dad smoke and fidget as much as he wanted for the rest of the journey, he wouldn't bitch about it once, he'd sit shotgun and he'd be the best, most obedient kid in the world, whether Dad deserved that or not. So long as Dad was okay, so long as Sam knew he was safe.

He stops outside the door, dead of night quiet; he can't hear anything from inside. His heart beats out strange rhythms. He's sure this is the right room. The curtains are drawn over windows bordered by flecks of mould. They're ill fitting, don't quite come down all the way.

Sam swallows. There's a tremor in his hands. Maybe Dad and this guy went elsewhere. Maybe Dad's slumped over the bed with a knife in his back, on the floor with his brains all over the wall. Or maybe Sam has just got the wrong room. Only one way to be sure.

He draws a breath, cool-spring night air. Touches the concealed pistol for comfort as he crouches down to peer beneath the crack in the curtains. Braces himself for what he might see, all the awful things he's gone from avoiding truly considering to entirely convinced of.

His heart rate kicks up faster. Then stops. He can't see everything through the crack beneath the curtains. He can see more than enough.

He can see an unmade bed with holes in the frame. He can see Dad on that bed, on his hands and knees. He can see two hands on Dad's bare hips, his jeans hanging loose halfway down his thighs, open belt swinging in rhythm with - oh, god.

The curtain cuts the guy off at the waist. He's much the same - clothes only off as much as convenience requires - but Sam can see enough thigh, enough hip, to know that he's younger, possibly much closer to Sam's age than Dad's. Sam doesn't know why that makes it worse, but it does.

His hand quivers around the gun. He's frozen with shock, with this innate gut-deep disgust at seeing his father being, doing... and with anger too, at Dad, for giving Sam some sinister, hard to decipher warning to keep him away so he could apparently get his fucking rocks off. With a guy. A younger guy. And on the job as well - but then again, that doesn't really sound like Dad.

And maybe getting angry is easier than considering what's in front of him, because the longer Sam stands there, frozen, disgust, what-the-fuck - the more weird this gets.

Dad is - Dad's very still. Rigid, unnerving still. His back is slightly arched, and his hands are flat on the mattress, bunching the sheets between fingers that are bloodless at the knuckles. His face - god, Sam doesn't want to look at his face, not right now, not for this - but Dad is - well, clearly not enjoying himself. His eyes are open, focused on the wall ahead like he's zoned out. His nostrils are flaring faintly. His mouth is in a tight line, somewhere between a grimace and a fixed wince. He looks - irritated, is the closest Sam can come to describing it. Impatient.

His body moves like it's weightless with the force of the hunter's thrusts. His - and Sam doesn't mean to look, but it's kinda hard not to see - Dad's dick is soft. Hanging limp and sad between his legs.

Sam's guts twist, shooting bile to the back of his throat. Fuck, no kid wants to see that. Sam could've gone his whole life without ever knowing what that looked like, what any of this looked like. Without having to consider, with his bones locked together, what he might be seeing.

The guy looks not only younger, but smaller. There's no gun to Dad's head, no knife to his throat. If Dad didn't want to be there - exactly there - well. This guy would be the one bleeding out with a knife on his back. Then why does Dad look - well - like that?

Unless he's being threatened in some other way. Unless Sam is standing here gawping while Dad's in genuine danger, not knowing what the fuck to do. He feels paralyzed, and utterly confused.

Sam's eyes stray to the guy's nightstand. There's a bag there, a brown, straw-like bag with a pattern Sam recognizes. The bags silver bullets sometimes come in, which is all Sam knows, they sometimes come like that, because he doesn't think much about where they do come from. He'd forgotten all about the bullets.

Next to it, Dad's gun.

A disembodied hand comes down on the back of his father's neck, a fierce grip. Dad's brow knits. And for all Sam couldn't hear anything through the door, he's certain he can hear everything now. Grunts, pants. Loud, like they're exaggerated; and as that hand pushes Dad's face into the mattress, Sam definitely hears the slap to Dad's ass, even more clearly than he sees it. Dad flinches, and Sam feels very glad that he can't see his expression anymore.

