#the fact we got to see the hour of joy and it was terrifying we dont even know if joey actually killed anyone anymore

[reel-fear]

Honestly, every single time the whole 'poppy playtime is a bendy rip-off' stuff ever shows up I find it all extremely unconvincing and silly.

For one thing, rip-off usually is meant to imply that it's a cheap lazy copy of a better more polished thing, and uh. Sorry but even from chapter 1? Poppy Playtime is a better game than Bendy, it has a simple but understandable story, the game manages to be thrilling, creepy, and very intense at times... I mean that Huggy chase in the vents ALONE puts it way above Batim for me.

I mean BATDR had the most slow stupid chase I've ever seen [and every other encounter with the ink demon is text telling u he's there and then a timer goes down and u get jumpscared] and batim's chases were either silly or just not nearly as theatric or terrifying as that.

When making the vent sequence I mean not only is it absolutely horrifying to realize how fast Huggy is in there but also it's so theatric and cool? The fact that you round a corner after thinking you escaped only to see a terrifying animation of that thing crawling toward you is awesome! I wish Bendy had stuff like that!

And all the stuff it shares with Bendy are generic things Bendy ripped from other horror games/media anyways. I'm not saying Poppy Playtime isn't inspired by Bendy I for sure think it is but Bendy is such a generic story that somehow fails to do tropes 100 other horror games have done any comparison only makes Poppy Playtime look better.

"It has employees being sacrificed for their company" That is not a concept Bendy invented, literally look at any of the sci-fi horror series Bendy is very inspired by. This is literally a twist in the original Alien.

"It has a scary woman forcing you to do tasks for her" Once again, not a concept Bendy invented, a scary mysterious person forcing you to do fetch-quests is a concept found in tons of horror media. And at least Poppy Playtime gave you a chase with her and let you defeat her, look at poor malice. She's barely on screen for more than 10 minutes before she gets stabbed.

"It has a cult worshipping the monster" This is something tons of horror games and media have done too. I mean In The Tall Grass has a guy who worships a giant magical rock in the middle of a grass maze, Bioshock [which Bendy has only been taking more and more direct inspiration from while failing to grab any of the compelling parts] also had a lot of themes of religion and cult-ish behavior, almost every horror media franchise has at one point done a cult thing.

Bendy couldn't even come up with a reason Sammy worships the ink demon, the best motivation we've ever gotten is just that 'he's crazzyyyy the ink made him insaneeee'. Who is the cheap rip-off here?

At least Poppy Playtime gave their cultist a motive for worshipping the monster + a proper boss fight that feels intense and looks awesome! Bendy didn't even let you kill Malice [she got stabbed in front of you and then just collapsed on the floor how thrilling] meanwhile you get to kill three of the villains in Poppy Playtime and the gameplay and action in those scenes have only gotten better as the game went on.

I mean Sammy walks into a room and goes "AAA SCARY I'M BEING MURDERED" then later shows up and for NO REASON sees a normal human man and assumes it's the ink demon before once again someone else kills him for you. In Poppy Playtime you defeat Catnap as he floods the world with this horrible nightmare-inducing gas that intensifies the color palette and his design. Fight off versions of him that are illusions that you need your flare gun for, then watch in a wonderful animation as he mistakes the monster for his savior before getting killed by it, in a brutal way I might add, which game are we accusing of being cheap, lazy garbage again?

I just find this argument to be people who Really Really need to find a reason to hate Poppy Playtime which I think is silly. The devs being weird, shady people is already enough reason to dislike the game, you don't need to invent reasons why secretly every part of the game is malicious or bad. But esp when I see Bendy fans saying they don't support Poppy Playtime or dislike it bc of its devs or even saying its cringe ummmm.

I have bad news about the fact Bendy's devs are worse and it took not one, but TWO over an hour long videos to cover it all. Plus the Bendy games are just the worse games in every aspect, if I could sell my batim copy for a copy of Poppy Playtime I wouldn't hesitate at all.

Saying this as a bendy fan, we have no right to be super judgy towards Poppy Playtime. If Poppy Playtime is embarrassing cringe, Bendy is too and is way more embarrassing of an interest. We shouldn't spread misinformation just because we all want to hate Poppy Playtime, you can dislike Poppy Playtime without making up a bunch of nonsense to justify it.

Honestly seeing people just blatantly be unfairly mean to Poppy Playtime only makes its critics look worse and makes it hard to take any backlash to the games seriously. Because surprise surprise if you spread misinformation to make a point people will quickly stop listening to Anything you have to say bc they won't trust you're telling the truth anymore.

#feel free to reblog but Im not gonna tag this its way too rambley at least for my taste to go in the main tags #ramblez #also man can I say I didnt want to make this post super long but theres so many other points I could make in poppys favor #the fact we got to see the hour of joy and it was terrifying we dont even know if joey actually killed anyone anymore #the gameplay itself is more diverse and fun then batim which is a walking simulator that pretends to have fighting n stealth mechanics #at least Poppy n Missys friendship gives u a reason to care for missys safety before shes put in danger #Missy can actually express unlike Boris who sits there looking cute with no proper expressions until he gets yoinked and ur supposed to car #bc he was uh adorable? And therefore you spend an entire chapter tryna get him and get an extremely bad boss fight in return- #also soundtrack wise I like poppys tracks more theyre unique and fun and you can tell which part of the game they come from #bendy has so many dramatic reveal stingers and tracks that are really hard to tell which part of the game they come from #bertrums boss fight has my favorite theme bc its so specifically crafted for him and unique and meanwhile Norman has one of the worst imo #a lot of Bendys soundtrack if I played it for you right now it would be hard to guess where its from bc it all kinda sounds the same #the reveal music for the machine for bendy land for heavenly toys for alices domain all sound the same x_x #its just so frustrating but yeah my point is can we all stop making up new reasons to shit on poppy playtime its just kinda dumb #it feels less like actual criticism and at this point just feels like elaborate justification for cringe culture which I hate #okay thats it bye sorry this is 10 pages long-

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (21)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When she woke up in her chamber the sun was already slowly setting behind the walls of the Red Keep. She muttered under her breath in displeasure, twisting in her place, feeling discomfort in her lower abdomen and looked down, feeling a wave of disappointment and pain once again.

She sighed heavily, putting aside the already cold purse of water that had brought her great relief and allowed her to sleep for a few hours. Although she was distraught and terrified, the thought of her uncle's reaction and behaviour towards her made a warm, pleasant feeling spill over her heart.

She smiled involuntarily at the thought, wondering if he had just been at the Small Council meeting and would be back soon.

It wasn't long when the door to her chamber opened, and a moment later her husband walked in, pale, staring at her with wide-open eye.

Her heart pounded harder in horror at that look.

"We have received your mother's demands."

The word that she wanted to see her, to speak to her, and the fact that Aegon had agreed to it at the same time filled her with joy and horror.

She missed her and longed to hear her voice again, but she did not know what her mother was planning, what she hoped to hear from her lips.

What if she believed that her daughter had married her uncle just to survive?

That her affection for him was a lie and she would stab him in the back when she got the chance?

Her husband didn't seem pleased either as the affair became more and more complicated and there seemed to be no end to it all, no solution they could reach together.

On the second morning after King sent his response, a raven arrived in the Red Keep with word that her mother had agreed to the arrangements and would indeed be waiting with her husband in the Eyrie on the appointed day to speak to her daughter and her half-brother.

Her husband had no intention of spending a single night in the Eyrie, so he just acceded to his brother's suggestion and decided that the day before the agreed date they would travel to Harrenhal. She was not delighted with this idea, having heard many unflattering opinions about her father's brother.

Word had also reached her that a witch lived behind the walls of this grim fortress.

Still, she understood her husband's caution and anxiety, so she did not defy him, demanding something else in return.

"I will fly with you on Larax."

"No."

"If my mother sees that you did not allow me to fly on my own dragon she will not believe that anything that leaves my mouth was spoken of my own free will. She will see it as an excuse to believe that I still remain to you only a prisoner." She said impatiently; her husband turned his face towards the fire, sitting on one of the chairs at the table, licking his lower lip with his tongue in a nervous gesture, frustrated.

He did not reply.

She approached him slowly and knelt beside him on the cold stone floor, taking his hand in hers, placing a warm, tender kiss on it. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had closed his eyelids, that he was losing the battle with himself.

"Please, husband. Give me this joy."

Though reluctant, her uncle finally gave her his wordless consent, but he remained silent throughout the evening and locked himself in his mind, tense.

It didn't help that she was still bleeding.

Not wishing to cause him any discomfort with an intimacy full of these disgusting fluids, she did not attempt to touch him, and he, apparently fearing that he might cause her pain in this state, also refrained from doing so.

The carriages filled with their belongings had long since left King's Landing when she and her uncle left the walls of the Red Keep.

She could see that he was pale, looking at her with his lips pressed together, unhappy and unsure whether he was making the right decision. He sighed heavily as she touched his cheek with her soft palm.

"I will join you in the sky soon, husband. I promise." She whispered and rose on her tiptoes, placing a moist, warm kiss on his cheek exactly as she had done that day, when he ran after her. Her husband hummed under his breath at her words and moved ahead, while she turned the other way, heading for the Dragon's Pit.

At the behest of her uncle, the servants who had been taking care of their dragons since their childhood led Larax into the main cave – her dragoness squealed loudly in despair at the sight of her, her sounds reminding her of the crying of a child.

She ran to her with tears in her eyes, feeling that the sight was breaking her heart.

She had been locked away for so long, terrified and imprisoned just as she was.

"Shijetra nyke, Larax. Shijetra nyke. Lykiri (Forgive me, Larax. Forgive me. Easy)." She mumbled, reaching out to her – her dragoness tilted her head and let her touch her, pushing against her chest, showing her how much she longed for her closeness.

As she climbed into her saddle again, as she again commanded her to move ahead, to take to the skies, and as the wind and speed blew her hair away, she felt a wonderful surge of adrenaline, freedom and happiness. She soared high into the sky, commanding her to fly in the right direction.

Larax let out a loud cry, terrified, wanting to escape, when suddenly Vhagar flew over her, her mighty wings causing a wave of air to hit them.

"Lykiri, Larax! Gaomagon sagon zūgagon daor! Sōvēs! (Calm down, Larax! Do not be afraid! Fly!)" She commanded, and after a moment she managed to regain control of her, heading after the great beast towards the fortress where her father had died.

Although she knew her husband was terrified at the prospect of letting her ride her own dragon, she noticed out of the corner of her eye his silhouette and his face staring back at her, from a distance she had the impression he was smiling.

She thought with a squeeze in her heart that he must have been dreaming of this moment since they were children.

Him and her, flying side by side on their dragons.

Exactly as it should be.

Thanks to the good weather, their several-hour journey turned out to be less tiresome than she thought it would be; she felt an immense ache in her muscles after a long break from flying as soon as they landed and she dismounted from her saddle anyway.

She had to wait for her husband, who had to land on Vhagar much further away so that no houses were destroyed, therefore she allowed herself to look around, feeling that her heart was pounding like mad.

"My Lady. What a joy." She heard the voice of Larys Strong as he strode towards her through the gates of his fortress, leaning on his staff, followed by several guards and a woman who immediately caught her attention.

Her long, straight black hair, her bare shoulders, her full breasts, her slender figure and her eyes surrounded by her dark lashes, her irises having the colour of fresh, juicy grass.

She lowered her gaze, never having seen such a beautiful and mysterious woman before in her life, finally glancing at Lord Strong, realising she should say something in reply.

She had never trusted him or had a good opinion of him.

She believed he was responsible for her father's death and she didn't want to speak to him.

"My Lord Strong. Thank you for being willing to host us." She mumbled finally, forcing a warm smile, Larys Strong nodded. They all bowed as they spotted her husband approaching from the distance, his black leather coat and hair blown by the wind.

"My Prince."

"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters." Her uncle commanded him, his voice as hoarse and shaky as hers from the emotion they had both apparently experienced while flying.

Her uncle and Larys Strong walked through the gate first and she moved to follow them, the woman who stood beside him, whoever she was, strolled a few paces behind her, her pleasant scent reaching her nostrils.

Lavender and cloves.

"We have prepared for you, my Prince, the most magnificent quarters in the entire fortress. I have no use for it anyway; I would get tired climbing all those steps every day. Nearby we have prepared rooms for your wife, I assure you −"

"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." Her husband interrupted him, pulling his leather gloves from his hands, stepping inside the room, looking around with frustration and impatience.

Having been with him on a daily routine, accustomed to him conversing with her of his own accord, she had already forgotten how much he resented speaking to strangers for longer than necessary.

"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you."

She and her uncle cast quick, concerned glances at each other; her husband hit the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, furious.

She knew the expression on his face, knew he was only dreaming of rest, but they were his guests and he was not in a position to simply refuse him.

Lord Strong looked at her expectantly and her uncle nodded at her, albeit reluctantly, to leave them alone. The woman standing beside her raised her hand and indicated with a gesture where they were to go, so she set off in that direction.

The chamber her father's brother had assigned her was smaller and more modest than that of her husband's, but it had a more pleasant view from the window, straight over the forest and the clearing where her dragoness slept.

She involuntarily smiled under her breath as she pressed her palm against the glass, seeing Larax, forgetting for a moment that she was not alone.

"Do you desire to change into something…more comfortable, My Lady?" She heard a low, melodious, pleasant female voice behind her. She looked up at her and nodded.

"Yes. What do they call you?" She asked uncertainly. The woman smiled, looking at her calmly.

"Alys, my lady."

An awkward silence fell between them for a moment.

"I would not wish to… misunderstand who you are and what you have in common with Lord Strong, Alys." She said after a moment; the woman burst into a hearty, light laugh and shook her head.

"I am not his mistress. I am his relative, though I do not bear his name, as any bastard would." She replied softly, her voice gentle and full of understanding, as if she were speaking to a small child. She blinked, shocked by her words, her question leaving her lips before she had time to think what she was saying.

"Did you know my father?"

The woman looked at her for a moment before she nodded.

"Yes, my Lady."

She felt her hand clench into a fist, her heart starting to beat like mad.

"His death wasn't an unfortunate ordeal, was it?" She asked in a trembling voice, the corner of the woman's mouth lifting in a grin.

"There are no such thing as unfortunate ordeals, my Lady."

She left her enigmatic response unanswered, both intrigued and terrified of her at the same time; it seemed to her that the gaze of her luscious green eyes pierced her to the core.

"After the word has reached us here all the way from King's Landing, I have been looking forward to our meeting with impatience, and while I will admit that it is not what I expected, I am beginning to understand your husband's desperation." She spoke again with a hint of amusement from which she felt uncomfortable, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her words.

"What do you mean?" She muttered uneasily; the woman's gaze swept over her figure, as if assessing what she saw before her and combining it with her own conclusions in her head.

"Men are easily driven to desperation, though it usually takes time. They like to gain and take pride in what they have conquered; the greater, in their mind, the value of what they enclose in their embrace, the less they are willing to let it go." She said in a light, low, slightly dreamy voice, looking somewhere to the side, intertwining her hands in front of her.

"Your husband follows you with his thoughts even when he is not looking at you. His head, even when he is not speaking to you, is directed towards you so that he can see you out of the corner of his eye. When he feels discomfort, he involuntarily seeks your face to experience understanding and comfort."

