#been a bit trying some more stuff here and there

[xo-adeline]

"To Change For You..." - Twisted Wonderland

⋆°• ☁︎ - Things they do after picking it up from you!

Feat. Pan Nikos, Peyn Algos, Idia Shroud, and Leona Kingscholar

AN: The wonderful Pan Nikos and Peyn Algos belong to @kokii-omii ! (I’m so tempted to write for a bunch of the their other oc’s as well-) ☁︎ - Gn!Reader - Reader is described as Yuu (Leona’s Part and Peyn’s Part)

Pan Nikos - Gets (a little) better at not yelling at/threatening people during multiplier games If you had asked anybody in the Ignihyde dorm, or really anybody who had come in contact with him while playing video games, they would tell you the same thing: He’s scary. Whether they explained about the time that he had tried to leak the dorm's browser history, or just any time that they had been playing a co-op game, and they got a loud earful from the vice-housewarden. But everything was still the same, other times, though he could definitely mellow out, especially not in super stressful instances.

The first time that it had even been talked about was the night after a 5-hour co-op game between Idia and Pan. Of course, at the time, it was a little confusing, but even when Idia had stumbled into Pan later, he still seemed much more chill, even with all the hectic stuff that had been throwing the dorm members for a loop. And at every new problem that was brought up, there was a sense of tension in the air, and every time, there was a deeper scowl on Pan’s face. But before he could actually blow up and threaten anybody else, there was a deep breath, and he just let it go? Not only did it confuse the hell out of everybody who had seen it, but also Peyn and Idia, who were just standing there.

The second time this had ever shown up was when he was mid-boss battle, and one of his characters, which he had spent months building and perfecting, didn’t crit. Even with the lineup being perfect and every artifact in place, signature weapon, even 10-10-10 talents. And still it didn’t work, so in anybody's situation, they would have been pretty upset, and Pan, of course, was, but yet this time… There was just a little bit of some under his breath words, a pained noise, and then that same sigh, and instead he moved onto building one of his other characters. This was the time that they finally started to question it. And lo and behold, the only thing that was in common between both occasions. The fact that you, of all people, had made mention of the fact that it wasn’t the nicest to yell at everybody and that they were just trying to do their best, and yet somehow, even when Idia had mentioned the same thing, he only applied it when you had said it. And this had only added to the fact that he definitely played favorites, but hey, at least he was getting better at it?

Peyn Algos - Being (a little) less spiteful If there was one thing that anybody close to Peyn knew, it was the fact that he would only go out of his way to do things that would piss people off, case in point the many times that he would get into arguments with Riddle due to the abserdity of the Queen of Hearts rules. So, the first time that at a clear opportunity to make some sort of snide comment, he didn’t, people started to question everything. Was the world finally ending? No, or at least not yet. But the more times it happened, the more people started questioning it. Riddle was probably the first person to notice it, knowing how the Ignihyde student was one to jump at any moment to call him out on something, especially when it came to one of the 810 rules. Even the next time that he didn’t argue with Sebek about anything across the sun was the tell sign that something else was happening. And with their game on an update, Pan and Idia were about to find out why. Pan had the upper hand here when it came to understanding the majority of Peyn’s attitudes towards things; they were really good friends after all. But, it wasn’t long before they finally started to notice that this was an ongoing thing. Even if at some moments he didn’t end up making more comments, and the times that he didn’t, there were definitely unspoken words, and the way that he was really trying to bite his tongue was also supporting that fact. Now, after a few more minutes, there was only one person who really stuck out against everybody else. You. The one person who already stood out enough at the lack of magic, but even more so at the fact that you could get Peyn through a scolding without him back-talking whatsoever.

But that was the main thing that Pan and Idia noticed, the way he didn’t even seem like he wanted to. There was no sense of malice, no matter what you had said; it was like he really didn’t care what you were saying, just that you were around him and talking to him. And the more that the two of you talked, the more they had noticed that even at chances were there could have been a comment made, he didn’t even look like he was thinking about it. Or more often, when there was a chance that either he or you could leave the conversation, he never took it. Peyn had even when the extra mile to walk you back to Ramshackle, even knowing that Ignihyde was almost the exact opposite direction. Now it all made sense; it was only because you were the one who had mentioned it to him that he would have even considered it.

Both Pan and Idia were definitely making note of this for later dates…

Leona Kingscholar - Showing up to classes more often Safe to say that the first time in months that the Savanaclaw housewarden had actually shown up to class, there was a bit of a shock to everybody else. Most people had even forgotten that he was at the school, let alone even in their class. That’s how bad it was… Even the teacher had a confused look on his face when he saw Leona sitting in his assigned seat, when class was set to start. Of course, the initial reaction was just thinking that it was only because he knew that he had to get a certain number of days in to graduate, and it must have only gone towards that. But that idea was quickly shut down when the lion showed up 3 days in a row, was he on the verge of falling asleep every time? Hell yeah. But was he at least there? Also yeah.

This is also why a few of the students had launched a full-fledged undercover plan to figure out why he was coming so much. It didn’t take long or very much following around of Leona before they had found out the true reason behind his return. You. The magicless prefect that resided in Ramshackle. The very one that over anything else, had at least showed up to class and tried to keep their grades as high as they could, even without the use of magic. The group that had looked on this from afar was confused when they realized that one person could break him down and actually make him show up to class, but the more they started investigating, the more they found out about why that was.

The subtle glance from the housewarden when he watched as you spent your hangout time studying, the talks about some of the material that you were working on at the time - and more about asking him if he remembered anything about it and could help you, and last but certainly not least, the repetitive questions about how he could do nothing during the day and not get bored? Wasn’t there anything that he wanted to do other than just being part of the royal family? Wasn’t there anything that he wanted to learn about, or even just learn more about?

And maybe it was the way that you often asked these questions, that he finally started to do as you, offhandedly, suggested, and showed up to class. Now, there was no way that he was showing up with nothing in return. And what was he getting in return? For everything he was doing in class, he was also able to help you more and more, which meant less time for you to be constantly studying, and more time that you could be spending with him. It was a subtle difference, but to him, it meant everything in the world.

Idia Shroud - Leaving his room once in a while Before you, it was safe to say that he almost never left his room, and if he did? It was a beeline almost anywhere he actually needed to go. And being the good partner that you were, there was a constant trying to get him to at least see the sun before the end of the day. And yet, every day, there would always be some reason that he wouldn’t be able to leave. Whether it was some new event, online grinding for an upcoming event, or even some rereads of manga that you know he read, but says he didn’t, just so he didn’t have to go outside. Even Ortho had tried his hardest to get him up and out of the dorm, but there was only once in a few months that he would end up leaving the room, and for no longer than 15 minutes, max.

So there definitely was some gasps and onlookers the first time that you had actually dragged him on a walk around the campus, and for longer then the time he would normally be seen outside. Many of the people who had known about the ignihyde housewarden's tendencies were shocked to say the least. Luckily for Idia, nobody really interfered with the two of you at all, just choosing to stay away and instead pass the news on to friends through text message. Even if you were oblivious or not to the onlookers, there was a slight firmer grasp on the hand that he was holding, even if it did turn the ends of his hair slightly pink in the process. Good thing he had his hoodie that was pulled up ever so slightly.

From that day most people had just assumed it was a one time thing, they knew that both you and the housewarden were close so of course you would be trying to look out for him a little bit, but that was quickly shut down when a week later, around the same time, the two of you were back out and walking through the same area. And how long did this continue for? Months. Once a week, around the same time every week, and through some times the same area, other times different ones. But for some reason, it was only around you that he would ever even make the chance to leave the room he loved oh so much.

And little did anybody else know, that the whole reason was because he knew how much you hated that he never left his room. It was bad health after all! So, he was the person who proposed the idea of maybe taking small walks here and there, until it became a weekly trend that the two of you would partake in. It was a win-win in his eyes, he was able to spend more time with you and you got to see that he was actually leaving his room and getting some of the fresh air and vitamin D that he oh so desperately needed.

[chanceofwhat]

Based off of this short by @someoddwritings for @aroace-get-out-of-my-face ‘s Safety Alarm AU

(Basically, magic user Ford dies and Stan goes nope and resurrects him.) (read their thing first though it’s really good and makes this read better)

“So,” Ford eventually has to ask, “how did you do it?”

Stan blinks at him from the armchair. It’s late, he’s still tired from the incident, and he was expecting they’d go to bed soon. Instead, now Ford’s talking, and his tone sounds like he’s trying too hard to keep it light.

“Do what?” is the first thing Stan’s brain offers, because how could he possibly know something Ford doesn’t know?

“Don’t be obtuse, Stanley.” Ford rolls his eyes, “How did you resurrect me? Did you memorize a spell beforehand? Did you even use an incantation?”

Oh, this. Of course. Stan shrugs,

“Nah. Actually, I’ve got no idea what happened there. I just sorta… focused. I’m thinkin’ it was probably easier because you do so much magic stuff, so I figure you had a bunch of magic in you already or something.”

Ford furrows his brow,

“That’s not really how that works, Stanley.”

“Well, clearly it is, ‘cause you’re here.”

“Yes. I’m here. Because you brought me back to life.”

Stan makes a dismissive “eh” sound and shrugs again. Ford fully does a double take,

“‘Eh’?! What do you mean ‘eh’?! You resurrected me! It took you less than a minute! I was dead, Stanley—“

Stan winces at the word,

“Can we stop talkin’ about that? I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“No,” Ford feels himself get louder as he grows increasingly agitated, “I need you to understand the magnitude of what you accomplished! You performed a true resurrection in under a minute without—“

“Shut up!”

Ford’s loud confusion quiets as Stan begins to shout,

“I know you were dead, so stop fucking saying it! I saw your head cracked in half, I saw your ribs crushed into little bits, I saw your heart smushed flat, I KNOW. And I’m not lookin’ forward to sleepin’ tonight because I’ve been seein’ it all again every time I close my eyes. I’m probably gonna have nightmares about that forever, and I’ve got no fucking idea how I fixed it!”

Stan slumps further into the plush chair, looking miserable,

“I don’t know how I fixed it, and I don’t know if I could ever do anything like that again. I barely even remember doing it. I just know I saw you and… you couldn’t be dead. It was wrong. I remember thinking it just had to be fixed and you couldn’t exactly do it so I had to fix it and my hands felt funny and I got all dizzy and then you were back, so I was done, and that was that.”

Ford looks at his face exhausted brother sympathetically. He gets it— he still thinks too often about the state he found Stanley in originally, tied up and dying of heatstroke in the trunk of his own car. He remembers the magic he performed to bring his dying brother to him, the surge of energy that his determination brought; that’s something he knows about magic, it feeds on passion and intensity, it works better the more you want it.

Yet, some selfish part of Ford can’t stop thinking about how much work it was for him. The locator spell, the teleportation— both with incantations and specific methods that called upon his expertise— finding his brother within the car, cooling him down, not having enough magic left to bring him into the house with anything but his tired muscles, and that’s not even considering the safety alarm itself—

And Stanley hadn’t even been dead.

It took time after all that for Stanley to recover, and Stanley hadn’t even been dead. Ford died today, and all he has to show for it is a twinge in his back and his legs from how he was awkwardly forced to the ground when the boulder landed on his upper half. When he awoke 36 seconds after his own death, he didn’t even have a headache.

He wants to tell his brother how impressed he is, how incredible such a controlled, intent-based display of magic is. He wants to shout and throw something because how could anyone perform something as complex as a true resurrection without the proper use of spells or incantations, it’s a flippant dismissal, even an offense, to everything he thinks he knows about magic.

Between the incredibly loud, emotionally intense warring sides in Ford’s head, his voice comes out calm and gentle,

“I can prevent nightmares, if that would help.”

Stan looks at him. Ford offers a small, tired smile,

“I know a spell that induces dreamless sleep. I’ve used it on myself before. I can use it on you, if you’d like.”

Stan nods, a small movement.

“That would be nice.”

Ford nods in return.

“Let’s go to bed, then. I think we’ve both had enough excitement for one day.”

When they walk down the hall to what Ford expects to be the guest room only to find Ford’s own room, extended a few extra feet with an extra bed in it, Ford can’t bring himself to argue. Especially not with how grateful Stan looks.

He all but tucks Stan in, using what little magic he has available this evening to ensure him a dreamless sleep and help him drift into it. When Stan conks out, he brushes a strand of hair out of the peaceful, sleeping face before putting himself to bed as well.

