#ski and cobalt tag

[jils-things]

usually i let my clients post the commission i drew for them BUT i have to make an excuse for this. commission for my friend @worldtravelercv !!!... he is cobalt's (my OC!!) biggest fan and im so happy i get to draw her again <3 <3 chris youre literally the reason why i still draw cobalt AJDKSJFSJDKJKJKA KEEP IT UP /SILLY

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

andd thats cobalt! both of them completed :]

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

EVERYONE LOOK AT SKI AND COBALT RIGHT NOW ☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️

Alright I'll bite, here's the artfight attacks I did 🦀

@jils-things | averveevie | AkitaAyame_02 | @yawnbarn | @dwdoesarts | OrangeArtist

[practically-an-x-man]

I'm going to throw Kat at the mercy of the wheel, I think, I feel too guilty throwing Lars or Jimmy... (sorey, Kat!)

Oooh.... very interesting.

Whump wheel came up with.... Buried Alive! Now that could be fun...

The Whump Wheel

____ Entombed

Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Whump, blood, claustrophobia, captivity, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

____

Before she could react, there was a hand gripping her hair.

"Ah- hey!" Katherine blurted, more startled than truly in pain. That changed all too quickly, though- the grip wrenched her up, out of her seat, dragged with a pace too fast to keep up. Katherine staggered, fighting to get her feet under her. The pressure on her scalp was agonizing, so intense she wondered if something would tear. With her hair, thick and healthy and natural as it was, she worried that something would be her scalp.

She clawed at the fingers in her hair, digging her nails in deep. Her attacker flinched, grunted, but didn't release their grip. Katherine's feet skidded on the tiles below her, unable to find traction.

Katherine shrieked. It was a high, piercing sound- that quickly dissolved into a helpless cough as her attacker spun and drove a knee into her gut. She only caught a glimpse at the figure, everything but their eyes (brown eyes, like seventy-nine percent of the world had brown eyes) covered in a thick black ski mask.

And then they were moving again, even as she coughed and sputtered and staggered. She didn't dare scream again. She had a feeling her punishment this time would be worse.

Rough hands dragged her down the hall at the same too-quick pace. The pain was blinding every time she slowed. Katherine felt warm blood running out onto her fingers, but still her attacker refused to let her go.

It wasn't until her eyes caught stone walls, engraved in cobalt and ochre, that she realized where she was being taken. Here was the place her lover called home, the roost of the gods that wove her history, the place she'd spent so many peaceful hours...

Here was the place with a great stone coffin, just the right size to contain a helpless girl.

With a single harsh movement, half-drag and half-shove, Katherine found herself tumbling into the sarcophagus. She fell into a ruin of rotted cloth and crumpled papers, saw stars as her head hit the stone base of the box.

Shadows slid over her, accompanied by the cacophonous growl of rock scraping rock. The lid was closing, inch by terrible inch. Katherine shoved at it, kicked at it, tried in vain to slow its momentum, but couldn't find the slightest leverage against her attacker.

Her sliver of light trickled away.

Soon it was gone. Soon she was left in the dark. And as the footsteps of her attacker echoed down the hall, soon she was left in silence.

Suddenly the space felt so much smaller. The stone squeezed her shoulders, pressed bruises into the slopes of her hips and thighs, bent her neck at a strange angle. Katherine took in a breath, fighting hard to keep it under control. Each inhale sent fresh, sharpened aches through her ribs and shoulders. She was shorter than Ahk, but also quite a bit curvier, and this space wasn't made for her.

The urge to scream filled her so suddenly, so violently, it struck her like a bolt of lightning. It took everything in Katherine's power to battle it back. She didn't know where her attackers had gone, and she couldn't bear to waste oxygen in such a confined space. She could not afford to panic now.

She'd been through worse than this, she told herself. She could handle this. They'd taken the locks off the sarcophagus years ago. All she had to do was push the lid aside. Ahk did that every night.

She could do this.

Katherine planted her hands on the stone and pushed, pushed with everything she had, every ounce of strength she had contained in a body that barely cracked five-foot-two on a good day. She pushed until her shoulders burned, until those sore spots on her hips and spine screamed in fresh agony, until she was panting and gasping for breath in the musty air.

And it didn't move. Not an inch.

"Fuck!" she screamed, unable to help herself. The sound just ricocheted back at her, with all the force of a slap to the face. Her ears rang.

Ahk did this every night. Every. Night.

But he was built taller, built stronger, built with muscle where she had softness. And he had a space that fit him, while she was cramped and bent and aching.

Katherine twisted, trying to get her feet planted against the lid of the sarcophagus. She had more power in her legs than her arms, she always had, and even just an inch of space would be enough to give her the leverage she needed.

Her hips were screaming in pain, wedged between unyielding planes of rock. Her shoulders were the same, worse with even the smallest twitch. The sarcophagus was too shallow to get her feet planted against it- she only succeeded in thoroughly bruising her knees.

It had never felt more like a coffin.

Panic flooded her all at once. It had been manageable enough, with the promise that she could create her own escape, but now that promise had shattered. It felt like she was breathing more dust than air.

"Help me!" she shrieked, now veering on desperation. Her fists pounded on the stone, scraping rough edges and drawing blood. Her breath came in roughened gasps, choked with tears of pain and fear. She wasn't sure her voice even escaped the box that held her.

"Ahk! Larry! Somebody!" Her screams ripped through her throat, so sharp and violent that she tasted blood. Katherine continued to drum on the stone lid above her, kicking and shoving until she felt her skin tear.

Panting and sweating, another thought struck her. Katherine fought hard to manage her breathing, pressing her trembling and bloody hands to the stone lid above her.

"Sekhmet..." she whispered, closing her eyes though the box was already unfathomably dark around her, "Give me strength. Please. I need to get out of here."

Gold light rippled through her mind, and she felt it flare bright around her... and then it was gone. Katherine tried again to push at the stone ceiling above her, praying that maybe she'd been granted some unseen strength, but it still didn't budge.

She found herself sobbing in the dark. She was stuck. That was it. Stuck. Not strong enough to escape on her own, and the gods couldn't or wouldn't help her. And she had no idea what had been done with her friends, if they'd met a similar fate.

The air was thick around her. It felt like breathing pure concrete, and Katherine's head spun. She wasn't sure how much longer she had before she ran out of air entirely. Would she drift off into unconsciousness? Or would she simply lie here, panicked and choking, until she died?

