#it's a bit of a shorter one

[cloudwhisper23]

Grumbo Month! Another day from the list that @grow-bettah created for this lovely event.

Day 5: Candlelit Dinner

Grian had laughed when he saw what Mumbo had set up for them. His red sweater was covered in moss and stone, and he had not dressed up at all. But that was okay. Mumbo had expected something like this, honestly.

Inviting Grian over wasn’t usually a formal event, after all.

Grian sat on the edge of his seat in the unfinished vault, poking at the candle on the table. He still had that amused smile on his face when Mumbo took his own seat.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Not at all. I’m laughing with you.”

“I try to do something nice for you, and you’re poking fun at it.” Mumbo crossed his arms.

“Oh, don’t pout. It’s nice, Mumbo. Really. But candles?”

Grian’s feigned ignorance of human traditions was really starting to become a problem. Mumbo’s cheeks burned as he opted not to reply.

Finally, finally, Grian inspected the meal. “Mumbo. This is soup.”

“Mhm.”

Grian prodded the bowl skeptically. “Who did you get this from?”

“Pearl.” Mumbo replied, wearily. “Why?”

“Mumbo.” Grian’s feathers twitched. “Do you know what Pearl has been up to this season?”

“Not really.”

“Ah,  okay.” Another pause. “Did you tell her what the soup was for?”

“I did.” Mumbo forced himself to meet Grian’s gaze as he replied. “You know, typically it isn’t embarrassing to go on a date with your boyfriend.”

“We’re sitting in a half-finished vault in the middle of the night. There’s no torches, only one candle, and you had Pearl make the soup.” Grian shook his head. “Mumbo, if that’s not embarrassing, I don’t know what is.”

“What’s wrong with the soup?” Mumbo pressed. “Seriously. You know something I don’t here.”

“We won’t know unless we eat it, unfortunately.” Grian shrugged. “Pearl is in the Soup Group. They were the resistance against King Ren.”

“Ah. So it could be poisonous.”

“Or completely harmless.”

“This was meant to be a nice dinner,” Mumbo said mournfully, looking at the soup. “Our first one since you got back.”

“You mean our first one since you got back. I was gone for a week!”

“Right. Yes.”

“Look, Mumbo. It’s not a big deal, really.” Grian scooped a large spoonful of the soup into his mouth. “It’s just a precaution- Whoa.”

Mumbo stood as Grian swayed in his chair, the feathers on the side of Grian’s head flicking out. “Grian?”

“Mmm?” Grian’s eyes were unfocused.

“You alright there mate?” Mumbo steadied Grian with one hand.

Grian turned to him and kissed him hard. Mumbo jerked back. Grian followed his retreat, curling his talons into Mumbo’s jacket to continue clinging to him.

“I think we know what the soup does now,” Mumbo said. “We need to get some milk into you.”

A quick trip to Mumbo’s storage room, and both of them were sitting on the floor. “So, there was definitely something weird in the soup.”

“Absolutely,” Mumbo replied, letting the bucket fall from his hand with a heavy thunk. “You were right to be cautious.”

“Yep.” Grian leaned against Mumbo’s shoulder. “It was a nice thought.”

“I wish it had gone better.”

“Mumbo.” Grian chuckled slightly. “You think drugged soup is enough to scare me off? Not a chance.”

“I know.” Mumbo tried to smile back. “I just wanted things to go well.”

“Yeah? We’re here, we’re together, and now we have a funny story to tell.” Grian sat up suddenly. “Let’s prank her back.”

Mumbo’s curiosity stirred at that. “Do you have a plan in mind?”

“No, but it won’t be too hard to make one. What do you say? Candlelit prank plotting?”

“Definitely better than the soup,” Mumbo agreed.

When Grian kissed him, Mumbo didn’t pull away. He pulled Grian closer, almost into his lap as he deepened the kiss.

Grian was the first to pull free from that one. “Right! Let’s get to work on a plan.”

“Of course, Grian.” Mumbo smiled.

Maybe it hadn’t gone so bad after all.

#grumbo month #grumbo #hermitshipping #grian #mumbo #cloud writes #it's a bit of a shorter one #established relationships are a bit more brief without the pining phase #at least they are when I'm writing them

[bluuscreen-png]

oh yeah. full drawing of the masters outfit from the first part of my lil fic series since i never actually drew it in full

#doctor who #doctor who fanart #the master #simm master #saxon master #fanart #time lords call it a draw #no id #i’m chugging away at chapter 2 👍 it’s a bit of a weird one so it’s gonna be shorter but also it’s taking me a while to write lol #i think i’m aaaalmost done #but yeah. just art for the minute

[gallusgalluss]

long time no aliens, huh

#took a bit of a break from drawing woodwinds just Because but felt like drawing them again cause i miss my weird anteaters #also i decided to give the species a few edits. the most noticeable one is probably their hands #they only have 4 digits now and i wanted them to look different between the three species #plainswinds only using their hooves for walking. waspwinds using their hooves and Backwards Digit #and lowinds not having a hoof at all #also gave lowinds more physical differences so they aren't just small blue plainswinds (shorter torso. dewlap skin instead of wattles. etc) #yea :V! #art #drey draws #woodwind aliens #speculative biology #ouuuh i missed my funny guys i need to talk about them for a million hours rn

[hauntingblue]

You know I was wondering how the hell are jason and stephanie the same height in this panel

But then this comes out:

And jason and steph are the same height again so this confirms my theory: steph is 6'2"

#maybe 6 foot bc in the first one shes a bit shorter but still #look at the second panel #jason is looking at her wondering how this happened too #stephanie brown #jason todd #spoiler #red hood #batfam #batfamily #talking tag #1k #<-jesus christ no #2k #!!!??????? #how are there so many people #4k #babyy #5k #damn. #6k #!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[royalarchivist]

Tubbo: Hola!

Spreen: [Completely unprompted] I can't be homophobic, my btch is gay.

Tubbo: PFTTT—?!