When he wakes up only an hour later, plagued by images of Stan’s death that he’s not sure he’d be able to heal the same way, he gives himself a dreamless sleep as well.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Helping Hand

Content: Non proof-reader; Android! Caleb + Overstimulation + Fake cum + Size difference + Dacryphilia + Praise kink + Aftercare

Summary: You chose to buy one of those new androids in the market, after all, with the little time you had, it was logical for you to get one! But after your birthday party, you can't help but feel like something has changed within Caleb...

Note: I'm finally done with exams but now my brain is dry... On another note, I have to keep on writing my novel! It has nothing to do with my usual work here, but I really should keep on writing cause I have so much ideas for cool characters! Wish I could draw them... I hope people get the ideas of how Android! Caleb lower half works...

Note 2: I just put some fake nails and writing has become so difficult... Had to use two pens towards the end...

Android! Caleb who opens his eyes and encounters your face. He was programmed to be cold, always following the orders of the person who bought him. At least, that was what he had learnt, as you soon rebooted his whole system, changing his personality to a softer and more "human" one. He is still quite confused, why would he need to have a personality for serving a human? Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange rush of electricity run through his system, maybe he had a strange type of malfunction?

Android! Caleb who becomes accustomed to taking care of you. He is always close to you, always waiting by the door of the house a few minutes before your arrival, food still warm and waiting for you to eat, the house completely in order from him cleaning it... Gosh, you could even feel all the tension leaving your body as soon as you entered your house. You allowed him to carry you to the bathroom, head resting against his soft chest as you let him undress you, letting your clothes carefully folded as he helped you get inside the lukewarm bath.

Android! Caleb who becomes your only caretaker. It took him less than a few days to get completely used to your body language, knowing exactly what you wanted, when you wanted it and even how you wanted it. He was basically reading your mind, always one step ahead, letting you rest your exhausted body on his bigger body, his soft hands caressing your hair as his mechanic heart kept pumping the blue liquid all over his system. You knew you shouldn't get so attached to him, but how were you supposed to stop yourself from it when he knew you like the palm of his hand?...

Android! Caleb who receives a strange update. It had recently been your birthday, so you decided to make a small party, nothing big, really. You invited a few of your friends from work, together with some other friends from when you were still studying, organising a small party at your house for all of you to drink and have fun while watching some low-quality films. It was around 3:00 when you started to feel your eyelids dropping, with your friends too focused on the climax of the film for them to notice, you chose to simply fall asleep in the cozy sofa, surely someone would wake you up sooner or later, right?

Android! Caleb who becomes much more... domestic. You didn't notice the first few days, still unaware of the strange update your friends had added as a "gift" for you. Yes, it was a bit strange for Caleb to always greet you with a hug and a kiss on your forehead, but hey, maybe it was something that they had added in one of the millions of updates Caleb had, maybe some client had complained about them being too stiff? Whatever, it wasn't as if you were particularly concerned about it, in fact, you did like it a bit...

Android! Caleb who finally puts his update to good use. It was late at night when you suddenly felt the urge to do it. It wasn't something particularly strange, with you being alone most of the time and all the stuff you liked reading and listening... What was strange was the moment the door to your bedroom was knocked. You quickly hid your naked lower half with the sheets trying your best to get your phone to hide the content you were seeing. "Caleb?" You whispered, heart beating rapidly in fear of having been discovered by him. "Pips? I'm sorry for disturbing you so late at night, but my systems have warned me that my owner, that is you, is currently in need of my assistance." You furrowed your brows, slightly confused about what was he even implying, still, you knew Caleb was unable to cause any harm to you, so you simply sighed, letting him enter without much thought. "So what was wrong, Caleb?" Caleb smiled, sitting close to you and petting your hear with his rough hands. "My system told me you needed my help, do you need it? I have been upgraded with the latest system, allowing me to help you in this kind of delicate activity." Still confused, you simply nodded, after all, the system tended to be right. As soon as you did so, Caleb removed the sheets that were covering your body, his huge hands lifting your legs with ease, getting them closer to your face, just enough for your slick pussy to be in front of his face.

"Caleb! Just-- Just what are you doing?" You tried your best to get him to let go of your ankles, squirming around with not much luck, with Caleb still retaining his sweet smile.

"I'm fulfilling my new tasks, you allowed me to do so." Caleb's arm moved, changing his grip on your thigs to keeping your body in position with just his arm. "Now, no more moving, pips, I need you to remain calm so I can help you appropietly." Caleb's tongue stick out, this time looking slightly longer than usual, his right hand making his way to your entrance as his mouth got closer to your clit.

"Wa--Wait a second! I'm pretty sure this was NOT included when I bought your model--!" Caleb stopped for a second, his expressions remaining as sweet as always.

"It wasn't. Your friends added it to my program in hopes of making you happier, they explained it to me and I agreed. I believed it would truly help you destress. I hope I will actually ." Caleb moved closer, spreading soft kisses all over your lower tummy, making a small path towards your pussy. At the same time, his hands started to glide towards your entrance, teasing it with his fingers by simply gliding up and down on it but never actually inserting them, simply coating his fingers with your lewd fluids. "Let me know if you feel any discomfort." Caleb's mouth slowly got closer, wet kisses being left around your clit as a way to tease your sensitivity, being unable to not smile after seeing your back arch from the sudden touch. Following the set procedure, Caleb slowly entered one of his fingers, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue and making you cling to the sheets, soft whimpers leaving your mouth even despite you tried to cover your mouth with your hands as a way to avoid letting even more shameful sounds escape. Suddenly, one of Caleb's hands moved, grabbing your wrists with ease and pinning them on top of your head. "I need to hear you so I can know exactly what you need." Caleb moved, his face now facing yours before diving himself into a deep kiss, his right hand still playing with your clit, making short circles around it regardless of your poor attempts of squirming away.

"Ca... Caleb! Too much-- it's too much!" You whispered, chest puffing up and down as you tried to recover from Caleb's kiss.

"My name is not the safe word, you should probably know that." Caleb suddenly switched positions, letting your back rest against his chest, his legs tangled around yours to avoid letting you try to close your legs, his lips kissing yours as he moved one of his hands to your chest, playing with your nipple as the other hand kept slowly moving inside you, searching for that sweet spot until you let a whimper escape you. "This must be your g-spot, right? Gotta make sure you enjoy this." Caleb kissed your face, peppering soft kisses all over your face as he slowly introduced another of his digits, his fingers constantly hitting that spot even as you kept trying to move away from him, with Caleb simply laughing softly against your ear, pushing his fingers even deeper inside. "You're so cute... Humans always react so vividly to the stimuli..." You could't help but feel embarrased, with Caleb's mocking tone reverberating inside your head as he kept forcing you to cum around his fingers, using his other hand to pinch and twist your nipples with just enough force.

It had been over 20 minutes since your sweet torture had begun, with Caleb moving and hitting the exact place you were craving, forcing you to close your eyes from the overstimulation. "Caleb~... That's enough... I don't think I can cum more..." Your voice sounded now raspy from all your whines and moans, with Caleb obviously ignoring them, simply cooing you.

"That's alright, then we can finally move to the main course, right?" Caleb finally let you move a bit, getting up and removing his trousers, leaving them on your chair before returning to the bed. "Let me syncronise my tools, alright?" Suddenly, Caleb's lower half changed from the usual plain surface to the shape of an erect cock, his . "Let me just..." Caleb got on top of you, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, moving his hand to grab his cock and starting to rub it against your entrance, letting some of his self-lubricating fluid just for extra caution. "I'll do it slowly, open wide now, pips." You took a deep breath as Caleb's cock entered you, softly biting against his shoulder as a way to stay calm. "Such a good girl... Just a bit more." And you could simply whine, your insides already feeling as if they were about to tear as Caleb finally bottomed out. "So good for me..." Caleb caressed your cheek, kissing your forehead as he started to move, barely moving a few centimeters before pushing back in, nails digging on his back as he kept pressing his body against yours. "Just a bit more... It will feel so good in just a few minutes..." Caleb pressed your mouths together, sucking on your tongue before starting to french kiss you, a strand of saliva connecting you both the moment the kiss ended.

As the minutes passed, you were finally able to get used to his size, the slight discomfort changing into pure pleasure, making your eyes roll back each time he rubbed that spot. "You feel so nice wrapped around me... Let me help you a bit baby." Caleb lifted your body with ease, laying your body on your front before moving back on top of you, his cock entering you, the pressure of his weight making you bite on the pillow that was close to you, whinning as Caleb's hand made light pressure on your lower stomach, just enough for you to start feeling his length even more, each thrust making your walls wrap around his cock, the system of Caleb slowly getting overheated each time you clenched around him. "Be careful... My system may get a bit overwhelmed if you keep clinging so much to me..." That was of course easier said than done, after all, it had been such a long time since you had been able to feel so good... Still, you tried your best, taking a deep breath and hugging your pillow, a few tears falling down your cheeks as you felt your mind slowly slipping away.

"Too big... You're crushing me~..." You whined, the heat radiating from Caleb mixed with the feeling of having your insides scrambled being enough to make your head feel overwhelmed. Regardless of that, Caleb kept going, his hips bumping against your ass each time he forced his whole length inside you, his hands petting your hair whole he whispered soft praises against your ear.

"So good... Cum all around me pips, show me just how much you're enjoying this..." Caleb's raspy voice echoed inside your mind, the embarrasment of having your own android seen you so fucked dumb suddenly leaving, letting you only focus on how much you wanted Caleb to praise you... So of course you did just as he asked, your gummy walls pulsing around his cock as you felt a warm liquid filling you up, forcing you to cum for who knows what time, toes curling as you felt Caleb increasing his rhythm at the same time you came, then slowing down as he felt your breath become even heavier.

After letting you recover your breath for a few minutes, you felt Caleb lifting you up from the bed, carrying to the bathroom with ease and letting you rest inside the warm bathtub and using a soft towel to scrub you, removing all the sweat together with the mixture of his cum and all your fluids. He then left for a few minutes, returning with a huge towel, wrapping your whole body around it before taking his sweet time drying it. After that, all you could remember was te warm embrace of Caleb, mixed with the fresh smell of a new set of heet together with the citrusy smell that emanated from him.

[thewertsearch]

GG: Do you remember around when we first started talking? […] GG: And you claimed you were the one making my pumpkins disappear? [...] GG: You later proceeded to try to prove to me that what you were saying was true. GG: But none of your attempts thereafter would ever bear any fruit, pardon the pun. […] GG: And I think this unfortunately began a pattern of mistrust.

The signal was manually blocked by CrockerCorp, no doubt - and that was all it took to send Jane down a path to mistrust, suspicion and isolation.

It's easy, when you have her in the palm of your hand.

TG: i cant just always appearify stuff from you any time i want TG: i can only take stuff im "allowed" 2 which is pmuch random TG: like stuff that by takin id be messing up the time line cause that stuff is supposed to be there and serve some funciton it hasnt served yet […] TG: but pumpins 4 some reason are a lil easier to take i dunno why TG: like they are specifically and arbitrorily unhinged from spacetime

There's simply no force in this reality greater than the memetic effect of a long-running Hussie Joke.

TG: i so gonked your gaurds jane GG: … GG: Did you gank them when my gourd was down?

Fuck, Jane, that was a bona-fide dad joke!

This girl's filling a lot of roles that this cast has been sorely missing up until now. Out of all the Alpha Kids, she's the most unlike her B1 counterpart - which makes her so interesting to read. She might not be an Heir of Breath, but she is a breath of fresh air.

TG: im psyched about u wanting to believe me and all TG: but part of me still feels like i should prove it TG: like i tried to once TG: it was just frustratin i mean im a sciestist i should be able 2 prove my shit TG: like TG: subject my claims to the fuckin madrigogs GG: Um… GG: Madrigogs? TG: *mad rigors

Roxy, for her part, seems to be as much of a scientist as Mom was implied to be. Mad science ladies are possibly my favourite archetype ever; thus, Roxy's speedrun to S-Tier continues.

Anyway, it looks like Roxy's about to try and prove... something. It's hard to say what would completely sway Jane, though - after all, the girl's already seen a First Guardian and a robot bunny. If they couldn't convince her that something funny was going on, what will?

TG: i mean trust between friends is sweet and everything but i dont know if i wanta be the repipient of like a butt load of pity believins

Bit of a sore point, I gather. She's already sick of this shit with Jake.

GG: It's not about pity! GG: It's more like a gesture I'm trying to make. GG: Or maybe that's not quite right. GG: It has more to do with setting things right for myself than making it up to you. GG: Does that make sense? TG: ………….