She shrieked until she didn't have the breath to shriek, pounded on the stone until the pain in her hands grew to a fiery agony, twisted until the bruises on her hips and shoulders felt bone-deep... and then she stopped, exhausted. Sparks danced behind her eyes, flickering in the darkness. She could have been drifting to the bottom of the ocean, with that dark and the pressure around her.

Katherine didn't know how long she'd been trapped here. It could have been moments or it could have been hours. All sense of time had drifted away. Faint stars flickered in the dark. Despite all her aches, the rough stone pressed in too close, the space suddenly felt endlessly open. Maybe that meant she was losing her mind.

At least she wasn't so panicked anymore. Her head was too foggy to find the emotion within her. She felt her senses extend, like a plane breaking through the veil of clouds above it...

A lion prowling the halls, gleaming gold. A burst of sparks flickering on the end of its tail. A growl- no, not quite, just a rumble, a come-here sort of vocalization. Figures, many figures, first wandering and then sprinting.

Familiar golden light filled the sarcophagus, flooding her senses. Then came another growl - thick and harsh and rocky, a jackhammer into her skull.

"Katherine!"

All she could manage was a sort of wheeze, cringing as she was doused in blinding light. All she could see were silhouettes above her, hazy and looming.

Lean arms grabbed her tight and heaved her out of the box. Fresh air flooded her lungs, and Katherine coughed and gasped until her ribs ached. Her throat tasted of iron and dust. The tile floor was cold beneath her, and quickly became smeared with blood from the rough scrapes all down her legs.

"Oh, my love..." Ahk murmured, taking her hands and running his fingertips featherlight over the many scrapes he found there. Katherine blinked at him, fighting to let her eyes adjust to the new light around her. His face was bruised, like he'd come from a fight, and he was missing his cape and crown. His knuckles were split, the cuts welling with crimson.

"Who..." That was all she could manage. Her voice came out as a harsh croak, and she tasted blood.

"Some sort of intruder. Perhaps looking to loot us for valuables." A voice answered from high above her. Teddy. She hadn't even noticed him there. The edges of her vision were still faintly fuzzy, and for a moment she wondered if she'd pass out. The sensation bloomed and waned, impossible to predict.

"We've taken care of it," Ahk promised, and she was reminded again of his bruised knuckles. Yet his hands were gentle as he checked her over, gracing along the cuts and bruises. "I'm so, so sorry, my dear. I should have gotten there sooner."

"Not... your fault." she gasped, taking in another shuddering breath. It helped clear her head a little. Katherine found herself staring at her hands, caked in half-dried blood. Some of it was hers. Some was her attacker's. She remembered the feeling of digging her nails in, feeling them flinch but still not let go. She hated feeling so helpless, especially in a place that had become such a home to her.

Ahk's careful fingers cupped her face, lifting her chin until she was forced to meet his eyes. That helped too. It was easier not to see the wounds. Already she felt a little less shaky.

"Larry's grabbing the first-aid kit. Just wait here a minute." he told her, sliding a little closer as he did. He'd been hesitant at first, she could sense it, not wanting to crowd her after she'd just been so enclosed. She knew he struggled with the same claustrophobia. Now she understood it all too well. Her bloodied fingers fumbled for him, and he clasped his hands around her own.

"I'm alright..." Katherine croaked, finally managing to catch her breath. She cleared her throat, wincing at the fresh pain. "I'm alright."

[solis-somnium]

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hi hello yes your dearest dreamer lotte here !! welcome to my yume side blog :]

my current biggest comfort characters are rutile and chloe from mahoyaku and abigail from stardew valley

you can also find me on twitter, toyhouse, and my main blog

i do my best to curate my socmed experience so i mute tags and block users freely for my comfort 🙇‍♀️

✼ •• ┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈ •• ✼

main f/os

mahoutsukai no yakusoku

rutile flores & chloe collins

stardew valley

abigail

path to nowhere

chelsea

garofano

wuthering waves

yinlin

changli

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tags for navigation

# cobalt blue - yume and oc rambles

# bright lime green - answered asks

# lilac skies - art

# rose-stained views - lovemail / gushing

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[thecoolblackwaves]

@welcomingdisaster shared a snippet of their AMAZING sounding fic for M&M week, so I've invited myself to share one as well. I've been having a blast with this one!

In the end, after seven hundred years, or so he had been told later on, he drifted right into the halls of Mandos. Still a feeble cloud of dust, the Vala Nȧmo gathered him into his cupped hands and brought him to a round room with an endless sky above it. Galaxies stretched beyond view, stars exploded and formed, rain clouds pelted down hot tears of sorrow and relief. The floor was a puddle of water, not reflecting the sky, but descending into the depths of the ground, a forever deep well of swirling cobalt and turquoise. Small cones of salt and glowing crystals spiraled into massive columns that held up the open ceiling. A blue flame burned as hot as any fire Maedhros had ever felt, unbothered by the rain and the ocean it rested upon. He was laid with care into the flames, fuel for the eternal fire, until not even his cloud of ashes remained in existence. Lord Nȧmo left the room, and yet he continued to burn. He had no hroä and no feä, no thoughts or memories or pleas to cry, and yet he continued to burn. The fire flared, the hot rain fell, the skies exploded into a rainbow of colors, and he burned.

I barely know anyone so I won't tag anyone, but fellow writers feel free to share as well! Everyone is doing such a wonderful job this week (and always) and it's making me so happy reading everyone's works!

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Vale Undecim

Doctor Who » Eleven x Amy

Title: Vale Undecim

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Doctor Who (Masterlist)

Relationship: The Eleventh Doctor x Amelia Pond

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Convinced all hope is lost and that he's about to die for good this time, the Doctor is visited by the memory of Amelia Pond, who gives him the strength to keep going.

"You owe it to yourself to live, Raggedy Man," she says, flashing him a magnificent smile. "You don't have to die here. Trenzalore doesn't have the right to stake claim on your grave. No single place in the universe does. There's nothing to fear anymore, because you are going to survive this. Time can be rewritten." The Doctor gives her a weak smile, surrendering to that familiar old twist of pain that means every cell in his body is splitting open and reforming into something new…into someone new…and the last thing he remembers before the unendurable agony submerges him into unconsciousness is the soft press of Amelia's lips against his forehead.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

The Doctor crouches in front of an old, marbled tombstone, his charcoal tweed jacket and button-down waistcoat in tatters, bearing burn marks from his final battle, leather boots embellished with graveyard dirt as his heels dig into the muddy mountain under which he is meant to be buried. A wintry mix of rain and hail falls from the skies of Trenzalore with a violent force, each drop diving into his skin like the tip of a needle, his hair adorned in a scattered crown of ice. 

