#I had a lot of fun thinking on the prompts

[wisyhana]

I was thinking on a way to share my thoughts on 5ds without ranting too much about it, but also thinking on a way to use the prompts for other yugioh shows, so here's my attempt number 1:

1. Favorite character over all.

Carly Nagisa. Want me a girlfriend like her.

2. Favorite male character.

Jack Atlas and Bruno. I really wanted to see them interacting more, they're pretty funny.

3. Favorite female character.

CARLY NAGISA OF COURSE.

4. The character you dislike the most.

Crow, but his deck is pretty I guess.

5. A character that looked annoying at first but turned out to be likeable.

Jaeger lol! I like the monkey sounds he makes.

6. Which character looked promising but didn't make it through?

Izayoi Aki 😢 she was the shit and they should have appreciated her more.

7. In your opinion, does the protagonist hold the show?

Objectively he does, Yusei is decent as character himself but it's a little too much on how he has to handle EVERYTHING. But that's the curse of the shonen protagonist I guess.

8. Favorite ship.

Scoopshipping, Omenshipping and Toolshipping.

9. Duelist/deck you felt more interesting.

Aki's and Carly's. Aki's strategy were so fun and interesting to watch.

10. The duel you had more fun watching.

Jack vs Carly for sure, the Fortune Ladies ready to kick Jack's ass and Jack confession were brilliant.

11. Favorite monster card.

Silly boi Dark Resonator.

12. Favorite dragon card.

My ass to Red Nova Dragon.

13. 5ds only. Favorite D-Wheel design.

Wheel of Fortune baby.

14. Favorite arc.

Dark Signer FOR SURE.

15. Least favorite arc.

Grand Prix can kiss my ass.

16. Favorite scene.

sobs profusely

17. Favorite character arc.

I'll say Jack but only to the Dark Signer arc.

18. A character that definitely needed their own arc.

Despite being the protagonist you don't see a lot of development on Yusei. He has a deep burden and there is absolute zero work on that.

19. A character that didn't need an episode about themselves.

Did we really need to see the backstory of Jaeger, the team Taiyou and Ragnarok?

20. From 1 to 10, what score do you give to the show over all?

siiiighh a 6.

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

request: can i pretty please request a drabble where gen has a sibling and that said sibling and hoshina are dating? even better if gen's sibling is an officer/troop leader in the first division and partakes in the rivalry between the third and first division but outside of everyone's view— gen's sibling and hoshina are terribly lovey dovey!

warnings: reader wears short shorts in a scene

wc: 1200

This was not something that started today. Rather, it had been this way for as long as anyone could remember.

From the moment you had joined the 1st Division, you had always been bickering with Hoshina— just like your brother. It was plain as day you were none other than the younger sibling of Narumi Gen. Although you lacked the power and passion for fame that Gen had, you weren't any less competitive than him.

However, unlike your brother, you were better at neutralizing smaller size Kaiju than him— naturally making you more competitive with Hoshina. While you were incredible at what you did, you seemed to fall just a step behind of Hoshina most of the time. You were insanely good, but Hoshina was just a little better. You had beaten him just once in the neutralization test of smaller sized kaiju, and you just couldn't seem to do it again.

This was well known among most of the first and third division, and they did enjoy your playful banter that arose even in the toughest of times. It wasn't always easy to keep the mood bright when things got difficult, but the two of you would never fail to do so. They hoped this would never change and your rivalry would never fade.

However, there were things that had changed that no one really knew of. The two of you had started dating a year ago, and you were madly in love. It was your little secret. Well, your little secret that Gen accidentally found out about.

Neither of you had told Gen about this and quite frankly, the two of you were planning to keep hiding this from him if it were possible. It wasn't new that he despised Hoshina quite a bit, and he was extremely weary of the people you meet, especially men. Naturally, to find out that Hoshina was your boyfriend wouldn't exactly be celebratory news for him. Not to mention that Gen was loud when he had complaints. You knew he absolutely would not shut up about it. So it really wasn't the plan when he had found out.

You were in your room lazing around in a baggy shirt, specifically Hoshina’s shirt, which covered your short-shorts while Hoshina was in your kitchen cooking something quick. Until you got a shared place, this happened rather often. It was either him in your room or yourself in his room. However, a lot of your stuff had found a place in his unit and vice versa, so it was very easy for you to visit each other whenever. A little too easy, perhaps.

“Hoshina, you don't have to make anything fancy,” you said. “Anything’s fine. You had a long day too.”