Spreen: [Laughs as he jumps off the ledge]

Tubbo: [Continues laughing in confused delight]

#Tubbo #Spreen #Squidcraft #Squidcraft 2 #I LOVE this interaction so much I cannot emphasize enough that this came out of frickin nowhere #at least on Tubbo's end #Spreen's laugh was very sweet too #I'll be real I don't really watch Spreen and I don't know much about him but I'm in a bit of a ''q!Spreen get behind me'' mood rn #because I just read an analysis of him that was so bad I had to stand up and walk away from my computer #I've posted this before but I'm posting a shorter version since I'd rather not reblog the one #since the full one includes a certain someone 😒

[colibriskitea]

Poppy…how bout we stick to using scissors for scrapbooking..💗 + some poppy outfits I doodled while coloring this :)

#trolls #trolls fanart #broppy #poppy trolls #queen poppy #trolls poppy #branch trolls #trolls branch #dreamworks trolls #did one cut and ended up going shorter and shorter #branch trying to be supportive while giggling a bit #cos yknow #he knows exactly what happened #haha omg I’m thinking to much about it! #i love them

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Part Six

Summary: Azriel had been avoiding her all day after their last encounter, she was willing to let him brood all he wanted. Y/n may have just found her way home, but it comes with a warning.

Series Masterlist

-Part Six-

Y/n was finally back to her research, she’d eaten lunch with the Valkyries, all of them starving after training much longer than the two hours they’d expected. They had ended up talking about books, recommending many of their favorites for Y/n to read, Nesta had promised to drop some off by her room later in the evening. She’d told them of the books she read back home, of Dorian’s personal library that he’d share with her whenever either of them visited, of the libraries of Orynth, filled with stories from every corner of the world. Books scholars had saved from Adarlan’s path of destruction, books her family had found on their journeys around the world, books written of their battles, of hero’s and villains, love and loss.

Once they’d gone their separate ways, Y/n had found her stacks of papers and the Walking Dead in the exact place she’d left them the night before. The scratched out notes making less sense now that she looked them over with a clear mind. She’d been trying to make sense of her rambling for hours, her mind going numb, almost ready to give up when she’d felt his presence.

He’d been avoiding her all day, just like she had avoided him this morning. If it was because she’d lain him flat on his back, or from the dark look in his eyes as he’d look down at her when she’d been pinned to his chest, she wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t going to spend the time wondering. If he had a problem with her showing him up, then he and his ego could deal with that on their own, it wasn’t her problem. And if it was the other reason, she had much more important things to worry about than the gorgeous male staring at the back of her neck. At least that’s what she told herself.

“How many times must you be told?” She doesn’t lift her gaze from her notes, “It’s impolite to stare.”

A cool touch caresses the skin of her ankle, a tendril of shadows gently wrapping around her. Usually she’d snap at the little creature, but instead she just looks over her shoulder at the source, at the male leaning against the doorway. That dark and heavy look in his eye was gone, replaced by that mask of stoic beauty. He doesn’t say anything, only stares into her eyes, and she fights the urge to fidget beneath his gaze. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of it, she refused, no matter how her skin seemed to burn everywhere his eyes touched.

“You’re so upset I beat you that you’d give me the silent treatment,” she clicks her tongue, turning her back to him, “You males have such fragile egos.”

Again, no response, and it digs under her skin in a way she’s sure her cheeky little smiles do to him. Fine, if he wanted to play this game, she could to.

“You’d think after this long someone would’ve house trained you.” She throws that exact irritating saccharine smile over her shoulder, “Teach you some manners.”

Something she’d always known about herself is that she’d inherited her mother’s temper, to her father’s eternal delight. Prone to freezing a room or lighting it on fire during temper tantrums. When he didn’t respond again, she could feel her magic stirring beneath her skin, wanting to lash out, but again, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He could sit there and play brooding, tall, dark, and handsome warrior all he liked.

That little wisp of shadow gently tugs on her ankle, just enough pressure for her to look down at it, to follow it back to the male who’d taken several silent steps towards her.

She suddenly felt to small, to exposed, sitting there before him, her back on display. She’d been here for only two days and somehow she had already let her guard down. These fae weren’t her own, they weren’t friends she’d known her whole life, they were strangers who could just a easily kill her as she could them. Deadly warriors, skilled magic users, dangerous. She stands from her chair, turning to face him, hand in easy reach of her multiple daggers strapped across her body.

“Are you going to just stare me down, like some feral beast,” she snaps, letting that anger slip its leash, a warning to stay back, “or do you have something to say?”

Those eyes are suddenly not so blank, that mask ripped away to show the male beneath. And she saw that look, that darkness, that desire. It’d been the later that had kept him away, that had him coming back now. A predator stalking his prey, those whiskey eyes dipping down and slowly dragging back up, mapping every dip and curve.

That soft touch at her ankle turns into more than a simple caress, harder. Roughly locking her in place, keeping her from flying away even if she wanted to. He steps closer, and closer, and her heart is pounding in her chest in anger, in fear, in anticipation, she’s not quite sure which.

She has to crane her neck back to keep their eyes locked as he steps right in front of her. Gods he was tall, and gorgeous, and so close she could feel the heat of him.

“Where’d you go, Princess?”

Y/n jerks awake and Azriel pulls his hand away from her shoulder quickly. She’d been laying halfway on the table when he found her, her head resting on one of her arms, a pen loosely dangling between her fingers as if sleep had claimed her without warning. If he was being completely honest, he’d for the briefest moment thought it was cute, the way her cheek was smushed up against her arm, the soft snores that left her mouth. It’d taken him longer than probably necessary to lift his scarred hand to her shoulder and gently shake her a few times, whispering her name. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, and he’d hesitated to move when her lips had twitched up at the corners.

Her eyes frantically search the space around her, a pretty flush on her cheeks. When her eyes finally land on him she jolts, hand flying to her chest as if to cage her galloping heart.

“Gods, someone needs to put a bell on you,” she groans, falling back against her chair, hiding her face between her hands, “What time is it?”