Slowly, carefully, he extends a trembling hand and traces the chiseled lettering of the gravestone with his fingertips, dips his thumbnail into the crevice of the second O until it hurts and he is forced to pull back. A deadly poison swims through his veins, weaving its way into his hearts, and although he cannot yet feel it take effect, the Doctor instinctively presses a hand to his chest, clutches at his failing hearts as if to tear them out, to save himself the agony of waiting for the pain to begin, for he knows that Death would relish in his suffering, in a slow and steady torture, would chew his body to bits before finally swallowing him whole. 

It's an honorable death. It's one he believes that he deserves, after everything he's done, after all the pain and suffering he's caused. And yet still, the Doctor doesn't want to go.

"Not here…not like this," he says, his breath coming out in ragged waves, fingertips digging into the fissures of his tombstone to keep himself steady as he wrenches himself upright and turns his back on the muddy battlefield.

The Doctor trudges across the deserted wasteland, past never-ending rows of unmarked and prodigal graves alike, and all but stumbles into the warm, inviting console room of the TARDIS, managing only a few weak steps before he collapses against the curved, circular wall near the miniature staircase. The TARDIS whirrs to life at the return of its pilot, dimming the lights to a soft glow and casting the room in shadowed hues of cobalt and cerulean.

"Thanks, dear," the Doctor chuckles, resting his hand against the smooth metal wall of the console as he slides to the floor, devoid of the strength to keep himself upright anymore.

"I know I've always asked far too much of you…never truly appreciated you the way that I should, but…could you do just one more thing for me?" he asks of the darkened room, forcing a smile that's two parts fondness and one part agony. "I'm dying, love, and this time…I'm afraid I won't be coming back. Could you…could you please lull me to sleep?"

The Doctor shifts, grimaces as he forces his body back into a sitting position.

"I need to see her…one last time. I don't care if it isn't real," he breathes.

As if on cue, the lights overhead fade until he's cloaked in darkness, and all of the noise is whisked out of the room, replaced with a deafening silence and the turquoise glow of the time rotor against a pitch black backdrop. The Doctor counts to eleven before the room springs back to life, the corners of his lips dragging up into a genuine smile as he stares at the tall, gangly figure standing before him, ginger curls cascading down her shoulders in rivulets.

"Hello, Raggedy Man," she says, lips curving into a brilliant smile. The Doctor chokes on a gasp, on delighted laughter, his breath caught at the back of his throat at the mere sight of her, hearts a tangled mess of finite beats, thrumming in his chest like the wings of a hummingbird. 

After all this time, after all of the distance he'd put between himself and his past, she's still capable of doing this to him, of making him feel this way, this shameful combination of elation and wonder and fear and pure affection…and it isn't even her, not really…but it's as good as he's ever going to get, and better than anything he had ever hoped for. After all, who better to guide him through his death than the girl who waited? She was the first face that this face ever saw…and now she'll be his last.

A radiating, all-encompassing stab of pain shudders across his entire body for a split-second, and the Doctor winces, clutching at his chest. In an instant, Amelia Pond is kneeling on the floor beside him, one arm laced underneath his neck, gently cradling his head in the palm of her hand, the other wrapped around his torso, her scarlet-painted fingernails lightly digging into his skin. The Doctor slumps further onto her lap, curls into her familiar, comforting embrace, and smiles up at her like an absolute idiot, earning a bittersweet chuckle for his troubles. 

Amy sniffles, wiping away a stray tear as it slides down the pale, freckled bridge of her nose. The Doctor sighs, tensed muscles uncoiling at her touch, and busies himself with counting them, (though he'd already memorized the number well over a hundred years ago) connecting the constellations that they form with the scattered moles and freckles that adorn her cheeks and chin. He'd never realized how far gone he truly was until now. Amelia Pond truly is seared onto his hearts.

"Hang in there, Raggedy Man," she whispers. "I've got you."

"I know," he says. "The TARDIS…she knew I'd want to see you again. Clever old girl, she always knows exactly what I need."

"I'm right here," she assures him, weaving her fingertips through the tendrils of his hair, and smoothing them back and out of his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm dying, Amelia," he murmurs, wincing again as the pain winds its way up his left arm, paralyzing him for a few frightening moments. The pain of dying is different from the pain of regeneration…it's slower, less gentle, and a little more careless, just as he thought it would be. The Doctor's eyes lock onto Amy's, burning every detail of her expression into his memory as he pours everything he couldn't ever and wouldn't ever tell her into that stare…everything he'd been too stubbornly, foolishly fearful to say, and hopes like hell that she understands.

"I know," she says, breath catching in her throat as she holds back a sob. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he whispers, tracing the curves of her cheek with his thumb and forefinger. "I've had a long old life, out there among the stars. I've seen and done more in one lifetime than most have in a million. I've done a lot of good, I suppose….but I've also caused a lot of pain and suffering, more…more than I would care to admit, and that's…why this is justified."

Amy's hold on him intensifies and her lips twist into a reproachful scowl.

"Your death is never going to be justified, Doctor," she says, her tone shifting from concerned and sympathetic to stern and disapproving. 

"You are better than this, worth more than this. I could understand, maybe, if you actually wanted to die…you're well within your rights to want that kind of peace and closure after such a difficult and lonely life, but I know that, somewhere deep down inside of you, you don't really want to go…and you know that there is no reason that you should have to. The laws of regeneration can be unraveled and rewritten, just as time can. If there was ever a way to get around that rule, I know you, out of everyone, could figure it out. You owe it to yourself to try, to keep traveling, to keep having adventures, to keep running like mad from monsters and purging the universe of its villains. You owe it to the universe, to every person and creature and planet you've ever rescued, so that no matter how hopeless their situation might seem, no matter how much peril they're in, they know that you exist, and are coming to save them. You owe it to your future companions, to keep meeting seemingly ordinary people, showing them the universe and inspiring them to discover their full potential, to become something bigger and better than they ever thought they could be. You need them, just as I needed you."

Amy pauses, casts her eyes downward for a moment and gasps, sending the Doctor into a brief state of panic. He raises an eyebrow in question, and tries to argue, his words coming out in a flurry of chaotic, unintelligible mumbling, but Amy presses a finger to his lips to silence him. Slowly, delicately, she curls her fingers into the palm of his hand, and raises it so that he can see the brilliant, golden glow radiating from the surface of his skin. 