She stared at her in disbelief, wondering if she had been able to see such a thing being in their company for just a moment, unable to hide how pleased her words made her.

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed, her heart pounding like mad.

Alys helped her change into one of the gowns that had arrived in Harrenhal in the chests before them, her long, graceful fingers entwining her dark, long hair into an intricate bun of many braids surrounding her head.

She had never had a similar hairstyle before and she liked it very much.

Alys escorted her to the chamber where her husband and Lord Strong had just eaten supper, then bowed and left, leaving them alone. Her husband looked at her intently as she sat beside him at the table with a smile, Larys Strong cast her a look full of curiosity.

"Beautiful hairstyle, my Lady." He said softly, but she felt a sense of discomfort instead of gratitude, which, however, she did not give vent to in any way. She looked at her uncle, for some reason emboldened by the woman's words.

"And you, my husband? What do you think?" She asked softly, her uncle throwing her a calm, impassive look.

"I prefer it when your hair is loose." He merely replied, reaching for his goblet full of wine, taking a loud sip from it, setting it down on the table with a loud clinking of steel.

She felt like a silly little girl and lowered her gaze, feeling a squeeze in her throat as an awkward silence fell around them.

What had crossed her mind to ask such foolishness?

Did he think she asked it out of vanity?

It seemed to her that her uncle regretted the coldness in which he had expressed his opinion, for before she left to prepare for sleep he reminded her that immediately when she had finished she was to appear in his chamber.

She nodded her head at his words and pressed her lips together, only in the corridor letting a few regretful, embarrassed tears run down her face.

How could she take it so personally, expect empty compliments from him when she knew perfectly well that he loathed it?

As she stepped into her chamber she asked one of the servants to summon Alys, wanting her to help her take off her gown and to prepare her hot bath.

She had no intention of going to her husband after hours of travelling on a dragon all sticky from sweat and exertion.

Alys walked into her room with a smile and bowed, approaching her, seeing that she herself had already begun to untie her bodice.

"Was the Prince pleased with his wife's appearance, my Lady?" She asked softly, and she swallowed quietly and sighed, lowering her gaze.

"Yes. Though he expressed his opinion that he prefers it when my hair is loose." She said resignedly, as if she had failed in some way by not meeting his expectations.

"Oh, that's understandable. He surely associates it with your intimacy and closeness, as any man would. The entwined curls and braids are for those around you, meanwhile the softness of your hair, the smell of them, the sight of them spread on the bed is something meant only for him." She replied lightly, as if she were speaking of something completely obvious and natural. She blinked, feeling that somehow her words comforted her.

"You know a lot about men…don't you?" She mumbled uncertainly, meeting her gaze in her reflection in the mirror, from which a shiver ran along her spine.

"Yes, my Lady."

She swallowed hard, feeling her heart pounding hard at the thought.

"Have you seduced many yet?" She asked at last; the woman involuntarily giggled under her breath, finally releasing her from her gown, which fell lightly to the stone floor, leaving her in her white night gown.

Thankfully, her bleeding had almost stopped.

"Yes." She said with amusement, taking her garment in her hands and placing it gently back in one of the chests, being careful not to crumple it as she meanwhile stepped into the bath and sat in it with a sigh of relief, sinking into the hot water.

"I would like to … make my husband happy tonight. I know he needs relief from what's about to happen tomorrow. However, I can't do it, at least for now, in the way I usually do." She mumbled embarrassedly, trailing her fingers along the edge of the tub, not daring to look at her in fear that the woman would mock her.

"The easiest thing to do in that case would be for you to use your mouth." She replied with amusement, and she raised her eyes at her, shocked.

Although her husband had sunk his face between her thighs on several occasions just as he had the first night after her return to King's Landing, he had never expected her to reciprocate.

Before she could suggest anything he thrusted his manhood deep between her moist folds anyway.

The truth, however, was that even if she wanted to do it, she didn't know how.

"I'm…inexperienced in these matters." She confessed with shame, looking at her uncertainly, a smile on her face that she might have considered warm.

"I see." She murmured, approaching her slowly, startling her completely as she knelt beside her tub, gently grasping her wrist in her hand. "I can show you how you should do it, if that's what you wish, my Lady."

She swallowed hard, feeling butterflies in her stomach and excitement, she licked her lower lip feeling it dry up with emotion.

"…How?"

Alys smiled, leaning towards her hand – she shuddered when her lips gently touched her finger, wondering with a fast beating heart what she was doing.

"Imagine that this is his manhood. Men don't say it out loud because pride won't let them, but they adore it when a woman showers them with gentle, tender caresses." She cooed as she closed her eyelids, running her full, moist lips up and down her pointing finger, leaving a wet trail of her saliva on it.

She looked at this sight as if enchanted, feeling an involuntary throbbing inside her imagining that she had knelt before her uncle and touched him like this.

She drew in air loudly, feeling a pleasant shiver run down her spine as the woman slipped the tip of her finger gently into her mouth, teasing it with her wet, fleshy tongue; she sighed helplessly feeling her nipples become hard, her walls clenching around nothing.

"− and then − when he begins breathing faster − when you feel he's completely ready −" She gasped softly between the brushes of her lips and suddenly slipped her whole finger into her mouth, starting to suck it unhurriedly with a quiet click of her saliva.

She didn't even notice when she began to breathe through her mouth, when her thighs clenched involuntarily under the water, seeking any kind of release of the tension that was building up inside her.

There was something so lewd and inappropriate about what she was seeing and feeling that she felt like a moan was about to come out of her throat.

She shuddered as Alys suddenly opened her eyes − a misty darkness in the green of her irises that she had often seen in her husband's gaze, her lips released her finger with a quiet click.

"− you pretty little thing − it's usually him taking care of you, isn't it? − he can't deny himself − I can't blame him −" She whispered, and she felt heat in her lower abdomen, her walls clenching greedily around nothing.

They both flinched as the door to her chamber suddenly opened, Alys stood up quickly and bowed, closing her eyes.

"My Prince."

"− get out −" She heard her husband's warning growl; she turned over her shoulder, looking at him with wide eyes, all red, breathing loudly through her mouth, looking shocked as the woman immediately left her quarters.

"− what is the meaning of this? − hm? −" He asked furiously standing over the tub as soon as the door closed behind her, fury in his eyes.

She couldn't find any meaningful answer in her head, her mind was completely blank.

Her uncle pressed his lips together in impatience, apparently trying not to explode.

"− can't I leave you alone even for a fucking moment? −" He hissed, and she shook her head, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I − I asked her for help −"

"− help with what, that she had to kneel beside you and hold your hand? − you are fucking bare −"

"− I − I can't tell you, it's embarrassing −"

"− gods, I swear I'm about to rip you to shreds −"

"− we were discussing embarrassing feminine matters − she showed me something…important − for you too −" She muttered, his jaw clenched in displeasure.

He didn't believe her.

"− I want to know what this brazen whore was doing to my wife −" He growled with an impatience so strong that she knew that if she didn't give him the answer he expected, her uncle was really about to explode and would surely knock her out along with her tub on the floor.

"− very well − I − I will try to show it to you − just − just don't get upset and sit on the bed −" She mumbled pleadingly, looking at him with her big eyes.

She saw that at her words his anger began to slowly fade, giving place to a slight intrigue in his gaze.

He hummed low and took a few steps back, as she requested, sitting down on her bed, looking at her watchfully.

She swallowed hard, rising from the tub with a loud splash of water, walking slowly out of the bath. He blinked, surprised when she sat on the floor in front of him, but with her back to him, reaching for the pins woven into her hair.

"− you have to help me, because I won't be able to do it myself until morning −" She muttered in displeasure, all heated up from the hot water her body had just been submerged in, her nightgown all soaked, clinging to her naked skin.

She heard her husband sigh heavily, leaning over her with a loud creak of the bed, sliding the pins out of her hairstyle, making the curls of her hair start to fall over her shoulders.

"− it was her idea too, wasn't it? −" He sneered disapprovingly and she let the air out of her lungs, tired.

"− I really liked the way I looked −" She burbled resentfully; she heard his heavy sigh again, however this time he answered nothing more.

When her hair was finally completely loose she turned to face him, already visibly calmer, his hand involuntarily went to her cheek, his thumb running over her soft skin.

His pupil narrowed as her fingers unfastened the buckles of his tunic and reached into the ties of his breeches, she felt his bulge beneath her palms throbbing hard.

"− what are you doing? −" He muttered uncertainly, coolly, as if terrified of what he had just imagined.

"− I want to kiss you there with my lips − are you repelled by the thought? −" She asked softly, releasing his swollen, half-hard erection, feeling him shudder as she grasped it gently in her hand, guiding it to her face.

"− what? – no − b-but − I − oh −" He gasped as she ran her lips over the pink head of his cock with a rapidly pounding heart; she felt satisfaction when his length twitched aggressively in her embrace.

She knew he wanted to say more as his mouth remained open, but he simply stared at her, breathing loudly, his thumb gently stroking her cheek as she mimicked Alys's cues by running her lips from the root of his manhood to the very tip of it.

She heard him sigh in pleasure, closing his eyes for a moment, his hips involuntarily began to buck, pressing his already fully hard erection closer to her face, searching for any source of friction.

"− this − this is what she showed you? − hm? −" He gasped, as if he was simultaneously thrilled and enraged by this vision.

Not wanting him to think about it too much she used her tongue, running it up to the very top of the head of his cock, feeling the veins under his skin clearly, a low, hoarse groan stuck in his throat, his hand tightening in her hair.

"− fuck − g-gods −" He muttered in a trembling voice, his breathing increasingly shaky and accelerated – she knew he was aroused, and his sounds made her feel that unbearable, intense tickling and pulsing between her thighs again.

She was wet.

In some subconscious instinct, his hand tentatively guided the pink, swollen head of his cock against her lips, and she parted them, letting him slide between them with a loud sigh of pleasure.

"− squeeze − squeeze with your hand what doesn't fit inside − and suck − oh, yes, little one, just like that −" He exhaled delighted tilting his head back as she let him deep into her palate, his tip bumping again and again with the sure thrusts of his hips against the back wall of her throat causing her to gag, tears of exertion pooling in her eyes.

"− if this is too much − hit me twice on the thigh −" He gasped, looking down at her, and she merely nodded, clamping her hand over the base of his hard length, sucking it slowly with a loud click of her saliva.

She reminded herself about her tongue and what Alys was doing with it, so she made use of it, and every time her husband thrust his erection into her its tip teased and licked him; his two hands tightened in her hair with his low groan, quickening his pace.

"− oh − oh, fuck, little one − mghm − gods −" He panted, invading her throat with deep, fast pushes, making use of her mouth as he saw fit, a high-pitched moan erupted from her lungs as she felt him aggressively pulsing between her lips, breathing hard through her nose, trying not to suffocate.

"− I know − please, please, let me − oh, fuck, yes, swallow it, swallow, swallow, swallow −" He commanded in a shuddering gasp full of pleasure and relief. She squirmed as his hot, sticky seed spilled down her palate straight into her throat; she swallowed some of it with difficulty and coughed, trying not to choke, a pearly trickle of his spend ran off the corner of her mouth down her chin.

Good gods.

They were both panting loudly and quivering, his face pressed against her hair, on which he still clamped his fingers, not letting her escape.

"− just a moment more − please, just a moment more − so warm −" He mumbled, and she swallowed hard, breathing loudly through her nose with his half soft length deep in her throat. It seemed to her for a moment that he might have fallen asleep in that position, but eventually he took pity on her and slid out of her mouth, allowing her to take a deep breath.

She involuntarily put her arms around his knee, exhausted, hugging her face to his thigh, breathing hard, not believing she had really done it.

Her womanhood pulsed all over, her thighs were all sticky from her moisture.

She sighed in relief when she felt his large hand begin to stroke her hair with a tender, calm gesture, his breathing still erratic and accelerated.

"− come − come here − your husband need to take care of you −"

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #dark aemond #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #hotd angst #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell angst #ewan mitchell #aemond fandom #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #aemond x wife #aemond x female #aemond x niece #house of the dragon

[littlemorsel56]

Spoilers for Poppy Playtime CH3

Poppy Playtime Chapter 3 (Updated)

Here are some of my theories.

We're playing as Richie. He cares about these kids, complaining about the environment of the work, he's a loving man with a good heart, and DogDay called him an angel. Could have been the only person who knows more about Playtime Co. but never about what is actually happening to those kids in Playcare or the fact they were tested. Huggy Wuggy, Mommy Long Legs, they all saw him in the background, but they never knew he was a kind man who cared about kids, only in they're view, they see him as the rest of the Playtime Co. employees who experiment on them. Miss Delight remembers him. Remember him working here and asking how is he alive. Make sense because no one else is alive in the Playtime Co. She even wanted him to leave before CatNap finds him for his own safety. Richie cares about his co-workers, his friends, and the kids, never his job. Not like the other humans. He's not like everybody. In Bijuu Mike's playthrough (I usually just watch randomly if someone finds any secrets or hidden messages in the game), he had one of the audio reversed through the edit. "Why weren't you here. You missed the event. You missed the meeting. You miss the party. You have no right to be here." Honestly, clever idea during the terrifying environment to put that secret message there. It happened, on 8/8/95, August, on a Tuesday, 11:01 Am in the morning, there was a meeting that morning before the Hour of Joy suddenly happened and Rich missed that event. Every employee was possibly there and except one survivor and that's the character we're playing. Rich possibly witnessed something before that day. He discovers the truth and instead of reporting it to the authorities or helping the kids, he stays home, not telling anyone as the guilt haunts him. He didn't know if what he saw was real or not, and probably even quit afterward that day when he found the truth, he stayed silent for 10 years, until the note told him they were still alive, only for it to be a lie. In Project Playtime, Leith Pierre (I'm putting my bet he's the real antagonist of the story who started all of this), sent survivors, or the Resource Extraction Specialists, to make more toys, knowing they were going to die when they stepped foot into that place. He's possibly even alive in that place or escaped there when it happened, continuing the project that has killed everyone, 1006, the Prototype killed everyone, and he's watching through the cameras, studying it from a safe distance. Remember the tap of the audio during the first chapter at the end of the game. "One breakthrough and I'll be back. We must forge onward in the name of science, whether those who are beneath us understand it or not."

Rich is one of those who are lower-end employees and saw something he shouldn't have seen. Rich was about to become a higher-up of the Playtime Co, a replacement that Stu offered him. Rich took it, he saw the truth, ran away, and stayed quiet.

Update Forgot about another person who could be behind this besides Leith Pierre, that would be Harley Sawyer, the doctor. Wants mascots to come alive, Playtime Co is low on money, is also a high-up employee, and could be the actual creator and the mastermind of the Prototype, Not Leith Pierre and the one who escaped (Got ahead of myself with the theories and I'm loving it. I also have several other theories about Elliot Ludwig and will probably post it later on.)

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #playtime co ex employee #project playtime

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {8}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

Every session with Gwyn is easier.

I’m still tense as hell when we arrive, but as Cassian and I leave our most recent appointment with her, I actually feel like we might actually be getting back on the right track.

His hand is in mine, which has been a much more common occurrence in the past few days than it had in the last year.

Gwyn knows what she’s talking about, that’s for sure. As a relationship therapist, I would really hope she’s good at what she does, but I didn’t realize just how much I missed Cassian’s touch, the feel of his rough hands on my skin.