“Well past your bedtime apparently.” He smirks at the glare she sends him from behind her fingers. “I just got back to find you like this.”

She gives him a curious glance, “Where have you been all day? Did your lord and lady give you the day off of babysitting duty?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “Why were you drooling all over your notes?”

She glares even deeper, the look in her eyes ice cold like the first night they’d met, “First of all, I was not drooling.”

He pointedly looks at the page she’d been hunched over, “Sure, okay.”

“Second of all,” she growls, shoving that paper across the table like it would hide the smudged ink, “answer my question, where have you been hiding all day? Ego a little bruised?”

She didn’t know the half of it, “I was sent out to check on something. I do have a job you know, and before you say it, no, my job isn’t just babysitting you, Princess.”

“I was going to say it was brooding, but close enough.” She gives him that exasperating smile, and it takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to not stare directly at those lips.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he says instead, glancing at the sky beyond the window.

“Is it really?”

She raises from her chair, putting the thing directly between them, a casual move, to casual. He notices there’s a tension in her shoulders, similar to the way she’d been in the garden that first night, like fight had switched to flight and she was seconds away from running straight through the balcony doors and flying away.

He cocks his head, shadows whispering in his ears, her heart is to fast, something’s wrong. Azriel could tell that himself, her heart hadn’t settled since she’d startled awake, and now she almost refused to meet his eyes. Something was definitely wrong, and he couldn’t keep his thoughts from spiraling.

Did she know that he’d spent the day flying just to cool off, that his blood had roared for hours and hours, that his mind had played the image of her below him, looking up through her lashes, over and over and over. Was she disturbed, disgusted, did the tentative bond they’d formed in the early hours of the morning snap and crumble to dust.

“I should go,” Y/n says, her eyes shift to the doorway beyond his shoulder. “Like you said it’s well past my bedtime. A female needs her beauty rest.”

She doesn’t move though, doesn’t take that first step that would bring her closer to him and Azriel doesn’t like the way it stings.

So he nods, takes a step back and waves a hand towards the door, “Goodnight then, Princess.”

She nods once, “Goodnight, Shadowsinger.”

And then she’s gone, rushing from the room. Azriel keeps his shadows firmly at his side, even as they struggle and beg to follow her, to catch her and keep her there with him. He’d already done enough, already scared her off. Mother above he was pathetic, his heart clenching painfully in his chest, absolutely pathetic.

There were more of those revealing clothes laid out on the dresser when she woke the next morning. Y/n noted that they were in the Terrasen green and silver that she had asked the house for. It eased her heart to wear those colors, made her feel like home wasn’t somewhere far across the stars.

Also laid out on the table by her seating area was a tray full of breakfast, it seemed the house knew she was avoiding a certain male. It may make her a coward, but she needed to put a little bit of space between them, that dream had shaken her, and she needed the time to pull herself together.

She wasn’t a stranger to attraction, to dreaming of males and females alike, to waking up in a bed that wasn’t her own. But this was different, Azriel was different. He wasn’t just some male who’d caught her eye, he was the guard who watched over her to keep her in line, he was the one who’d found her, bleeding and vulnerable on the garden floor, he was a stupidly handsome male from a foreign world who she knew next to nothing about. She had no business feeling anything for him, even if it was just lust.

It took her longer than she’d like to admit to put on a brave face and walk out her door. Azriel had left hours ago, she’d heard him walk into the hall, wait for several minutes as if expecting her to walk out, and then leave when she didn’t.

Y/n took the now familiar path to the dining room, where she found Feyre and Amren sitting at the clear spaces away from Y/n’s sprawling notes.

“Finally,” Amren sneers, “how long does it take you to get ready, girl.”

“Amren,” Feyre warns softly, “Good morning, Y/n, how’d you sleep.”

“Morning, Feyre. I slept fine, thank you.” She’d slept like shit actually, but she wasn’t going to say that and have to explain that a certain shadowsinger wouldn’t leave her mind. “Was there something you needed?”

“It took some convincing Amren.” Feyre gestures to the small scowling female, “But we’d like you to take a look at the Book of Breathings. It’s full of those marks and I wonder if you’d have an easier time looking for what you need.”

Y/n glances at the table between them, searching for the mysterious book. When she doesn’t find it Feyre’s hand comes up, snapping once, and all of a sudden a terrible presence fills the room. It’s heavy and old and whatever it is has Y/n’s defenses rising.

It’s not a book in the traditional sense, no paper, no leather, but metal plates bound by metal rings. It thumps onto the table, and the sound seems to echo around the room, through Y/n’s head.

“I’ll warn you,” Amren says, “the thing has a nasty habit of speaking out of turn. Don’t let it get to you.”

Feyre looks visibly uncomfortable in its presence, leaning back in her chair away from it. Y/n was half tempted to turn and fly out of the room, instead she sits before the ancient book.

Hello little stranger, it whispers, and she recoils away from it, teller of many stories, none of her own.

“Hello, creepy book,” she answers, “Do you have any stories to share?”

“Don’t humor it,” Amren snaps, glaring when Feyre shushes her.

I have many stories, it answers, many stories that may intrigue you, storyteller.

“Any on how I may get home?”

Look and see, it says, the answer you seek is already there, though I wonder if you truly want to see it.

Her brow furrows in confusion, “All I want is to go home.”

Ah, home, it sighs, what is home to you, storyteller? A castle, family, books, whiskey, shadows, a lover?

She forces away the image that comes to mind, “Terrasen, thats my home.”

Land of pine and snow, the book seems to take a deep breath, godless, the gods killer queen, the kings flame blooming year round. Why did it throw you out? Why did the stag turn his back on you.

Anger flares through her, “Enough.”

The Wyrd has plans for you, hesitate to turn your back on the gifts she gives you, it says, she will not take the slight kindly.

“I didn’t ask for a gift,” she snarls, “I didn’t ask to be ripped away from my home, from my family. I didn’t ask to have everything taken from me.”

And yet you have so much to gain.

Just like that it goes quiet, presence fading till it was nothing but a book. Y/n wants to scream, to force it to come back and tell her exactly how to get home.