I agree with Roxy's silence, here, because something about Jane's attitude is rubbing me me the wrong way. Like, I can't put my finger on why, exactly, but something about this self-centered attitude to remorse is a little...

...ominous.

[iandarling]

Ian wakes up in the hospital with memory loss after getting a head injury;

- - - - - - -

“Mr. Gallagher, your husband is here!” said a cheery nurse, waking him up from his groggy sleep. His head was pounding and the light burned his eyes.

Ian had no idea what she was talking about.

The last thing he can remember is smoking weed with Lip as they did each others homework. Lip was always better at maths than him, but Ian excelled at English. So.

“Huh?” He mumbled as his eyes closed and opened again. The light was bright and his leg hurt like a motherfucker. Actually, his leg felt…longer than usual. It was heavier to move, and not just because of the cast.

“Jesus Christ, Ian.” He heard a rough but concerned voice, as a man entered through the open door.

Ian knows he knows that voice. He focused he eyes and stared ridiculously at Mickey fucking Milkovich.

“— and you’re always the one complaining ‘bout me not checking both ways before crossing the road, and now look at ya! A broken leg and a concussion, you scared the fucking shit outta me Ian.” Said Mickey Milkovich as he leaned down and kissed Ian on the mouth.

Mickey kissed him. They had never kissed before. Ian distinctly remembers the other guy saying that kissing was gay, and that he would never do it. Until now.

Wait, husband?

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Ian said dumbly, not sure how to begin forming his thought. Mickey had grown smile-lines, and Ian could see the shadow left from his shaven beard. And he was much taller and broader than he’d ever been before.

Mickey looked older. Much older. Ian was suddenly aware of how long his legs felt, how his toes touched the bed railings, how his arms felt heavier and bigger. His distress must’ve been obvious, because Mickey immediately looked upset.

“Your head hurtin’? Nurse said she gave you the good stuff so you shouldn’t be in pain…” Mickey bit his bottom lip and sucked in some air. He was concerned. Mickey Milkovich was concerned about him.

“Why did the nurse call you my husband?” Ian asked. Before he could get an answer he asked another, “and why do you look so old?”

“That’s a shitty joke, Gallagher,” Mickey began but soon realised Ian was not joking. He must’ve seen the truth on his face, because he took a step back.

“What do you mean, old?” His tone was flippant but Ian could hear the concern underneath it.

“You’re definitely not sixteen anymore,” Ian responded and began touching at his own face. He could feel stubble and his jaw was wider.

“Try twenty-six,” Mickey whispered as Ian gaped in horror. That would make him twenty-four, maybe even twenty-five, if his birthday had passed. What time of year was it?

For some reason Ian found himself instantly believing Mickey words, despite it all sounding insane. Somehow Ian had ended up in the future, a future which contained a calm and gentle Mickey Milkovich. A Mickey who kissed him because they were —

Ian forgot how to breathe. He had a husband.

“We got married!” Ian gushed as he admired Mickey Milkovich standing before him. Ian could feel his cheeks heat up as he smiled at him. Mickeys eyes softened impossibly, a sight Ian had never seen before but knew instantly he wanted to see again.

“Yeah, man. Two years ago. Hold on, I’ll call the nurses or sumthin’ because this ain’t right.” Mickey pressed a button beside Ian’s bed, and moved to open the door.

Ian stopped him by grabbing at his hand. He could feel the cool metal ring against his skin. It was a nice silver colour, perhaps a little basic, but definitely masculine in that way jewellery for men looked. Ian decided he liked it.

“What’s going on, Ian?” His husband asked. Ian had no idea how to answer that.

“I was doing homework with Lip, and then I woke up in this bed, and I’m older and married and my leg fucking hurts.” He blurted out and Mickey looked even more panicked than before.

He gripped a chair with one hand, and pulled it closer to Ian’s bed, sitting down beside him. Ian was still holding his left hand, fingers touching the ring and the rough tattooed skin under it.

“You got hit by a bike on your way home, hit your head pretty bad, and fell on your leg.” Mickey began explaining. A concussion he said, it might explain the headache and confusion.

Ian was twenty-four, an adult, married to Mickey Milkovich.

“I can’t believe we got married,” Ian blushed as he studied the ring some more. As it lifted slightly from the skin, he could peek some letters etched into the inside. Ian.

“I had the biggest crush on you, I was obsessed! And fuck if you don’t look even better as a grown man. God, look at those biceps.” He pretended to ignore his own red face as he soaked in the sight of Mickey in a tight black t-shirt.

“Not too bad looking yourself, stud.” Mickey tried to joke, but Ian could tell he was anxious. His foot was tapping fast on the linoleum floor, and his breathing was getting quicker by the second. Ian felt a need to squeeze his hand in comfort.

A nurse came in, and Mickey began talking. She paged a doctor, and Mickey explained everything again. Ian’s head was still hurting, and his confusion was only getting worse. It didn’t help that his leg was in a cast and he couldn’t move properly.

“Just tell me it’ll be alright,” Mickey pleaded with the nurse who was asking Ian a series of questions. Who’s the president (wrong answer,) what day is it (again, wrong,) what did he have for breakfast (wtf is a chia seed pudding??)

“It is not uncommon with head injuries that a person may experience memory loss, and most of the time their memories will come back within a day or two.” The doctor said as she wrote something down on her clipboard.

Ian felt Mickey squeeze his hand. It was grounding. Safe. Familiar, somehow, even though they never held hands before. But Ian supposed his body might remember things his mind had forgotten.

“The important thing is to keep to your regular schedule, your routines and habits, without overstimulating or overwhelming yourself. I assume you’re going home with your husband? Still, we’d like to keep you for observation for another couple a’ hours.” The doctor said and Ian nodded. He didn’t mind.

“I texted Lip earlier, said he’s on his way. They all are.” Mickey smiled at him and Ian eased up a little. His big brother was coming. They all were, the whole Gallagher clan. Just like they always did — they showed up for one another, come rain or shine, they would always be there.

Ian wondered how they would look all grown up.

“Is there anything else you remember? Try and imagine smells or tastes — our senses are tied closely to our memories.” The nurse spoke gently, and Ian closed his eyes and tried as hard as he could.

Snippets and visions appeared and disappeared just as quickly as he saw them. It was all a mess, like his mind scrambled ten years of memories into soup, but he tried to filter some of it out.

The colour yellow, an ugly suit, mayo?

“We were in prison?!” Ian shouted at Mickey who finally coughed out a laugh. He could remember the cold cell and the itchy suits. Panic consumed him once more.

“Yup. We’re two gay ex-cons, but we have our own legal business now. Renting an apartment on the fucking west side and everything.” Mickey was proud as he spoke, but Ian couldn’t wrap his mind around the prison of it all.

He could smell fire and smoke, but the room he was in was still safe.

“Arson?” He tried a guess and Mickey nodded sheepishly. Fuck.

“Technically you tried to stage a political protest but it sorta ended up violent. Don’t worry, it’s all good now.” He squeezed Ian’s hand again, and he found it comforting.

While he wanted to ask more questions, his train of thoughts were interrupted by a gaggle of Gallaghers entering the room. Lip walked first as expected, but what Ian had not expected was to see him carry a little boy in his arms.

“Eeeeen!” The boy screamed and clapped his hands in his direction. Two years old perhaps, maybe less, Ian wasnt the best at gauging ages.

Everyone looked older. Carl was taller, Debbie had become a young woman, Liam was a whole teenager, and an unknown blonde woman walked with Lip. And who was the little redhead girl who ran up to Mickey with a big grin in her too big boots?

“Uncle Mickey!” She shouted happily and jumped into his lap. Mickey, barely blinking at the onslaught, wrapped an arm around her tiny frame, one hand still holding onto Ian.

“Hey lil red,” He mumbled. The little girl looked just like Debbie did as a child. The same quizzical expression and big grin. Debbie had a daughter, Ian remembered in horror.

Mickey turned his head back to Lip and spoke again. “Ian’s struggling with some memory loss from his concussion. Go easy on ‘im, aight.” It was a threat, but not a dangerous one. Ian knew what those sounded like.

“Hey Ian,” Lip began and moved towards him. The baby in his arms was cooing and clapping his fat hands at Ian. “You remember this one?” He joked, as he held out the little boy.

No, Ian thought to himself. He had no idea who this was. But he knew in his heart that he cared deeply about him. “He’s yours?” He guessed, and Lip nodded in that peculiar way of his. He always seemed to be eight steps ahead of the game.

“You wanna sit with uncle Ian, Freddie?” He asked his son, and without hesitation plunked the little boy down in Ian’s lap. Lip had a son, Ian was an uncle. And he was married to Mickey Milkovich. Turns out the future isn’t all that bad.

Ian held onto the little boy with one arm, and kissed his head. He had always loved babies. As he looked around the room, his eyes landed on his youngest brother. Liam had tears in his eyes as he waved a little. He was no longer a baby.

“Last I saw you, you were still in diapers.” Ian tried to joke, and he heard a few scattered laughs.

“I outgrew them.” Liam joked back. Hearing him speak full sentences threw Ian a little, but he smiled at his siblings and pretended everything was okay. Mickey squeezed his hand again, as if he could magically feel Ian’s distress. Ian squeezed back.

“Heard you broke your leg again, that fucking sucks man.” Carl told him and lifted up the plain blanket to take a look at his cast. So Carl hadn’t changed a bit, that’s good to know.

“I’m Tami, Lips fiancé” The tall blonde girl said, and nodded towards him. Ian smiled back.

“Lucky Lip, poor you.” She laughed, Lip flipped him off. Everything was normal. Ian breathed deeply and tried to remember more. Fiona was not here, because she had left…she had left for Florida of all places. He remembered a picture of her sunburned face under some palm leaves.

When he told the group this they all exhaled in relief and began talking like normal. It seemed his memories would return eventually, he just needed to unscramble the eggs his brain had become.

Thankfully, the nurse had given him some more painkillers, so his head wasn’t hurting him anymore. Ian talked and smiled as he played with Freddie, his nephew, all while holding Mickeys hand. It was pleasant, if not strange, to see his family all grown up.

After a while it was decided the guests would leave, and Mickey could take Ian home.

Home. He had a home he shared with his husband. For a strange reason, Ian could remember the touch of the blue coloured carpet in their living room. Huh.

Mickey handed him some crutches and Ian balanced on them as he got out of bed. His legs were fucking long, and he towered over Mickey. He liked that. Very much.

“Let’s get you home.” Mickey kissed his jaw nervously. Ian smiled and leaned down for a proper kiss. He could do that now — kiss Mickey Milkovich — they were husbands.

Ian couldn’t wait to remember every memory they’ve made together.

“Yeah, I wanna go home.”