His thighs are starting to shake from crouching, but he's shaking anyway. There's a cold layer of sweat breaking out on his skin. He watches those faceless hips stutter, then slam to a stop. Sam can see the disgust shudder through Dad's body. He feels it in his own.

For a moment, nothing happens. No one moves. Sam becomes aware that he's stopped breathing, maybe a while ago.

The guy, the loose cannon, the hunter Dad was nervous about, pulls - he pulls out of Dad. Dad doesn't move. Sam watches half a strange arm reach out, grab the bag on the nightstand. He watches as the guy throws it onto the mattress, watches it land an inch from Dad's face.

Dad flinches again. And then, with slow, creeping horror, Sam thinks he might understand.

That bile-rush returns, burns the back of his throat. There's a part of Sam that would like to believe Dad would never be that desperate, that he'd never - do this, let someone do this - just for fucking supplies. But then again, Dad is Dad. The job comes before everything, and it gets done. No matter the cost.

He thinks about how many times he's seen that specific bag among their possessions. Wonders if - if every time - if Dad has done this every single time...

Sam's knees feel rubbery. He watches the guy get off the bed, leaving Dad on the mattress alone.

Dad doesn't move for a while. Sam stays frozen with him, until finally, he uprights himself onto his knees, slow, heavy, baring his teeth like it hurts. And it must.

It's that thought that spurs Sam to get out of there. His quiet-fast walk back to the truck is unsteady, and his head pulsates in rhythm with his stomach, and it's all he can do not to throw up. His thoughts feel jumbled, his head all over the place. But Sam can at least feel pretty strongly that if he ever finds out who this guy is, he'll kill him. Slowly. Excruciating.

It's rage he can't do much about. He can't exactly express it to Dad, humiliate him like that, because if getting fucked for goddamn bullets isn't bad enough, the thought that his son saw the entire thing, stayed to watch what the hell is wrong with Sam he feels dirty and sick, will no doubt kill him. So Sam cans that rage inside of him, saves it for another day. It'll come out the next time a jock thinks he's an easy target, or during a fight about something unrelated. Although, right now, Sam kind of feels like he can never bring himself to fight with Dad ever again.

He waits for Dad in the passengers seat like he hadn't moved at all. His fingers tremble around the corners of his book. Those lights keep on hissing, hissing.

I don't want him to see you. What had that meant?

Sam thinks he might know.

He wishes he could wipe his memory. He wishes he wouldn't keep thinking about it. He wishes Dean was here.

Dad comes back a short while later. He goes to the trunk first - storing that bag, Sam assumes, the bag that guy had fucking thrown at him - before getting back into the car.

Sam closes his book. Dad reaches for his cigarette on the dashboard. His fingers are unsteady when he lights up. He doesn't say a word, which isn't unusual, because Dad never says much; he smells like Dean does sometimes when he stumbles in at 4am. A hint of something else, something like shame; but Sam's imagining that. Shame doesn't have a smell.

Sam watches him, doesn't quite meet his eyes. He feels out of his depth and very, very young. "Are you okay, Dad?"

He asks it casually, in too small a voice. Dad grunts, non-committal, equally casual. "Let's go find your brother."

Sam nods. It's the best idea he's ever heard. And maybe Dad throws him a glance, a confused glance, at the complete absence of Sam's attitude; but maybe he doesn't acknowledge it, because it's easier for them both if Dad acts like he doesn't suspect a thing.

But the job comes first, so Dad starts the car. That smell lingers.

#my first tumblr prompt fill woop #john/original male #ficlet #cw dubcon

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swampgallows · 4 months

Text

i know ive reblogged that post a couple of times now about how old internet wasn't "better" in terms of the content on it (pain olympics, rotten, meatspin, etc) but there was definitely more agency in being exposed to that content. as others in the thread said, you developed a kind of 'street smarts' about the internet, knowing which roads to avoid/which links to click and where they might take you. yeah youd take some wrong turns but thats how youd learn. just like the real world has seedy back alleys, the internet did too. and most of them were 'dead ends' anyway: tubgirl and lemon party were just the isolated image. it's not like they automatically subscribed you to mailing lists or downloaded viruses or notified your neighborhood that you'd visited. they were closer to gross-out pranks than anything nefarious, if anything just making both kids and parents more mindful of what they could find online.