“It hasn’t been that active since the halves were joined,” Feyre breathes, face pale.

Amren watches Y/n with curious eyes, “It’s interested in her, the same way it was with you. I don’t think we want to find out why.”

Y/n lifts her hand to the first plate, cold metal stinger her flesh. That ancient power floods through her, though the book stays quiet. It feels like the presence is weighing her down, holding her in her seat. She grits her teeth and forces the book open, eyes flowing over the words that she could not read, over the marks she could. It was a mixture of them, spells and marks, most she knew, some she didn’t. Those were the ones she focused on, the world seeming to hold its breath.

It took her several moments to figure out what exactly she was looking at, a mark she’d seen before, so similar to the one for unlock that she’d overlooked it the first time, open. It was so simple she almost laughs. Open, to open the rifts between worlds, to open a gate. That ancient presence seems to sigh in her mind, the only confirmation she needed before slamming the book shut and shoving it away from her.

“What is it?” Feyre asks, “Are you alright?”

Y/n nods, “Get that thing out of here.”

Amren snaps her fingers and it’s gone, “What did you find, girl? Did it give you what you needed?”

She nods her head again, “I need some paint.”

Tag List-

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @amberlynn98 , @ferrarisbitch

#this one is a bit shorter because there’s a scene I desperately want to write but it doesn’t fit in this chapter #but there’s more tension from her side this time because I need it #Azriel is an angst mother fucker #also I know the language in the book of breathings has already been established but I needed to connect them somehow #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

Pure Vanilla's nightmares have lessened, recently.

He knows that's because they've left the Faerie Kingdom far behind now, so Shadow Milk has no real reason to try and provoke him into setting him free anymore, but Pure Vanilla can't help but feel hopeful that it might be indicative of some real progress too.

After all, he's been having more and more dream talks with Shadow Milk recently, and most of them are fairly civil. It hasn't stopped the mockery or taunting entirely, but he has realised that once Shadow Milk has an interesting topic of conversation to entertain, he tends to be a little less antagonistic.

Dare he say it, their acquaintance as of late has almost been... nice. Which is why, perhaps, he had mustered the courage to try and pry beyond Shadow Milk's academic career.

"I found one of your old portraits, I think. It was quite damaged." Pure Vanilla says slowly, because he has spent an embarrassing amount of his spare time recently trying to track down any relics from Shadow Milk's past, to be able to prompt him with them. "...You looked rather different."

Today, the dreamscape takes the form of Pure Vanilla's personal chambers, albeit bathed in darkness that is broken up by the fragile light of the moon, filtering in through the tall windows. Pure Vanilla is sat in his familiar armchair, relaxed without his staff or hat on his person, and keeping his idle gaze on his conversation partner. Shadow Milk is floating by his bookshelves, walking his fingers along the spines of the books. His back is towards him, but his extra eyes blink lazily at Pure Vanilla in silent acknowledgement.

"Why does that matter?" Shadow Milk drawls, before letting out an overdramatic gasp. He kicks back, tilting until he hangs upside-down in the air as he clasps his hands to his chest like he is heartbroken, their gazes snapping together like magnets. "I never would have expected you, of all people, to care about appearances so much! Am I not pretty enough as I am, is that it?"

His laments could have gone on for much longer, but Pure Vanilla cut him off quickly, slightly exasperated. "No, no, that wasn't what I was saying, and you know that."

Shadow Milk stops his fake wailing immediately, eyes curved into mischievious crescents as he glances over at him, and Pure Vanilla sighs. "It's just... interesting, I suppose. You look like two completely different people – unless it really wasn't your portrait?"

Shadow Milk bobs his head from side to side as if he were physically turning the words over in his head, before a thin mean smile slices clean across his face. "People change, Vani! Shouldn't you know that already, knowing our dear Guardian?"

Pure Vanilla tenses in his seat, balling his hands into fists in his lap. "I told you not to talk about her, didn't I?" He mutters with a frown, reminded once again that a conversation with Shadow Milk can never be completely smooth.

"Did you? I must not have heard you." Shadow Milk hums, righting himself in a way that involves far too much limb contortion. He drifts over to the table Pure Vanilla is sitting at, leaning against the edge and casually sweeping the vase of white lilies there off the table with one arm, quick enough that Pure Vanilla can barely react.

The vase shatters with a crash, and the half-bloomed petals are ruined by the fall. Pure Vanilla jolts, aching at the sight and his voice falls out pitched. "Shadow Milk-!"

"It's only a dream, no need to get worked up over it." Shadow Milk replies, tone carrying an edge of annoyance, though Pure Vanilla isn't sure why. Shadow Milk perches on the edge of the table with one leg over the other, lounging as he props himself up with one hand, his expression odd.

Still, he is right. It is only a dream, and Pure Vanilla cannot let himself be affected so easily anyway. He hesitantly tears his gaze away from the broken vase, turning his attention back to his curiosity, which is easy to do with Shadow Milk's face now right in front of him.

Pure Vanilla occupies himself with comparing the face before him with the memory of that portrait, eyes carefully tracing every visible difference in the wavering moonlight. The way his face is framed is different, for one, with the loss of his monocle and the change in his icing, and it makes him look harsher. His colour is off, somehow, and his silhouette has twisted too. That once collected, near regal posture has been overtaken by the lax, twisting strangeness that Shadow Milk often moves with, but to say it is gone completely isn't true. The smooth line of his back, even lounging like this, holds the ghost of that perfect posture.

And his eyes—

"Your eyes are the same." Pure Vanilla doesn't even notice he has spoken aloud until the words have fallen out of his mouth, soft and light like feathers.

It is true, though. His eyes aren't exactly the same physically, the pupils having grown to slits, but the spark and sharpness of them are just like the ones captured in that portrait. If he focuses on them, Pure Vanilla can almost imagine that he is there before everything went wrong, sharing a moment with that brilliant, revered scholar.