[rotagnus]

who has a crush on youuuu. . . [pick a pile!]

some specific person from your lifee!!! i'll try to describe each energy w/ specifics that may not apply to each person...i will specify when this is! enjoy. as always, if this does not resonate; do not force it to. i may not be the tarot reader for you.

guys i'm so excited for summer! i can already tell i'll be in my introspective era and i'll be trying to heighten my senses and my time more to spirituality, so i will most likely be more active on here, especially between mid-july and mid-august.

p1.

this person tries to be nonchalant and they fail, most of the time...the only time they're trying to be CHALANT is when they come off as nonchalant. all around, they're a huge weirdo, but i mean that in an endearing way. genuine. has hobbies. has a life outside of work/school. may be in the beauty/entertainment business or simply have interests in those spheres...think soundcloud rappers (💀💀💀), aestheticians, dancers, people who practice singing/dancing, music lovers, etc. they're very invested in whatever they love. deeply loyal. not so self-aware, though. they contrast you because they're not necessarily on a constant journey to better themselves, and they go with the flow. in their opinion, life lessons come regardless of if you look for them or not. they want that old-school kinda love, if you know what i'm hearing. they have fashion from a specific decade, too; they're all about nicheness. you won't catch them changing styles very often 'cause they know what they like (YOU 🫵🫵). they're not in the middle of anything...on extreme sides of spectrum. so think either really long hair or really short hair, really dark eyes or really light eyes, etc. they may have light skin, though. as for personality, they're very controlling, not necessarily in a bad way...but they hate seeing people do shit that's worth NOTHING when they know they can do better. they're deeply loyal and a bit egotistic, so i'm definitely getting fire sign. but they probably don't believe in spirituality, astrology, etc. but they may have a deep faith in one of the abrahamic faiths is what i'm hearing.

p2.

artsy and obsessed with being special. this person hates being like anyone else and may do things to stand out on purpose...like have a unique physical appearance, or they may have been the funny kid way back in your high school years. they are actively healing their need for attention though. they didn't grow up privileged or rich, or with a silver spoon in their mouth. but when they were young, they had big ass dreams. if anyone knows the song 'eastside' by halsey n benny blanco, this is them vibes. they literally clawed their way out of pain and came out stronger, so they do know how to be humble. if they have high opinions of certain aspects of themselves, it's because they know that they're worth all that. they are willing to do anything to get what they want, but with people? they struggle with connections. they have a very empathetic mind, but they may view relationships as something analytical from childhood. looks wise, i believe they have darker hair, short-medium length, probably styled a specific memorable way. they might be fussy about the way that their face looks, so obsessed with skincare n stuff. they are risktakers. they don't play around and this person is genuinely obsessed with striving forwards. they probably grew up with parents that told them to work hard, and that's exactly what they did. they are relentless optimists. may not be good at saving money. obsessed with underground tiktok trends. people may think that they're hard to be around but if they truly like someone, they become to most lovable person in the world.

p3

this person is literally on fire. nothing about them is calm. well, on the inside, anyways. they may come off as guarded and cool, but there's always something going on in their life. they're very determined people and would do anything for love, and they may have sought it out in ways that ended up hurting them, i.e through sex, drugs, money, hobbies that are physically/mentally harmful. they've been betrayed and backstabbed several times throughout their life. what they like about you is that the version of you they have in their head contrasts them...they think you're completely pure and innocent, that your energy is entirely sweet. they have mommy issues. however, they can be real gentle with people that they like. probably because they don't want that to be reciprocated, because they're very guarded and they wanna love and NOT be loved. something about them physically is bright. their eyes may carry a lot of emotion, or there's one specific physical aspect that stands out from the rest. other than that, i think they blend in. they don't try to stand out because they do, enough as it is. they're a good friend and they stick to their little circle. they also have a good gut sense throughout life, and may use this rather than devote themselves to a specific faith/way of living. they can be prideful. good at the things they do, but they always feel like they're never good ENOUGH at those. suffer from anxiety. this person makes or breaks their life; even though they want somebody to save them, the only one who can is themselves.

[morriemonnie]

hello !! it's been a bit, really sorry for the lack of posting; a lot has been happening and i've been struggling to juggle with posting stuff here, apologies for that !

but to start, i've been really demotivated as of late; which is also why i haven't been responding to letters in my inbox too- i might be closing it for now as i don't want more in my inbox to pile up, i feel really bad that i didn't respond back.

and also since artfight is just around the corner, i've been trying to focus on my own stuff too ! as well as focusing on my well-being, some irl stuff and my commissions at the same time; which is a lot for me to juggle with and i've been really exhausted ...

so as of now, my recent fruitcake fanfic and comic is on an indefinite hiatus (really sorry! i do have chapter 3 on the verge of being ready, but the drawings haven't been started yet and i don't want to publish it without them ...) but i've been thinking of maybe posting small one-shots, i still love the silly bakers and they still rotate around my mind ...

again, i sincerely apologize for the lack of posts and i hope i'll get around to posting my recent works 🙏

[theotherrookie]

"They never do. I don't get why adults are like that with kids." Erica grumbled, "Well, that served him right. He should be thankful he can still see other people holding mops or anything else. I used to scratch those who picked on isolated survivors."

She tried liking everybody, but she simply couldn't stomach bullies. They should be better people if they didn't want their butts kicked.

"Oh, I just dress comfy for myself and for Smokey. He used to sleep in the hole on my back, but I don't have it anymore. So we need pockets now." Erica explained, "Oh, I see! Russell always gets in trouble, uh? But I'm glad he's going to be okay."

She scratched at the tip of her ear as she tried to recall anything about the accident Travis had mentioned. "Hey, Willow, how long have we known Russell?"

Willow, of course, provided an answer without hesitation. "Rook met Russell about six years ago. However, the accident in question was never mentioned to me, which might imply she isn't aware of that particular misadventure. It isn't the sort of topic one would so casually discuss with a person they only recently met."

Rook would have definitely brought it up at some point. The topic of Russell's ability to get in dangerous situations and narrowly escaping it had been discussed often over the years and neither had been able to provide an explanation on how he managed to do that.

"And I met him later because I was still figuring stuff out after Willow found a way to reverse my zombieness."

"We were all very busy at the time." Willow said, leaning back, "To think I was only two years old then. Time really does fly outside the matrix."

"You know, we could watch that show together." Erica offered, "It'd be the first time for me!"

Rook stopped to look around while the pocket kept shifting to create a suitable way out of there.

"That would become unbearable quickly. The first thing I did when I learned there was a way to interact with this place was removing the echo." Rook said, "I really didn't have a great time the first time I got stuck in here. It took mum half a day to notice I was missing."

"I only had control over a limited portion of this place. Chick had to keep busy rearranging all my supplies." Veronica added.

But of course, everything had changed when Rook had retrieved one of their lost books from the clutches of the Brotherhood. They finally had access to a powerful tool that made their activities far easier and were a bit closer to unlocking other hunting techniques previously lost to time.

The last few blocks fell into place just as Bill was sent off to enjoy the panoramic view. Veronica figured she would make herself useful while they waited for Rook to tend to her business and shifted her focus to keeping their surroundings stable while they lingered there.

"Alchemy has always been one of our strongest suit. I dare say Erika has a natural talent for it." Veronica said, pride evident in her tone.

Rook wasn't feeling particularly proud of herself, but still managed a small nod. "I'm alright. I see you guys found my pile of gold without the rainbow. Do you want some?"

The coin shined and felt like the real deal. It was made of gold of the highest quality and with both sides decorated with a crude rendition of a bird's foot.

Rook went ahead and dug up a candy scoop she then used to fill a small bag with coins under Lucien's very intrigued gaze. She closed the bag by pulling the strings at the sides, then offered it to Antonio.

"I've got plenty to spare. I really don't mind."

"The one he picked might be worth more than the entire pile, dear."

"Let me splurge, mum. I'm trying to ignore my feelings right now."

Unable to resist to the shiny himself, Lucien quietly took the scoop from her and started filling another bag for himself.

"Oh, please, don't make compliments." Rook said, nudging him with her boot.

"Get off my back. I can make a lovely pendant for Russell with these." The half fae hastily pushed back with his arm, before scooping up a few more coins.

"Then they wonder why kids hate schools." Erica grumbled, "I bet they still tell the story of what you did! That guy must be scared of mops too now."

It still wasn't as satisfying as the guy getting skewered or having the mop broken over his head, but it was enough to get the point across.

"You hardly have the need to go unnoticed, Travis. One look at you is enough to discourage many from trying their luck." Willow pointed, "Erica was raised to hunt. It's only natural for her to be conspicuous despite her wardrobe."

"Yeah, sometimes I scare people by accident." Erica confirmed. Perhaps that choice of words was by accident as well. "If those were the second and third, what was the best news you got?"

"The afterlife is extensive. However, she most likely wouldn't mind making an attempt." Willow reassured, "Mother likes you as well as your brothers. That means her usual attentions will be extended to you all as well."

The need for closure would move the ghost lady most of all. Veronica would have agreed in a heartbeat, if only she still had a heart.

Willow considered her options, before tapping into the radio again. The car lacked the charm and bite of the real deal, but she hoped Travis was familiar with KITT. She hated wasting a good reference.

"Come on, Travis! You can't leave me hanging like this. I'm a marvelous car, but I can't do all the heavy lifting myself. That's your specialty."

Erica's ears perked up. "I know that voice! It's that talking car who hung out with that guy from SpongeBob!"

Willow smiled as she tossed her hair back, "I felt like going for a classic this time."

It seemed like these were typical shenanigans between the two of them.

The pocket dimension was very barren, but was far from still. The fog quietly parted as they walked, flowing all around them like an intricate network of streams. It was something Rook found calming in small doses, though her attention was focused elsewhere.

"There's no ugly moquette or buzzing lights either." Rook added, "It can be too quiet at times. Not that hearing distant noises would be any better. I guess it's good for reading, Antonio can probably attest to that. Or not– I'm still waiting for your review of your stay in my liminal closet."

It seemed like a nice way to divert the attention away from some rather unpleasant memories. That wasn't the time or place to start that argument and most of all, she didn't think Lucien should have been present to provide his opinion on the matter. The fae could be awfully unhelpful at times.

Though Bill was being just as helpful, in his own way. Veronica hadn't meant to follow up on her threat, but now she simply had to.

"Too many underestimate the importance of sound values when parenting." Veronica paused, her gaze trailing over at the inevitable duck comment, "You're simply hopeless."

And about to take a ride in the hard to discern void slide. Rook wasn't the only one able to mess with gravity there. Bill could take a ride and think about the consequences of his own actions.

Lucien was simply glad he wasn't the one falling into oblivion. He would simply turn the other way and let Rook have her moment of privacy so she could replenish her magic battery.

"Oh, I see you started synthesizing gold." he told Veronica.

"It's an old family recipe." Veronica replied, "It's a shame we can only use it sparingly these days."

Rook could do nothing but stand for a moment to watch the way everybody was ready to give her some space. It meant more than she was willing to admit. Then again, she never got too sentimental when her marks whenever she started feeling drained.

Rook silently turned and took a few steps away from the group, before there was a shift in the pocket to reveal one of the few monsters she had the time to catch lately. It looked like a hybrid between some kind of reptile and a rodent with a mantis-like head. It didn't really matter what it was or where it came from. She had found it trying to eat some poor schmuck and it had almost slashed her wing off with its claws. Now it was going to do something useful for a change.

"Imagine if Five found you instead." She would probably be starving. There was another shift as a bright light engulfed the monster, before it vanished into a swirly cloud of energy that was absorbed by her marks.

Rook took a moment to simply breathe, before turning back. "I… I'm done."

She didn't want to drag this on to avoid making it more awkward than it was.

[theinheriteddutchess]

Like Fate

Summary: Steve seemed perfect. Until he didn't. And now you're not sure if you'll ever be safe because he does not accept your breakup.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 2.002

Warnings: stalking, non-con vibes, ex-boyfriend Steve, possessive Steve, mob!Steve, threats, controlling ex.

Notes: I forgot I had this done for a bit, sorry, just been busy on other Stories, but right I thought, why not? Make room, vol that masterlist. So here it is, enjoy.

Masterlist

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

The lights were so bright it was disorientating, blinding you at times, making it difficult to see your surroundings clearly. But you could have sworn you saw him.

When you looked a second later, he wasn’t there.

You tried to calm your racing heart. No need to panic. It was your paranoia. You were out of town, visiting your friend. He didn’t know where you were. That was the whole point. To be away from that smothering tension that his presence left in you. You ex-boyfriend.

Steve Rogers. The picture of perfection. Boy scout good manners, eager to help. That’s how you two met. You, stranded on the side of the road when your car suddenly gave up, and him, stepping up to help you out.

He had asked you out before you parted ways and you had accepted immediately. He had been so kind, and you weren’t too ashamed to admit that his good looks and dazzling smile didn’t make your heart flutter.

He seriously gave you the best sex you ever had. It’s like he knew your body better than you did! There were times you lay limp on the bed, not knowing how to ever get back to normal again.

He was perfect. Well, he had seemed so anyway.

You knew he had been thinking of proposing. His best friend let something slip and winked when you stuttered nonsensical words in your total surprise. It might’ve been fast, you didn’t even know each other a year, but you already knew you’d say yes.

And then you had accidently been at the wrong place at the wrong time. And you had watched as Steve shot a person.

He had looked nothing like the friendly man you’d come to know. But that this wasn’t the first time he had killed, that was sure. And the way he had spoken, about the man messing up a delivery, it didn’t take a fool to know he was in some shady business.

Shaken, you had packed your stuff - thanking whatever entity was out there for looking out for you and you having been undetected so far - and decided to leave everything you  couldn’t carry. No word, no note. Just ran as fast as you could.

He called after an hour. Then rapidly several times when you didn’t pick up. He drove to your apartment, but you refused to open. He got agitated then, but obeyed your wishes to be left alone. For a few days. Then he demanded to talk. When you told him you wanted nothing to do with him, that you knew he was a murderer, he let out a chuckle.

“Oh honey, I’m much more than that.”