“I'm literally making us ochazuke. It couldn't be easier—” he was starting to say when the door swung open.

“Guess who's here!” Gen had yelled while walking into your place.

Immediately you looked back at Hoshina in the kitchen and gave up. “Oh gosh,” you said.

“What did I say about ringing the doorbell?!” you yelled back at him.

“And what did I say about locking the door?!” he exclaimed back.

“I thought I did—” you started to yell, but then you remembered you had forgotten to lock the door after Hoshina came in, hands full of groceries to stuff your empty fridge. You were a little too thrilled to see him. “My bad.”

You knew Hoshina was going to scold you later— he's been telling you to be more careful about locking up properly.

Gen saw the extra pair of shoes by your doorway and immediately met eyes with Hoshina in your kitchen.

“Why the hell are you here?!” he yelled.

“Oh, can you please be quiet,” you said. “He's visiting.”

“Why, hello! That would be me!” Hoshina said, greeting Gen properly now that it's come down to this.

“Why is he visiting you, in your room, alone, with you dressed like that?” Gen continued to ask. He wasn't understanding nor did it seem like he wanted to.

You let out a sigh, you didn't mean to, but there was no getting around this one. “What's wrong with having my boyfriend in my room,” you said.

“Your boyfriend? Hoshina?” Gen said, horrified. He didn't think matters could get worse, yet here he was. “Why him?”

“Oh, why not him?” you asked. “He's the best I could ever wish for.”

Hoshina didn’t expect that— especially not to your brother, just like that. His eyes widened as his heart tightened. Oh, how he absolutely adored you. You said it so naturally, as if merely stating a fact. To you, that really was all it was though.

Gen had a lot more to say and complain about while staying far too long, long enough to steal some ochazuke for dinner (which he also managed to complain about) before you were finally able to kick him out. Yet, through all of that, Hoshina couldn't be happier to be with you, bickering away as you ate a 5 minute meal at a small make-shift dining table.

As soon as Gen finally left, you spread your arms out in front of you, asking for a hug, which Hoshina promptly returned.

“He's finally gone…” you said, relieved it was finally just the two of you.

“Not sure he liked me much,” Hoshina said with a smile and you rolled your eyes.

“Like we didn't already know,” you said. “I really didn't plan for him to barge in like that.”

“I have to admit, I do enjoy watching you two bicker though. My brother and I are not nearly as close,” Hoshina said and you rolled your eyes again when he said ‘close’. You wouldn't ever explain your relationship as ‘close’. “However, you ought to make a habit of locking your door. What if that wasn't your brother and I wasn't here.”

“Yes,” you said, quietly but clearly— but avoiding eye contact. “I will.”

“Thank you for saying that earlier,” he said, turning your head to face his. “To this day I don't know what made you choose me.”

You immediately realized what he was talking about.

“Oh, please,” you said. “Be serious. I am the luckiest person alive by your side.”

He kissed you and you kissed back, but he truly wouldn't let you go. You started hitting his arm, hoping he would let go so you could catch your breath. After what felt like the longest moments ever he finally let you pull back, letting you breathe.

“Soushirou, I can't breathe!” you said, trying to sound irritated, but your tone lacked the edge you were hoping for.

He completely ignored you, however, and pulled you back into a tight embrace.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he said. “Just you and me.”

“In this small place?” you said, laughing a little.

“Absolutely wherever,” he said. “As long as you're here with me.”

[leslietheluna]

🌟 SigAmiWeek 2024 day 7!! Free day!🌟

A family photo! (been working on a SigAmi fan kid design for a little bit now and thought this might be a cute way to reveal her, here she is, Amor!!)

[Here's the sketch + as well as some Amor doodles!]

[wigglebox]

Suptober - Day 10 || Close Shave [inspiration] [x]

[crunchchute]

a ref sheet for nothing in particular

[anawrites3]

the result of my smutwriting for @zeroducks-2  💕

Jaytim drunk sex

Jason took in the sight in front of him, desperate to carve it into his mind so he'll remember it even after waking up tomorrow. He admired Tim's face flushed from the alcohol, his lips swollen and wet from kissing, those beautiful eyes glazed over from the pleasure and looking back at him with adoration. Then he slowly lowered his gaze, staring at Tim's neck full of marks he sucked onto the skin there, at the perk nipples he wanted to play with again, at the hard muscles of his stomach that were tense with effort it took for him to move up and down Jason's cock.