He is so mesmerised by those eyes that he immediately notices the way they crinkle in the corners, glittering with thinly veiled amusement, just before Shadow Milk snickers. "I know my eyes are stunningly handsome, but you can talk to me while you get lost in them. There's nothing more boring than silence!"

Pure Vanilla blinks quickly in response, startled out of his dreamy contemplation. Instantly, he feels the heat of embarrassment begin to darken his cheeks, and he closes his eyes on instinct, ducking his head slightly. Shadow Milk's giggles coil around his shoulders, and to move on from his own bout of confusion, Pure Vanilla frantically tries to pin down a conversation topic.

"Never mind that. You always insist on maintaining conversations with me." Pure Vanilla comments, something like concern and the beginnings of anxiety heavy on his tongue. "I know your circumstance doesn't allow for socialisation, but can you not even talk to your friends?"

It's a risky question, and Pure Vanilla knows that, even before he asks it. He has done his best to steer clear of topics that are even remotely related to Shadow Milk's imprisonment so far, for fear of provoking him. But this question has been simmering in his mind for a while now, so it is the only one he could think of in his haste. He won't be able to learn more about him if he doesn't press further, anyway, and now is as good a time as any.

Pure Vanilla had expected a bit of a pause, the sort of charged silence he has grown to expect from Shadow Milk when he is faced with a question he actually wants to consider, so he is surprised by the near immediate response.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I can." Shadow Milk replies, sounding remarkably flippant about it.

Pure Vanilla takes a moment to try and find a way to word himself delicately, hands fidgeting where they rest in his lap. "...Well, you always act like I'm the only person you talk to regularly. I thought, perhaps, you're–"

Lonely, but Pure Vanilla cannot get the word past his teeth, biting down on it uncomfortably. He has a feeling saying that wouldn't be well-received, or at the very least, not taken seriously.

Shadow Milk seems to understand the implication anyway, scoffing. There's a scramble of movement, and that prompts Pure Vanilla to open his eyes again, finding that Shadow Milk has dropped down to lay across the table on his back.

"I can tell you what I am, I'm bored. Why do you think we're so desperate to get out, huh? It's because there's nothing to do!" Shadow Milk throws his arms up, gesturing wildly as his voice starts swinging and his expression pinches with building agitation, kicking his legs furiously over the edge of the table. For the first time, Pure Vanilla is stricken by how similar it looks to a Cake Wolf pacing a cage, driven to a frenzy by claustrophobia. "We can talk to each other, but do you have any idea how long we've been stuck in there? We've run out of topics years ago, and they don't entertain my debates in the right way anyhow. There's no fun in that!"

Without warning, Shadow Milk flies up into a sitting position, his form blurring and peeling at the edges. Pure Vanilla watches him with concern as he lets out a raspy huff, teetering on the edge of a laugh.

"But I like talking to you so I do. That's all there is to it." Shadow Milk declares, voice lilting to something sweeter. A crooked smile surfaces on his face, and he jerks forward in an unnatural manner, as if he were a puppet on strings. He cups Pure Vanilla's face in his hands who, having slowly adjusted to the fact that Shadow Milk is prone to impulsive physical contact, only flinches slightly at the suddenness. "Did that never occur to you, silly?"

Pure Vanilla's mouth opens and closes soundlessly, settling into an uncertain line. To hear Shadow Milk say that so frankly caught him off-guard, as he always does, torn between suspicion and that tempting optimism that has been slowly gathering in his heart. "Well, I wasn't–"

His voice crumbles in his throat as Shadow Milk pulls his face towards him and presses a scorching kiss to the four-point star on his forehead. The dreaded warmth returns to gather in his face, made obvious by the contrast between the flush and the cold press of his hands.

He shouldn't be so flustered - this isn't the closest they've been - but his embarrassment only makes it worse.

"Don't overthink everything, you'll turn your brain into charcoal. That would just be a pity." Shadow Milk teases against his forehead, his dozens of eyes winking with silent laughter as he pulls back, hands slipping from his face and—

—Pure Vanilla wakes up, frazzled and unsure. He stares at the ceiling, hesitantly pressing a hand to his forehead. His dough is buzzing.

He lays there for a while, confused by the warmth within him and considering the interaction once more. Shadow Milk said he enjoyed talking to him, and Pure Vanilla believes him, if only because he really does seem engaged with their conversations.

And if that's true, then maybe they really can resolve everything through words. For all his strangeness, Shadow Milk does seem to follow some sort of line of logic during their debates, and logic, regardless of what kind, has the chance to be reasoned with.

He thinks of sharp, painted eyes and countless conversations on studies, research, literature, philosophy. He thinks of claustrophobic madness and the endless hunger of the scholar and pity, pity, pity.

Pure Vanilla sighs, and for the first time in very long, he finds himself tempted to return to sleep.

[next]

#uh oh! the old man is having Ideas and experiencing Things #this one is a bit shorter and a bit messy because i didn't have a solid plan for it #but it is a necessary building block for later :) #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #pureshadow #echo paradox au #the biscuit library

[zxal]

3 extra people in your head = 4x the hairstyle opportunities

#yugioh arc v #ygo arc v #arc v #zuzu boyle #yuzu hiiragi #celina #serena #rin #lulu obsidian #ruri kurosaki #arc v art #my art #drawing this made me realize how much more similar zuzu + co. look to each other compared to yuya + co #zuzu and celina in particular have pretty much exactly the same hair just in different colors + worn differently #rin + lulu are the outliers with shorter + longer hair respectively but even they still have the two strands framing their face #i kinda struggled with rin tbh i feel like i don't have a good grasp on her personality and it comes across when i draw her #but i ended up feeling like high pigtails / low pigtails / high ponytail / low ponytail was a good contrast between everyone #(and rin with her hair down just looked like lulu) #their colors don't clash nearly as bad as yuya + co.'s do either so there's a bit more cohesion among them - #- which is ironic considering the boys are the ones with identity issues and the girls are the ones with greater independence comparatively #but i've said too much already...(tugs my hat down and walks away pensively)

[amokslime]

Yunmeng siblings! I had fun messing around with their character designs to reflect my personal preferences in various ways.