Nothing past PG has happened, but every time he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear or takes my hand in his, my stomach does a little flip and I feel like a teenager with a crush.

Except this isn’t just a silly crush.

He’s the love of my life. I knew it, even in my darkest hour, even when we rarely spoke, even when it felt like we did not exist within the same space. I have never doubted that Cassian is the one and only man I am meant to be with, which is somehow even more terrifying than having a simple teenage crush. I wasn’t even this scared when we were engaged, when we were about to be married. Then, I felt like I had nothing to lose, there was no question about it, about us. Now, I feel like I have everything to lose. Even though things are getting better, we aren’t back to being us, and even though I feel like we’ll get there, that we’re on the right track, the fact that we’re not still leaves me scared shitless. 

“You’re quiet,” Cassian says, as he pulls us out of the parking lot. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I say, and it’s an honest response, even though he looks unsure. “Just reflecting.”

He nods, looking both ways before pulling out onto the main street. “I get that.” There’s a beat of silence, then he says, “I think we should go out tonight.”

I look at him, brow raised, instantly thinking about the last time we tried to go out a few weeks ago. “Really?”

He shrugs, fingers dancing on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’d kind of like to erase the last date we had. Thought we should try again.” Another beat of silence passes. “But, if you’re not ready, that’s fine—”

“I think that sounds nice,” I interrupt, afraid I was giving off the wrong vibes. I’m more surprised that he wanted to try date night again after I messed the last one up so badly, but he gives me a smile that I know is genuine, and slightly full of mischief, which reminds me of the old him, the one that didn’t want to leave me.

I miss him.

And even though I see glimpses of that old Cassian lately, I know he’s still holding back. 

“Good,” he says, and we spend the rest of the way home in a comfortable silence. 

We agreed we’d leave at six-thirty, which allows me two hours to respond to some emails before I have to start getting ready. While I’m in my office, Cassian’s downstairs going over a few new menu items for the restaurant. Half of my inbox is nasty emails from Eris, which tries to dampen my mood but I won’t let it. If I got pissed and upset everytime Eris told me something I don’t want to hear, I’d never feel a single ounce of joy. I send him one email as a response to all, letting him know that everything is on track and I’ll send him an update at the end of the day tomorrow. 

It’s just after five-thirty when a soft knock comes to the office door and Cassian peeks in. He’s shirtless, yet again, and I’m starting to think that he’s coming around shirtless more and more just to watch me ogle, which I do, with no shame. Especially when he’s sweating, looking like he’s just conquered a thousand pushups. “Red or blue?”

I lift a brow. “What?”

He smiles. “Red or blue?”

I snort. “Blue?” 

“Seafood or steak?”

I cock my head to the side. “Is this how you're planning our night? Twenty questions?”

His grin widens. My eyes fall to his chest, his abs, back up to his lips, then his eyes as he asks, “Seafood or steak?”

I think about it for a second. “Steak.” 

“Inside or outside?”

Thinking about the warm, clear day we’ve had, I say, “Outside.”

“I’m getting in the shower.” With a wink, he’s gone.

I decide I should probably start getting ready too and close my laptop, deciding to ignore all work related bullshit for the rest of the night. Tonight is about me and Cassian, and everything else officially doesn’t exist. 

When I enter our bedroom, the bathroom door is cracked and I can see the inside getting steamy from the shower. Gray pants and a navy blue button down are sitting on the bed. 

I’m glad I went with blue.

I grab a brush from my nightstand before sitting at my vanity and setting out what makeup I’m going to use. I need to wash my face first, and glance towards the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar. Surely if he left it open, he doesn’t mind if I go in.

Right?

After debating it for far too long, I walk to the bathroom door and softly knock, nudging it open an inch or two more as I do so.

“Yeah?”

“I need to wash my face,” I say, peeking my head in.

The shower door opens just a bit and out pops his arm, my bottle of face wash in his hand.

I take the bottle, doing my best not to look at the expanse of toned skin and dark ink on display, but failing miserably.

Gods, he’s mouthwatering.

Heading straight for the sink, I turn it on and wet my face. As I squeeze a good amount of the product onto my fingers and form a lather, I clear my throat. “So is our game of twenty questions over or will there be more?”

Cassian chuckles and the sound makes my nipples tighten. A husky laugh shouldn’t undo me so easily, but gods, it’s been so long. “There are a few more,” he says, as I scrub. “But I was going to wait until we were on the way to ask.”

After rinsing my face and drying it off with a hand towel, I turn to lean against the bathroom counter. “And if I have one for you?”

The water shuts off and the bathroom becomes unnervingly quiet for a moment as Cassian towels off. The shower door opens and he’s once again wearing nothing but that towel slung low on his hips. The well defined muscles leading down into the towel may as well be an arrow pointing at his cock because it’s all I can focus on.

“Nesta?”

Right, I said I was going to ask him a question.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Legs or breasts?”

The only sound is the shower head slowly dripping water onto the tile floor. Cassian blinks, likely making sure he heard me right. “What?”

“Legs or breasts,” I repeat, heading for my closet.

“Are we going to KFC on the way home?” He asks, shaking his head.

I can’t help my own laugh as I look at him. “Just pick one, you ass.”

“Breasts.” His eyes are focused on my face, trying his hardest not to let his gaze dip to the aforementioned part of my body.

“Okay,” I smirk, stepping into my closet.

I can still feel him watching me as I disappear into my chaos of clothing, searching for a dress that shows off my best assets. A few come to mind, but there’s one in particular that I’m hoping to dig out for tonight’s occasion. It takes me a minute to find it, and when I take it out of the closet, my face now clean, Cassian’s still standing there in the bathroom, that fucking towel still barely hiding all that’s beneath. 

I wonder what he would do if I kissed him. Without warning, if I just grabbed his face and kissed him, I wonder how he would react. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to kiss your own husband, but I am. His eyes dart to the dress that’s hanging on the hanger in my hand. His eyes darken. He knows exactly what dress this is. 

“Give me half an hour, and I’ll be ready,” I say, as I go by him, into the bedroom. When I look over my shoulder, his eyes are on my ass.

They snap up to mine and he clears his throat. I try to ignore the fact that I can see something happening beneath that towel of his, even though it causes a longing throughout my body that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. “Sounds good. Yeah, me too.”

I leave him in the bathroom and sit at my vanity, getting to work on my appearance. Cassian’s voice comes from the bathroom. “Twenty questions — clean shave or no?”

I laugh quietly to myself. I like this little game we’re playing. As I dab on my foundation, I say, “Keep the scruff.” 

He comes out a few minutes later, his long, wavy hair brushed and dried and loose above his shoulders. He notices me looking and smiles as he takes his clothes off the bed and goes back to the bathroom. I suddenly realize how much I wanted him to drop that towel, right here, right now.

I focus on my eyeshadow. 

Once I’m done with my makeup, I brush through my hair and add a few more curls since some had fallen loose before spraying it. 

I’m halfway into my dress when the bathroom door opens again, and Cassian is dressed to perfection. He smells phenomenal, like my favorite cologne. When he sees me, he stops.

“Perfect timing,” I say, although I find it hard to find my voice. “Help me zip?”

I turn around and move my hair out of the way. For a moment, he doesn’t come, but then he’s moving toward me, silently. 

He finds the zipper that’s just above my waist, and my breath catches as his fingertips brush the bare skin of my lower back. He takes his time, and every time his fingers make contact with my skin, an ache that’s newly been awakened throbs between my thighs. 

I never thought zipping up my dress would be erotic. I was wrong.

“Ready?” He asks, hands still lingering on my waist.

Ready to throw you down on the bed and say to hell with our date.

I smile at him in the mirror and shake my head. “Almost.”

He steps back, letting me cross the room to my jewelry box. I retrieve a necklace he gave me for our anniversary a few years back. I don’t wear it often, despite loving it, because of the length of the chain. The diamond pendant fell right between breast and as I fluff my hair out around me, I turn and face my husband.

“Now I’m ready,” I say and I don’t know why I sound so breathless.

Okay, I do. If Cassian’s gaze could set something on fire, my dress would be ashes.

Silently, he holds out his hand. I take it, loving the feel of his rough callouses against my skin. I don’t let myself think about how those hands feel on other parts of my body, despite it having been months since I felt them.

Once downstairs, he swipes his keys and wallet, and then we’re headed to the restaurant.

He takes me to one of the best steakhouses in Velaris and we sit on the roof, where string lights and live music surrounds our candlelit table. The conversation is easy, nothing is forced, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

We talk about our most memorable dates, once Cassian mentioned that one time we skipped a group date because we saw a new taco stand on the way and ate there instead, just the two of us. We sat on the steps of the art museum, dressed in some of our finest, eating a heap of messy tacos. That had been about eight years ago, and I hadn’t realized just how much time has passed between the two of us.

Nearly ten years of marriage.

A decade since we swore our lives to one another.

And I almost let it all go. Looking at my husband across the table, I don’t know how I could have ever been so foolish, so selfish.

He sees me watching him and smiles, setting his fork down, his plate now cleared. I take a sip of my wine. He refills it once it’s almost empty, until the bottle that the waiter left us is almost gone.

After calling for the check, Cassian looks up at me. “Should we head home or walk around for a bit?”

I set down my empty wine glass. “Is this a part of twenty questions?”

He chuckles. “I haven’t exceeded twenty questions yet?”

I shake my head.

“Then yes,” he says, quietly, the toe of his boot nudging the toe of my stiletto. 

“A little walk sounds nice,” I say, afraid that when we get back home we’ll fall back into our polite small talk. Small talk isn’t bad, but this easy conversation we’ve had between us today… I like it.

We walk along the Sidra, the warm, clear day making way for a beautiful night, and I listen as Cassian regales me with tales of a new chef at the restaurant. She’s young and has never had an official kitchen job before, only graduating from culinary school the year before. I glance over at him, with lips pursed. He usually isn’t willing to put his restaurant’s reputation on the line like that. His chefs and sous chefs all have long lists of accomplishments and recognition, upholding the notoriety he’s earned.

We walk on, pausing at an ice cream stand to get to two cones.

“What?”

I look over at him and he’s already watching me as we walk.

I repeat his question. “What?”

He reached out and skims a thumb over my brow. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”

I push him away, rolling my eyes, but he catches my hand and we’re heading back towards the car.

“What’s on your mind, Nes?” He pushes, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand.

For a brief second, I consider lying to him. I could tell him it’s nothing, tell him there really isn’t anything on my mind. But we haven’t gone through four weeks of marriage counseling for nothing.

“I just… This new girl, Emerie,” I start, hoping he doesn’t see my question as a sign of jealousy. “What exactly made you bring her on? She’s pretty green, as far as your assistant chefs go.”

I don’t think there’s any nefarious reasoning behind his hiring her. I just don’t understand his sudden change in pace.

He’s quiet a minute, which only makes my nerves ratchet higher. When he finally speaks, his words are low, almost too soft to hear over the sound of the city around us. “She’s from the same small town as I am. Similar upbringing, no dad, single mom that worked way too much.”

My heart fractured a bit inside my chest.

I stop, tugging on his hand to make him stop, too. I look at him. Really look at him. My husband is a damn good man. I’ve always known it, and I know that he’s proud of his past, although a lot of it is tragic. He loved his mother, before she passed, considering she had raised him on her own and fought tooth and nail for everything they had. It would make sense he would be sympathetic for someone of a very similar life. 

When it’s clear I’m not saying anything, because I truly cannot find the words, his brows furrow. Before he can ask me what’s wrong, I lean up on my toes and press my lips to his cheek. He inhales, as if he’s shocked, and I let the kiss linger against his warm, stubbled cheek. Our hands remain clasped together and when I lean back, his eyes are searching mine.

“You’re a good man,” I say, my voice hoarse. “And a good boss.”

He swallows, but he nods as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. 

I want to yank his mouth down to mine, but this moment is cherished and I don’t want to overstep, don’t want to ruin what we’ve built here. I give him a smile and we resume our walk. 

I make a note to stop by the restaurant this week and meet Emerie as we find our way back to the truck. Cassian helps me inside the cab and his hand lingers on mine, even after I’ve sat, before he closes the door and finds his way behind the wheel. 

We listen to music on the way home and he makes me laugh when he sings along to some nineties R&B song that definitely should’ve been left in the nineties. He catches me watching him on more than one occasion, and his smile softens every time he does. 

When we’ve made it home and witnessed Greg sprawled out next to the fruit bowl on the island, Cassian says, “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Yeah,” I say, setting my clutch on the counter. “It was a good night.”

He nods, and for a moment we just stand in the silence, staring at one another. He’s the one to break it.

“I have to be at the restaurant early tomorrow,” he says, but he’s stepped closer to me. “I should get ready for bed.”

“Right.” I clear my throat, not sure what to say, as I edge around the island, closer to him. “I have to go in early, too.”

Meetings with my manager and the publishing company start tomorrow. I have no idea where the future of my books are with this company, but they have to understand that I can’t keep putting out the same volume of content out. Not if I have any hope of salvaging my marriage.

He sets his keys in the center of the island, which puts him right in front of me. Staring up at him, I watch as his eyes dip down to my lips and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Can I…kiss you?”

I nod, not trusting my voice, holding my breath. He leans in and my eyes fall closed.

After a second, his lips press against mine and I’m lost. It’s been so long since he’s kissed me. I’d forgotten how soft his lips were, how heady his cologne made me feel, the feel of his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I melt into him, losing myself in the feel of his kiss, clinging to his shirt with both hands.

It’s over as quickly as it began.

When he pulls back, his hazel eyes are bright and he’s breathing heavily. I want to pull his face back to mine, want to grab him and drag him upstairs with me.

But Gwyn told us to hold off on sex.

Reaching up, I caress his stubbled cheek. “We should get to bed.”

He nods and swallows, not making a move to let me go any more than I’m making a move to let him go. I can tell his self control is on a short leash, just as mine is. So I step back and make my way upstairs.

He’s just behind me.

When we’ve reached our bedroom, Cassian quickly brushes his teeth before getting a pair of sweatpants. I’m watching him on the bed the entire time, suddenly not trusting myself to be too close to him. Before he leaves to go downstairs, he kisses my forehead, quickly. “Night, Nes.”

“Goodnight,” I say, but barely anything is audible as the word leaves my mouth. He leaves, and I feel empty once I’m alone. 

After stripping out of my dress and pulling on an old t-shirt, I wash my face and brush my teeth, and bury myself beneath the blankets of our bed. I miss Cassian sleeping next to me. Tonight, more than ever, the bed feels lonely. 

My heart is racing and I’m not tired in the slightest, despite the fact that I know I need to go to bed. I need to be well rested to deal with Eris’ shit in the morning.

But I can’t stop thinking about my husband, sleeping on the couch downstairs. I wonder if he wants to come up here, wants to climb into bed with me, wants to hold me until the sun comes up tomorrow morning.

I want his body pressed up against me.

I want to feel his skin on mine.

Fuck, the throbbing between my thighs is unbearable. I don’t want to touch myself, I want to run downstairs and have him touch me, taste me, fuck me until I can’t think straight. I’m not thinking straight now, I’m too horny, too needy.

It’s been too damn long.