i learned pretty early on that not every website about pokemon was safe just because pokemon was for kids, and i learned to identify and stay away from them; it helped that many sites/webrings were clearly labeled as either containing hentai or being 'hentai-free'. i recall many 'shrine' sites having a separate 'hentai page', like the back room at a video store, with bold #FF0000 "WARNING 18+" as a splash page before the main index. nothing could stop me from clicking it of course, but i knew what to expect if i ever did. sure there were the occasional porno popup ads, but like the seedy back alleys those were indicators that i was in a 'bad part of town' and should be hightailing it out of there anyway, malicious more often to software than psyche.

neopets and beheading videos existed on the same internet, but there was zero chance of grainy footage of iraqi POWs showing up in the same window as meerca chase. with the congealing of individual sites into The Big Four glorified RSS feeds, there is no delineation between these things, no demarcation -- site as location is eliminated. this simultaneously atomizes and flattens both war crime evidence and virtual pets into "media", bits of decontextualized data, the dreaded "content", dissolved and extruded as slop into a digital trough. a literal feed. the marked difference between internet of then and now is that i had the power to both detect and avoid that kind of content because they were in physically separate locations, whereas in modern day internet everything is in the same place, so it gets directly beamed into my face.

one of the primary reasons i never migrated to twitter was because my friends would follow porn on their main accounts, which would not affect me at all except that twitter would go "hey! look at this post your mutuals liked!" and it would be porn. like sure i can go to the public square's market for my groceries since it's popular and convenient but there's also people being drawn and quartered there sometimes (something something foucault discipline and punish surveillance state etc). the algorithm forces content on you against your will and the only way to curtail that is to feed the algorithm your information, placating a wild beast holding you hostage, hoping the panopticon will avert its gaze a moment, versus the old internet of being able to go out and hunt. if i go out into the wilderness and see a dead animal, that's unfortunate but that's life. that's their habitat. if roadkill is continuously delivered to the front door of my apartment, that is not me being a 'puritan who cant handle """"dark themes"""" or the reality of death' or whatever. thats an issue of it's my fucking house and i shouldnt have to build it up like a fortress of browser extensions to be able to choose what goes into it.

#blathering

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camisala01-art · 4 months

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If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been drawing digitally? I’m just starting to learn on procreate and if you have any tips on practicing and improving I would love to hear them! Your art style is really lovely, and happy new year!

Hello! Happy New Year to you too🥰

I’ve been drawing digitally since 2016 i think? So it’s been a while. I first used a wacom and paint tool sai, but switched to procreate in 2020 (it took me a while to get used to drawing on an ipad lol).

Anyways, for me the key to improving is to practice a lot, i know everyone says the same thing…but it’s true! I sketch a lot on paper using different reference photos i find interesting. I also use a lot of references for my art in general! It helps me understand better the human body. To practice you can trace them and study them, to understand better how everything works; it doesn’t have to be perfect but just enough for you to get more comfortable drawing! Pinterest is your best friend here lol (i also love using different medias so i dont get tired of drawing digital; like i be sketching with coloured pencils, crayons, watercolours…and sketching people, food, animals….just different things to keep my mind active and creative!!!!)

What I also do is find different artists that i love and take note on how they draw certain things. For example, back when I first started PhantomRin and Taratjah were the first artists i followed and i LOVED how they made everything (of course they have very different artstyles but i took small details and tried adding them to my own style! Same goes to Laia Lopez (itslopez), i love how she draws hair, so i try to draw my hair kind of the way she does. Of course it may or may not look similar, but it’s my own take on that. Idk if any of this make sense. But basically also use other artist as inspiration! (But do not trace their art please!!!)

Also, for sketching I use a bright pink! I think it helps me sketch better than using black or greys hehe but it’s a personal choice! And for line art i use a grainy soft brush instead of a very hard and stiff one. It’s less overwhelming for me.

Now to finish all this, I think for me drawing Shadowhunters art was the thing that inspired me the most. So if you are obsessed with something like me that will help too🤣 draw what inspires you! Sketch a lot! Have fun! Try drawing something or sketching every week (or every day!)