#art tag #mdzs #yunmeng siblings #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #i went down a rabbit hole for jiang yanli's outfit and im really happy w it #but now the other two outfits look plain by comparison to me. whoopsie! #i wanted wwx to be a bit of a tall beanpole with messy thinner hair bc I think that's cute #jc is a bit stockier by comparison and that confirmed one (1) cm shorter. he's always gotta lose by a hair's width #i love that aspect of him the most. i love a good vegeta character #and then jyl is ROUND and SOFT with SAD EYES bc im a HOMOSEXUAL #anyway enjoy!

[sollucets]

favorite characters x favorite color: yok

#not me #not me the series #first kanaphan #yok not me #fcfc #rowan gifs #tuserhidden #(<3? if its ok) #and now for the usual chatter: #i love yok as a character for many many reasons largely including The Audacity #but am i gonna pretend i picked anything other than 'i think yok looks hot here' for these no. no i'm not i'm a simple man #that smiling gif is 10 frames shorter than the others and i usually hate doing that but you think i could just leave that out? #you think that's possible for me? #these are a bit less vibrant/pink than the previous purples and that's mostly because of .... the way not me looks pfft #but!! i'm v happy with the first 2. esp the first one i think it looks so good #glad to get this out now so i can take a nap b4 ourskyy..... im gonna need it

[glass-noodle]

lab merman AU part 5 5️⃣0️⃣💕

Hank’s suspicions are confirmed. Connor can understand him, but he can’t seem to speak. It makes Hank even angrier, knowing that Connor is a fully intelligent being, and yet he’s being confined to this stupidly cramped tank.

Even though Connor can’t speak, he’s started to make little noises when Hank is around. Little chirps, trills, throaty murmurs. Hank even thinks he hears him purring one day as he accepts his daily fish.

Connor never makes a sound when Kamski or the scientists are around, though.

[prev] Part 5 [next]

Taglist under the cut!

@dokidokisadness @extraordinaryandroid @dirty-droid @bluewolven @maddsmallow @aesthetichoney2111 @marilady @iwonderwh0 @rurousha @thatsgoodweather @famouswolflamppaper @clocks-declaring @shaed @binxwells @nothinggathers @treeffles @akakonight @djeris @timebird84 @averyshittyseal @jayfirebird @username-is-required @go-flow-bro @leelany-world @ray-the-orbiter @cosmogyral-cat @a-space-in-the-void @flitewulf @canofworms95 @fandomhell97 @toriisnerdy @reality-was-stolen @kibikikou @justsenarra @dickgraysonloml @celinamcm @zenithier @kibze @neverlet @idlebirdsparagon @nekojetto @unstablerk800 @fearlessjones @basenikon @brxnd0nur-1e @jei-rifni @isu0 @nota-deviant @leon-lemon0

(Some of the tags were being iffy, so please let me know if the tag didn’t work for you!)

Thank you so much for enjoying this little series. I read every single one of your comments and tags! I appreciate y'all beyond words 😭💕

Feel free to let me know if you would like to be removed from the list at any point. If you would like to be on the taglist for this comic, please click here!

#bit of a shorter update but don’t worry #i got some big ones coming #*rubs hands together* #hankcon #dbh #detroit become human #lab merman au #hannor #conhank #Hank x connor #dbh fanart #detroit become human fanart #dbh connor #connor detroit become human #detroit become human connor #detroit become human rk800 #connor rk800 #rk800 connor #hank detroit become human #detroit become human hank #hank anderson #dbh hank #glass art #noodle art #mermay

[saltpepperbeard]

Happy One Year Anniversary to the beautiful, fated meeting.

#OFMD #Our Flag Means Death #OFMD One Year Anniversary #ofmdedit #ofmdaily #tvedit #Gentlebeard #Blackbonnet #Edward Teach #Stede Bonnet #Taika Waititi #Rhys Darby #Edit #ft. me singing our prayer the entire time while gifing this HSDJKLS #I cannot believe it has been a whole year already #A WHOLE YEAR #It somehow feels both shorter AND longer than that #Maybe because I came in a bit later #And/or maybe because it's been so significant #SOMETHING LIKE THAT #God though #A whole year and I'm still not over the fact that they met like this #That Ed posed himself in such a way and cocked his hip for this silly little guy #And that Stede smiled so brightly despite the fact that he was BLEEDING OUT #Like he must have been in so much physical and emotional pain #And yet Ed was still able to bring him solace and warmth and joy #From the SECOND they meet each other they're bringing each other peace and warmth and intrigue and joy #Like goodNESS

[rinseveryday]

Good friends?

#i didnt feel like queueing this one #inspired by a video of a guy showing his parents his partner who turned into a gummy worm #this is the third time ive recounted my story so its a bit shorter than what i said on instagram lmao #if you read the tags then hi #aoex #blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #rin okumura #okumura rin #ryuji suguro #konekomaru miwa #shima renzou #idk why the names are all messed up #comic #manga #fancomic #fanart #not chibi #bonrin #my art

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: decided not to include smut just yet, it didn't feel right considering the story, next time i promise we'll f the raisin

Warnings: Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Smoking Cigs

Summary: The camp gets attacked, and as such, important changes are forced to develop. Cross-Posted on AO3

Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Old. He feels old. 

His age is like a thief in the night, it creeps up on him, slowly, before sinking its teeth right into his bones. There are centuries to his name now, and still, he doesn't learn from his mistakes. It's him chasing a woman, that has gotten him in this mess in the first place, and now he's doing the same damned thing. That's the only explanation, why he lets you get away with as much as he does. 

Here you sit, curled into yourself, his lasso secured tightly around you, your hands raised towards your face. He watches with confliction, as you put a cigarette up to your lips, the bud lighting your features for just a moment, before a cloud of smoke escapes into the dark night.  It's a deep, heavy inhale, your chest expands. He can feel the lasso move under his grip, and he flexes his fingers against it.