"You owe it to yourself to live, Raggedy Man," she says, flashing him a magnificent smile. "You don't have to die here. Trenzalore doesn't have the right to stake claim on your grave. No single place in the universe does. There's nothing to fear anymore, because you are going to survive this. Time can be rewritten."

The Doctor gives her a weak smile, surrendering to that familiar old twist of pain that means every cell in his body is splitting open and reforming into something new…into someone new…and the last thing he remembers before the unendurable agony submerges him into unconsciousness is the soft press of Amelia's lips against his forehead.

• • •

Several hours later, the Doctor wakes in a daze, clutching the side of his head with a pair of older, slightly more worn and wrinkled hands. He takes a moment to examine them, to rub them along the length of his brand new face, to take in the details first-hand (oh dear god, his sense of humor is still dead awful…and now he's devolved to using puns) and hope that nothing went horribly wrong. Smaller forehead, less of a chin…well, that's a good sign.

"I'm alive?" he asks, noting how different his voice sounds. Stronger, deeper…a bit older and more confident, like it used to be. He thinks he quite likes the change.

"Sure are…if a bit disheveled and unkempt," Clara muses, traipsing out from behind the TARDIS console and sporting a cheeky grin.

"Now, I know this might be a bit of a shock for you—" he starts, but Clara cuts him off with a knowing smile.

"It's fine, you warned me that this might happen one day, so at least I was prepared for it…still a bit weird, though," she says, giving him a once over.

"My voice, it's…not quite the same," he observes.

"No, not quite as whingy as it used to be," Clara chuckles. The Doctor puffs out his lips in an indignant pout, and Clara proceeds to laugh.

"That's slightly less adorable now," she notes, and then adds, "and actually, a bit more menacing…so you've got that whole Oncoming Storm business sorted." 

"Well, good. Menacing is good, I suppose. How's the face?" he asks, preparing for the worst. Clara purses her lips, circles him once to get the full view.

"It's certainly different…but a good different, I'd say," she decides.

"Am I ginger?" he asks, hopeful.

"No, you've actually gone a bit gray."

"Damn," he glowers. "Ah well, could've been worse, I suppose."

"It's not bad…it's just going to take a little while to get used to it," Clara says, moving in closer now that she's sure it's really him. Her smile falters a bit, and her expression shifts to one of concern.

"I thought I'd lost you for a moment there," she says, frowning slightly.

"I thought I'd lost me, too," he answers honestly. "But I survived…we survived yet another mad adventure, and you know what? I think the cure to all of our problems lies in having another one. What do you say? Do you still want to travel with me, now that I've got a different face?"

Clara's lips curve into a brilliant smile, and she nearly tips the Doctor over as she throws her arms around his shoulders, and pulls him into a tight hug.

"Of course I do, you silly old man," she teases. "Where to, next?"

The Doctor plugs in a set of coordinates and pulls the nearest lever, quirking an eyebrow and fixing Clara with a devilish grin as he answers her query.

"We're going to find Gallifrey."

[lucent-nargacuga]

Celesta Knight

Main tag

Additional info tag

Toyhou.se

Drawing guide

Full title: Dame Celesta Knight of Glitra, Paladin

Other titles: Cobalt Comet, Roaring Comet, Winter Star, Angel of Life, Angel of Death, Glutton of the Skies, Sky-Blue Glow Atop the Mountain

Nicknames: Celesta, Cel, Celester, Gorby

True name: Ciela

Orientation and pronouns: demiromantic asexual lesbian (she/her)

Celesta Knight is a fat pseudopuff who bears silver scales, sky-blue eyes with sharp red pupils, a powerful tail, sharp talons and distinctive organic jet-like wings (which she exhales from, as they are connected to her lungs). Her feet, talons, tail spines and blush markings are black. Celesta Knight is one of the largest members of her species, standing more than twice as tall as the average pseudopuff.

All of Celesta Knight's armour is made from the same dull light grey metal, which is only slightly lighter than the colour of her scales. The visor of her mask is distinctly heart-shaped, and has five spikes at the top, with the central spike being larger than the other four, giving her mask a somewhat birdlike appearance. Her pauldrons are slightly flat and segmented, and her sabatons are fairly standard in design, except for their lack of a heel. Like every other knight from her home galaxy, Celesta Knight wears black gloves.

Celesta Knight's weapon of choice is the glaive and her element is Life. She cannot use any magical abilities with the exception of flight due to the properties of her extremely rare element, and prefers melee combat as a result.

Celesta Knight originates from a faraway galaxy known as Conquest Galaxy, and owns (but does not pilot) a large intergalactic spaceship designed for exploration and speed known as the Astral Wings. She is one of the few surviving heroes (all of whom were awarded the title Paladin) who saved Conquest Galaxy from a terrifying threat known as Haba Maal.

Celesta Knight's best friend is Arcta Knight, one of the aforementioned Paladins and presumed dead. Her second-closest friend is Casey, who (as far as they're both aware) is the only other Paladin who is still alive.

In her home galaxy, Celesta Knight is considered a living legend and even has her own holiday, Winter Star's Day. (This holiday is observed on the 21st of December, the same date as her birthday.) She is widely regarded as the "paragon of valour", although her alleged fearlessness is actually a myth.

Celesta Knight is a kind soul, preferring to make friends instead of enemies. She tries to be as polite as possible (except, of course, when there’s food involved), usually having the mannerisms of the well-trained knight that she is, and she is also quite humorous at times; she’s not afraid to crack a joke or two if it feels right. Her jolliness makes her a terrific friend.

She is far less friendly towards strangers who encounter her when she spends time alone in order to hunt, although it's not uncommon for a nonaggressive encounter to become a friendly one. She tends to be much more wary in these situations, as she often finds herself being hunted by trophy hunters, bounty hunters, poachers, the occasional local authorities, and others.

Celesta Knight isn't afraid to show her vicious and brutal side if an encounter becomes aggressive or dangerous, or if she wants a particularly persistent person to leave her alone. Due to her sheer strength, many aggressors flee when she fights back.

Being raised in the wild, she has animalistic tendencies. This includes a strong instinct to hunt. She's an incredibly skilled hunter, preferring fish over anything else, and dominates the food chain on nearly every planet she visits. She is quite the glutton; her appetite has caused several species of fish to go extinct on occasion.

Celesta Knight has mild, lingering depression. She deals with it well, but she hasn't completely moved on from the loss of her best friend.

Celesta Knight, just like every other pseudopuff in Conquest Galaxy, was raised in the wild. She met Arcta Knight shortly after hatching, and the two became very close friends and depended on each other for survival in the harsh environment of Glitra, the planet they called home for all of their early lives.