But Gwyn is right. Nothing should be rushed. We need to wait until we’re good again, until we’re back to being Nesta and Cassian.

That doesn’t mean that he can’t sleep in his own bed, though.

Sex may be off the table, at least for now, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t share the same bed.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed before I can think better of it. The house is quiet as I make my way to the door and push it open. Everything’s dark, and I try to be as quiet as possible as I make my way down the hall. At the top of the stairs, I stop, making out Cassian’s massive figure on the couch. There’s no way he’s comfortable. Half of him is nearly hanging off of it. 

But he’s asleep.

At least, I think he’s asleep. The living room is dark, silent. He’s not moving. I think about walking down the stairs anyway, to brush his hair off his face and ask if he wants to join me, but I can’t seem to convince my feet to move. If he’s already asleep, he’s apparently not having the same internal crisis that I am. 

Silently, I turn around and go back to bed, careful not to make any noise, careful not to wake him. 

When I’m back beneath the blankets, I slip my hand beneath my panties and rub one out until that throbbing ache between my thighs is no more. 

#better or worse #nessian #nessian bow #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #snacmc collabs #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sjm fanfic

[ryuichirou]

So I wonder how Twisted wonderland cast be like murdering for the first time. I want to imagine angst on them and if they are scared or delight. I want to hear your thoughts (maybe except Lilia since he is definitely murder a lot of people.)

Anon, this is SUCH a good question. It made me think for hours lol this is what I came up with!

Riddle could either murder someone on accident or as a corporal punishment (if we take his quirk/unique magic too far), and his reaction would kind of depend on what exactly has happened. If it’s the second option, he’ll try to stay calm, cold and collected, and say that the murdered guy got what he deserved and that he had no choice but to dispose of him. But even then, after he freaks the fuck out of everyone around him and leaves to his room, he’ll probably have a breakdown. Then he’ll just cope even harder to justify what he has done and start offing people left and right lol And if it’s the first option (I can picture him overdoing it with his magic), he’ll probably have a breakdown immediately. Nothing good comes from that, because Riddle’s psyche is already pretty bad, but with such a heavy sin on his conscience, there is no way he’ll be able to face it. Hence, more dangerous delusions and more heads flying.

Ace wouldn’t plan on murdering anyone; he’ll definitely do it by accident. He is petty, but there are limits to what he’d do. And he’d take it even worse than he would’ve thought he would. He’ll hide and will definitely get involved with some shady people who’d promise to cover his tracks for him. Maybe the Octa-trio lol But then he’ll spend his whole life trying to numb this feeling of fucking up So Massively and the feeling of his conscious eating him alive.

Deuce would be terrified because he’d definitely realise what he’d done post-factum, with his fists covered in blood and the murdered guy barely looking like a human. So after having a massive meltdown and screaming in panic and crying, if he isn’t arrested by that point (miraculously) he’ll try to give the guy some kind of a proper burial and just run. We’ll never see Deuce again, because there is no way he can face his loved ones after that. He might turn himself to the police, but his own dream about becoming a policeman... yeah, not happening.

With Trey it’s funny; I don’t think he’d kill on accident. If Trey murders someone, it’s definitely deliberate, and by that point Trey would probably feel like that person deserved it. There are only two people I can imagine him killing (yep Riddle’s parents), and even though he would feel hurt afterwards, it’d mostly be out of his sympathy for Riddle, and not because he did something wrong. He’d have moral dilemmas inside his head, because by saving Riddle from abuse, he also robbed the world of two excellent doctors, which can’t be a good thing. But for a weird reason, Trey just can’t help but think that he did the right thing. Trey is not a good person lol

Cater… I don’t know what would drive Cater to kill someone, it might be an accident, but he also might be unstable and we just don’t know about it yet. In any way, he’s probably the one to cover that fact surprisingly well. Of course, he’ll become even more obnoxious with his fake persona, but everyone would just assume that it’s Cater being Cater, while Cater can still heard people screaming in terror in his head.

I don’t know about Leona, he didn’t seem to mind endangering people all that much. Giving a nod to the character he’s based on, I can picture him plotting his brother’s murder. And maybe I just want Leona to be horrible because it’s more fun that way, but I don’t want him to show any remorse in that situation. Well… Of course he’ll show remorse and try to act maturely and empathetically towards those who are the most affected by Falena’s death, but he’ll also probably have a moment a triumph behind the closed doors. Even if there is some guilt out there, it’s definitely buried under this euphoric joy. Oh, and Cheka?.. He’d better run and never return.

Ruggie could do it either on accident or intentionally, but it probably won’t be personal. He would do it either because he was asked to or because he was saving himself. Either way, he would be shaken up by it, but he’ll try to get over it as soon as possible. So yeah, he’ll sob for a moment, then slap his own face and just keep going. No one would ever guess that he keeps such a wild and horrible secret. Who even knows how many people he’s killed…

Jack would kill a person on accident (he’s very big and doesn’t always control himself well…) and then immediately turn himself in to the police. There is NO WAY he’s hiding it. Keeping it a secret would be unbearable to him, it’s much better to get punished. He’ll also do the whole “apologizing to the family and being willing to do any kind of work to repent” thing. He’s too much of a good boy.

Oh Octavinelle… I feel like merpeople’s relationship with deaths and murder is a bit different, but not drastically, they are just a bit more tolerant to that because this is the reality they live in: it’s very dangerous in the ocean.

And the tweels are even more of a special case, because they are mafia babies who are also kind of sort of cannibalistic. They’ve seen everything, they are super comfortable with the idea of taking someone’s life, and they probably don’t even remember and think much about their first time doing it. They see the world through a very unique lens, so to them it’s a very natural thing. That being said, they do enjoy killing, when they are in the mood. They find the victim’s reaction fascinating, and they’ve seen it all: they’ve seen panic, they’ve seen despair, they’ve seen confusion. I also feel like Jade is a bit more invested in this whole thing than Floyd these days; Floyd is a bit bored by murder at this point, but Jade keeps finding more and more intricate ways to fatally wound someone. It doesn’t mean that Floyd wouldn’t do it for funsies, of course.

Azul is definitely more sensitive than these two, who pretty much lack empathy for their victims, and he is probably yet to kill someone, so when he does, he’s going to remember his first time forever. Azul really enjoys punishing people who he feels are deserving of the said punishment, and he is extremely petty, so I can see him doing the heartless bitch thing and offing someone because he has “ran out of patience”. And he is conflicted, because he feels thrilled when he has this power over people, and he enjoys it tremendously and maniacally, but sometimes he also feels sick to his stomach and gets a lump in his throat and goosebumps and cold sweat for some reason… I guess it’s just disgust, huh? Either way, he prefers to save it for those who are the most deserving of his wrath.

We love the idea of Kalim being a murderous beast with no regard to other people’s lives, but in actuality I feel like he would get terrified by that. He’d probably kill on accident, I can’t even picture a situation in which he would do it on purpose; and when he does it on accident, one would expect him to start yelling and crying, but Kallim would be so deeply affected by it that he would just… go numb for a while. With no reaction to what happened whatsoever, but also terror in his eyes. Jamil would expect him to explode at any moment, but the only thing he’d get is that Kalim would start to act like nothing has happened. Is he lying or did he repress the memories of what he did? Is he going to snap at some point? Is he in danger and/or is he dangerous? Who knows.

Jamil wouldn’t kill on accident – he is too smart to kill on accident; his actions would be 100% deliberate and thought out. And if that’s the case and he ends up killing, I don’t know, maybe someone from the Asims, he’ll probably feel such insane joy that it’ll honestly be difficult for him to hide it. Either that or he’ll kill whoever tries to attack Kalim, and in that case he just won’t feel anything. No matter the scenario, there won’t be any remorse in his heart. But he could also cry in a shower for a reason unknown even to himself afterwards.

Vil…. Oh Vil. Vil is an impulsive killer. He’s rational and humanistic enough to generally think that people shouldn’t be killed, but we’ve seen what he could do when he’s way too overstressed lol So he’ll probably kill someone deliberately, but also out of overwhelming emotions, and then he’ll feel disappointed by himself. He might not feel guilty, but in that case he’ll feel guilty for not feeling guilty. It’s almost like he is a bad person, how could he feel no compassion to the murdered person whatsoever? Is this who he really is, a heartless monster? I also could see him either turning himself in to the police or just leaving his whole life behind and running away, at least at first, until he figures out what’s going on in his heart. Killing is wrong, so why did it feel so right?

Rook is suuuuper comfortable with the idea of murdering someone. He is a hunter and he puts his own meaning in this whole thing – just like a game bird needs to be killed in order for Rook to enjoy the beauty of its delicious meat, sometimes a person needs to be killed just so they don’t piss him off anymore. Of course, the reason is usually not as petty, or at least Rook gives his own poetic Rook spin on it lol

Epel would be a shaking crying throwing up mess after killing a person, even if it was self-defense. He is ferocious, so the guy who he had killed would look like he got attacked by a wild animal and not a frail boy with a knife, but when the adrenalin rush ends and Epel is left with the results of his fury, he’ll definitely have the biggest meltdown of his life. He’d try to do the same thing that Deuce did (bury the body and run away), and he’ll definitely be saddled with guilt, but he’ll also spend a lot of time thinking about just how much the guy deserved it. This is only the beginning of Epel’s troublesome path though, because he’ll definitely get into more trouble as his story continues…

Idia… well, we know what Idia went through already lol we’ve seen his backstory. Of course he didn’t kill Ortho, but he feels like he did, so the emotional rollercoaster he went through is pretty similar in this situation. But if it wasn’t Ortho, but some other person who he would kill physically with his own hands, I feel like Idia would get too overwhelmed, his body would force him to throw up, shut down and go into a coma or something lol But once his physical state is back to (more or less) normal, he’ll cope with what he’s done like he always does – by drowning in his thoughts and feelings. And if he feels guilty, by showering the guy’s family with money (anonymously of course), while snarking at himself that this won’t bring their loved one back and that he is an asshole for doing that. In general, Idia is comfortable with the idea of death, and he knows it’s unavoidable, but he doesn’t like facing it… and even more so, causing it. Maybe it’s due to his selfish personal reasons because of his trauma, at least this is what he would say to himself.

Ortho… wouldn’t care at all. He is way too willing to punish people by frying them with lasers, and he seems to have no concept of giving people second chances and human life being precious lol Maybe because he himself isn’t really an alive human being. He also doesn’t think much about the murders; while he is learning, he still lacks empathy in that department. If a horrible accident happens, I feel like he could be affected by it, but other than that – nah.

I know Lilia is a special case, but I feel like he used to enjoy taking the lives of those who deserved it. Unless ch7 proves me wrong, I’ll keep thinking that Lilia used to be rather ruthless when he was younger lol But at some moment the whole thing got too boring, and then he got even older and wiser and changed his stance on this whole thing. Lilia is very comfortable with death, but he also thinks that every life is precious.

Silver also thinks that every life is precious, so even if he would kill someone (it would definitely be an order, he’s not killing anyone otherwise), he would feel horrible about it. Even if it’s a bad person, even if it’s an enemy, Silver would cry (maybe secretly when he is alone), he would feel responsible for the agony their loved ones are feeling, he would take it extremely close to his heart. He is probably the one to not only remember his first kill, but also remember every single person whose life he had to end. What a nice boy lol

Sebek isn’t as nice, but he also isn’t a psychopath. He’s also young, so his first kill is definitely going to leave an impression on him, maybe haunt him and even make him cry, but he would also really dislike feeling these emotions, because they have nothing to do with his duty and he knows better than to weep for someone who deserved to get killed. That being said, over time he could get desensitized to it that he would actually start to enjoy the power he feels when he ends someone’s life. Maybe it’s cope, maybe it’s him becoming more and more cruel, but with every person Sebek kills, his “armor” gets stronger. Oh, and Sebek is also someone who could kill a person on accident by the way, and in that case his reaction would be more emotional and chaotic, because he definitely wasn’t prepared to face the fact that he is a murderer that day lol

Malleus also doesn’t consider every life precious, because he grew up thinking that people (both fae and humans) aren’t really equal to each other. He has this “distance” between himself and the others and this feeling of loneliness, and he is super petty, so I can see him murdering dozens of people in one move without thinking twice about it. He is way too powerful and mighty to the point that his own humanity gets affected by it, and it’s not unusual for him to get the “well serves you right” feeling towards someone who, even if they wronged him, definitely didn’t deserve to meet such a cruel end. That being said, Lilia did his best to put some empathy and open-mindedness in this boy’s head, so it’s very likely that Malleus would still be affected by the fact that he took someone else’s life. But you know how it is, one moment he cries, and then he just doubles down and starts laughing because feeling powerful and just wiping a large group of people from the face of the earth felt as satisfying as popping a bubble wrap.

#replies #headcanons

[whimsiandwild]

Come To Me: Part Two

Pairing: Gortash x Female!Durge [Durgetash]

Word count: 1700

A/N: This got fucking wild, I don't know what happened but you're welcome. Also, if you want me to remove your tag, please let me know!

Warnings: Angst, very very graphic violence.

Tagging: @durgeteriormotives @ixora111 @feydstan @neko-rhapsodos @quietdemonuwu @tavs-brainworm @lapinetroses

Gentle wind moved the hem of her cloak, Tav staring at the drawbridge before her with trepidation. The fact she was here at all was a mystery, even to herself, but she needed answers, and Gortash seemed to have them. Exhaling a shaky breath, she pulled her hood tighter around her face and crossed, the wooden slats creaking slightly as she did. Guards were waiting at the entrance, the huge double doors still wide, despite the late hour. Tav cleared her throat and spoke quietly.

“I’m here to see Lord Gortash.”

When one of them quirked a brow, she held the letter up between her fingers, the wax seal facing them as she did.

“Ah, we’ve been expecting you. Please, follow me.”

The man turned before Tav had a chance to respond, and they made their way silently up to the tallest parts of the fortress; she considered how easy it would be to kill him and hide the body with the place this empty.

He stopped quite suddenly outside another set of doors, the wind certainly picking up at this height and Tav had to hug her cloak around her a little tighter. A polite knock was followed by the guard immediately opening the door, and then she saw him; Gortash. Unlike earlier, he was wearing only his leather trousers and billowy shirt, her gaze forever flitting down to that exposed chest; gods, she wanted to bite him.

As if sensing her thought, he caught her eyes and smirked, a strange fluttering filling her stomach as she inhaled. There was a look there… a mix of joy and relief that made her yearn for him.

“You came,” he sighed, his smirk softening to a smile. “Good. You may leave, Heram.”

The guard was waved away and Tav heard the door shut behind her, gaze never leaving the man stepping closer to her by the second. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from him, the heady, strong scent of his cologne dizzying her.

She was finally alone with Enver Gortash, and she was terrified.

“A drink?”

Stepping around her, he disappeared from view and she blinked, finally able to think a little straighter. There was soft clinking behind her as he moved around bottles and glasses, and Tav stepped further into the room, removing her cloak and dropping it onto the plush looking sofa lining one of the walls; it seemed oddly familiar to her, comforting.

Her fingers grazed along the cold mahogany of his desk, her eyes darting to the tall stack of letters and maps littering his desk. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of his beautiful cursive, seeing the smudges dot the paper on the sides where he leaned on them too often. If she’d told him once, she’d told him… what? What had she told him?

“Here we are, kitten.”