He's never seen anyone smoke in such an elegant manner, not after the bombs anyway. This regal air, a natural sort of poise, intrigues him beyond any reason. How did the Wasteland not destroy all this grace, how are you untouched by the roughness of this world, is beyond him. He tries to categorize everything he knows about you, all the small tidbits of information he has gathered through the short time you've been travelling together. Still, nothing explains this strange nature of you, and Cooper leans back, the sound of your Geiger meter spiking every time he moves. 

Cooper reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes, your cigarettes. Feeling your gaze on him, he takes one and lights it against the small fire you both got going. Well, in all fairness, it was you that started the fire, while your captor watched you struggle, keeping his leash on you. 

Those strange little power trips seemed to be one of his favorite games. He wouldn't be the first man that got off on power you've met, but he was definitely the most annoying. Your throat still burns slightly from the smoke, as you throw him a displeased look. 

The nicotine is barely noticeable to him, like a grain of sugar in a very large chocolate cake. In his case, the cake is made of every drug possible to find in the Wasteland. 

Still, Cooper tastes the pre-war chemicals with a strange sense of melancholy. It makes him remember, again, and he closes his eyes as he exhales the smoke, not bothering to smother a low groan of pleasure. Your eyebrows jump to your forehead, but you compose yourself quickly, throwing your burning bud into the fire. 

The events of the previous night are still vivid in your mind. His fingers flexing against your tongue. His knee between your legs, close but not close enough. Perhaps he wasn't the only one getting off on this uneven relationship, but you were not about to admit it, even to yourself.

- So - your voice is rough from the smoke, and you swallow around a lump in your throat - Where are you taking me?

He doesn't answer for a long while, just enjoying his cigarette, your cigarette. And he seems to be enjoying it very much, more than what's considered proper. Honestly, with the way he's been groaning, you wouldn't be surprised if he came on the spot just from the smoke. The thought makes your cheeks redden, and you chastise yourself for even thinking in that general direction, again. Has it really been that long?

- Shady Sands - smoke pushes past his teeth, surprisingly intact for a Ghoul.    - For real?

- Yup - another drag, you watch his chest expand under his coat - Shady Fucking Sands.

Your head slumps down, as you turn your gaze back to the fire. Hunger creeps up on you, and with your hands tied, you reach over to an Iguana on a stick roasting over the flames. Your tongue burns from the heat, but as soon as the chewy meat hits your stomach, you're ready to sing to the heaven's. 

- That's an awfully long way for a bunch of caps - you note, between quick bites of your food - What was my bounty? Five hundred?

The last time you've checked, it was something around that number. Not too shabby, but not worryingly big either. Just enough to keep you on your toes for any desperate newcomers, but not enough to warrant attention from anyone actually dangerous. The Ghoul, as desperate as he looked back at the bar, started to look more and more like a professional, every second you've spent with him. There was something in the way he walked, the way his eyes stayed vigilant and aware, that screamed danger. Still, for five hundred caps, times must've really been hard on him.

- Try ten thousand.

A piece of meat lodges itself into your throat as you inhale with surprise. As soon as it happens, you cough it out, and it flies back into the fire, leaving you heaving with tears in your eyes. 

- How much?! - you demand, hands trying to massage the pain in your chest. 

The Ghoul smirks, taps the brim of his hat with his gun, which he kept trained on you for over three days now. 

- Had I known I'm worth that much, I'd turn myself over a long time ago - you murmur, and the Ghoul shoots you a mirthless laugh.

- Thought you ran a charity, Healer - he spits your name out like the worst of slurs, and with half a mind you wonder why it bothers him so much. 

Still, his words hit a little bit too close to home, and you turn to your skewer, chewing in silence, until he gives you a wordless permission to sleep.  Tugging your messenger bag under your head, you listen to the various liquids sloshing inside, your Geiger meter cracking away on your hand. The Ghoul stands up to put out the fire, as cold was better than anyone finding you in the wilderness. Then, he sits down, a short distance from your curled up form. 

You can feel him, even if you can't see him, and with tired arms, you tug your robe closer around your body. 

- I try to be good - you whisper into the night, into the hot coals of the bonfire, into his unyielding indifference.

- You ain't gotta explain yourself to me, sweetheart - he answers in a low voice, and it's the nicest thing you've heard him say, since you've met him. 

***

The raiders come at night, as they always do.

You're still halfway into deep sleep when the first shot rings out. The bullet lodges itself into the ground right in front of you, dirt exploding across your face. It doesn't wake you at first, confusion and remnants of some distant dream muddling your senses. 

The Ghoul springs to action with record speed, and before you can truly react, he shoots three shots in the direction of the tree line. That's when you jump to your feet, ears ringing and head swimming with confusion. 

A man in a tattered blouse falls to the ground, right next to the small fire pit, ash flying into the air. You can see his blood seeping into the coals, but before you can react, The Ghoul grabs you by the shoulder, all but throwing you behind him, as he levels his gun in front of him. 

The ringing in your ears mixes with the wild beating of your heart, as you try to wrestle the panic into submission. The Ghoul's tattered coat whips itself across your ankles, and you've never wanted to be free of your binds as much as in this moment.

Silence. Complete, and utter silence engulfs the two of you, and you grab onto the bounty hunter's arm to steady yourself. His head turns in your direction for just a second. Eyes lock together, something flickers across his face, but it's gone before you can even begin to decipher the expression. 

- I'll check the parameter - he grumbles, and walks towards the closest tree. 

At first you don't even know how to voice your protest, as he all but ties you to the tree, securing his lasso, and consequently cutting off any means for you to escape. Like a wild dog, you're left there, watching him turn away in favor of walking into the trees. 

Panic rises in your gut, as you tug on the rope.

- Hey! - you whisper-yell after him, eyes searching for any more attackers - Don't you dare leave me here!

But he's already walking away, keeping himself low, his rifle tight in hand. A couple of steps into the tree line and he blends completely with the surroundings, like he belongs there, amongst the trees. Chest heaving, you double the efforts of freeing yourself, the rope digging painfully into your wrists.