When Celesta Knight and Arcta Knight were approaching adolescence, the Conquestian military offered to take them in and train them to become fierce warriors. Both accepted, and after roughly twenty thousand years of training, they were knighted together.

Five thousand years later, a terrifying threat emerged. Haba Maal, an otherworldy dragon, escaped into Conquest Galaxy from a black hole and came close to destroying everything. However, Celesta Knight, Arcta Knight, Casey, Misty and a fifth warrior confronted Haba Maal and after a fierce battle managed to drive it away back into the black hole from whence it came. The five heroes all earned the title of Paladin for this heroic feat. Despite not being the leader of her group, Celesta Knight earned most (if not all) of the credit for saving the galaxy. She was given the largest and most technologically advanced spaceship to use for exploration purposes, known as the Astral Wings.

Only a few days after repelling Haba Maal, Arcta Knight was overtaken by a strange force and attacked and killed Misty and the fifth Paladin, forcing Casey and Celesta Knight to banish him to a faraway land. Celesta Knight did not handle the loss of her best friend very well and had to be hospitalized for eleven years.

She recently took a young pseudopuff named Tintreach in. Tintreach became Celesta Knight's apprentice, but Celesta Knight recognizes that she’s not quite fit for such a responsibility (especially since Tintreach is far more energetic than Celesta Knight is), so Casey and the crew aboard the Astral Wings have agreed to do much of the work of raising Tintreach for her.

Currently, Celesta Knight is retired from the Conquestian military, although she’s still affiliated with it. Thus, she has decided to explore as much of the universe as she can, whether this be via the Astral Wings or independent planet-hopping.

Recently, a particular planet has attracted her attention...

Celesta Knight is based on Valstrax from the Monster Hunter series. Each of Celesta Knight's forms, Azure Glow and Azure Glow Soul, are based on Valstrax's Crimson Glow and Risen Crimson Glow forms respectively.

[catastrophicideass]

Feysand 9 for the prompt list (#5)? I love your writing 💕 💗

a/n: big apologies for how long this took to post but i hope you like it!

“You really thought I was dead?”

It all happened so quickly. Between the space of one heartbeat and the next.

Ba-dum. The sword in her hand sliced across the throat of an Autumn Court soldier, one of the last ones still loyal to Beron.

Ba-dum. Silence. Sudden and still as death, the bond went silent.

Not quiet as it did when Rhys' mental shields grew so impenetrable that even she could not enter. Not soft like when he was reeling with rage and did not want her to know the depth of his anger. Just...silence.

Rhys?

Feyre couldn't get a breath down. Moments ago, exhaustion had been pounding at her lungs, forcing down pants of air. Now it all seemed so small, so dark, and she couldn't get air in -

Not a glimmer along the obsidian bridge in their minds.

RHYS?

Feyre was vaguely aware of another soldier rushing towards her, blade aimed at her throat.

RHYS.

A flash of red light. The glint of steel.

Feyre saw all of it but didn't, too deep in herself, crawling along the pathways of her mind, trying to reach towards the steady, ever-present blackness.

Her hands curled around mist and ashes.

RHYSAND, WHERE ARE YOU?

Hands gripped her face, leather scraping against her cheeks. Warm brown eyes, flared wide with panic looked her up and down, checking for injuries, before meeting her own. Cassian.

"What's wrong?" he asked, cool and steady. The complete opposite of the rushing eddies that drained the blood from her face. And a second later, when he realised that her paleness wasn't from an injury she sustained, but rather, was bearing one of his -

"What's wrong with Rhys?"

"Cass, I can't - I don't know where he is," she gasped over her panicked breath. She didn't even look at him, scanning the skies above them, impossibly waiting to see Illyrian wings that she knew every vein and dip of. "He's not answering and I can't feel him and I don't know where he is."

RHYS, WHERE ARE YOU?

Cassian cursed. But then he straightened, every inch the Commander of the Night Court as he surveyed the field in front of them. Feyre left him to do that as she changed her eyes into a hawk's, sharpened gaze scanning, heartbeat ratcheting up with every second that she didn't see him.

"Cass," Feyre's voice broke, almost like it was shattered from how much she was screaming into the void in her head. "He's not...he can't be, right?"

Cassian's mouth tightened, and Feyre looked away before his empty assurances carved out another hole in her.

But then he gripped her arm, sudden and tight. "Feyre, look."

And there, her hawk eyes flashed as they took in the cobalt blue flashes in the distance, quick and slightly shifting like it was moving -

Azriel.

Without a word, Feyre abandoned the hawk eyes and grew Illyrian wings, the panic churning in her gut sharpening her focus. She didn't falter as she launched herself, Cass a wingbeat behind her, and flew.

She didn't let herself cry, didn't let tears blur her vision as she searched, looked around her roiling fear.

There.

Crouched behind an outcropping of rocks. Az had Truth-Teller out, shadows swirling around him, obscuring everything around him.

Cassian and Feyre surged for them, her wings tucked in a near free-fall. And when Az saw those two figures hurtling toward him, he pulled back his shadows.

Bloodied and pale, manacles still around his hands and legs but - there, the rise and fall of his chest, shuttered and shallow but alive. Rhys.

Feyre landed in the ground so hard that it cracked but she didn't care, not as she sprinted for Rhys, wings gone with half a thought.

She sobbed through her teeth as she saw him, saw the puncture wounds in his ribs, leaking with green poison. Faebane.

And those manacles, with their blue glow...

His magic was stifled. The same Faebane and chains that Hybern once used against him.

Azriel was talking to Cassian, how his shadows had spotted Rhys being taken down by some of Beron's son's in a last-ditch attempt to keep their father on the throne. Az had flown there to help him and managed to get him out but not before they got chains on him. The sons were no longer alive.

Feyre was no longer listening, not at the sight of her husband, her mate in front of her.

"Hello, Feyre Darling," Rhys managed to smile, even through bloodied lips.

Her hands trembled with the effort of restraining herself from throwing her arms around him, but with the leaking wounds and the chains, she didn't want to make things worse.

But she couldn't stop herself from raising those still shaking fingers to his face, brushing his hair back.

Rhys' violent eyes tracked it, the silver lining her eyes, the locked muscles of her body as if it was still trapped in that adrenaline rushed state.

"I couldn't feel you down the bond," Feyre whispered, "And I thought something had happened, that -"

She couldn't breathe around the word.

"You really thought I was dead?" Rhys asked. Had the audacity to ask.

"Yes, you idiot," Feyre hissed, panic easing with every moment she touched his skin, saw his attempts to lift its weight from her body.