It had chilled you, afraid he was going to kill you right then and there, cursing yourself for being so dumb to tell him you knew, but he hadn’t come near, he didn’t force his way into your home. He had told you to think about it for a few days, and that you would come back, he was sure.

He seemed to be under the impression you would take him back. And you spend a few days and nights terrified he was going to show up again and force his way into your apartment to either murder you or abduct you. None of these things happened, but you felt watched. Sometimes you saw his face in the crowd. Or your car was suddenly filled up. Your sister received an expensive gift for your niece under your name. You never shopped in that store, you couldn’t afford it. 

Weird things like that kept happening. A filled fridge. Money into your bank account, your male friends rapidly refusing to hang out with you anymore. It was his doing, you knew it. You had no real proof. And what could you say? My ex is trying to take care of me? I just don’t want him to? He murdered someone? You had no proof and you were sure the body had disappeared long before. 

You couldn't sleep, and you couldn’t focus, and your neck hurt from twisting it so much while walking outside, to see if you spotted him. Sometimes he was nowhere in sight, but you did not let your guard down. You refused to go to your favourite coffee shop, because they told you everything was paid for, indefinitely.

You thought for a moment if it was easier to give in. But you couldn’t condone his lifestyle. You could not deal with seeing anymore murders. And Steve had proven he had a possessive streak. How did you not notice it before? Were you so blinded by infatuation?

So when your friend had offered you to come over for a few days, to get pampered while dealing with a break up - and that’s what you told everyone, not anything more -  you took it.

It was supposed to be a few days away from it all, to be able to let go and figure out what to do from there. Move? He would know before you made one step. The only thing you could think of was to disappear, but that meant leaving your family and friends behind, and you did not think it past Steve to use them against you. You wouldn't expect any decency from him after what you witnessed him to be capable of.

It was your first night here in this place, and yet you thought you spotted him. It couldn’t be possible. You had told no one. You grabbed a bag and just left. If anyone wanted to contact you, they had your number. It was the safest way you could think of.

But as you looked around frantically, he was nowhere in sight. A figment of your frightful illusions. You took a deep breath, told your friend you’d be right back. Off to the bar, ready to drink and forget your problems, even if only for a few hours.

As you waited to be helped you felt someone press against you from the side. Maybe a drunk clubber, maybe an interested guy, maybe both. You weren’t looking for any attention though, so you peeked up to check what situation you might be in and froze.

A sparkling smile shone down upon you. He was wearing a deep blue shirt, hair styled to perfection. As usual, it always looked like he had a personal hairstylist with some kind of secret serum to make it lay on his head that way. His sleeves rolled up to show his impressive muscles - and you weren’t the only one who ogled them -, eyelashes casting a mysterious shadow on his cheeks with how long they were.

God, he looked perfect. And you were a dumb hoe to fall for it!

“Hey baby, having fun?”

“How?” You only managed to stutter, your eyes not leaving his frame even once.

“How did I find you? Baby come on, I always know where you are and what you are doing. I’m a little hurt you’ve tried to flee from me, but I get it, you’re scared. You saw something I never wanted you to see and now you’ve got it in your head I'm not the man you fell for. But you don’t need to be so frightened around me. I don’t hurt the people I care about.”

LIke it was going to make you feel relieved to hear it. “Just everyone else.”

He shrugged, looking unapologetic. “When they get in my way. Or steal from me. I really hate liars.”

He brushed some sweaty hairs from your forehead. Almost lovingly. “But you are different. I knew it when I first saw you. Special. I knew I couldn't let you slip through my fingers. And we were perfect weren’t we?”

“It was all a lie,” You told him, trying to whisper but the loud music made you raise your voice at the same time. “You were never that person.”

“Of course I am, I’m just also a little more.” He signed at the bartender to come over, and of course the man came over immediately even if you tried to catch his attention for minutes before. “She'll have a sea breeze cocktail. And give me a beer, okay?”

Then he turned to you again. “We’re going to have a drink and we’re going to talk things out, and after, once I answered all your questions, you’re going to tell your friend we’ve made up. Just a silly misunderstanding.”

“I will not!” You hissed. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind.”

His eyes narrowed, even if the smile never left his face. “If you’re worried about her getting bored without you, don’t worry. Bucky will be happy to keep her company. Look, it seems they're getting along already.”

You recognized him after a second. Bucky. His best friend. He was smiling down at your friend, and his hands were on her hips and she peaked coyly from under her lashes at him as she let her finger trail over the opened collar of his shirt.

He turned you and pointed into the direction where you had left your friend on the dancefloor. She wasn’t alone. A big dark haired man was dancing close to her. Your friend was looking at him with that expression she used when she tried to lure men in, before they realised they’d be limping from her bed the next morning.

You stepped forward, or were going to, fully intend to put a stop to this, to get her away from him safely, when you got pulled back, and into a firm chest. You felt him lower himself so he could talk into your ear.

“Don’t. He won’t hurt her. He actually might be a little interested in her. Maybe you should let them get to know each other. It will give us time to work things out, and as long as we are talking, he’s got no reason to get to work. So what is it? Does Bucky get to have his well deserved day off, or do I need to put him to work and give some orders?”

You felt bile come up watching them and hearing Steve's words. You didn’t want to do this, you didn’t want to be near Steve, he terrified you. But your friend was in danger, that was sure. Tears sprung in your eyes and you tried to prevent them from rolling down and alerting anyone. It would not end well.

And even if you managed to escape now, what about your friend? And what about after? Steve had already proven he wasn’t going to let you go, and now he knew where she lived. And you knew he could get to any one of your family or friends. The only reason he hadn’t was because he wanted you to play along. Maybe hoped you would come to be okay with who he was. 

You wouldn’t be. But as much as you were frightened by him and by everything that was still a mystery to you, you didn’t think you could put anyone else in trouble.

You sighed, feeling the breath shakily come out.  “I, I think we can talk.”

His smile brightened. “Good, I’m glad baby. You’ll see, we can work this out. You have nothing to worry about. All you have to do is just hear me out. I’m sure we can get back to how things were, right? Although….I'm sure you know about my plans, Bucky was a little eager to spill, wasn’t he? He’s always been a sap. Romantic at heart. And who knows, maybe next year he’s going to be the lucky man at the way those two are eyeing each other right now. Reminds me of us. Like fate.”

He dragged you to the VIP area. Secluded. Alone. Your heart beating quicker with every step you took further away from your friend, further away from backup, further away from the freedom of what your life had been.

Taglist:

@rnurse-kole

@peaches1958

@alicedopey

@chickensarentcheap

@thezombieprostitute

@stargazingfangirl18

[illustrate-her]

@that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction posted about wanting to read at Merlin/Musketeers crossover fic with Merlin in the 17th century timeline, and for some reason it just jumped into my head, and I wrote this thing in about two hours whilst trying to convince my stubbornly awake toddler to gtf to sleep.

Un-beta’d, very quick and dirty.

Tags: angst, insanity, mentions of serious injury, stuff like that.

___

Time slips on, and on occasion, Merlin will let his sanity slip with it. He keeps half a finger pressed against the magic inside of him, because he knows it will tell him when Arthur returns. Alright - he hopes it will tell him. His opinion on the trustworthiness of magic tends to ebb and flow with the years, and whether or not he is in a particularly bleak period at the time.

Merlin allows himself that too: a decade here or there to really wallow in the awfulness, the loneliness of it. After a couple of hundred years he begins to realise a pattern, that he makes himself Emrys when he is feeling miserable, and allows the hopefulness of his younger body to propel him back into purpose and the will to carry on. 

The sanity though, that is a different thing. Sometimes it just becomes too much to learn the new ways, to assimilate into the societies of the time and not look like, well, a lunatic. And when that happens Merlin seems to give a mental shrug and let himself descend into the swirl of magic inside of him, because when Arthur died, when the prophecy came to pass it was like all of the magic in the world came rushing through him like an open floodgate, and everything that made him Merlin got swept away in the deluge.

So the time slips on. And Merlin lives. Some times he lives better than others, though famine or self-inflicted starvation, injury or cold or despair doesn’t seem to hinder him for long.

Time slips on, but, he reflects one day, slipping almost implies a certain degree of speed. And the time fucking drags.

At some point around the 15th century he decides to leave the land that has now been named Britain: when Arthur returns it would do him well to be advised by someone who knows a little bit about the countries that now encircle Albion across the sea. Every year the world seems to expand, new places and people emerging from the mists, new foodstuff and materials and advances in technology and warfare and medicine and artistry. And despite his oft-experience malaise, Merlin cannot help but find it all absolutely fascinating: he had spent an interesting couple of years learning everything about astronomy and mathematics from a Moorish traveler, found himself moved to tears by the paintings of Caravaggio and the tragic love of Shakespeare. The marvels that can be wrought without even a scrap of magic are astounding, and often it is this undying progress of humankind and their relentless search for beauty and meaning that gives him a reason to keep living.

Sometimes around the early 17th century -  though he has lost count a bit. 1620? 1640? - he finds himself in France, and the magnetic pull of the great and rambling city of Paris draws him inexplicably towards it. It seems to perfectly represent everything that people are: disgusting and beautiful and kind and brutal in equal measure.

He doesn’t care much for the kings of this age, finds them venal and stupid and small-minded. And it’s because of this that the sadness swell within him once more like a horrible dark sucking of water behind his breastbone, because these kings are nothing - nothing - like Arthur, and he feels the loss of the man like an aching in the world. 

What a king like Arthur could do! What peace he could bring, what justice! To see these small men on their thrones when Arthur lies sleeping in Avalon feels like the most enormous of injustices, and Merlin feels the despair slip slowly into his lack of will to try, and his tenuous grip on his sanity loosens like a sail in the wind once more.

So it is in France, in Paris, in the early part of the 17th century - 1610? 1630? - that Merlin finds himself locked within the walls of some castle or dungeon or prison. He cannot remember if he has committed some crime - it does tend to happen, regrettably: an apple taken from a cart or an insult given without meaning, a lack of understanding of social mores of a time or that breeches must generally be worn in public, that sort of thing - but either way merlin is locked within stone walls and iron bars.

He could get out in an instant, of course. If he wanted to. If he had anywhere to go, something to do or anyone who was waiting for him.

Ah, there’s the despair again. What does it matter? He doesn’t need much to live on: the hunger cramps in his belly but he barely notices. It won’t kill him. 

Nothing will fucking kill him.

“Do I…do I know you?” 

It takes a long time for Merlin to respond at all, given that he is so unused to anyone speaking to him but the gaoler, who tends to spit on Merlin more often than speak to him. 

“I’m…I’m sorry?” Merlin says. He looks up, lets his eyes adjust. There is a man on the other side of the bars, clearly having paused whilst walking by this cell.

“Fuck,” Merlin breathes. It’s a word he’s learned of late and it seems to fit a lot of situations. Seeing someone who died around ten centuries ago is probably one of them.

The same brown eyes, that’s the first thing Merlin’s notices: brown eyes warm and lit from beneath like peat water in the sun, framed with lashes that always were a little indecent. He has a neat moustache and beard, fashionable at this time, and his hair is longer, reaching almost to his shoulders in places. 

“Your hair curls,” Merlin says, his voice croaked thin with disuse. “I suppose it was never long enough to before.”

Lancelot puts a hand up to his hair for a moment, his brows pulling low in a frown. “My hair…” he says, confused.

And everything just seems to crash around Merlin as if the whole ceiling were raining down on him because of course, of course: he’s mad isn’t he? This isn’t real. This is just some man. It cannot be Lancelot. 

“What’s your name?” The man who is not Lancelot says. He steps closer and Merlin can see that he is dressed practically but with a touch of frivolity, the lace around the edges of his shirt, the tooling on his doublet. The hilt of his sword is a swirled and elegant thing, just visible hanging from belts slug around his waist with a blue sash. And buckled at his shoulder is a leather pauldron, fashioned with some regimental heraldry that Merlin has not been bothered to educate himself on.

“What is your name?” The man says again, squatting down so that he is on the same eyeline as Merlin. His voice has gone soft, kind.

“Merlin,” Merlin rasps. “Who. Who are you?”

“Aramis. Of the King’s Musketeers.” The man doffs his feathered hat in a gesture of good manners, and his smile is warm and easing across his face.

His smile is not like Lancelot’s. Merlin’s friend had been shy at times, his smile a timid thing, though wonderful for its scarcity.

This man - this Aramis -  smiles too easily and with too much knowing.