A glass appeared from around her shoulder and scared the life out of her, her body bumping into the firm and unexpected one of Gortash.

She had expected one of them to move away. Instead, they stayed like that, even after she took the drink with shaky hands. Even after his free hand slinked its way around her waist and settled on her stomach.

“You said you had answers for me?” Tav said, downing the whiskey he’d poured her in one and hissing at the burn as she stepped away, her back to him.

“Indeed,” he returned, his footsteps echoing on the tiled floors as he moved towards the same sofa she had passed, sitting comfortably. “Where would you like to begin, kitten?”

“Firstly, why do you keep calling me that?”

Her cheeks flushed embarrassingly as she stared at him, perching on the edge of his desk and placing the empty glass down beside her. His lip curled into a devastatingly handsome smirk.

“Just a nickname for you, nothing more,” He took a sip, his eyes never leaving her, gauging her reaction; she clearly didn’t believe him. “You truly remember nothing. Dear, dear, kitten. Where to begin?”

Placing his own glass on the floor, he stood and began to circle the room. Suddenly, there was no room for her to say a thing as he spilled his soul to her, telling her everything from her being Bhaal’s original chosen, the two of them coming up with the Absolute scheme, to Orin disposing of her. It was an awful lot to wrap her head around, let alone believe. On top of all of this, there was a pang to his words, a sadness that seeped deep into his heart, that caused her both rage and agony all at once. Sliding off the table, she walked silently to him and looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Who are you to me?”

“I think you already know, Tav,” he breathed, a hand wrapping around the back of her neck, his lips mere inches away. “Though I’m more than happy to remind you, kitten.”

Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears and her eyes were fluttering closed. She wanted this, but she wanted other things to. Violent things. Like stabbing him. Pressing her hands against his chest, she gasped.

“Wait,” Her nails dug into the fabric of his shirt as he stopped, his brow furrowing as he did as she asked. “This is… a lot, Gortash… Enver…. I need some time. You’re the bad guy, remember?”

“I really need to remind you more of your sordid past if you think I’m the bad guy,” he laughed, shaking his head as he gave her space, much to her regret. “However, if time is what you need, time is what you shall have. Just don’t keep me waiting long, kitten. Please.”

The desperation in his voice floored her, Tav throwing her arms around his neck and holding him to her tightly. It was shock that caused his initial hesitation but soon he was holding her just as tightly. Her brain was offering her the sweetest thoughts twisted with the sickest; perhaps what he’d said about Bhaal was true.

This man was perfectly wrong for her in every way imaginable, but she needed him with a desperation she’d never experienced before in her life. He seemed to know her on such an intimate level, in a way none of her companions had been able to, and he was offering her her past without wanting anything in return.

She needed to leave, to collect her thoughts, good and twisted, and gain some sense, but she didn’t know how to. Why did walking away from him now feel like it would tear her soul out? She didn’t even know him, not really, but she was evidently ready to lay down her life for him, if the incident with Karlach was anything to go by.

Hands gripped the soft fabric one last time before she let go, stepping away from him. Tears were streaming and she couldn’t fathom why, she just needed to get away. He reached for her but she swerved him, grabbing her cloak and bolting.

Brick crumbled under the force of her punches, Tav gritting her teeth as every one caused more cuts to bleed on her knuckles. She had planned to return to camp and sleep but her meeting with Enver was haunting her. It’s like a floodgate was threatening to burst open at any moment, just waiting for the right trigger. He was the key to everything, and also its destruction.

Holding her head in her hands, she leaned against the wall she’d been brutalising, biting back a cry of fury. Blood trickled down her hands, dripping onto the floor, and she watched it for a long moment. Ever since meeting him, the urges she’d been suppressing since this journey had started were becoming harder to ignore. The thought of a room filled with blood and bodies for her to nest in was positively overwhelming. It should have made her stomach turn, horrified her. Instead, she felt a hunger, a deep desire and want, one she was about to finally relent to.

Rustling at the darker end of the alley caught her attention immediately and she lifted her hood, stalking through the shadows towards her prey as silently as possible. The rational part of her knew she should stop, she just didn’t want to listen. Something feral and animal had been unlocked in her and she wanted to indulge in it.

A beggar was rummaging through trash to find any semblance of a meal and a sick grin curved her lips. Her hand gripped the hilt of her dagger as she came up behind him, wrapping her free hand around his mouth before slamming his head into a wall, her fingers squeezing painfully into his cheeks. The poor man struggled under her ferocious grip, wide, startled eyes staring at her, and she laughed. The noise shocked her and she silenced herself; this was not the kind of thing that she wanted to be caught doing.

Taking a breath, she pushed away the final rational thoughts in her head and gave in to the urge that had been plaguing her. Her eyes were wild, the corners tinging crimson as she plunged the dagger into the middle of his chest, the man screaming as she began to drag the blade in a straight line down to his pelvis. He writhed and cried under her hand, Tav laughing as she watched his insides fall with a disgusting thump to the floor. Her head snapped up and she caught his terrified eyes, squeezing harder and harder against his skull until his jaw just… dropped, joining the pile of organs on the floor. To her absolute delight, he was still alive and in agony. Tossing him to the floor, the man’s hands shaking uselessly above the gash in his chest in the few moments of life he had left, Tav fell to her knees and sunk her hands into the soft, squishy mass before her, a flame igniting in her core as she began to tear away chunks. Soon enough, the man was dead and she was covered in his blood and viscera, staring hungrily at the piece of his stomach clutched between her fingers. She couldn’t… could she?

Before she had a chance to choose, a voice behind her snapped her back to her shocking, debauched reality.

“Oh, my rotted lady! Finally! I’ve been waiting so long!”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #enver gortash #durgetash #lord gortash #baldurs gate 3 #lord enver gortash #dark urge x gortash #gortash x durge #fanfic #fanfiction

[cryoux]

Secret Santa for: @1eaf-me-alone

IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE!!!!

The holidays were terribly exciting. Something about the atmosphere, the festive lights, even those same Christmas carols heard each and every year, simply energized the air itself, feeding a little extra joy into everyone.

Even those who were already overcome by it - example, a certain magician, who seemed to always hold a smile across his face, even when his purple eyes held so much more within him. For someone who was always forcing a smile on his face for the sake of others, always taking care of others, he deserved to be taken care of, too.

Hence, here you were, at his home with Freminet and several boxes of Christmas-y decor. The plan? Simple.

Lynette was to lure Lyney out of the house, as he would reliably follow his dear sister anywhere. Meanwhile, you and Freminet snuck all these boxes into their home, and decorated the hell out of it. You would only have a few hours at most, which was daunting, but you needed to do this for Lyney. He needed to know how much everyone cared, especially since his siblings had never been too vocal about their admiration for him.

“Frem, go wrap this garland around the banister.” You handed the boy a box packed full of fake pine garlands, with little lights distributed over the entire length of the garland. “Oh, actually, go plug them in to see if they work first!” You instructed.

Freminet nodded, appearing a little stressed, bless his heart. The time limit seemed to be hanging over his head like a guillotine, one that could fall and sever this plan of theirs at any moment. You only prayed Lynette would distract Lyney for long enough.

As Freminet worked on unwinding all the garlands, you searched for smaller tasks for yourself to do. Hanging a wreath here, setting a candle there, making sure everything was perfect. It had to be perfect.

Two hours of desperate decorating passed, and the two of you were happy with the way it had all come together. The blend of traditional Christmas greens and reds and whites was comforting, and pleasing to the eye, just as you'd envisioned in your head when you came up with this idea.

And yet…

You looked toward the large, empty spot you had left in the living room. It had already been two hours, but you and Freminet had yet to even unpack the faux Christmas tree you had purchased. There was no way you were going to be able to decorate it in time, unless Lynette somehow came up with a miracle way to distract Lyney endlessly. That was, until Freminet spoke up.

“What if… we just decorate it with him?” The quiet boy suggested, appearing terrified to even be making the statement.

But it was absolutely brilliant.

“Oh my archons, yes, that's a perfect idea!!” You exclaimed, holding your hand out for a high five, which Freminet returned very softly. It was more like a pat, to be honest, but it was completely alright with you.

So you both got to work assembling the tree, fluffing out the branches, making sure they were evenly spaced out. You had only just finished the task when the front door opened, in a way that somehow told you it was Lyney.

As if your intuition wasn't enough, Lyney also couldn't ever keep his mouth shut. “Honestly, Lynette, I'm all for desserts sometimes, but did we have to try EVERY single o-” the famous magician stopped when he looked into his home, which was now decorated top to bottom for the holiday season.

“Oh, my!” He exclaimed, and you reveled in the fact that for once, he actually looked surprised. You had managed to catch the best magician in Fontaine in a moment of shock, and a grin grew on your face at that thought.

Lyney's purple eyes scanned over each little detail of the decorations, before finally settling on you and Freminet. “Did… did you guys do this?”

You nodded on your and Fremi's behalf. “Yep! And Lynette, you did such a good job!” You laughed at how perfect the timing had been.

Lynette shrugged. “I know my brother. It wasn't difficult to keep his attention.” Everyone watched as Lyney put the pieces together.

“You- oh, you-!” Lyney huffed, though he was still smiling, just as he always did. “I can't believe this!”

Freminet and Lynette gave the slightest smiles at his bewilderment, while you laughed joyfully. “And hey, we even left you an entire tree to decorate with us.” You gestured to said tree, before Lyney pulled you into a fierce hug.

“I don't even know what to say. Thank you. This was so incredibly thoughtful.” He murmured, his voice genuine, and you nodded in response. 

“Of course. Merry Christmas, Lyney.” You replied, pulling away from the hug to look up at him with pure joy in your heart. Then, you turned to look at Lynette, then Freminet, and held out an arm.

“You two get hugs too!” You insisted, and Lyney laughed raucously. The two shy siblings looked as if they wanted to melt into the floor, but eventually they were pulled into the warm embrace you and Lyney had created. 

You couldn't wait to decorate that tree with your three favorite people in the entire world.

“Fremi, you're not getting out of putting the Santa hat on!”

“Please, no…”

#lyney and lynette #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lynette #genshin lynette #freminet #genshin freminet #fontaine #genshin x reader #genshin impact #gixrsecretsanta2023

[antisepticcrayon]

Posting here too! Just so I can give a longer explanation a bit for the few pieces I've been able to scramble for Sean.

Now I'm not the best at drawing people so it's very rare that I get to try to draw fanart for Sean and the community but I'll share the few I've been able to do!

Starting with the spring banner I made for Sean's server! Has to be one of my favorites becos I loved how it turned out and the fact that I somehow won the banner contest. It's always such a funny shock to go onto the server and see my art there. I've never been so proud of an accomplishment like that.

Next up is the Chase brody youtooz plush concept. Now I did this for kicks and giggles (/hj. Please Sean. We need sad dad plushies.) But it was pretty funny that that reference sheet got way more attention than I thought. And at the time of iris being fairly new was also so funny to me. He looks so sad. I need 17 of them.

King of the daisies portrait! My one piece of fanart that got the most recognition from the community! I spent a grueling 5-6 hours on this piece. It was during a time of art block so I wanted to try drawing realism for a month (didn't go exactly a month but I tried!) And this was my second attempt of the month and it came out so well. I absolutely adore it. And the inspiration came from when Sean announced that white daisies were his favorite flowers. So of course to honor the flow3r king, I did that for him. (Also another reason the banner, he's wearing a daisy crown!)

And finally the anti portrait. This one I made at work actually right before I was contacted for winning a meet and greet ticket to face time Sean through moment house. And to calm my nerves for the next couple days, I worked on this piece. (I referenced an art piece done by turquoise magpie I believe for this one!) But also another part of my month realism challenge!

The 2 realistic portraits hold a special place in my heart. Becos even through the horrendous wifi (and my uncontrollable anxiety) and cutting out during my meet and greet, I had the chance to show him them. I just didn't get to hear or see his reactions properly but the fact I showed him at all for him to see was more than enough.

Annnd then these last art pieces (I'm frankly TERRIFIED of showing. Unsure if it counts as fanart buttt)

These first 2 photos are reference pieces for my "JJ" inspired OC/Fursona. He is considered my comfort character who I tend to draw and doodle whenever I'm feeling down or having a bad day. Jameson (and chase) are my favorite egos and I find comfort in them. Not sure why, but I do. I feel like they just came at times I was struggling the most and brought joy to me though. Just Sean in general has done as such.

And the last photo is a book cover I created for a short story I'm writing with my self insert OC and chase Brody (along with the other egos).

The short story takes part of a community I'm in that surrounds giant/smalls/humans folklore and certain cultures surrounding a time of creatures big and small, Aka G/T! Think of any fairy tales like jack and beanstalk or even japenese animes like the secret world of ariety or movies and books like "The borrowers". (Another comfort for me. I find writing helpful as well for bad days and to also center and express myself again)

Anyways one of my favorite human pieces I've ever completed on my own through lots of practice and failed sketches (my good friend zora rendered and shaded it for me! Actual drawing, linework and coloring done by me!)

Anyways, I hope I'm not overstaying my welcome so I'll cut it off here!

I thank you both for doing this revival! I was never able to participate truely with "septicart" but I'm glad I can right now through this :)

Thanks for reading!

- Dj💜

(I apologize if my wording is wacky! ADHD and dyslexia isn't a fun combination when trying to write and explain things ack)

@turquoisemagpie @rogue-of-broken-time

#SepticartRevival2023 #septicart #jacksepticeye fanart #jacksepticeye

[anyaeras]

Cut at the stem || L.Weems

Mother Larissa x Daughter reader

summary-Y/n is a bright young girl, who was left by her normie parents when the found out y/n was different, yet y/n was found by a smart kind women, who took her in...part one

Tw- abandonment, fainting, panic attack (small)

Masterlist

───────────────────

Flash back 5 years ago.

"Momma where we going?" Young y/n asked, at only 5 years old y/n was extremely observant, and bright. Yet when y/n's parents notice a small change, well a big change. Flowers, y/n would act different around plants for sure but the fact that emotions now got tied into it was drawing the lines for her parents.......

Recently y/n had a nightmare, when her mother came to check on her the door was locked shut by thick vines taking all the older women's power to get into that room, when y/n's mother got in she would try not wake y/n up muffling the scream which escaped the older women, she was terrified of her own daughter, the vines had came in to protect young y/n from her mind yet this time they've gone to far for y/n's normal parents.

That's night y/n's parents left her alone in her bedroom sitting down themselves to talk about their options with their daughter. Wondering what to do with this monstrosity of a child.

"She's not normal, what kid grows plants outa their ass, she could've hurt you! Or the baby" y/n's father snapped acknowledging his wife's pregnancy with their second child who was becoming their main focus, he was standing up in the living room pacing back and forth while y/n's mother didn't spare him a glance looking into information

"i got it!....Nevermore Academy, Vermont" y/n's mother spat clicking onto the website for more information

"it's meant for 'outcast', so I'm assuming whatever y/n is becoming?" Her mother said to her father waiting for his response

"Let's pack her things" is all he said before going off to make the traveling plans, you didn't live super close to Vermont but still it was only a 4 hour drive from Albany, your home well at least you thought at the time.

Y/n was once her parents everything, their actual pride and joy, yet with the new baby and these abilities they jumped at the opportunity to push y/n away.