"Even on my deathbed, you would call me such things?" Rhys smirked before his mouth twisted in a wince when Feyre smacked his arm.

"If I weren't so scared of you dying, I'd kill you myself," she said. Her heart had finally calmed enough for her to think over its pounding.

"Cruel, beautiful thing."

Azriel coughed behind them, the reminder to hurry entirely unsubtle.

Feyre reached for a blade strapped along her thigh and sliced her forearm. Offered it to him.

And as her healing magic wended its way through his body, stitching together ripped muscle and skin, Feyre reached for that kernel of light and extended a tendril towards the manacles. It resisted, pushing back, but she gritted her teeth, bending the locks to her will.

Until they snapped open.

It was like a tsunami, glorious and overwhelming, the force of him returning to her.

Ba-dum. Cobwebs and emptiness, the calm before the storm.

The chains slipped off his hands and legs.

Ba-dum. The wave crested, the ancient, curling blackness of him crashing into her, every drop melding their obsidian bridge together, the mating bond flowing wonderful and free between them.

A velvet tipped talon scratched down her mental shields, slow and soft and caressing.

She opened it. For him, she always would.

Thank you, Feyre Darling.

I love you, Rhys.

His hand brushed against hers, finally sitting up as those hideous wounds staunched. The shields Cassian and Azriel had around them let up.

As they readied to fly back, fly home, Feyre brushed her hand against his shields.

Rhys?

Yes?

If you ever do that again, I'll dump you in the Sidra myself.

tags!

@morganofthewildfire

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

[honorisen]

just  a  fun  little  character  game.   fill  in  the  below  categories  with  3 - 6  things  that  your character  can be identified by .  repost  &  tag away !   PLEASE  REPOST,  DO  NOT REBLOG.

EMOTIONS  /  FEELINGS .

◈ Ambition, hope, and determination. ◈ Loyalty and friendship. ◈ Hard work and honesty. ◈ Loss, betrayal, and independence. 

COLORS .

◈ sky blue ◈ cobalt ◈ white ◈ black and darker grays ◈ aquamarine

SCENTS .

◈ Sandalwood; an outdoors-like earthy ‘fresh’ scent. ◈ Lilies and slight sweet floral undertones. ◈ Smoke and gunmetal. 

OBJECTS .

◈ feathers. ◈ swords, blades, and armor. ◈ steel-toed boots. ◈ military-style dog tags. ◈ sunflowers.

BODY  LANGUAGE .

◈ Bright smiles and warm expressions. ◈ Eagar and bright eyes. ◈ Confused head tilts and self conscious scratches to the back of his head. ◈ ‘puppy-like’ body language: innocent, open, and fun-loving.

AESTHETICS.

◈ Bright blue skies, lazy clouds, and fair weather.  ◈ Open spaces and the secluded back country. ◈ Hazy green-blues and dark grays; blue and green neon. ◈ cityscapes, especially at night. 

SONGS.

◈ The Price of Freedom. ◈ Waiting on a War. ◈ Freedom Child. 

Tagged by: @piersings! <3 Tagging: whoever feels up for this because this was actually fun!

[jils-things]

here's my art fight intro!! very excited and ready ... see you by july 1st!

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

finally fixed ski’s ref for the art fight event :]] i love my funky guy sm!! cobalt is next!

edited: fixed minor details!

[grimmichi-ao3-feed]

[New AO3 Fic!] Candle Flames Whisper of the Moon's Song

by DominikMacabre

Cobalt eyes searched the empty streets below him, goldenrod lamplight illuminating the streets like a festival of loquacious lightning bugs, the ochre and aureolin luminescence almost dazzling beneath the dreary skies of the darkened day. Under the warm whispers of butterscotch brightness the sign of the Kurosaki clinic shone like a beacon of subdued shades of prussian and pewter, while the hues emanating from the second floor windows were a dazzling dance of dandelion lights, a familiar head of fomenting merigold fire resting on the pane of his bedroom’s sole window as he stared almost straight through the clouds in the crowded sky and searched for the magnificence of millions of shimmering stars, snuffed supernovas sleeping in the sapphire sky.

Words: 4691, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Bleach

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Kurosaki Ichigo, Mentions of Bleach Ensemble

Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Ichigo is Moping, Grimmjow is a Curious Cat, Two Dinguses in Love, OG Grimmichi Secret Santa 2021

Read it now on AO3!

[thebaillieroyals]

Questions and Answers about your OC

from the perspective of your OC (if you want). Do this as many times are you would like to and answer as many as you would like!

So I just made this because I felt like it because I have story posts for like the next month and wanted something to do.

Tagged by @the-royals-ts4

A seeing as Oliver

1) What is your favorite sport?

I quite enjoy soccer. Favorite sport(s) to play are polo, and skiing(prior to my accident)

2) What is your favorite color?

My favorite color is cobalt blue

3) What is your favorite movie?

“The Adventures of Spaceship Simulation”

4) Taken? Single?

Taken, very happily

5) What would be your perfect day?

A perfect day for me, would be out at the mountains or the lake with my family going fishing or out at the ranch teaching my daughter how to ride a horse

6) Are you a night owl or an early bird?

Early bird

7) Do you think you're smart?

I like to think I’m pretty clever

10) How do you like to be comforted when you are sad?

Well historically I like to be left alone, but that has lead to trouble. I’ve been wanting to let those I love in, and actual have a conversation

11) where do you want to be in 5 years time?

Mentally healed, maybe another one or two kiddos running a round this place!!

12) Do you have any regrets?

Many….

13) Who are/is your best friend(s)?

My best mate Casey

14) what did you dream about last night?

We don’t need to talk about that

15) Who in your family are you closest to?

It was my sister Marisol, but I’m definitely very close to my mother.

16) What is one thing people don't know about you?

I hate peas*laughs*

17) Best present ever given to you?

My daughter (even if it was an actual present)

18) What is your favorite food?

Trout Meunière

19) Earliest childhood memory?

I remember when my parents brought baby Marisol home,I was about three!

20) Do you have a crush?

Well of course! My wife!

21) If you could live in a different period, which one would it be?

Oh, hmmm. Victorian era perhaps?

22) Any nicknames?

Ollie, Sarg, and Baillie

23) Introvert or Extrovert?

Extrovert

24) Favourite book?

“Crisis Barn” by Jim Scuttleson

25) Hobby?

fishing, and riding. I do enjoy the piano as well though I’m a little rusty

26) Beach or pool?

Beach

27) First kiss?