“You’re not him,” Merlin says. He feels a lump of something hot and molten lodged in his throat, and only realises that he is crying when the tears scald lines down his cheeks. He doesn’t have the energy to feel shame anymore, dignity is such a pointless thing when you’ve lived as long or seen as much as Merlin has.

“I’m…I’m not him,” Aramis says kindly. “I’m sorry.” He reaches a hand then, through the bars, and lays it on Merlin’s arm without any guile. And Merlin cannot remember the last time that anyone touched him. 

___

Aramis comes back the next day. 

“You know, it’s very strange. I do feel like I know you,” Aramis says, thoughtfully. 

“You look exactly like a man I used to know,” Merlin says.

“And where is this friend of yours now?”

“Dead. Twice over,” Merlin says to the ceiling, because it is too horrible, too strange to say it while looking at this man who is the very mirror of Lancelot.

“I am sorry,” Aramis says quietly. “It is terrible to suffer the loss of a friend. They say that time can heal, a little…”

He trails off because Merlin is laughing, uncontrollable heaves of laughter. “I’m not sure,” he hiccups, breathless, after a while, “A thousand years hasn’t seemed to do much.” He laughs again then, for quite some time. Aramis only sits, a puzzled sort of half-smile on his face.

___

He comes back again the next day.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he says, half to himself. And then he shakes his head as if to rid it of something, and settles down to talk through the bars once more.

“I brought you some food, Merlin,” Aramis says. “You’re terribly thin.”

“I always was,” Merlin says, but he accepts the food that Aramis hands him through the bars. “Arthur used to say that’s why my ears stuck out so much.”

“Arthur is another friend of yours?” Aramis smiles.

Merlin genuinely hadn’t meant to speak his name, hadn’t meant to summon Arthur up from whatever place he inhabited in the depths of Merlin’s heart.

“Another dead friend,” he says, with forced levity.

“I’m sorry,” Aramis says. And then, “Will you tell me about him?”

For a moment Merlin hovers somewhere between the desire to keep Arthur close, safe and protected and unknown by this huge and dangerous world he finds himself in. But to speak of him might make him feel as though he were alive once more, and it’s this desire that wins the day.

“He was a King, actually.”

“Huh,” Aramis smiles, though not unkindly, “Like King Arthur himself.”

“What?” Merlin asks, frowning.

“Well, you know. King Arthur. And, who was it…ah…Guinevere?”

His eyes widen a little bit when he sees the look on Merlin’s face. “I don’t know anymore, really. My English is not so good, so I’ve not read it. But Athos sometimes likes to rave about English literature when he’s drunk enough Armagnac. Not wine, funnily enough - that just makes him maudlin - but Armagnac? That’s when we get the Shakespeare, the Chaucer, the rest of it…”

He trails off. “La Morte d’Arthur. It’s a book about a king from Britain called Arthur...” He clears his throat. “I’ve not read it.”

“Fuck,” is all that Merlin can say.

___

“Why are you in here, Merlin?” Aramis asks one day. “What did you do?” He looks as though he’s bracing himself for some awful reveal, but Merlin can only shrug.

“I don’t know. Can’t remember.”

“You…can’t remember?”

“I must have done something,” Merlin elaborates, Nothing, you know, awful,” he hastens to add. “But possibly something illegal. Or mad. It’s likely I’m here because I did something mad. It has happened before.”

“You’ve been imprisoned before?”

“Oh,” Merlin puffs out his cheeks with a sigh. “More times than I could count actually. Never for anything awful.”

“Just something mad,” Aramis supplies.

“Yeah. That.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin says after a while, and stretches out his long legs, and lets his head thunk back against the rough walls of the cell. “I could get out of here right now if I wanted to.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“Not really. I don’t see why I should.”

___

“I’m going to petition the Queen to have you pardoned,” Aramis beams one day, sitting on the floor outside the bars with an alarming clatter of pistols and blades.

“Why do you have so many weapons?” Merlin frowns, “Surely it just sort of gets in the way after a point.”

“I have exactly as many weapons as I need, thank you very much, and if I didn’t I’d be dead by now. Only this morning I narrowly avoided being shot through the head because I had this,” Aramis pats lovingly at a blade in his belt. “Besides, didn’t you hear me? I said I’m going to petition the Queen to have you pardoned.”

“Why would the Queen listen to you?” Merlin says, dubiously. “And did you bring me any more of that apple pastry?”

“No, Constance says there’ll be more tomorrow, and the Queen and I have…well, we are…we speak sometimes.”

Merlin sits up, a rush of something invisible and heavy suddenly falling onto his chest. “Aramis. You should stay away from queens. Take it from me.”

“You’re speaking nonsense,” Aramis says, waving a hand. 

“Frequently,” Merlin nods.

“She gave me this,” Aramis says, pulling out a small crucifix on a chain about his neck, and there is something small and tender in his voice and oh Gods he’s in love with her, isn’t he? He’s in love with the Queen. 

“Fuck, Lancelot,” Merlin moans, screwing his eyes shut. “You never learn, do you?”

___

Aramis doesn’t come back the next day. 

Or the next.

Or the next.

And then there is another man, tall and dark-skinned and looming.

“You him then?” He asks, voice gruff, as though throwing out a challenge before one can be made to him. “Merlin?”

Merlin opens one eye. “The one and only.”

“Huh,” the man says, “Barely more than a boy. You’re the one he’s been comin’ to see every day?”

“Aramis?” Merlin says, sitting up, “You know Aramis?”

“I do,” the man nods. “Yeah I do. He told me to come and see you. He was…he made me promise. Dunno why.” He scratches the back of his neck, awkwardly, and it’s only then that Merlin notices the stretched thin quality of this man, the way his face is drawn and tired.

“What’s wrong,” Merlin says, bolting to his feet. “What is it?”

“Aramis…” the man says, trailing off. He takes in a deep breath. “Aramis got…he was run through. Right in the gut.”

The world spins, settles to a point of excruciating clarity. 

“Is he dead?” Merlin asks, voice very still.

“Not yet,” the man says, and the yet dangles there like a hanged man because it is suddenly very obvious that yet means soon.

“Aliese.” Merlin feels his eyes flash gold, and it’s like a relief singing through his whole body to use his magic after so very long. The lock on the barred door clicks somewhere deep within its mechanism, he shoves it with his shoulder as he steps through. “Where is he?”

___

He can feel the wary shock of the man next to him as they hurry through the streets of Paris, hasn’t failed to notice how the man has one hand on his pistol and one on the hilt of his huge sword, both hanging from his belt, and uses his chin and a snapped word to indicate which direction they must go. 

They had walked right out of the prison. Merlin had only needed to cast a little spell, a small easing of things so that eyes glazed over him and attention settled elsewhere as he passed. They walked right out and no one even said a word, and is it testament to the fear and shock - not of Merlin but that Aramis’ death is imminent - that stops the big man who walks beside him from asking questions or demanding to know what exactly Merlin is doing.

He is led through a doorway and into an internal courtyard, up some worn stone staircase and into a suite of modest rooms. A young man startles to his feet beside the bed, and another is leaning heavily against the wall with his back to them and a half-drunk bottle of wine hanging from his lax grasp.

“Who’s this?” The young man says.

“Aramis’ friend.”

“Send him away, Porthos” says the man leaning against the wall without bothering to turn. “If he is truly his friend he will not want to witness what comes next.”

The big man - Porthos - crosses to the bed and drops to his knees beside it, and it’s only then that Merlin really looks. Aramis is lying there, his face a sweating and awful shade of spoilt milk. His eyes are closed and bruised around with blue shadows. His breath comes rattling and sullen.

“Aramis,” Porthos says, and his voice is horrible and filled with a false kind of easiness, “Aramis? Can you hear me? I’ve got someone here for you. Your friend. Merlin.”

The man in the bed does not move, shows no sign of hearing anything that is happening in this room.

Merlin can hardly breathe. He sees Aramis in the bed but he sees Lancelot, dead, laid out in the boat that he sent out into the lake. He sees it all and a thousand years is nothing, is nothing.

“Do you have yarrow?” Merlin asks, crossing quickly to the side of the bed and shouldering Porthos out of the way. “Ah…Achillée Millefeuille?”

“What would we do with that?” the younger man says, dubiously. 

“It’s an old wives tale,” the man leaning against the wall states in a monotone, “Said to stop bleeding.”

“It works,” Merlin insists, “Especially when I can help it along with magic.”

The room falls silent. “Magic,” Porthos says after a moment.

“Why did you bring him here?” Spits the older man, by the wall.

“Because Aramis asked me too, Athos!” Porthos says, jumping to his feet angrily. “Because he is Aramis’ friend and Aramis is dying’!”

“Don’t do this,” the young man says, his voice high with desperation. “Not now.”

“Fuck it,” Merlin says, and rips down the blanket over the dying man’s abdomen, and places his hands where there is a mess of dark blood and bandages. 

It’s not like with Lancelot, or with Arthur. Their deaths had been sullied by dark magic before Merlin could even think to help them. Aramis’ wound is deep and awful but it was made with a mortal blade, untouched by sorcery. 

Merlin couldn’t do it for Lancelot, or Arthur.

He will do it for Aramis.

He closes his eyes and reaches deep within himself, to that swirling maelstrom of power. He reaches further, pulls from the hewn timber of the floorboards that still hold some echo of the trees they once were and the vast forests in which they once grew. He pulls down deeper, reaching through beam and plank and flagstone, through to the earth beneath, alive with living things, alive with a magic that is so simple and so ever-present that it could never die, could never even be noticed.

“Come on,” he spits.

Merlin pulls. Merlin heaves. He feels his body shaking uncontrollably, his teeth chattering. He feels his eyes burning painful and hot with magic until he cannot see anything anymore through the sun flare glow of them. He feels all the air leave his lungs and the way they cramp around their emptiness because there is no room for breath, no room for anything but the magic.

All the glass in the windows blows out, and Merlin keels sideways. He doesn’t hear how the room erupts in shouts. He is unconscious before he hits the floor.

___

The dark is comforting, and warm, and friendly. He doesn’t want to open his aching eyes. He feels like every part of his body has been punched.

“Merlin,” says a voice. “Merlin. Are you with us?”

“Can’t I sleep a little longer Gaius?” Merlin groans, and then memory blooms like a flower, and he understands that Gaius is long dead, and that the man speaking to him was about to be.

“Aramis,” Merlin says, and tries to sit up but the room spins him back to a groaning horizontal. He screws his eyes shut again.

“Easy,” Aramis says. “I don’t know what in God’s name you did but I imagine it rather took its toll.”

“What did I do?” Merlin says, cracking one eye open.

“Well. I no longer have a hole in my stomach,” Aramis says, thoughtfully, “Which I…I don’t want to think about right now.”

___

At the Porte Saint Honore Aramis looks assessingly at him. It’s so much like the kind of look Lancelot would have given Merlin that he can’t help but grin back. It doesn’t hurt so much, anymore, and he’s not sure why but he is very grateful.

“Are you well enough to travel?” Aramis asks, dubiously.

“I’m fine, Aramis.”

“Are you an angel, Merlin?”

“An..a..no. No I’m not, Aramis.”

“Hmm,” Aramis says, assessing him once more. “Well, regardless, I will pray for you at the church of Saint Sulpice this evening.”

“You think I’m in need of saving?” Merlin is well aware that the attitudes towards magic - witchcraft - have not improved particularly despite the passage of time.

”I think you’re in need of protecting,” Aramis says, simply. “I think you’re quite extraordinary and I think I will pray every day for the Lord to watch over you because you saved my sorry, sinful life. Merlin.”

Merlin looks at those brown eyes, those same eyes. “I couldn’t save my friend. I couldn’t save any of my friends. I am glad to have been able to save you.”

“Where will you go?”

The countryside spreads out like a blanket around the city, darned patches of fields and woodlands. But Merlin can feel it again, that little tugging sensation somewhere inside his ribcage. 

“Home.”

“Britain?” Aramis says, and then makes a small moue of distaste at Merlin’s questioning raised eyebrow. “I assumed. Your accent is atrocious.” 

Merlin laughs. And it feels so good. 

“Yes,” Merlin says, “Britain. I can’t be gone for long. I’m waiting for someone.”

The countryside spreads out like a blanket, and time spreads out quite similarly, and perhaps there are bits darned here and there, mends and rips and added patches. Perhaps a person can come again, in a different place and a different time, and Merlin has to believe it’s true because that means he’s still holding on - somewhere, somehow - to the faith that Arthur will come again.