The next day came with a jolt for y/n, the young child woke up in a rush to clean up what was left of the vines unknowing to her that her parents had seen, y/n would go in her day like normal, playing with toys and even going outside for a few hours, until around 8pm, when y/n's father packed the car for the trip, a small bag for y/n. Before telling her to get in the car.

"Momma where we going?" Y/n asked about 30 minutes into the ride.

"Shhh peanut, just take a nap, it's passed your bed time" was y/n's mother response.

Surprisingly the young one was content with that response, maybe due to being so tired from the past restless nights, yet y/n laid down in the backseat, to rest, ignoring the idea of a child safety seat.

Y/n was shaken awake by her father, he didn't hold much emotion to the plan y/n's parents agreed on. While on the contrary her mother didn't spare her a glance she couldn't, not mentally but they didn't see a better choice.

Y/n was still dazed recently being awoken at the last hours of the night almost striking midnight, y/n's father pulled their young child from the car, leading them to a large deep blue gate which read "Nevermore Academy"

"Stay here y/n, I'm gonna go get momma" y/n's father lied threw his teeth handing y/n the small faded pink duffel bag, before walking off like it was normal.

When y/n heard the car start she was confused, yet she stayed put as her father ordered...

Seconds turned into minutes

Minutes turned into hours

And there y/n sat, eventually falling asleep in the mild weather of a Vermont night.

Larissa weems was a well respected woman, she ran Nevermore Academy with ease. It was the early hours of the morning around 5, Larissa was making a cup of tea when the night staff came to her with information about a small child sleeping on the school grounds.

"Well what did you do with the child?" Weems asked confused with the small amount of information.

"Umm Nothing ma'am" security responded leaving Larissa shocked

"You left a small child outside sleeping on the school grounds?" Larissa spat standing up to go to the gates herself, it was idiotic to leave a child sleeping outside no matter what or who that child was.

Larissa Walked outside heading towards the gate as the sunrise peaked, the pink and orange would glow bright, as Weems reached the gate she was met with what Nevermore's security described. A small girl laying on a faded pink duffel bag hiding in the bushes next to the gate.

Weems walked closer to the girl, making her way threw the gate over to the child lying on the ground. Softly shaking the young girl watching her jolt awake.

"Momma?" Was the first word out of y/n's mouth while she looked frantically left and right for her mother, only to be met with a tall, platinum blonde well put together women.

"Shh shh calm down can you tell me your name daring?" Weems asked the young girl

"Y/n...it's y/n" she replied to the older women yet the young one was still frantic

"They left me...they left" was all y/n said and she repeated it over and over.

"Who left darling. I need you to tell me so I can help"

"Momma and dad they are gone" y/n responded which clicked in weems head, this young girl was left by her parents, abandon in a bush, she's never had a case like this, but she knew she could handle it

"Why don't you come with me into that huge building?" Larissa pushed pointing at the castle like structure before reaching out to help the young girl up.

By now nevermore was busy with students running the halls getting to their morning classes, which was completely shocking to y/n along with being intimidating. Weems didn't let students bother her at this moment, heading straight to her office, opening the door and holding it for y/n to make her way into the office.

"Why don't we sit on the sofa over there and talk a bit" weems said sitting down letting y/n sit on the other end while she asked for some more information.

Larissa actually did find out quite a bit of information about the small girl. She was left by her parents last night, she is only 5 years old, it's was disgusting that her parents left her alone outside at 5 years old. Y/n seemed like a sweet young child the idea of abandoning her at a boarding school was confusing to say the very least.

"Y/n how about you stay here for a bit, until we find your family? Sound like a plan" weems offered, gaining a nod from young y/n yet weems had no idea how to find the small girls parents, but she could give her a home until she did, y/n was a bit to young for nevermore classes but weems was experience enough in childcare to watch a young kid for some time.

Little did weems know, this little girl would become her own.

5 years later (now)

"Y/n honey come here" weems yelled up the steps in her apartment, which was still on nevermore campus, today was y/n's first day attending nevermore as a student, she was already well known, as the headmistresses daughter, yet today not only was school stressing her out but it's been 5 years since she was left by her birth givers in a bush, and since she was here she hasn't had any issues with plants or growing vines, and didn't even mention that faded part of her past to her mom, and those ex-parents y/n once had where nowhere to be seen, or heard from, now y/n has been very well loved, weems wouldn't even think of the idea that y/n wasn't her daughter, she raised her, loved and cared for her, and everyday weems tried to show her love.

It was the start of the 2nd trimester at nevermore due to y/n's birthday. This was the earliest she could start, yet weems like any mother helped her get to her first class before leaving her to be a kid.

Clases went as normal, y/n took basic first year clases and didn't exceptionally well, that was until botany, her final class of the day, plant based class.

Walking into the class y/n was overwhelmed with all the plants, which was something she's been avoiding subtly for her whole time here, y/n felt a serge of energy being surrounded by the plants, taking her seat in the class as it filled up, being sat next to a bubbly student known as Enid Sinclair, she was kind, but a little too much for young y/n. As the class started professor Thornhill explained todays experiment

Each student was given a small baby weed like plant, and a small bottle of a plant growth serum, the goal was to give just the right amount so that the plant could sprout a flower, y/n watched as everyone did the experiment around her before, picking up the vile and dropper going to drop the serum into the plant. Yet something felt different, as y/n reached out and thought about the plant growing, it shot up her arm, vines sprouting from the small plant, wrapping over and over on y/n slowly reaching to her neck.

Thornhill was in shock even if a student did the experiment wrong the worst I could happen was a bush may grow not this plant attacking the students, y/n was terrified before breathing and trying to pull into control enough energy to control the plant into going back to its natural state. Y/n was able to do it but it took all the young ones energy, leading her to pass out, students all froze staring at y/n while the professor was calling the nurse to come get y/n

.

.

.

Waking up in the nurses office wasn't ideal for the first day, what really wasn't ideal was her mother standing right above her.

"Y/n darling are you alright? What happened" weems asked bending down to her daughters level, confused on what she'd been told, y/n couldn't have powers she was just a girl left behind, right?

Y/n panicked she didn't wanna spill her secret she didn't wanna be left again, she couldn't handle being left again, it took y/n a very long time to trust weems alone, she couldn't handle having to find a new home...again?

"Y/n i need to know what happened?" Weems pressed her daughter not cause she was nosey but honestly the women was worried about her daughter, but weems realized y/n wouldn't open up, not when they were in the nurses office with people around, leading weems to lift y/n out of the nursing cot and heading off to their corders.

Setting y/n down on the sofa in their living room area, allowing the small girl to breathe before Larissa pressed for information

"Y/n, my darling please tell me what happened?"

"The plants and I are connected, I've been able to manipulate plants since I was 3, but after my birth givers found out, they left me, y/n hiccuped trying to stop her sobs... I didn't want you to leave me" was all y/n could get out before breaking down. weems was quick to wrap her arms around y/n.

"My darling, I would never leave you. You are my little flower. Forever" larissa whispered into her daughter ear still holding y/n close for as long as that little girl needed....

And that little faded pink duffel bag still never moved....Part 2 is coming 😏

───────────────────

AN- IM BACK, also I did not proofread this so get what you get, also my request are open feel free to send some ideas and I will get right to writing part two as I am excited for this Larissa series 

#wednesday #netflix #larissa weems #fanfic #writing #fluffy #daughter reader #gwendoline christie #morticia x larissa #wednesday addams #morticia addams #the addams family #lgbtqia #wlw ship #wlw pride #principal weems #mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? #trending #wlw books #one shot #ladyrosen

[incendio22]

FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express

I am always impressed by how grand the King's Cross Station is. This time I am approaching it by foot accompanied by my parents. My father insisted on getting to London early in the morning so we could maximize our time together before I leave. He did not think of the fact that I'm bringing a massive coffin along with my owl. Luckily, he insisted on carrying the coffin.

I look at my ticket and the fine print saying Platform 9 ¾ and I smile a bit. My classmates always told me about how they loved running through wall on the station when they were going to Hogwarts their first year, but since I only started at Hogwarts one year ago I never had that experience. We approach the wall next to platform and I start running, terrified the wall won't let me through, and as I touch the wall I am standing next to a large train with Hogwarts Express written on the front. I fill up with complete joy as I see the train along with students running all over the platform. It is 11 minutes until the train leaves, but all I want to do is get on it and start my journey to Hogwarts. I wait two more minutes with my parents, chatting and listening to their advice. Finally, I give them both a goodbye kiss and I board the train.

''Hello, new girl.'' He says as he sits down on the seat in front of me. He is looking as good as ever, like none of the events that happened during spring ever occurred.

''You cannot call me that anymore, I am actually starting my second year as we speak.'' I say with a sarcastic tone.

''You will always be the new girl to me.'' He says with a grin on his face. ''I got your owl.'' he continues.

''And I barely got an answer.'' I say with obvious disappointment. ''You did not even say it was from you.''

''I figured you would be clever enough to figure it out.'' His fingers are tracing a seam on his sweater and his eyes are glued onto me. ''Anyway, I am alright. I redecorated the entire house and even started growing some dittany and chinese chomping cabbages in the garden.''

''I must say I'm surprised.'' I say while lightly raising my eyebrows. ''I did not take you for a wizard gardener.'' I smile at him.

''Well, neither did I. But I felt an urge to change things and decided to try out one of the hobbies I hate most.'' He almost laughs at himself. ''Actually I find it quite relaxing, except for when the cabbages try to eat me whole.''

His eyes are still glued onto me, which is making me nervous. The atmosphere is almost awkward, with me being embarrassed while having a sense that he is not telling me the truth. At least not the entire truth.

''Have you heard anything from Anne?'' I ask.

''No. And I have full respect for her decision to distance herself from me. I would too.'' He looks sad and his eyes fall to the floor. It is the first time he has taken them off me since he sat down in front of me.

''Hopefully she just needs time.'' I say trying to cheer him up. ''And anyone would be a fool not wanting to be close to you.'' As the words come out of my mouth my cheeks flush red. I should not have said that. I meant it that anyone would want him in their lives and hopefully that is how he interprets it.

''I disagree with you. I break every single thing I touch.'' He says seriously. I barely hear what he is saying as I am so occupied with my own embarrassment.

The train ride continues for a couple of hours, but it feels like minutes since our conversation kept me busy. It is dark outside, but I can see the trees flimmering outside as well as the castle in far distance. It looks small due to the distance, but yet majestic.

''We're almost there.'' Sebastian says. ''Get your things.''

''Yes, sir.'' I say jokingly.

I never thought about how the students get to the castle from the train station. Whatever I had in mind was immediately falsified as I see the carriages and thestrals. Sebastian and I are the last ones to get on a carriage and we are lucky enough be the only ones on it.

''Feldcroft isn't that far from Hogwarts.'' I say curiously. ''Why do you take the Hogwarts Express and not just... A broom?''

''I normally do exactly what you just suggested, but there was someone on the train I wanted to see.'' He says with a grin on his face.

''Oh.'' I say with a surprised tone. ''Well, we could just have spoken at the castle.''

''I feel bad about not writing you all summer and not being there for you after everything that you went through.'' He says. ''I was going through a lot, as you know, and you were there for me. But I was not there for you.''

''You don't have to feel bad, Sebastian.'' I say. ''I didn't ask you to be there for me.''

''Exactly. And you shouldn't need to, either.'' He says with his eyes, once again, glued onto me.

We approach the castle and I am mesmerized by how massive the castle is. And I feel like home.

#sebastian Sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #fanfic #fanfiction #slytherin #for the hope of it all

[canyouhearthelight]

Machine is Perfect, but Flesh is Free Act Three

Here we are, the final act of our dancer's performance. As ever, I cannot thank @baelpenrose enough for his work beta-reading a story with so much going on that he didn't initially understand, and for helping me through the stickier bits.

Also, thank you to everyone who has read this story... I promise to get the page links done by the end of the week, and the master post links will be finished after this chapter. So much has been going on, and I need to get caught up, if we are being honest.

This story started out as my rendition of The Princess with Silver Hands, and then promptly got away from me. But I like it, quite a lot. I hope you do, too.

I dedicate this to the survivors.

The morning of the performance dawned with nothing short of complete and total chaotic confusion.  Even the sudden bright lights and lack of blankets had barely woken me before I found myself unceremoniously lowered into a bath.  Sputtering as I pulled myself from below the surface of the water - only decade long habits kept me from pushing with the recently earned strength in my legs - I shouted in alarm with my first breath.

“What is going on!?” I begged in confusion, looking around for a way to page a guard.

Urus’s voice came gruffly from just beyond the screen. “Performance day preparations.”

“Perform - “ I tried to wrap my mind around what he had just said. “Today!?”

“Apparently.”

It was completely out of character - Master Arik’s household had always been run with a precision that would have made a hive queen envious. “When was this announced? Why did M.Russo not tell me?” For the second time in less than a year, my entire world view was being broken apart and rearranged.

“Imagine the news is being delivered now, with his coffee and toast.”

Coffee. I wasn’t permitted anything with caffeine, but the scent was always tantalizing. “May I have some coffee today?”

A rough laughter echoed off of what felt like every corner of my rooms. “Absolutely no deviation from your performance day schedule.”

I scowled as my hair was washed, irritated by the joy Urus seemed to be taking in rejecting my request.

Once I was scrubbed, buffed, and stuffed into my warm-up clothes, Urus himself took the handles of my chair to usher me to the studio. We were greeted by a bleary and somewhat unkempt M. Russo, who grumbled as guards took up posts in corners of the space - again, in completely contrast to what typically occurred. “It is only for the fact that we have been rehearsing for far too long that I am not demanding to see that Master Arik is sane with my own eyes,” he muttered as my nerve blocks were administered.

Painstakingly, we went through each stretch and position as thoroughly as possible.  Gene hacks meant no need to be concerned for sweat ruining my hair, which was lacquered into immobility regardless.  Instead, M. Russo checked my temperature every half hour, barking to the guards to have ice water and cold packs brought as needed to keep me from overheating.  A final costume fitting had to be done in between stretching sessions, much to the chagrin of the utterly terrified seamstress.  I thought she would die of heart failure on the spot when she presented my new shoes for the performance, only to have M. Russo throw them across the studio.

“Unlace your shoes,” he commanded me.  Once I obediently handed them over, he tossed them at the poor woman’s feet. “Recover these.”

“Sir, these are nearly dead - “

“They only need to last fifteen minutes,” he barked in his most stern tone, one I knew brooked no argument. “We do not have time for them to break in a new pair. These are already broken in, they are just ugly. Recover them.”

“I do not have - “

M. Russo leaned to stare into her eyes. “If we give them new shoes, and even one blister appears after the performance, Master will whip you or worse.  For your own sake, ask the guards to send for whatever you need, but recover these shoes.”

That was all it took.  While she sent for materials, removed ribbons, and measured the shoes, M. Russo had me stretch and flex every joint in my body from the floor.  It was only as my headpiece was being sewn into my hair that the seamstress walked up to Urus. She set the newly covered shoes on the ground, wrapped in her own apron. “I need you to step on these please.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but M. Russo cut him off. “The new glue is too stiff, and we do not have time to hammer and break it. You are the largest person here, Urus. Step on them please, until they no longer crack.”