”You're so beautiful” he panted out and groaned when Tim tightened around him in answer. ”Fuck, Timmy-”

”Feel good?” Tim asked breathlessly, pleasure dripping off his voice like a honey. His lips curled into a little playful smirk as he moved his hips in a sinful way that made Jason moan loudly. If he was less drunk, he'd probably worry about someone hearing them, but right now he didn't give a single fuck.

Nothing else mattered, just Tim and the way he jumped on his dick like a porn star.

”Yes yes- you're doing such a great job, baby.”

Jason couldn't reach far with the way Tim had his arms trapped against the mattress - half to support his weight and half just to show Jason who really was in control right now - but it was still enough for him to reach towards the strong tights that squeezed his waist. They were adorned with teeth marks and hickeys he left there just a few moments ago, and Jason couldn't stop himself from tracing them over with his fingers, stroking and digging his nails into the skin to leave yet another reminder of this night, of himself.

He wanted to remember all of this, he wanted Tim to remember and he intended to leave as many marks as it was possible to ensure that their bodies won't be able to forget, even if they did after sobering up.

”Call me that again, Jason.” Tim demanded, leaning down enough for their lips to brush.

Now it was Jason's turn to smirk. ”Oh, did you like that, baby? Like being called pretty names?”

Tim whined against his lips, before finally pressing them together in a proper kiss. Jason didn't hesitate to slip his tongue inside, eager to taste him again, to feel the bitter hint of beer that started it all.

”Again.”

”Baby.” Jason breathed out without stopping the kiss. ”So beautiful, Timmy.”

Done with just laying down, he grabbed more firmly at Tim's tights and thrusted up, making Tim moan so loudly it sounded almost like a scream. Tim's nails dug into Jason's skin hard enough to draw blood but neither of them paid it any attention. If anything, Jason was just happy with yet another reminder of Tim on his body.

”Jason- fuck, Jay-”

”Such a good boy, taking all of me like that” Jason praised. He met every roll of Tim’s hips with his owns and made him moan in that breathy way that drove Jason absolutely fucking crazy. ”I can't believe we never done this before, fuck, I'm never letting you go, baby.”

Maybe when they'll wake up in the morning they'll regret it. Maybe they'll consider this whole night a mistake, the biggest one they've ever made. Maybe they'll be so ashamed of what happened that they won't be able to look each other in the eye. Maybe.

Right now, nothing else mattered more.

[pinkrangersarah]

Hey! I was wondering if you'd answer requests for Red Shoes and the seven dwarves.

I'd actually like to request Headcanons for the Fearless 7 watching a Horror Movie or going through a Haunted House! 🫶

oooOOOHH 👀👀👀 yes, hello!! i would be happy to!! please, feel free to send in whatever you'd like :) i will do my best to answer ^^

merlin

like i mentioned in a previous post, he is actually a huge baby. he won't ever flat out say he doesn't want to watch a scary movie or go through a haunted house, but will 100% try to divert attention away or try to lean the vote toward something else. it never works.

gotta put on that tough guy act, though. he can't let arthur hold it over him, so he tries to crack jokes and insists it isn't that scary.

has absolutely accidentally zapped a few haunted house actors. they've actually been banned from a few because of it (not that merlin is really complaining, even if he genuinely feels bad for attacking people).

he's never run out of a haunted house, but he is always the first to scream. hans thought it was a girl in trouble once.

he somehow always ends up under a blanket or behind the couch during scary movies, but will claim he was looking for something he dropped.

arthur

second biggest baby, but much better at hiding it. will actually vouch for watching a scary movie or going through a haunted house while simultaneously dying inside.

has almost hit a haunted house actor, but merlin usually gets scared first and accidentally does it first. will tease merlin about it despite also being scared.

slasher movies are probably the least scary for him because in those situations he feels the protagonist should just punch them. "just punch'em in his stupid hockey mask face, goddam".

has jumped into jack's lap at least twice.

jack

biggest. asshole. ever. to watch scary movies or go through a haunted house with. especially if he has the cape with him. he doesn't stoop to juvenile levels often, but he just can't help himself in these very specific situations. merlin and arthur tend to be his victims as they're the easiest to scare.

jack himself, however, is incredibly difficult to scare (which merlin hates). he's never been much of a screamer. in fact, he grew up with his mother telling him ghost stories, which he'd always enjoyed.

other genres don't really do it for him, though. just ghost stuff.

doesn't really care for haunted houses since he doesn't get scared. he only goes because (a) the other guys want to and (b) he can at least find joy in tormenting merlin and arthur.