Time spreads out, and Merlin wonders if maybe all these years might be worth something after all, and that for a while at least, he might try being part of the world again.

[d-lanx]

Ok here's a little thing i thought would fun for any artists to show off their progress at learning art (plus I'm nosey🤭).

Show off the oldest drawings you did (or the oldest that you can still find), the first things you were confident enough to upload online, and your most recent drawings and talk about them and show off how much you've progressed :)

Probably gonna end up missing some people, but I'm tagging a bunch of cool artists I follow/am mutuals with and am nosey to see how they started out, but no pressure :)

@fantasticalleigh, @thlayli-ra, @heelhausen, @stupidmarkzone, @2ndcitynightmare, @punk-o-ween, @normallypassingby, @tvheit, @seasonal-depression-of-punk

And if you wanna have a look at my old stuff, I've got it below =)

Oldest Drawings I Can Find

Of course, the first is an OC. Never did anything with her tho. Notice the lack of forehead and elbows, the arms that barely reach the hips, how indishtinguishable each part of the body is from one another. They're a perfectly smooth pole. and of course those wings. This is the first thing in my first proper sketchbook when I decided I was gonna start taking art more seriously. This would have been when i started secondary in 2014 at 11 years old. And I can't find anything from before that, since I never kept anything in a proper book/folder.

Second image is another of the first drawings in the book. It was my first closeup of a face, and also my first time drawing anime. I know I'm not the only artist who was desperate to learn to draw an anime-style as a kid. I remember doing this while on holiday, trying to follow an online tutorial, taking about 4 hours to get the outcome I did, and getting so frustrated that I couldn't get it to look right, that I was almost brought to tears. I'm pretty sure this was one of those "I'm never drawing again! >:(" moments, lol. Looking back, it was a pretty good first attempt. But I guess I was always a bit of a perfectionist, lol. Funnily enough, while I carried the anime eyes forward in my art style for years, to this day, I still can't draw a proper full anime style character.

First Drawings I Uploaded Online

I put these on insta to show my mates from school. The first picture was an attempt at a close up face with the new brush markers i'd got for christmas. This was 2017 just before i turned 14. Pretty sure I copied the design from an art tutorial book, that was supposed to be hyper-realistic (another christmas present). But I just couldn't bring that to life so just did what I could. Also, first time I used a signature. My signature's very different nowadays cos it's based on my tumblr username and not me actual name. But yeah. I was tryna get more professional I guess.

Second pic is the first full body piece I uploaded a few days later. Again, used the drawing books trying to learn how to draw flowy clothes. Think it was a book about drawing anime clothes that I used for this (another christmas present). By this point, each body part could move seperately and had joints. Also note the anime eyes, cos my simpler-but-still-anime-inspired eyes were something I stuck with a long ass time. This was the style I drew most often, and could usually do without having references (but obviously for this drawing specifically, I had the reference for the clothes). Had a lot of trouble with perspective, so all my characters faced forward, and later they would always face a 3/4 angle. And they could never lean or reach forwards cos I just couldn't get that to look right.

Most Recent Pieces

The most most recent is on the left, being my most recent closeup of a face. Still has a cartoonish edge with the lineart but much more realistic. And I'm fucking with this semi-realistic look atm. Tbh I dunno if i'd have the patience for the tiny details in hyperrealism. Also, fun story, in 2021 when I was doing my a-levels, I did an art piece that we were free to do in any style we wanted, and my teacher saw mine and was like “I wish you’d done it as realism instead of a cartoon style :(“ but it was actually my best attempt at realism and she hadn’t even realised. So I dunno, maybe I’m not cut out for realism 😂😂 I like my style rn tho so who cares

Then I got my most recent drawing of a (almost) full body. I got joints and decent hands and proportions and more body details.

Also this last year is the first time I've really got into digital. I always used to just do pen and paper. I even got a cheap drawing tablet, but couldn't get used to drawing on one surface and the image being up on a seperate screen. So I could never get the lines right. I did draw on my old ipad for a while which was easier, but the stylus was one of those with the thick rubber ball on the end, rather than a fine nib. Again, I had trouble cos I couldn't tell where it would register the contact with the screen and draw the line, which made it hard to do details. I got a new ipad a little while back that supports apple pencil, so I got one for it. And it's so much easier now that I've got a fine nib and can see where I'm drawing. I'm in love with drawing digital atm.

But yeah. That's how i've drawn over the years. Mental to see how much my style has changed and improved :) makes me feel better when I get frustrated with a drawnig and think I'm shit. Cos I know I'm getting better with each new drawing, even if it's only baby steps.

First: Now:

[jennelikejennay]

How to Make Up Vulcan Words

Using the Vulcan language is like trying to follow a recipe written by a grandma who already knew how to make the thing and only jotted down a couple measurements. That is, it does have information, but it rarely has all you need. Even words I would consider obvious and necessary simply aren’t in there. However, if you know how to put Vulcan words together, you can create a lot more words than the VLD will give you.

Vulcan is a language that relies very heavily on a small number of roots and affixes. English does the same sometimes, especially in scientific language, where we use Greek and Latin roots to hide the fact that we’re doing it. This makes it easy to make up new words whenever you want, in exactly the way the creators made them: by jamming together bits until a word is built up with all the parts you want.

There are only two basic rules: first, you have a limit of two hyphens, so when parts are connected with hyphens (which is the case with some affixes and all roots) you are limited to three. There’s no limit on apostrophes or jammed-together affixes, though, so keep that in mind.

Second, you want the final version to be the part of speech you are looking for, which may require a change in ending. Verbs usually (but not always) end in -au or -tor. Making a noun out of a verb is a little complicated, but in the end, a noun can have any ending. Adjectives end in -k, often -ik. Adverbs end in -ng.

The basic process I use for finding a word is this.

First, I look up the word I want in the VLD. Instead of searching by word, I go to that letter of the alphabet and scroll to it, in case there are related words in the same area. It’s probably not there, so I try a couple of synonyms. Then words that aren’t synonyms, but are related.

Hopefully in all that searching, I’ll come up with a couple of roots. For instance, I can find that sadakh means “to eject.” Dakh means to cast out, get rid of. Sa- can mean a bunch of things, including “male” and “automatic” but I see it in a lot of words like extend, exhale, expand, etc. So I think in this case sa- means outward.

Then I can add on other roots and affixes that I want. Say I want a substance that has been ejected, I can use -tukh, stuff, substance, and get sadakh-tukh. Or if I want a machine that ejects, I can use sadakh-vel. A thing that ejects? Sadakhek. A person whose job is ejecting things? Sadakhsu.

Here are a bunch of Vulcan affixes, some of which are in the VLD, some of which you have to figure out after seeing them in a bunch of related words.

su: person. This can mean a person from a given place or a person who does a certain thing. It attaches without any punctuation. ashausu: one who loves. besu: a companion, one who is beside or with you. kugalsu: a person who is betrothed. sasu: a man. kosu: a woman.

-vel: thing, object, machine. tor: do; tor-vel: mechanism. tum-tor: to count, tum-vel: computer.

-tukh: stuff. alem: salt; alem-tukh: sodium. dau: affect; dau-tukh: hormone.

ek: -er, something that does a specific thing. Not used with people. feshel-tor: to disrupt; feshelek: disruptor. spitau: to drill, spitayek: a drill, something that drills. (Note: -ek is going on the noun form of the verb, generally, spitaya being the act of drilling.)

sa-: male, masculine. sa-mekh: father. sa-fu: son.

ko-: female, feminine. ko-mekh: mother. ko-fu: daughter.

‘es: -ness, basically turning another word into an abstract noun. abru’: over; abru’es: dominance. marom-: excellent; marom’es: excellence.

shi’: place. masu: water; shi’masu: oasis. 

-bosh: full of. kau: wisdom; kau-bosh: wise

-fam: without. kau-fam: unwise.

-tal: study, the study of. gen-lis: language, gen-lis-tal: linguistics. (And -talsu is a person who studies the topic! We’re all being amateur gen-lis-talsular right now.)

tra: this is an odd collective plural, which I think is really cool. It’s a big mass of the thing you’re talking about. So sular is people, but sutra is a nation. masu: water; masutra: ocean.

rik, ri: not or without. kwon: forever; rikwonik: temporary. tsuri: normal, usual; ritsuri: abnormality, divergence, eccentricity. kup: can, able; rikup’es: disability. Vulcan loves to use this one to make opposites; if ever you need a word and only have its opposite, use this.

pi’: small. laptra: forest; pi’laptra: copse. sahan: wind; pi’sahan: breeze. You can make diminutives of any kind like this.

weh-: more. abru: above; weh-abru: upper.

dan-: most. irak: far; dan-irak: farthest.

From a few roots and these affixes, you too can craft words like shi’sasnem, bathroom, or qlar’hy’es, curiosity. The VLD alone barely gets you through a few sentences of whatever you wanted to say, but if you know how to construct your own words, you really can say almost anything.

[tawghasa]

I endorse all of this.

I had to change careers in my early 30s (grant-gunded research scientist + four years of no grants in my speciality = redundancy with no hiring opportunities). Here are a few things I learned from that journey:

Consider doing the same job for a different employer. I spent 5 years working for a lab that, in retrospect, had a really terrible workplace culture. I got a position in another lab in the same institute, and the experience was a LOT better.

(It was still rough at times, due to the bullshit I had internalised clashing with similar bullshit my lab supervisor had internalised. But I cried in the bathrooms WAY less.)

There can be a LOT of jobs that are tangentially related to your current job, that no one in your current job is really aware of. Or if they are aware, they overestimate the barriers to getting there.

(E.g., I moved from medical research into intellectual property. I assumed that you would need some kind of legal background for that... But nope!)

On a related note, be sceptical of any career advice you get from people at your hell-job. If they haven't gotten out themselves, they are sharing conjecture, not facts.

Most people have bad resumes and weak cover letters/responses to selection criteria. I highly recommend checking out Askamanager.org, in particular this masterpost of advice for resumes and cover letters. Alison also has a guide for preparing for job interviews that I've used with success (it's free when you sign-up to her mailing list. I think I've gotten maybe two e-mails in the six years since I signed up to get the free pdf).

Being older can be a benefit in the workplace. Some recent hires at my job are in their 50s, and were REALLY surprised they made the cut... But they both have so much experience under their belts, they're very familiar with the norms of a 9-to-5 job, etc. (They're also less likely to look for another job before they retire than younger hires.)

Also, you just know more stuff. You have more experience in having a job, talking to people, doing things. You have more years under your belt of troubleshooting, finding easier workflows, cleaning up messes.

E.g., I hated my time in retail but I know a LOT about how to talk to people: how to give someone bad news without them yelling at me, how to tell them they stuffed up without them yelling at me, how to tell them I stuffed up without them yelling at me...

I have an excellent phone manner and a "customer-centric commitment to issue resolution" which has been a huge asset in both of my post-retail careers - but neither of those jobs had any kind of intentional training/mentoring in those areas! Those are skills I developed in THE shittiest supermarket in South Australia while developing bone damage in my feet because I was standing for 10 hours a day.

A few other bits of advice:

It's hard to be productive outside of work when you work a terrible job that is corroding your soul. It's hard to write a good resume/apply to further education/whatever when you hate your job and you're exhausted and everything is pointless. Don't beat yourself up if it takes longer than you'd like to get anything done.

Make things easier for yourself by asking for/accepting help. Use the Ask A Manager resources, ask friends and family (ideally ones who have jobs they like) to help you with your job search and your application materials.

(Are we mutuals? Do you want some help with a resume? Send me a DM. I can also hop on a Discord call and chat with you about interview prep and technique.)

Try to start prepping now, BEFORE the dream opportunity crosses your path. It's easier to have an up-to-date master resume that you can tailor to the role, than to scramble to pull one together the night applications close.

Reddit can actually be really helpful. There are subreddits for a lot of careers/industries, with posts every few months asking how to either break in or get out. They can also be a good place to ask what the day-to-day is like in a career you're thinking of switching to, which can help you identify any skills you already have that would be an asset/consider whether you'd enjoy the reality of the job. Keep in mind that it's all subjective, and no two people's experiences will be the same.

If you've read this far, try to find time to update your resume this weekend. Even if you like your current job. (That's usually the best time to look at other jobs - you're not desperate, so you're in a strong position to negotiate any offers.) Because if you've read this far through a thread about changing jobs/careers, you're probably interested on some level in doing the thing.