I’m answering this before going to sleep so I really hope any of this make sense lol I’m here to answer any other questions you might have!!! 💞💞💞

#my art #artist on tumblr #Anon #anon ask #anonymous #art question #art tips #my post #illustration #drawing #painting #artwork #digital art #procreate #procreate art

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midnightrings · 9 days

Text

So after Tumblr finally allowed me to post my recent santhony gifset, I want to take a moment to give myself a short pat on the shoulder here and celebrate my gif-making process^^

I always wanted to learn how to make gifs, but I just never had the patience nor a good program to work with. A bit more than a year ago, I saw a post mentioning photopea as a great alternative to photoshop – and as I always wanted to create gifs, I decided to look up some tutorials on how to make gifs with photopea. My first attempts weren’t that great, but I’m glad that I still chose to share most of my gifs - because now I can look back at them and see the process I made, plus I still received a lot of love on my older gifs.

At the same time, I started watching Bridgerton – and as I became obsessed with that show, I used it to practice my gifmaking skills.

Recently, I saw someone like a gifset I made of that scene where Anthony asks Siena to go to the ball with him. When I first started creating gifs, I often made several gifsets in one day and then just scheduled them – which meant that by the time I opened photopea again, I basically forgot how everything worked lol. But the past months I’ve made gifs more regularly and as I felt that I’ve definitely improved, I thought I could redo that santhony gifset again.

So here’s the same shot from my first attempt a year ago, and below my most recent gif.

I really love how smooth the new one looks. I’ve never been a fan of grainy gifs, but I often had to use a noise-filter to make the quality appear somewhat better. I’m glad I found a way to make them look less pixelated but not super grainy either.

Also adore the difference in coloring. The second one looks way richer and warmer. I’m not sure whether I even colored the first gif tbh. I was super careful with coloring and lighting in the beginning, because I didn’t want the gifs to look too saturated. And making them too bright usually just showed how awful the quality was lol

So yeah, I’m really happy with the process I made. Also, I feel like learning to create gifs made me appreciate gif-makers more. I mean, I was always impressed by it, but I also always assumed that once they learned how to do it, it must be quite easy – now I know that every gifset is its own struggle lmao

So that’s also a good reminder to always show support to your favorite gifmakers (and gifmakers in general, of course). And if anyone read all that and also always wanted to make gifs: just give it a shot and keep practicing. I’m so glad I gave this a try – not only because I always wanted to, but also because this is just so much fun :D

#at this point i just want to gif *everything*#i know my 15-year-old self would be so happy i can make gifs now :D

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heybaetae · 1 year

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what do you think the member's myspace profiles would've looked like? who would've made it look pretty and who left it on default lol

LMFAO THIS QUESTIONNRHEJJS. i fucking loved myspace so much. let me think on this ok let’s get into it.

namjoon would have a layout, but a very clean, neutral one with meticulously organized photo albums for nature photos, museum photos, and book quotes he likes. his about me section would be some philosophical quote and his profile song is probably something by nas. he writes a lot of cryptic blog posts

jin has a layout but he changes it every week because he gets bored with how it looks, so you never know what his page is gonna look when you click on it. he tends to troll jungkook and hobi’s comments with “w4w???” because he knows neither of them know what that means. in true jin fashion, his default pic is him holding up a giant fish. he thinks the games on myspace are lame and he has no problem commenting on tom’s page to let him know

yoongi keeps his page pretty minimalistic like namjoon, but he likes darker, cooler tones on his layout and he posts videos from his studio a lot. he’s friends with a lot of athletes and producers and whenever he changes his profile photo, people go absolutely insane. he receives thousands of marriage proposals a day and his favorite feature is the “who i’d like to meet” section of his page where he lists all the people he’s a fan of and wants to work with some day

hobi has the most colorful layout of everyone and he LOVES those flashy glitter text gifs, so he has one that says “I LOVE U ARMY” and little animated snoopy graphics. he spent the most time making his page look perfect and he’s very organized with his photos. everything fits an aesthetic and he comments on all the tannies photos, statuses, profiles, bulletins, everything. fashion brands are spamming his inbox on the daily.