hans

like jack, he doesn't get scared much, but when he does it's more like a thrill. almost as if he likes being scared. he'll let out a scream and laugh about it almost immediately after.

is the best at telling scary stories, and he's the only one who even comes close to making jack a little unnerved. snow didn't believe any of them until she actually heard one of hans's stories.

cannot sit through gore fests, though. he will vomit on the poor bastard next to him.

pino, noki, & kio

honestly a little annoying to sit through a scary movie with because they will spend the entire time trying to pick apart with logic. ghost stories in particular they will try to explain away, despite it being a movie. jack think it's a coping mechanism, because they are not immune to classic jump scares (though maybe they would be if they were actually paying attention).

similarly with haunted houses, they can only get into the vibe for so long until they find something they must investigate.

oh, terrifying pumpkin head contraption, how does it work 👀👀👀

could not tell a scary story to save their lives. too many contradictory ideas and eventually lose track of what they were talking about all together.

[blu3haw4]

When I'm drunk, I get the munchies so how about "what do you want to eat? Bend over"

Oh anon thank you! That was so quick sorry im so slow. I wrote the beginning of this the same night, a bit yesterday while hang over, and just now finished it 😬

I must admit i had to think it throught (let's say translations weren't working in my brain) but here it goes. This is maybe a part of my stripper/CEO wip:

It has been a long day. For the both of them, in very different ways for each, but oh so endlessly long.

There was only one thing in Lexa's mind when she walked into her girlfriend's apartment. -A place so much smaller than her penthouse, but so much more comfortable. A place that felt much more like home than the place she called that for years. - Clarke was in the kitchen wearing only an oversized t-shirt while picking items here and there, moving around the kitchen, deciding then and there what to do.

Lexa had a key, she's had it for over four month now and she loved to use it. She loved the feeling of coming home to her girlfriend. Specially when said girlfriend insist on trying to 'help out' on stressful days full of meeting and sending thousands of provakative pictures, just to then pretend as though those hadn't been sent. Continuing on their previous conversation like nothing happened.

Lexa's underwear has been ruined since noon.

It was currently 9pm.

"Hey baby! Welcome home!"

There was a 'how was your day' hidden in there, but Lexa could sense Clarke bitting her lip. She knew what she had done.

Lexa didn't respond, she just walked into the living room, methodically putting away her suitcase and different bags of folders she brought from work. She took long enough for Clarke to walk out of the kitchen looking for her.

"Long day, beautiful?" Clarke asked Lexa, moving her hands up to her shoulder and turning her around for a greeting kiss.

Those hands moved further back to play with the baby hairs in the back of Lexa's neck as Clarke pulled them closer in the kiss.

Lexa didn't resist. How could she?

Lexa chased -she always did- and pulled at Clarke's hips to drag her closer even if she hadn't moved.

Her hands found their usual spot holding Clarke's hips and she let herself get lost in the kiss. If there was any doubt of whether her intentions for the night were a shared thought, they got erased when a skilled tongue expertly licked its way into her mouth, colliding and dancing with her own for only a second before Clarke retrieved entirely from the kiss.

"What do you want to eat?" Clarke asked inocent, and Lexa actually wondered if the questions was genuine or flirty.

She didn't really care either way. There was still only one thing in her mind. Only one right answer.

So looking down, Lexa grabbed the edge of Clarke's oversized t-shirt and pulled slightly up, just to check that there was no other barrier she had to take care of.

She licked her lips at the sight and with a breathy exhale she looked up again.

"Bend over"

She ordered, looking at Clarke's deep blue eyes and watched them get swallowed by her dilating pupils.

There was a second of shared breath, no hesitation, only pure anticipation. They moved together, turning in sync while Clarke turned on her own too. Lexa's hand were still over Clarke's hips when she leaned over the side of the couch followed by Lexa's chasing lips.

With her elbows firmly on the cushion and Lexa leaning over her back, kissing her shoulder while pulling her shirt up for a better view, Clarke pushed herself back into her girlfriend's body.

Making her way down through Clarke's back with her lips, Lexa thought of a million things she could say, prize Clarke for her obedience and slide into a little role play, scowl at her about the hundreds of nudes she sent Lexa just that day, profess her love for Clarke and verbally worship her. In the end, she knew her lips would do better not talking.