For the first time in my life, I realized that M. Russo was higher in the household than Urus, as the head of my security detail closed his mouth angrily and started crushing the toe boxes with a loud, satisfying crunch.  While he took care of that, I was stripped and sponged off while the seamstress applied one last spray of starch to my costume.  Before I knew it, I was tucked into a robe and in my chair, to be whisked to the performance hall, for the first time with M. Russo following closely.

Where the journey to backstage was normally a blur, I made a point to pay attention to my surroundings: servants darting around with arms full of linens, vases of flowers, or trays of food.  The last part, I paid the most attention to, as Master Arik’s keep did not contain livestock or edible gardens.  I knew the path between the studio and the stage by heart, so I made a note of what artwork was near the doors I saw servants emerging from with full arms, curious where they led.

I did not get to wonder for long, as we were soon at the part where I was being sewn into my costume, pointe shoes tied on as securely as possible.  My familiar, worn shoes felt far heavier than recovering should have accounted for, and I rolled my feet around to adjust. 

M. Russo nodded approvingly. “She thickened the platform on the outside so that they do not die while you are performing.”

Once I was standing, I rolled onto pointe several times, taking tiny steps and checking the weight with an arabesque before nodding. “They will do.”

“They will have to,” Urus grumbled mockingly.

I could tell M. Russo wanted to argue, but was cut off as the orchestra’s warm-up ended. I took my mark, a circle laid into the floor - one I knew would rise into an incredibly narrow platform.  I had been told it was to demonstrate the precision and balance of the turns I would be doing, but strongly suspected an ulterior motive.  Namely, that if there was any chance of another person trying to shoot me, they would have a more isolated target.  The insurance on a stagehand - staff - was fairly small and paid to the family. Insurance on me - property - was far more and paid directly to Master Arik. I wasn’t terribly intelligent, but even I had figured that much out.

The music started properly, curtain parting to bring my focus to the present. The piece was a very long, original composition, tailored to the limit of my endurance - fifteen minutes, according to M. Russo. Any longer, and I started to show symptoms of heat exhaustion.  For Mme. Boulvais’ sake, I was far more worried about my shoes.

The platform started to rise at number thirty-two, and gasps of awe echoed at fifty once people realized what was happening.  By the time I was halfway through my second set of left-handed turns - eighty seven, eighty eight - the platform had stopped and I estimated I was two full stories above the stage, pivoting on a pillar barely wider than one of my feet was long.

And bored. I was so bored of spinning.  The music meandered, cresting and falling, as I mentally counted off turns.  Yes, this would look impressive from the outside.  Yes, it would increase my stock and hopefully bring my parents out of poverty finally.  But the reality was that, between pain inhibiting nerve blocks and the mostly-mechanical nature of my legs, the only thing that was straining were my shoulders and neck. Two hundred and four, two hundred and five…

If I never had to do another turn - not even a pirouette or chaine - after this, I could die happily.

Murmurs reached my ears, even past the orchestra in front of the stage. It turned into thunderous applause as the tempo of the music increased - as did my spinning.  Even though I could not see beyond the lights that were close to eye level and could not become dizzy besides, I made sure to spot in the exact same place each time - directly toward Master Arik, as always.  A simpering show of ‘gratitude’, as pointless as it was empty.  When a loud crack sounded, I pushed through just as M. Russo had insisted should anything disrupt this performance.  The applause turned into unseemly cheering.

After the second crack, angry shouts began and the music ground to a discordant halt.  I realized that I hadn’t been hearing any cheers at all - they were screams.

Shoving down my panic even as I cursed myself, I continued my now-morbid performance in silence.  What else could I do, two stories above the stage, knowing I would be even easier to shoot if I were still?

The third crack caused the platform to shake, and then sway from the force of my turns.  It began to tip, forcing me to come to a stop.  At the last moment, I realized it was collapsing and I would fall to the stage either way.  In a moment of sheer terror, with all the audacity I had, I jumped, choosing to let my enhanced and reinforced legs to take the brunt of the plummet.

Even with the nerve blocks, I could feel something shift horribly in my feet before the force of my fall caused me to roll forward involuntarily.  When I came to a stop, I glanced into the crowd in hopes they had caught the shooter.  My eyes came to rest on a man pointing an object at me, a guard behind him with a gun to his head, and my heart shattered.  Disgust and anger were the only things I found in the features of the shooter, like I was an abomination, a sin against humanity.  And then the guard fired, leaving the body to drop to the ground.  I screamed as the last anchor of my steady, predictable world was erased, familiar cane still in one strict and strong hand of the now-headless body, improvised gun not far from the other.

Someone grabbed my shoulders and shook me, breaking me out of my emotions. “Did you know?” a harsh voice demanded.

I snapped my head around, yanking my arm free of Urus’ grip. “You’re hurting me,” I threatened.

He pulled the arm he still held, navigating me off stage and toward my chair. “Did you know anything about Russo’s plan?”

I stormed ahead of him, forcing him to let go. “You are asking if I knew that the only person other than you in my entire life here who was trusted to be left alone with me wanted to kill me?” I stopped in front of my chair, turned, and stared at him blankly as my costume was cut from my body unceremoniously.

He scowled and pulled out the counteragent to my nerve block. I held up one hand, knowing I couldn’t stop him if I tried and beyond caring at this point. “Please let them remove the hairpiece first.”

The seamstress, Mme Boulvais, was less polite. “It is sewn into their hair, and then glued. Removing it will hurt very badly and cause bleeding if they are not still.  It is better if they cannot feel it.”

The nerve block did nothing for my body above the waist, but only I and the doctor knew that.  I certainly wasn’t telling Urus such information while I stood on what was likely a badly sprained or dislocated foot.  And as long as I stood, my shoes could not be removed, concealing it.  Instead, Mme Boulvais stood on a box to dissolve the glue and carefully cut away the threads with a deft hand, ignoring the runners constantly updating Urus along with the two guards who glanced about furtively, fingers on triggers.

The headpiece was finally free, and she stepped down and bent to start unlacing my shoes. Urus, again, stepped forward with the injectors, and I refused to watch, instead staring down at my shoes. They survived, I thought numbly. My practically-dead pointe shoes had survived intact, and tears came to my eyes as I realized I had made a decision I didn’t even realize I was contemplating.

“I am so sorry,” I whispered hoarsely.  Mme Boulvais whipped her head up to hear me better, and as my leg cracked into her chest and throat, forcing her to the ground to gasp for air, I realized it may have saved her life.

Judging by the sound I heard when I caught Urus in the jaw with my damaged foot, and how he fell so limply, he may not have been so lucky. “A kick like that could kill a man,” Arik had said.  The remaining guards stared dumbly, not knowing what to do when they had been trained to protect me and avoid harming me at all costs.

I ran. Damaged foot, one pointe shoe still on, and mostly naked, I ran through the hallways until I reached the first door I recognized as one I had seen servants coming from with armfuls of clean laundry. As I ran inside, I startled a young woman, causing her to drop the contents of her arms.

She swiftly squatted to gather them again. “You scared me, running in here like demons were chasing you!” She glanced up with a sparkle in her eye, but it faded as she took in my appearance.  Pure panic at being found out was hammering all the way to my fingertips as she shook her head and stood, dropping the laundry again. “Damned two-legged demons, more like it,” she spat angrily. “Pretty thing like you, running in here, bare as the day you were born.”

To my shock, she started rifling through stacks on the shelves, pulling out a shirt after a moment. “Sa bit big, but warm. Breeches or skirts?”

“What?” I asked dumbly.

“To cover up. Do you want breeches like a man, or skirts like a woman?”

“I’ve never been asked what I wanted to wear…”

She muttered something about wool socks before turning and giving me a look that reminded me of Mme Boulvais. “Pretty as you are, whoever you’re running from will know you in a skirt, sure as the dawn. Better be breeches…. Cook has a lanky one, where are - ah!” She seemed triumphant at the folded square the found, and handed the entire stack to me. “Here. Undershirt, shirt, jacket, breeches, socks. Better to look like a kitchen boy, no one pays them any attention.”  With that, she turned her back to me.

“What?”

“Get dressed, and I’ll take you to the kitchens.”

“Oh.” I felt like an idiot, but a grateful one.  When I had run away, I hadn’t had a plan, and here was this woman handing one to me. “I think I’ve got everything on right,” I said finally.

As soon as she turned, she heaved a breath. “Never worn breeches, I see. Lacing goes in the front, like a boy. Ladies lace clothes in the back.”

Finally, we were sorted out, and I was following her like a baby duck, a stack of what she swore were towels in my arms. I felt rather than saw as we entered the kitchens, the immediate and overwhelming warmth reminding me of a bath. “Marie-Jeanne!” a robust voice called out. “I thought you were carrying sheets now!”

“Hush, Therese,” my escort scolded lightly, as though she didn’t mean it. “I missed you and brought you towels and gossip. Lots going on upstairs! And I found Jean-Rene, I know you were looking for him.”

Alarmingly quickly, the towels were removed from my arms, and a pair of warm, callused hands gently grabbed my chin. An older woman, stout and red-faced from the heat, looked at me. Carefully, she spoke. “Yes, Jean-Rene has been ill and wandered off in his fever. Thank you for finding him. Let me get you both some soup, and you can tell me the gossip while I make sure he eats.” She flicked a towel near me, carefully not touching me with it. “Silly child, wandering around this keep like that when you’ve been sick.”

Without another word, she steered us into a room with bags upon bags of dried things, pointing one finger firmly at a large sack while staring me down. “Marie-Jeanne, you will tell me exactly what is going on when I come back.”  The woman - Therese, apparently - did not even leave the room, just opened the door to retrieve a tray that she seemed to know would be there.  My eyes widened at the sight of thick, buttered bread next to two bowls.  Actual food, not just porridge.

I ate as fast as the steaming stew would let me while Marie-Jeanne explained how we had encountered each other. It turned out that she thought I was an escaped and abused courtesan, and even at that would have brought me here without question. When she was finished, Therese looked at me in pity.

Holding out my bowl, I forced myself to speak. “I don’t think I can stay here. I think I killed a man.”

Two sets of eyes widened in my direction. “My nephew, Jean-Rene, helps with the deliveries when farmers bring tithe. You could leave with them, if you can be still. Can you do that?”

I thought about the neuro blocks in my legs, and how they would eventually wear off. “I can sit still better than anything, if I can have help getting there. I’m on painkillers, and they’ll wear off eventually.  I can still walk,” I rushed to explain. “I’ve worked really hard on that. But not very far.”

“Nasty fuckers,” Therese spat, looking meaningfully at Marie-Jeanne. “Keep people enslaved with drugs.”

If you only knew. I thought about all the expensive medical science in my legs, all to make me a pretty paper doll who could only function with my master’s permission. “Once the painkillers wear off, I only hurt if I move. So I can be very still.”

Therese and Marie-Jeanne stood, as though that settled the matter. Marie-Jeanne spoke this time. “I’ll send someone in here to lay down some beans and rice for you to lay on. Jean-Rene is a lazy boy, so no one will blink if you’re laying down out of the way.  Our next delivery is in a week, may be longer if Master Arik starts searching everything after what I heard about upstairs.” Therese elbowed her and she rolled her eyes. “That fancy dance instructor started shooting people, and the ballerine is missing.  Shame, really. I hear the performances are incredible.”

Therese’s eyes flicked to me before turning away to grab a jar of beans. “Mmm. I would rather be down here cooking and chattering, being left alone as long as everyone is fed. Even golden cages hold lonely birds, I think.  Might be he shot the ballerine and Master Arik is covering it up.”

Marie-Jeanne snorted. “Better for the ballerine, I think.”

#original fiction #science fiction #original writing #original science fiction #traumatized characters #writeblr #original sci fi #machine flesh #cyberpunk #dystopian fiction #biohacking #my writing

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

hi, emma! how are you?

can I request a headcanon with Speirs, Winter, Luz and Liebgott about a reader who falls for them but it's unrequited? I need all the hurt and angst, thank you!! <3

Hello dear anon, thank you for the brilliant request this is gonna be such a heart wrencher to write for me because I love them all so much 😩

Note: I did in fact cry several times writing this, and I'm pretty sure my heart cracked in half.

Ron Speirs

There'd always been something about him that drew your attention, something dangerously alluring.

The others would actively try to avoid him because "he's absolutely terrifying" but you went out of your way to bump into him. That was made a lot easier when he joined Easy.

Once you got to know him you realised that beneath the scary facade was a deeply caring and kind hearted man, and you fell head over heels for him.

Many hours between Hagenau and Zell Am See were spent chatting quietly together about everything from the weather to philosophy. You could talk for hours and never get bored. There was also plenty of sarcastic jibes thrown back and forth, but always in good spirit.

You thought he surely must have known how you felt, it was the worst kept secret in the company for chrissakes.

Eventually you built up the courage to tell him, you just needed a stiff drink first. Your heart sank when you walked into the bar and saw him with his arm around a pretty nurse. You wanted to run but you were rooted to the spot, hardly able to breathe.

Unfortunately that's when he spotted you, and he grinned brightly at you and waved you over and what could you do only go along with him because damn that smile.

"Hey let me introduce you to a good friend of mine," he said, and it was like a dagger being slowly pushed into your chest, inch by inch. Because that's all you were to him, a good friend.

Dick Winters

It was almost too easy to fall in love with him.

You'd always looked to him for motivation to keep going, and had always admired his determination and sensible leadership.

It was only when you got promoted and started working with him that you truly saw the real him.

He was wonderful. He was compassionate and humble and so so kind. But he was also sharp as a tack and delightfully funny in the most understated way.

You found every excuse you could think of to spend as much time as possible with him because it was one of the few joys you had in an otherwise miserable time.

He also started to seek you out more often, and you couldn't supress the little flutter of hope you felt in your chest that maybe, just maybe, your feelings might be reciprocated.

He'd talk of the farm he hoped to own if he made it home, and you couldn't help but imagine yourself right there with him in a quiet little corner of the world.

It was actually Nix who unintentionally burst your bubble one fine summers day in some German Town.

"C'mon Dick we're almost finished over here," Nix sighed dramatically, "You've got to find yourself at least one nice European lady before we head home."

"Who says I haven't already?" Dick laughed, his cheeks redenning. You almost choked on your drink but just about managed to keep it together, though you could feel Nix's heavy gaze resting on you.

"Have you met the future Mrs Winters then eh?" Nix asked coyly.

"No not yet," Dick shrugged, "I think that can wait until we hopefully get settled back home don't you?"

You bit your tongue so hard you almost tasted blood, but it was better than letting any tears spill over. Clearly you'd been wrong. He had no idea how you felt, and you were nothing more to him than another wartime friend. But you couldn't blame him for it. It wasn't his fault you'd misconstrued his friendliness for something else.

George Luz

George really was your best friend. Nobody could make you laugh the way he did.

You were the ultimate double act when you were together, always entertaining the others even in the worst of times.

But you also trusted him more than anybody. Whenever you were feeling down or needed a friendly face you'd seek him out, and vice versa.

It was bound to happen that you'd fall in love with him, I mean how could you not? He was your best friend, the most amazing person in the whole world.

You knew he didn't love you in that way though, and it broke your heart every day. You'd hear him tease the others about being too chicken to make a move on a girl they liked, and how he wouldn't make that mistake. He'd talk about how if he had a girl he'd treat her to all the finest things in life. It was obvious he didn't see you as anything more than a best friend, because if he did he'd have made his move already.