I’m thinking of doing a complete career switch- or at the very least, making an attempt to start it- and the idea is frightening for so many reasons- money, feeling like I’m behind, insecurity, family- but then i think of just sticking to the path I’m on and it sends me into a crying fit so. I think I’m going to have to be brave

Be brave! I changed industries at age 41 and it was so good for both my career and mental health.

It sounds silly to have to outright say, but if the thought of going to your current job makes you cry every day, it is time to LEAVE. You are not the first person I have had to give this advice to this week. The longer you stay in a dead-end job, the more your skills will rust and the inertia will drag you down.

It feels frightening, but you can get through the imposter syndrome by becoming a thorough note taker (assuming you are white collar, but a lot of this also applies to blue):

Capture every conversation you have

Immediately distill meetings and emails into to-do lists

Review your to-dos daily

Most importantly: write down your accomplishments, no matter how small, at the end of every week

Notes by hand helped me so much, and my little treat to keep going was to begin a fresh mini-notebook every 2 weeks, which I could decorate with ink stamps and washing tape. I used a different color gel pen every day, too. My notebooks were fun and super helpful with keeping me organized.

You will catch up soon enough. It sucks to be an older person in a junior role, but you will be more mature and hopefully adept at handling work drama. I hit senior at age 47 after doing my time, and now I'm pretty indistinguishable from the folks who beat me here.

People aren't meant to do the same thing for all their lives, if it means sacrificing other opportunities. It's ok to say goodbye to a career or hobby or whatever else, to make room for something new. Don't feel guilty sampling from life. Specialization is for insects.

[lilyw0lf]

I think I'm missing some context, but I've been seeing a bit of controversy about the LU and LoZ fandom this past couple of days and I'm pretty sure that this issue comes from way back.

And I just want to say that most of the people that I've met in this fandom are so sweet and welcoming. Maybe I was just fortunate to interact with the right people, but I know for sure that those little interactions have been what makes me love this fandom so much. I think a healthy community is even more important than the source material when it comes to shape one's vision of a fandom, at least for me.

I must confess that I've been a lurker for most of the time that I've been here, mostly because my own fear of giving my opinion or asking questions that could seem dumb and not wanting to go out of my confort zone. That said, I couldn't have been more wrong.

If you are new to a fandom, and not just LU or LoZ, any fandom, or even if you've been here for a while and you are just a fellow lurker I want to tell you:

Don't be afraid of interacting with other people

Don't be afraid of giving your opinion

Don't be afraid to create

Don't be afraid to share

And don't be afraid of asking questions

I can't promise you that you won't encounter a jerk sometimes, but mostly you will find great people willing to share their own opinions and knowledge with you. Who knows, you might meet some of your greatest friends that way.

The interactions between people are what define the hearth of a comunity. And that's why I want you to always try to be polite and treat everyone with kindness first.

Don't impose your own headcanons to anyone, hell don't even impose canon, people love to create and go wild with their own imagination and if that makes them happy let them be happy.

You can always share your knowledge about the games, LU or whatever you want, but please do it politely. The other person might not realise that their take on a character or story is not canon or they might know and just want to ignore it. And that's alright too, at the end of the day we are here to have fun. You can share your own headcanons if you want.

If you don't like something or a person is just being straight rude, then you can always block them, you have all the right to do it. But please try to make sure you don't become the one that's rude with others without reason.

Also about the games, you don't have to have played to every game to interact with the fandom, you don't have to have played to any of them if you want. You can just have read the comic and that's totally fine, like I said earlier if you want to know about something just ask politely, really don't be afraid to ask. And to the people that answers please don't be rude about it. Most people don't have the money or the time to play every game, but that doesn't mean that they can't learn about them if they are interested.

Don't assume anything about anyone, for all you know you could be talking with a literal child that just found something that seems cool and is so excited to learn more about it or to share their own stuff with others. And how would they feel if the first reaction they got to their question or opinion was a negative one? And not just children, anyone who wanted to interact with a fandom and just got rude reactions would probably just want to go away and not even want to keep learning about the thing that had them so excited. So please, please always try to be mindful with others, you don't know their circunstances, kindness shoud always be tried first.

And mostly to new users but this goes to everyone, about taging no LU stuff as LU, please if you are not sure try to check the original tags before reblogging. It takes just a few seconds and is the best way to avoid confussion and innecesary arguments. On the other side, if you see someone misstaging let them know, but please do it politely, they might be new and not understand how the tagging works.

What I want to say with all of this is please always try to be kind, everyone has their own circunstances. Don't let issues like these that can be easily avoided rot the core of a beautiful comunity. You'll find some people that are just jerks, is unavoidable on any group of people, but don't let them make you become one of them, just block and keep living your life. Most people are sweet and great and it's a pity if you miss out on everything good just because a few idiots.

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

may we have platonic tisha x messy ahh reader? the reader is physically incapable of keeping things tidy xd

Platonic Tisha With A Messy Reader!

I first wanted to say a big thank you for everyone who send something in when I was going through a lot. I found an amazing group, you guys and them have really been helping me recover from all of this.. I think I'm ready to come back now! Even if things might be kinda slow!

Here you go, dear anon! I hope I did it well, I really like Tisha haha. My room isn't the best either, if I was ever a toon in Gardenview, she'd cry- SKSKSK here you go, thank you for requesting! <3

I hope I still got my writing skills oughhhh..

-Anna

-Tisha is always working so hard to keep the entire place clean and tidy, even helping the toon's rooms not be as messy. Though for some toons, she does get quite frustrated, she wants others to be considerate of her time, especially if it's the same toon that ask for a cleanup on the same place. You can still hear her say a firm "no" when Sprout begs for the kitchen to be cleaned or a toon talks about the mess in their room while looking at Tisha. You think it's good that she denies those, especially since she seems to overwork herself so much.

-In your case, Tisha really tries talking to you about your room. She's not.. exactly mad or anything but she is firm and honestly a bit concerned for you. If she sees that you are someone that is actually struggling keeping things tidy, together and it seems out of your control too, Tisha is more understanding in these moments. She's even willing to help keep your room at least in a presentable state or make it so it doesn't feel suffocating or anything like that to stay in there. If you are struggling with something, she's there to listen to you while she cleans around, it helps her understand you better.

-She does try some ways to help you out with anything you are struggling with, whether it's a specific chore or showing you how to do it yourself. She might even ask Shelly or someone else for some advice about how to make it not so boring for you, maybe make it into something that makes you feel like you did something good or it's just fun overall. She might not have the most time for you because she has places to clean but she tries to teach you what she can. Maybe even ways you can do them easier or make it more fun, how about stacking your clothes and seeing a tower of them? Maybe posing your figures in a cool way? Anything helps!

-If you can, you can handle the easier parts of keeping your room tidy and clean. Tisha doesn't mind handling the other more difficult parts for you, it's something she likes doing, after all. You can show her what stuff has dust on them or gather objects around and placing them somewhere, whether it would be a box or on top of a table or just anything while she sweeps and dusts things off. Anything that can help her get the job done a little faster, she will really appreciate it. Sometimes you clean in silence or share some talk together as you tidy up your room and make it brand new again.

-When she is not so busy, Tisha likes bringing you small rewards for helping her. She hopes they help motivate you to keep things tidy as much as you can at least, even small progress is still progress. If she's busy, she likes leaving them outside your door, knock and walk away. She has such a specific polite door knock that you can immediately tell it's her. By the time you open the door, she has already left, either cleaning one of the rooms around you or having left the floor you are currently on. You still wonder just how quickly she can be when it came to stuff like this. She really has mastered the whole thing.

-If you get better at it or even can do more, Tisha feels proud of you, even if it's small progress. It really shows in her smile when she observes your room and she really appreciates that you are putting effort in, especially if it's something that could be quite hard for you. Of course, she knows that some days can be hard so she doesn't want to say anything that might discourage you or make you feel bad, she understands not everyone can feel okay all the time. She tends to clean your room quietly while you rest, she does tell you to still take care of yourself though.

-If not, please don't feel bad. Tisha won't really get angry at you for it. You two can always find other ways that work for you to get through these difficulties. She will feel concerned if you seem genuinely distressed over this. All she can do is let you know that she is not really mad or anything bad. She might get you something nice to drink or to eat to help comfort you in some way. Like said before, you two can always find other ways to push through, it's something she tells you so you don't feel bad or anything.

-Sometimes Shelly might volunteer to help with it! She can be pretty smart and come up with various solutions or even ask around for any advice or tips. She comes up with the idea of listening to music or something as background noise while cleaning, something that can help motivate you maybe. She even goes to ask around to see what everyone else is doing while doing their own tasks and chores, she writes down everything that sounds useful and wants to try them out with you if it sounds good. She's such a sweetheart too, encouraging you and everything. She and Tisha will try their best to help with whatever they can.

-It's pretty funny but you and Tisha have built this unique friendship that isn't really seen anywhere else. You two bond over cleaning and tidying up your room, sharing small talk here and there. She actually talks to you about the events of her day while you two clean together. In a way, she's your background noise and it can be a pretty nice experience. Tisha feels nice talking about her day here and there, though it's mostly small talk in the beginning as she is focused on taking care of your room and making it look new again. She doesn't mind listening to you though, even if she gives small hums and that as an answer.

-As time goes in, you two even start hanging out outside of the whole cleaning your room stuff. She likes making some time to check up with you at the end of the day and make sure you are taking care of yourself properly, especially if she sees you struggling with that too. Sadly, it doesn't last too long as usually at the end of the day, she doesn't show how exhausted she is, just offering a tired smile. Tisha hopes she can help you with not being messy anymore in the future, she's pretty adamant on this.

Thank you for reading! <3

[moonfang256]

My thoughts about Deltarune, Chapters 3 & 4 (Part 8)

❤️ <( Well, it started raining and we went to Kris's house to do that silly school project, but apparently the door was locked and Kris didn't have the key, so we ended going to meet Toriel at church.

The idea was to go ask her for the key to enter the house, but…

❤️ <( "I sigh and look at Kris" Of course you and the Knight had this planned. Of course... (why trying to kidnap your mom thought?)

❤️ <( I couldn't agree more.

Anyway, we had to convince Susie not to wait any longer and just jump right in, so that's what we did.

❤️ <( And here we began another journey, although who would have imagined what the future held for us?

❤️ <( After a piano puzzle (Kris finally let me play a bit), we reached these stairs that lead us to the Dark Fountain, but since everything in life has to be complicated, the Knight came.

❤️ <( I'm not sure if it's Dess or Carol (although I don't think it's Carol because she was left talking to Noelle, and I don't think she can get to the church that fast, can she?), so for now I'm just going to keep calling her "Knight" until we're sure who she is.

❤️ <( Back to the topic: She came to cause trouble, so Kris had to play it cool and cooperate.

❤️ <( We got to her, but Kris…

❤️ <( Kris was badly beaten...

Part of me did care about them, because that clash was very painful to look at it and the glass could have been embedded too deep into their body, but another part of me was… numb…

There was no need to fight the Knight, because they could have caught her or something, but since they've an immeasurable loyalty towards her, they simply let themselves be smashed so easily.

Corrupted Dess or not, it doesn't change the fact that she manipulated the bosses to drove them insane, even now Kris is going through the same symptoms and got hurt by her.

If this continues, it could get worse, but Kris is too stubborn to understand that keep working for the Knight and probably Carol will get them nowhere. It will only cause more pain to them and others, and they won't be able to save the one behind that darkness like this.

I'd like to convince them to step back, but they won't listen…

❤️ <( Leaving that aside, Susie tried to use her power to heal them, but as we know, her healing power wasn't yet strong enough.

❤️ <( Luckily, Ralsei showed up, though Susie seemed to feel upset that her power wasn't enough to help Kris to recover. However, Ralsei tried to cheer her up, telling her not to try to fix things alone; that they would always have someone there to lend a hand.

❤️ <( Susie reminded the gang to do their cool poses...

❤️ <( But Ralsei seemed nervous about something and wasn't in the mood for this, so we continued forward.

❤️ <( As I moved the gang around the world, I was alert, but the place seemed calm and there was a somewhat peaceful atmosphere with the water creatures singing, so I let my guard down just a bit.

It reminded me a bit of a "Klonoa: Empire of Dreams" level (damn, I love the song that plays here. I think it's called "Vision of Leljimba"):

❤️ <( I honestly thought some cult-like stuff was going to happen in this chapter, but thank God it didn't.

I guess I've played too many indie horror RPGs in the past that have led me to believe in the worst "shrugs".

--------

I'll stop here and continue in the next post.