Once she was kneeled down behind Clarke, worship her ass was a must; she kissed and caressed lovingly and then bit and nibble softly, and then not so softly, teasing, testing how far Clarke would let her go. It was a particularly hard, open-mouthed bite that did it.

"Lex" was let out surprisingly calm and collected from above "no marks" All Lexa did was kiss it better, before moving on to her main objective.

♾️

Hour later laying in bed, laying her head on Clarke's chest Lexa looked down at her heavily marked thighs. There were bruises all from the top of her thigh down and around the inner side. She wasn't so sure but she could see one on her calf too.

"We should go on vacation again" Lexa mused, snuggling into Clarke's neck "Somewhere far, far away. For much longer than last time... y'know, so we give time for your hickeys to fade"

An amused exhale was Clarke's answer.

"I'm serious. We could go to Europe... spend a month or something"

"Bell would fire me if I'm gone for that long"

"That'd be a very unwise business decision. He'd lose 30% of his clientele"

"You really just took my word for it?"

"And Raven's. And Octavia's too, she knows about business. I also witnessed it"

Silence spread after Clarke simply hummed. After a couple minutes, the blonde tasked "You ruin all my plans!"

Offended, slightly amused and a little shocked, Lexa lifted her head to gap at Clarke "I was gonna make you an amazing dinner! And you distracted me"

"I distracted you? You asked me what i wanted to eat! Anything that happened after i was done was purely your doing" Lexa deflected, laying her head down again.

"Uhm, sorry? Was i supposed to... what? Just walk back into the kitchen while you literally started undressing in front of me?"

"I was merely getting comfortable" Lexa shrugged with a smirk clear in her tone. Before Clarke could complain, she lifted her head again "Besides, none of this would've happened if you hadn't sent a million pictures while i was working"

Clarke gasped this time, as Lexa relaxed once more "you ungrateful brat! People pay to see what you complain of having access to"

"Nono, i ain't complaining, I'm merely stating arguments to declare my innocence against your accusations"

Clarke laughed out loud and pulled Lexa up for a kiss "i was gonna make you spaghetti with tomato sauce" she grumbled after.

"We can order it" Lexa whispered, still high from the kiss. Clarke laughed again.

"God! Do you do anything by yourself? No wonder your kitchen is spotless, when was the last time you cooked something?"

"My kitchen is spotless because I have a cleaning team going in twice a week. My room and office i do all by myself, for the record"

Leaning into another kiss Clarke chuckled "no wonder they're so dusty"

Lexa gasped into the kiss, Clarke holding her close "your house is dusty" she grumbled, making Clarke laugh again.

"It is not! I just don't have a cleaning team coming in twice a week"

The couple laughed, freely and lovingly as they continued kissing. Enveloped in the sent of their love making and the sound of their shared happiness, Lexa thanked every and any divinity for the chance to have it with Clarke.

"I love you"

"I love you too, baby"

"So about our trip to Europe-"

"Lexa!"

[ratsarecute4]

During a particularly hot Summer, Stu takes Tatum, Randy, and Sidney to his parents' beach house to relax and cool off. Unbeknownst to them, someone already lives in the cove by the house. Someone who gains an interest in Stu, and a dislike of his friends.

𓇢𓆸

Written for Day 1 of Stuilly Week 2024 organised by @kikiteaa

[echo-does-art]

I've been waiting since the beginning of the month to do this prompt :)

[bottomschlatt]

so. Scrolling the dash prompted me to evaluate who the “medic” of the hermitcraft server is. And the answer i have concluded at is i think it depends on what issue you’re having.

If you’re looking for ONE solid all-rounder ‘medic’/doctor, I’d probably go with Cub. Not because of any reference specifically, i just think he’s probably the most knowledgeable in the human body/medicine. He’s a scientist too, thats close enough 👍 Doc would probably be a solid enough substitute in a pinch, but he’d be relying pretty heavily on info/help from the hivemind to do the more intensive stuff.

Doc is the guy people go to for biomechanical issues (ppl like Iskall, Ren, etc). Basically really advanced prosthetics. Doc’s half biomechanical himself, so he’s truly the expert in both knowledge and experience.

Cleo is the hermit you wanna see if you need stitches. She has the steadiest hand, desensitized to the whole ‘stabbing through skin’ thing after doing it to herself so many times repairing her body.

Some hermits work as like a more general urgent care level— not emergency level, but something you need medical attention for. Joe, Impulse, Skizz, and Scar are all officially first aid and CPR certified (Joe because it’s part of his admin duties, Impulse and Skizz because they’re both Arizona Dads™ and wanna be prepped, and Scar because of a hermit-voted mandate for his own wellbeing). For people just feeling more generally under the weather, Keralis is more than willing to dote on and care for them until they feel better!