Joe Liebgott

You and Joe clashed quite a lot in the beginning. He was a total hot head and he drove you absolutely insane. Barely a day went by without you two throwing barbs at each other.

Somewhere along the line those barbs into flirting, and before you knew it you had some sort of flirtationship going on with him.

It was all fun and games until you were all out at a bar one night and you saw this pretty blonde approach him. The gnawing feeling you got I'm your gut was impossible to ignore, and you had to admit to yourself that you had a teeny tiny crush on him.

That teeny tiny crush grew exponentially the more time you spent with him. He was a total idiot half the time, but he was caring and he could be so sweet and so funny too. It hit you like a tonne of bricks that you were totally in love with him.

Of course you didn't say anything, that would be totally embarrassing. And anyways there was no way he'd have feelings for you.

But then he'd put his head on your shoulder, or give you a cheeky smile, or brush your hand in passing and try as you might you couldn't help the bubbling hope that maybe he did have feelings for you.

That bubble of hope was violently burst as you sat on the back of a troop truck on your way through Germany. Your heart grew painfully cold as you sat beside him and had to listen to him talk all about the dream woman he was going to find for himself when he got home.

Taglist:  @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sofietargaryen @cagzzz107 @stolemyspoons @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @delreyleclerc @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @francois-ceverts @ask-you-what-sir @parajumpboots @mads-weasley @tetragonia

#band of brothers #band of brothers fandom #bob #hbo band of brothers #holdingforgeneralhugs #dick winters #band of brothers imagine #joe liebgott #george luz #ron speirs #band of brothers headcanon

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

2023 Tumblr Top 10

1. 631 notes - Feb 12 2023

Can we please talk about the fact that Watson receives a telegram that Holmes has fallen ill and immediately rushes down to Lyon in just 24 hours?? The urgency and the devotion of it is just breaking my heart  :,) ...

2. 461 notes - Feb 24 2023

For me, people who read A Scandal in Bohemia and go HoLmEs WaS iN lOvE wItH iReNe AdLeR are the personification of how hetero- and amatonormativity cloud our thinking. NO READ THE TEXT PLEASE JUST READ THE TEXT AGAIN!!! ...

3. 295 notes - Jul 25 2023

The funny thing about being a Sherlock Holmes fan is that you can claim almost anything to be possible by insisting that Watson Simply Lied.

4. 284 notes - May 6 2023

I just rewatched The Final Problem and I don't know how he does it, but I'm so amazed by the way Jeremy Brett shows that Holmes is secretly terrified by the news that Moriarty got away, from the moment he receives the telegram. He stops confiding in Watson, ...

5. 248 notes - Sep 13 2023

I think the fact that it's Watson who gets Holmes out of the room with the poison in Devil's Foot, saving his sanity and likely his life, is so evocative of their whole relationship ...

6. 227 notes - Feb 26 2023

People stating that Holmes and Adler are in love are like your little siblings when you were 13 years old and accidentally mentioned the name of some classmates of the "opposite sex" at the dinner table, ...

7. 226 notes - Feb 23 2023

8. 202 notes - Apr 25 2023

I think when Holmes and Watson wait until Roylott has gone to bed so they can break into his house investigate the case, Holmes gave Watson his coat to sleep on. :,) Look! ...

9. 201 notes - Dec 24 2023

Just found this on Pinterest - I love how David Burke and Jeremy Brett display completely opposite emotions XD

10. 188 notes - Aug 30 2023

Nobody told me that being a Sherlock Holmes fan would mean a little bit of extra joy whenever I see a bee or a rose. :)

Created by TumblrTop10

#tumblrtop10 #there was no year in review this year and I feel CHEATED lol #my own #year in review #take that tumblr! :P

[0xo]

i miss that house so much. it doesn't exist anymore. but i maybe never felt safer than i did sleeping on that back porch, tiny tv buzzing to me. i feel every inch of the place in my skin, the awkward angles and shoddy repairs and eighty years of ghosts. the kisses, the cigarettes, the whispers and screams.

[tw: references to abuse and domestic violence, not explicit but definitely alluded to]

even when she came drunken stumbling up the stairs and scared me out of my mind, i was safe there. with them. nobody was going to let her hurt me there. still, my heart dropped out of my ass the second i heard her staggering footsteps - i knew that sound too well, she wasn't meant to come over while i was around, we agreed - i hid in the bathroom and sobbed and prayed. i hid her keys so she couldn't drive off again. because even then i cared. even then her safety was on my conscience. she slept for thirteen hours and i was awake every second, terrified she'd wake and blame me, come at me. nobody in the house would have let that happen, but nobody there knew then how bad it had been. why i had to leave. i thought about that while i climbed up the countertops to put her keys on top of the cabinets. i couldn't protect myself from her. but i could protect her from herself in some small way. how horribly ironic.

still, the house was safe. even peaceful, while she slept. i was not at peace but that was just me. everyone worried for her, and they should've. i was hardly in a state to drive. i went anyways and got her pepto bismol and activated charcoal, to soak up the alcohol and the month's worth of lexapro she decided to take before driving over. i couldn't even be angry. she knew that taking them couldn't be fatal, just shitty. she told me so right when she arrived. it was the drunk driving i was most upset about, and then the fact that she put it on me in my safehouse when we agreed not to see each other. she knew where i was and came anyways, with no warning, drunk like she had been when she... hm. i was terrified. and she knew i would be. sometimes i wonder if it was a way to ruin the sense of safety i had in one of the only places i could find it. then i think that's too self-centered of me.

i only told him this year how bad it was. why i left. and he was upset, of course, he didn't realize it had gone that far. but i didn't want to ruin her social support because she needed it as much as i did. "well, you're not ruining anything for her by being honest about what happened, she did that for herself!" sure! sure. but i believed in her ability to be better. still do. hope she is! and if i'd told anyone then, she would've been alone. which wouldn't have been my fault. but i still would've felt bad. how could i not? she needed community and support as much as i did.

it's so complicated. i feared for my life and still worried for hers. i was only twenty. now i'm the age she was and really genuinely wondering why and how you treat someone like that. i mean, i know the how and the why, but... like. i mean. i don't know. say you love someone and then act like that, threaten their life. make them scared to say anything about it. i was lucky i had someone, someone she wouldn't fight, to call. so lucky.

i miss that house where i rebuilt myself. i miss the porch she stumbled up on to, because it's also where i learned to cope with it. i miss the sense of safety i had when my friends were close enough to help. most of my memories there are of love and of joy and of being silly and free with my favorite people. it bothers me that the one time i felt wretchedly unsafe always boils up to the top, but i really can't let that ruin the rest. i miss the green green green backyard and the trees and the smell of weed and the naturdays and the weird movies. i miss the rain on the porch's plastic siding, and the lazy summer heat i could nap in. i miss the dogs. i miss who i was before.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Surface Pressure (Isabela’s Version)

I changed the lyrics of “Surface Pressure” to fit Isabela in the pre-movie status quo, because I love her, this song, angst and character exploration. And I have too much time. I tried to convey a different tone and type of pressure to Luisa, oriented around the more nebulous idea of perfection rather than the practical responsibilities of strength. Like the original, it’s addressed to Mirabel, though not directly. This is more hearing her unspoken inner monologue. I imagine it’s in response to Mirabel noticing a slip in her facade and expressing worry for her. In fact, that it goes unspoken is an important facet of the tragedy of it for me; she does love her little sister and wants her to enjoy and appreciate her freedom from the glare of spotlight, the soul-smothering expectations and demands and duties that Isabela feels trapped at the behest of, but hiding her own pain and not seeing Mirabel’s for it enables Mirabel just keeps envying her in a self-perpetuating cycle of mutual resentment. Yet showing vulnerability and fallibility is so absolutely terrifying that at this point, she prefers being scoffed at and envied on a pedestal to her anxieties and desires and nuanced humanity being recognized - she’ll take Mirabel hating her false persona over knowing her authentic self because she thinks her authentic self is a moral failure that much. This is what the choruses are saying. When she says Mirabel doesn’t deserve the life Isabela has, she means it in a good way. It just never comes out like that. …I’ll stop rambling now.

I’m the model, I’m not nervous

I’m devotedly, totally perfect

I’m as giving as the earth is

And I glow ‘cause I know what my worth is

I don’t wonder if I’ve earned this

Got a smiling, beguiling surface

Orchids and carnations, with no aberrations

You want flor de mayo, for sure, here’s a mile, but

Under the surface

I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus

Under the surface

Isn’t your concern, as you’ve heard, you do not deserve this

Under the surface

I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service

A flaw or a crack

The straw in the stack

That breaks the camel’s back

What breaks the camel’s back?

It's pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa

Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip till you just go pop, whoa-oh-oh

Leave it to your sister, your sister's older

Never chance a glance over her cold shoulder

Who am I if I can't run with the ball?

If I fall to

Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won't let go, whoa

Pressure that’ll tick, tick, tick till it's ready to blow, whoa-oh-oh

Leave it to your sister, her life’s all roses

Never mind the hours practicing those poses

Who am I if I can't outgrow it all?

If I falter?

Under the surface

I hide my nerves and it worsens, what are gifts versus curses?

Under the surface

The roots burrow further, don’t swerve and I can’t reverse this

Under the surface

I think about my purpose, how long can I preserve this?

Line up the dominoes

A light wind blows

You try to stop it toppling

But on and on it goes

But wait

If I could shake the crushing weight

Of expectations, would that free some room up for joy?

Or relaxation? Or simple pleasure?

Instead we measure this growing pressure

Keep growing, keep going

'Cause all we know is

Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, woah

Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip till you just go pop, woah-oh-oh

Leave it to your sister, she knows her place

One stumble or stutter from utter disgrace

Watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks

No mistakes, just

Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won't let go, woah

Pressure that’ll tick, tick, tick till it’s ready to blow, woah-oh-oh

Please believe your sister, go back to hating

As long as I stay silent I’m not suffocating

Who am I if I don't have what it takes?

No cracks, no breaks

No mistakes

No pressure

#tried to strike a balance between ‘sounds condescending out of context’ and ‘in context is actually just sad and well-intentioned’ #like changing ‘give’ to ‘leave’ #thought that changed the tone a little #made it feel more dismissive but like in a self-sacrificial way #also ‘outgrow it all’ means that her plants must surpass the creations of nature itself #AND that she needs to and should already have outgrown all feelings like fear doubt anxiety self-oriented wants etc. #had fun with the rhymes #encanto #isabela madrigal #disney encanto #surface pressure #original lyrics

[theoncomingdoo-dah]

Episode 1.4 Aliens of London

so no one cares but I started watching breaking bad today. I have never seen it so this is my first exposure. it's really damn good so far.

ANYWAYS I remember really liking this episode! Let's go!

Nine just cheesing when Rose is walking off to see her mum.

Also the music starts off so sentimental to just distort and waver down when the 'missing' poster is in shot

And the PANIK in Nines face when he sees the poster.

Also love the face when he says "not 12 hours, it's 12 months. Sorry.' like whoopsie!

BAD WOLF MENTIONED (Like BIG TIME ITS THERE ON THE TARDIS)

Jackie is such a mom. That is a compliment. She's written so believably, like yeah, my mom would go off on me like that too. Holy shit.

And poor Nine. He's just standing there. Soooo awkward. He really just can't do domestics.

The utter offense Rose and Nine get when the officer asks if what's between them is a sexual thing. Not yet dude, they're still figuring things out.

"How old are you then? 40? 45?" Nines face like nope, not even

"STITCH THIS MATE" we stan Jackie Tyler in this house.

Rose's face during this whole thing...she's been here before. Absolutely.

Any scene with Rose and Jackie hits me hard because it reminds me of me and my mom. I'm an only child, just like Rose. I'm my moms baby. At one point, it was just me and her. And honestly I could see my mom acting just like Jackie does in this situation.

"I don't do families." Sure, Jan.

Remember when I said Nine and Rose can't stay mad at each other? Stays true in this interaction. Rose goes from saying "You're so useless..." to Nine to laughing at his jokes.

"Your face!" "It hurts!" "You're so gay!" Just, them. Being them. I love them.

Of course the spaceship hits Big Ben. This is Doctor Who after all.

FANTASTIC

"I'm so glad we got you." 🙄

Another scene that puts Nine waaaaay out of his element. Back at the Tyler's flat with all their friends. He just looks so uncomfortable.

and where's he's wrestling the remote away from the little boy pffft

HARRIET JONES THERE SHE IS

Yes the fart jokes are terrible but I'm also a child and I think they're great and the fact that they actually give a reason for why it happens is pretty great and makes it even funnier

tbh I'd take fart jokes over awkwardly written innuendo any day

"It's just a bit human in there for me." He doesn't even sound disgusted when he speaks, more unnerved? Stressed? Aww.

And the utter JOY he has over the human race actually evolving and changing is wonderful! the fact that he doesn't want to interfere because he wants it to happen naturally!

"TARDIS key." more like "We're moving in together. My home is now your home." Everytime it happens, it's wonderful.

Rose looks all giddy with the key in her hand. 🥹

ELLO E.T

"DOCTAAAAAAAH-!" *CRASH!*

"Damn, you've seen through my cunning plan." The fucking delivery of this line xD

NINE SHUSHING THE SCREWDRIVER. it's such a small scene but I freaking love it

Then walking in on the soliders and smiling at their pointed guns. sirrrrrr

BUT THEN FOLLOW HIM WHEN HE SOUNDS LIKE HE KNOWS WHAT HES TALKING ABOUT

The genuine hurt when they shoot the pig alien. God I love nine. 🥺

"I'm shaking my BOOTY." It's so cheesy and stupid I love it

Seriously, The Slitheen are great. Goofy mother fuckers but when it comes down to brass tacks they are ruthless and terrifying. Those are the best kind of DW baddies.

Honestly, Mickey is justified in how he feels. Accused over and over of killing your girlfriend.

"He's not my boyfriend, Mickey! He's better than that. He's much more important." Yeah I'm completely normal about this line.

"Ricky"

"Think you know your own name, how stupid are you?" NINE CHILL

He's honestly such a twit to Mickey but it's too funny I'm sorry

God you can just see the cracks in Mickey and Rose's relationship. And they weren't caused by the Doctor. They were always there. :(

"I had a wife, mistress and a young farmer." "God I was busy." Jesus Christ.

eeeeyyyy it's UNIT.

"Take me to your leader!"

And then the car ride banter. And him waving at the press!! Sir I just love you so much

"Lloyd George used to drink me under the table." See this is funny because the Doctor really doesn't drink. At all. Each time they've tasted alcohol it makes them gag.

AND HOW INSISTENT HE IS THAT ROSE STAYS WITH HIM GAAAAAH

Look at Rose being all capable without the Doctor around! Looking around for alien technology with Harriet! She's so amazing I love her

"Excuse me, you mind not farting while I'm saving the world?" Iconic.

Maybe I'm immune to bad CG because this isn't even that terrible?

ngl though these costumes are pretty damn sweet.

Conclusion:

Yeah this episode is still a banger. still a big fan of the Slitheen. not my favorite alien in DW (that would probably be the Ood. I miss the Ood...)

I'll be watching WW3 tomorrow probably. Night!

#the doctor shitposts #dw #the fantastic dw rewatch and so on