Frustration quickly overcomes fear, and you kick out, the ash from the bonfire swirling around you like a cloud.

Then, a twig breaks somewhere behind you, and your blood freezes in your veins. 

***

Cooper moves through trees like he's one with the southern wind. 

His coat shuffles around his ankles, as he presses further into the tree line, more bothered by the small attack than he would like to admit. 

The bullet almost hit you. In the head no less. Ten thousand caps, gone in a second

He allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment, barely a second, and it was all it took. When has he become so sloppy, he couldn't tell, but he supposed it had something to do with the way you looked like, when sleeping. 

So at peace, like this hard ground was the most comfortable bed in the world. Your cheek squished into your messenger bag, as if it was the softest of pillows. He wondered, what warranted such trust, such peace of mind, that you fell into deep sleep almost as soon as you closed your eyes. 

Did you really trust him that much?

A dangerous idea, he thinks. An idea he might've entertained centuries back, when he still had a nose and didn't look out onto this hell of a world through layers upon layers of cynicism. Still, your curled form tugged on something, some shadow of his former self, that he needed to squash sooner, rather than later. 

He was getting too damn old for this. 

Cooper finds the raiders camp in a matter of minutes. Two sleeping bags, a bunch of empty bottles and, to Cooper's dark amusement, a half-eaten human leg. 

So, not just raiders, but fiends as well. 

Cooper kicks at one of the sleeping bags, his eyes searching for anything of use. And that's when his mind catches up.

He hears your scream tear through air.

His head whips back, hat almost falling. 

A shot rings out.

Ten thousand fucking caps. He's an idiot, an old idiot. 

Cooper starts to run, branches snapping under his boots as he cuts through the trees with surprising agility. Another scream, raw and gut wrenching, and he can almost see your bloodied body twitching under the second fiend. The one he didn't get. 

Rifle first, he all but barrels into the clearing, for a split second not knowing what he's looking at. 

Because yes, there is a bloodied body in the camp, it's face barely resembling human features with the way it's been brutally eviscerated. But it's not yours. Too thin, too male, too hardened. 

That's when he sees you. Curled against the tree, where he tied you down and left you. Your hands are gripping some large stone, blood drips from your fingers, down to your arms. Your shoulders are moving, up and down, in a steady rhythm of deep, heaving breaths, and for a second, Cooper allows himself to feel relief. 

You don't even look at him, still holding onto the rock, nails biting into it's surface, and he can't clearly see your face, but he can see the blood. Your Geiger meter crackles, as he comes closer, kicking at the dead fiend, just to be sure. 

- We gotta get moving, there might be more of those fu-

His words die in his throat, because suddenly, something collides with staggering force onto his body. Landing on his back, he immediately lifts his arms up, to shield himself from bloodied fists, slamming into his chest, into his head, wherever they can reach. 

- You left me! - your voice sounds like a wounded animal - You motherfucker! Why did you leave me?!

There is no real force backing your punches, all your strength apparently drained by what you did to fiend just moments ago.. They do become quite irritating, and Cooper wrangles your, still bound, hands until he has your by the wrist. And that's when he sees you. Finally, truly sees you.

You're hunched over him, straddling his waist, hair whipping around your head like some deranged angel's halo. Features twisted into a mixture between fury and anguish, your face is red, sticky with drying blood. 

Beautiful, tragically beautiful, Cooper thinks, and this time doesn't chastise himself for it. 

- Why did you...?! - your voice cracks like a broken mirror - You're the one killing people, not me. I'm not... I've never...

Cooper fights through your spasming muscles, as slowly, your anger dissipates, leaving nothing but tears, which are now creating pathways down your cheeks. Finally, he understands. Your poise, your elegance, the gentleness in every movement. 

You've never killed anyone. Never taken a life. 

Unknowingly, he has made you into a killer. 

Shoulders sag against his hold, as you slump into him. He feels you, the length of your torso on his, your shallow breathing warming his shirt. And he lets you rest, lets you curl into him like he isn't worse than both of those fiends combined. Like he hasn't just put you through this hell, hasn't tied you up, dragged you through God knows where. 

- He... - you choke out, and Cooper curses at the way his hands slide around your back to hold you closer, tighter - He tried to...

- I know - he doesn't know what has possessed him, but he comforts you just the same - I know, sweet thing. I'm sorry.

Tears fall heavy onto his collarbone, as you let yourself be held. And he holds on with everything he has, deciding that perhaps, you both have some time left. Fingers trace the pattern of your curved spine, the dips between your shoulderblades. He dares not move lower, even though perhaps he wants to. Perhaps he would take advantage of this situation and try to find out just how much he can get away with. But some missplaced feeling of decency wrangles itself onto the surface, swallowing down all the murder, and the lies, and all the horribly depraved things he has thought about, while keeping you hostage. 

 It takes some minutes for you to calm down, and when you do, he pulls you up. Not the usual tug of the rope you're both used to, but a gentle hand in your hand, helping you steady yourself against him. The warmth of your body is all but a memory now, and he clings to it for just a moment longer, a souvenir for later. 

The silence is heavy with unsaid words, with actions that will have disastrous consequences. But as he unties you from the tree, as you look over at the bloodied body of the fiend, he finds that there are no words left to be said. 

So you swing your messenger bag over your arm, and let him lead you further into the Wasteland. No longer yourself, no longer the Healer, but something else entirely. 

#my writing #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #fallout smut #again this one is a bit shorter but the next one im going all out on the story

[beybuniki]

Found it funny that you had girl Deku wearing a school uniform with ankle-length skirt while girl bakugou had a shorter skirt, because apparently its usually delinquent/rough girls that wear ankle-length skirts in Japan due to their association with the Subekan sub-culture which had girl gangs rebelling against the popularity of mini-skirts by wearing extremely long skirts, so realistically girl Bakugou would be the one wearing them.

I thought about that too, I think I have sketches of bakugo in all skirt lengths lol

#She’d def wear a longer one #and deku a shorter one to look a bit taller #Asks