That’s actually kinda funny, because I was 6, and this beautiful red headed girl kissed me on the cheek, and went on her way. Wouldn’t see her again for another 12 years, and wouldn’t you know I married her!

28) Favourite subject

History

29) Age

Nearly 26

30) Full name

HM Crown Prince of Cedoria, Oliver Ivan Joseph Baillie, the Duke of Eynsworth

31) Pets?

We have a German Shepard, he’s my ESA. His name is Apollo

32) Age (if they have one)?

He is 1 years old

33) Fave song?

I don’t think I have one, but my favorite genre of music is classic rock

34) Where do you live?

I live Eynsworth a small town outside of Riverview

35) What/who do you miss?

I really miss my sister

36) Which school(s) do/did you go to?

I attended Cushing academy for primary school, and St Anne’s for secondary.

37) Favorite food

Wasn’t this asked already*laughs*

38) Tattoo?

No

39) Done anything illegal?

Pass

40) Fav TV show?

I don’t watch enough television

41) Do you know any celebrities?

Too many to list

42) Dreams/wishes?

Right now I’m just trying to take things day to day, I hope in can find some inner peace with in myself

43) Are you very competitive?

Depends

44) Greatest gift (could be a physical gift or a spiritual gift)?

My family

45) Greatest accomplishment?

Again my family

46) If you were stuck on a desert island, who would you be stuck with?

Probably my wife; I certainly would hope because I’d miss her cooking

47) Zodiac sign

Virgo

48) Where were you born?

(Formally) The Royal Hayward Hospital (now royal Windenburg) in Winden City, Windenburg

49) Sexuality?

hetero

50) What color are your eyes?

Blue

51) What color is your hair?

Medium brown

52) Do you want/ have kids?

I have a daughter, and I’d love to have more!

53) when is your birthday?

21st, September

54) Current mood?

Okay

55) Do you send goodnight or good morning texts to people?

No I’m not great with that

56) What do you want to be when you grow up/ what is your occupation?

Well I was born in line of succession so… but I knew from a young age I wanted to join the Royal army. I guess if I wasn’t the prince I would have made a FT career of that.

57) How long do you sleep for?

On a good night 3 hours. I don’t… I have a hard time sleeping

58) How long does it take you to get up in the morning?

Not long, I’m an early riser

59) How long does it take you to get ready?

For a normal everyday,maybe 30 minutes

60) Meyer Briggs personality type?

ENFJ-T

Tag: anyone you want to tag!

@tempestreachroyals @evandroyals

[windup-dragoon]

Star shower

|| FFXIV write - 2020

|| Prompt #25 - Wish

|| Modern AU - Heart Eater AU

|| wol x Hien

|| 1,713 words

|| References -  Devour 

|| In which a kitsune day dreams and wishes on falling stars

It’s the smell of the trees that bring her back. Longing for the innocence of days since passed. Laughter that fills her ears like music, children at the park playing beneath a glittering afternoon sun. 

She remembers their faces, the tiny little humans who shyly left treats at her shrine, wishing and praying for a game of tag with her. Clean mountain air would fill her lungs as she chased them into the woods, the symphony of giggles as she caught them one by one. Together they ran beneath skies of cerulean blue, so much movement, dancing, sprinting, jumping. Her paws would ache the day after, but she adored every moment of it. With only one human child left to find she hurried through the darkening woods, her nose to the fresh indentations of footprints in the dirt. It was growing late and their mothers had a tendency to worry. 

The trail laid before her had grown worrisome as she ventured further. Erratic, staggered; each footfall heavier than the last. The shadows of the forest leave her feeling unsettled, fur and tails bristling. Even the air grew stagnant and putrid, it makes her nose burn and red eyes water. What was once a thriving, lush forestscape is now skeletal trees, barren of life. Each stride grows heavier, a painful slog to move forward against the aura of slime. But her heart quickens at the sight of him. 

A little human boy, plump cheeks stained scarlet in tears as he cried out for his mother. She hurried to his side, her wet nose touching at his hand until he takes notice of her. At once he slumps beside her and buried his face against her silken fur. Words fail him, lost between choked sobs and plea to head back home, to the world that is familiar to him. Although small herself in her aspect form, she insists on carrying the boy home upon her shoulders. 

But he is reluctant to move. Or rather, incapable of doing so. 

It takes a moment, the darkness of the night and the haze of rotted aura making it difficult for even her eyes, but she spies it now as the boy gestures to his legs. Webbing as thick as sludge held fast. Upon another look around she begins to realize why there’s a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

A cut of rock protruding from the forest floor, covered in a carpet of thick, soggy moss. She and the boy were huddled before a shadowy entrance to what she could only imagine to be a shallow cave or hole in the rock. There are creatures in this world who love such dwellings. Those who relish the dark of night and lure prey close with honey sweet words. 

She doesn’t wait to see who’s doorstep it is that they tread upon. Instead she turns to the webbing that ensnares the child and with a single huff, the threads are alight in violet and cobalt flames. The rock face comes to life as thousands upon thousands of spiders scatter to escape the encroaching fire. The moment he is free from his tethers they make their escape back to the world of sunshine and warmth. 

But she never forgets the scream that echoes behind.

- - - 

“Kiri? Is something amiss?” 

“My eye...” 

Sunlight sparkles through the breaks in the tree branches overhead, curtains of light dancing across her face as the afternoon breeze drifts lazily along. Together they sit at her shrine, delighting in snacks left by thankful parents and even more children than before. The elderly man beside her, a traveling spiritual who often came to visit her, regarded her with bright blue eyes. 

Slowly she turned, letting him see her affliction. She had been irritated by her left eye ever since returning the lost boy home from the woods. Even now she struggled to open that particular eye. It felt as if something was holding it shut yet she felt nothing every time she swiped the back of her hand across her face. 

But the man, leaning in to investigate, uttered a gasp and reeled back. “Oh no...” 

Her ears lowered flat against moon touched hair. “What?” She could hear the raised pitch in her own voice, feel the sudden drumming of her heart as worry painted the mans face. 

With a shaking, wrinkled hand, he swept across her cheek as if brushing aside stray hair. Murmured words fell from his lips, unfamiliar to her as they were cited.

To her relief he had seemingly cured her; her eye opening as if nothing had ever bothered her in the first place. 

To her dismay, however, her stomach sank at the sight of a cobweb tangled at his fingertips.

“You’ve been cursed...”