taehyung doesn’t have a layout at all because he doesn’t have the patience to learn html, but he does a have great jazzy profile playlist and yeontan is his profile picture OBVIOUSLY. he doesn’t have a top 8, he has a top 1 and it’s just jimin. he really likes posting bulletins to share youtube videos of old movies. his photo albums are kind of a mess but people love his chaotic, grainy images of random stuff around his house, his mirror selfies, or his paintings. the wooga squad leave him really sweet comments

jimin has a profile, but he rarely logs in. his layout is pastel colors and he often confuses the status update box with the little description next to his profile photo. he spams taehyung’s comments with hearts to bury the ones of certain others. when his “online now!” thing comes on, it’s a major event and his comments get flooded so much that it overwhelms him and he logs out again for a few weeks. he’s not sure how to comment back directly, but he’s really grateful everyone says hi to him.

jungkook has an all black page with galaxy-like animations. he learned how to do html so he could design it himself. his playlist is all demos/covers he made himself because he figures army would much rather hear him sing on his own profile than someone else (he’s right!). he goes MIA a lot too, so his “last login” date sometimes becomes a meme amongst the fandom which results in counting exactly how many days we last heard from him. when he remembers his password though, he’s on there for hours posting lots of bam photos, boxing videos, and doing bulletin surveys for fun. he threatens to block jin literally every time he comes online because he genuinely has no idea what he’s asking and he whines about it in hobi’s inbox too.

#ask

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popcorn-plots · 2 months

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Febuwhump day 17: hostage situation

Title: just the impossible

Words: 697

Summary: “Strange or the people of New York. Tough decision. Who lives, who dies…. You are playing a delicate game, Sorcerer Supreme. You decide who survives. Play God, just for a second, or we destroy your planet. Your choice, Sorcerer Supreme. You have 24 hours to decide.”