- - - 

Flames tower her, engulf and swallow her figure entirely. In the dark of night the cerulean fires burn dangerously bright. They burn and eat away at her shrine, at the little saplings planted along the path, devouring the trees that separate her from the main house. Distantly she can hear them shouting at her, angry and frightened cries that echo behind her own howls of agony. Blood runs in rivulets down her freckled cheek, a pain torments her left side. 

Her left eye. Plucked from the socket by that wretched creature. 

‘As retribution,’ The spider had sang out, admiring her new found treasure like a crystal held between spindly fingers. 

And now that same woman watched on as her victim suffered, a smile on her pretty, delicate features. Her poisonous words had been effective in denouncing the fox. Every one of them, pulled along by a thread only the Jorōgumo could so lovingly create. 

Thrash and flail, howl and cry. It was all she could do, so blinded and enraged with pain and disbelief. It hurt. Everything hurt. Watching the people she had been so desperate to protect turn on her. They screamed now of sealing her, fearful of her wrath. 

But despite it all, even as her flames spread like wildfire and took the forest she called home, swallowing houses and people like tinder; despite the heat of the flames that burned his skin, one man stepped forward. 

With a smile, the elderly man came forward. 

“I don’t want to go away! I don’t want to leave!” Cried the fox, shuddering with both fear and pain alike. One eye producing tears while the other dripped with scarlet. 

“I cannot stop them...” The man raised his hands to his face. Already she could smell the burning of his flesh and gagged. “But I promise to you, it will not be for all eternity. You’ll see the sun and stars again.” 

“But they’ll... They will always hate me...” 

“Surely there will come a Rijin with a heart that will forgive you. You’ll grow stronger and overcome this curse...” As he spoke, the flames threatening to consume his very voice, the man clawed at his own left eye. His fingernails dirty with blood and soot, his face smeared in ash. 

Yet he continued to smile as he held out his final offering to the guardian fox.

- - - 

“Kiri?” 

His voice, subtle and gentle at her side, wakens her. Mismatched eyes slide open, met with a midnight sky and a moon hanging overhead where an afternoon sun had settled the last time she had remembered. 

“You’ve been out for a while now...” 

“Mmm... Tired...” 

Kiri sat up at long last and stifled a yawn. 

Days in which Hien wasn’t pouring over homework or giving her lectures about modern society, they frequented a nearby park. Only a short jog from his towering apartment building that, if one were to squint hard enough could still spy in the distance, but an escape regardless. All these advances over the years had left her brain muddled and confused. How strange to consider a world that continues to thrive, with or without you in it. 

“We can head back, if you want.” Hien offered, a smile painted on his lips. He couldn’t hide the concern that shaded his eyes however. 

The fox, with all her tails twitching and fluttering behind her, snorted at the suggestion. “Hells no! You said you’d never seen a star shower before. We’re gunna wait right here until that changes, got it?” 

Hien chuckled, airy and soft. “We’ve been out here for hours...Aren’t you hungry?” 

“We. Are. Waitin’.” She commanded with an upturned nose. 

The young man leaned close, his shoulder bumping hers as he made an obvious attempt to look at her. “You’re always hungry though.” 

She turned toward him at this statement, his face so very near to her own. His warm breath settled at her neck, the scent of him filling her senses; a mixture of forest and soap. But it wasn’t the closeness that immobilized her so abruptly, though it did encourage a blossom of color just along the crest of her cheekbones. 

Rather, it was his smile. The way he simply regarded her, his earthy golden eyes holding hers. How did he do it? How could he look at her so thoughtfully? As if galaxies existed in her miscolored eyes that only he could see. Even on those evenings that she demanded his attention, craved it and childishly bothered him for; he still looked at her with bright eyes and that smile. The one so full of warmth and tenderness. 

“Hey, is that the meteor shower?” 

Shaken back to reality, Kiri lifted her eyes. Streaking across the velvet blue night sky, glittering like jewels as they fell, was in fact the star shower she had been determined to show Hien. 

Hien’s jaw fell open with awe, his eyes practically glowing with wonder and amazement. “This is amazing...” He murmured. 

But where he found only joy and excitement for the moment, Kiri’s ears lowered as did her eyes. She drew her legs against her chest, resting her chin on the tops of her knees as she watched him. With every amused chuckle of his, every curious thought muttered aloud, and every little hushed gasp as the shower continued, she felt knives in her heart, her stomach sinking fast. 

She wished, oh how she wished... 

That she had never met Hien. 

[tcheschirewrites]

4, 5, 15 & 20 for the author ask :)

Ooh, thanks for the ask! I think this is from the right ask meme, it’s the most recent one I posted - if you were referring to a different one, let me know!

4. What fandom’s/ship’s fan fiction do you read the most?

I actually don’t read that much fic, tbvh, I’m more likely to write - but I am enjoying basking in the indulgence of the resurgence of You fics, especially for BNHA. I’ll veer into other fandoms if I get a hankering.

5. What’s a crackship you love?

I basically exclusively enjoy rarepairs. lol It’s a real rare thing for me to enjoy a canon pairing, and even if I like it, chances are I probably like them paired off with someone else more.

15. Post the last line you wrote without context.

“All right.” Shirokatsu smiled. “Kelp.”

20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love!

Ahhhhhhh, I keep meaning to pick up doing Spotlight Saturdays like I used to. I’ll share a couple faves here:

Currently, I’m big on the BNHA circuit (like I mentioned), and though I haven’t gotten too super deep into the fandom (aside of planning my own WIPs), I’ve enjoyed every single work that @hawnks has put out. They can also be found on Ao3 here.

I had a period a few months back where I went through a huge Knives Out and Ready or Not phase, by which I mean I would literally watch both movies multiple times a day and I went through most of the fics available on Ao3. There are so many very long and very well done ones from both fandoms, but my favorites from that time are Knives In by anomalation (Marta/Ransom) and who’s gonna save us now (when the ashes hit the ground) by chancellor_valdez (Grace/Daniel).

I dug back into the Inuyasha fandom to get some motivation to write a fic for a friend recently, which led me to read Howl by yumi michiyo and Cobalt Skies and Too Blue Eyes by YFate on ff.net. Both Sango, the first with Kouga and the second with Bankotsu. (I have a disdain for Miroku, sorry not sorry.)

Speaking of old faves on ff.net, Coffee Girl by Peacewish is a cute ass Silentshipping coffee shop fic that I loved the hell out of forever ago and I revisited when I got back into fandom. It still holds up.

And to wrap it up with another YGO offering, I will once again mention that my absolute favorite Malik is written by @mymisguidedfairytale in their Retrograde series.

(Fanfic Asks)