Sorry.

~~~

The video was short. Short, simple, and to the point. Yet it was the worst thing Wong had ever had to watch.

Stephen was in the center of the frame. He was tied to a chair, his hands bound with a combination of ropes and a spell that no doubt burnt him whenever he moved. Even from the grainy footage, Wong could see the red, blistering skin on Stephen’s wrist. Stephen was blindfolded and gagged, blood soaked through the fabric from a large gash on his forehead. It made Wong’s blood boil. Vishanti knows what he would do if he could get his hands on the kidnapper. Wherever he was.

The camera panned out to a group of terrified civilians, a few in suits, most in casual clothing. There was even a little girl, young enough to be five, sobbing quietly behind an older woman, possibly in her mid-60s.

The camera lingered just long enough for Wong to make out and commit each and every one of their faces to memory before it returned to Stephen’s face, bloody and stained with dirt.

“Strange or the people of New York. Tough decision.” A disembodied voice announced in an accent Wong couldn’t quite place. “Who lives, who dies…. You are playing a delicate game, Sorcerer Supreme. You decide who survives. Play God, just for a second, or we destroy your planet. Your choice, Sorcerer Supreme. You have 24 hours to decide.”

The video clicked off. Wong fought to keep the anger, fury, guilt, and tears away. He needed to look strong for Kamar-Taj; he was the Sorcerer Supreme, dammit , but whoever had sent the video had brutally tied up his husband . His husband, or a dozen or so innocent people. A child , for the Vishanti’s sake.

Wong took a deep breath. His husband’s life, or the lives of the innocent. Neither situation was good. But he knew Stephen.

Stephen would rather die than put anyone’s life before his own. It was a quality Wong both loved and hated, a selflessness that Wong fell in love with, and the selflessness that pushed them apart, and the selflessness that brought them together again. Stephen would have done anything and everything in his power to save the hostages. Even if it meant sacrificing himself in the process.

-------

Wong picked up the phone when it rang.

“12 hours left, Sorcerer Supreme.” The voice taunted.

“I have made my decision.” Wong said, voice flat and void of emotion.

The voice laughed. “Tell me, then. Your husband or the hostages?”

Wong closed his eyes. He ignored the tightness in his throat, the burning in his eyes. “Let me talk to him first. Please.”

The other line was silent. “Fine.”

There was shuffling, a grunt, and Stephen was coughing into the receiver.

“Wong–”

Wong let a tear slip. “ Stephen… Steph…”

Stephen paused. “Wong? Wong, please, what’s going on-”

“I love you. I love you so, so much. I need you to know that.”

“I… I love you too, but- you can tell me later, I’ll figure it out, I promise–”

“Stephen, listen to me. Please . I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are the light in my life. You taught me how to love, how to find peace, how to truly live. You drove me mad when we first met, but I learned to love your jokes and your selflessness and everything about you. Your soul, your spirit, your body. I love you, Stephen.”

Wong could hear the tears in Stephen’s eyes. “I… you’re reciting our wedding vows. Why are you reciting our vows? Wong–”

“I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“I love you too, what’s going on– Wong-”

The phone switched people. Wong could hear Stephen shouting in the background.

“Your choice?”

Wong took a deep breath. Memories of him and Stephen flashed through his mind.

“I…” Wong closed his eyes. “Make sure the hostages get home safe.” It’s what Stephen would have done.

It was silent on the other end. “Of course, Sorcerer Supreme. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Wong nodded silently. The line disconnected seconds after a single gunshot rang out.

Ao3

#stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #wong #wongstrange #wong x strange #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 17 #hostages #heavy angst #no comfort #no comment #i'm sorry #but not really #get ready to cry #sacrifice

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see-arcane · 11 months

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I’ve been listening to it on a loop for days now and I’m convinced London After Midnight’s Selected Scenes from the End of the World album could and should have been the soundtrack to a trippy goth industrial 80′s-90′s Dracula movie in the style of The Hunger (1983). Like holy hell

“Claire’s Horrors”: Full of synth pipe organs and baying wolves and moody Castle Dracula backdrop tunes as Jonathan deals with Bisexual Vampire Hell for two months with this blaring in every room.

(This is the voice you have learned to fear.)

Spirits seem to drift up through a darkened sky Drifting through dead branches in the night While in the moonlight we go down upon our knees Entwined together only we can see their beauty

Beneath the stars a bell begins to toll For reasons which we really shouldn't know So take a walk with me down to the cemetery Wrap me in darkness, Claire make love to me

I am thunder, I am rain, I am pleasure, I am pain Only in darkness can there be light, tell me angel have you prayed tonight?

“Demon”: Dracula making his moves on Lucy, full stop.

Through darkened streets and blackened gloom the candles dim in your bedroom rain reflecting shadows in the night the moon is full and through the mist I hear your voice I feel your kiss the line grows thin between what's wrong and right.

Burning flesh, pale as the stars no one knows just who you are drive the knife in deeper to my soul

“The Spider and the Fly”: Renfield is blasting this at all hours on his Victorian airpods while Dracula catfishes him.

Empty hearts I can hear them talking I close my eyes and I keep on stalking my love, my love No one's aware of the hunger I feel It's something you or time cannot heal I need someone to help me rise above

Eternal bliss is something I can show you Spread your arms and let my wings enfold you, my love, my love In the darkness shades of crimson rapture The world is ours alone to capture my love, my love

“Your Best Nightmare”: Coppola would take the lyrics at face value for his DracMina OTP playlist. Listeners with taste know it’s serving nothing but hellish horror irony for That One Night in October.

Long after midnight, on a night like this I'd sit by my black-light and dream of your kiss Pulsating music filled my room and my head And I dreamed what it'd be like to have you in my bedI'm your best night, your best nightmare I'm your best night, your best nightmare

And then it happened, you were in my arms Your lips on my throat, your hands on my, on my... Two bodies together the intimate sin The pain and the pleasure could do mortals in How could you know what I'm thinking of? To me lust can be as beautiful as love Here tonight, your pure heart and soul Untainted passion should have no control

“Sacrifice”: Dripping with Jonathan and Mina’s ‘holiest love’ gothic horror romance drama front to back.

And here we go again, We've taken it to the end, With every waking moment, We face this silent torment

I'd sacrifice, I'd sacrifice myself to you Right here tonight Because you know that I love you

That is HALF THE ALBUM and at least five full music videos that could, should, and must be filmed in grainy moody scenery of mountainside castles interspersed with underground clubs with an all black dress code, eyeliner mandatory. And instead we got Francis’ never-ending migraine and Annie Lennox’s tragically misused “Love Song for a Vampire.” Shameful.

#dracula spoilers #or at least some implied #dracula #music #london after midnight

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