Since they don’t really have a dedicated server infirmary, each hermit has their own medical supply sets in their base— it’s just part of the server expectations — and they also reflect their owners. Pearl’s is VERY well stocked, neat and tidy. Iskall’s is typically about 30% stocked (they’ll restock it later!). Stress only has colorful/fun bandaids in her supplies— coincidentally it’s not uncommon to see Iskall with a pink donut bandaid around his finger or a Scooby Doo bandaid on his leg. He fervently denies that he takes from anyone stash but his own. Grian’s has at least 3 bottles of extra strength excedrin. Skizz’s has an unopened pack of pads in his.

TLDR; if you want a specific “medic”, use cub or doc but in reality it’s a very messy web of ‘well this person is best at THIS part—‘ that they navigate around

[noxachi]

and then he proceeded to win another 500+ games the madman

Technotober Day 1: Win Streak (promptlist by @/JUZA4N on twt)

[humanmorph]

Lye „Lyke“ Lychen as a sacrifical altar (to Aterika’Kaal) (but he's also kind of the sacrifice)

my @secret-samol gift for @bronanlynch! for the Aterika’Kaal/Lyke prompt of „what if things had gone differently and Aterika'Kaal was still with Lyke“.

notes on this under the readmore!

AU

In this scenario Lyke would succeed in getting the heart of the Motherbeast in Episode 47 and while Alaway would notice & probably still call out to Aterika’Kaal the way he presumably did in canon, Lyke would be there and get to make a compelling case to Aterika’Kaal the likes of „If you stay with me I am going to feed you. I’ve taken care of you until now, I’ll keep doing that“ (argument supported by the fact he’s currently holding the heart of an incredibly powerful dead god). Aterika’kaal agrees and they barely escape through the Sanctum of the Stone Chorus portal. I think it's fun if Lyke then stays there after the hour described in the move is over, maybe knowing he can't convince Pickman & the others that what he's done is actually good, and fine, there's not even anything to worry about he has this totally handled, But yeah he then sets out from whereever in Sangfielle Aterika'Kaals domain is (Austin did say it was an actual place somewhere), and the rest of the Blackwick Group is left to wonder what the hell happened since Lyke just vanished! Alaway has possibly fucked off too after losing the heart. And them getting fired, the Carnival of Moted Light etc. would still happen (and I guess Chine would succeed at what they were doing since Lyke isn’t there?) and who knows if they’d take any action in finding Lyke after that! All that aside though, Lyke basically offers himself to feed on (through blood and/or energy) and to sustain that he keeps consuming(not literally eating) powerful objects/artifacts/resources and possibly eventually living things (I’d imagine he'd still take work as a „please deal with this weird shit for us“ person and when he has to kill a cursed beast or whatnot... might aswell feed Aterika'Kaal?) (What also plays into that decision, and is part of Lyke justifying this to himself, is that without him, Aterika’Kaal would become too powerful. So he aims to function as kind of a conduit & control the power intake so to speak. I think this probably doesn’t work for very long.) I think this eventually goes bad for him because it’s super taxing on his body and the whole deal kind of flips with Aterika’Kaal feeding/keeping HIM alive. He starts finding bodies in the domain again (alternatively, Aterika'Kaal gets better at hiding them because it knows Lyke doesn't particulary like it when it does that). Lyke probably gets stronger due to this power/magic wise, but also way more fragile (he's constantly anemic!). („I love you. I want us both to eat well.“ - Christopher Citro) („When I write of hunger I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and it is all one.“ M.K. Fisher) Notes: I put some resources Lyke’s canonically had in-game + some extra stuff in this picture (the arrow is a reference to Marn’s epilogue, the bugs are bugs (with possibly sinister connotations. If you want them to have those, it’s optional) and the fur is from the Ravening Beast). Another detail I came up with I might aswell tell you because otherwise noone might ever know: the ring with the blue stone is a gift from Es. Sketch Notes: 1. Lyke turning his head to kiss a rose / exposing his neck was one of my very first ideas/sketches I made while working on this, and I liked it too much to not include it. 2. This is supposed to be Aterika'Kaal giving Lyke a blood transfusion but it rather looks like it's feeding on him instead...! I like how the relaxed pose turned out. 3. I wanted to draw something smaller in a simpler style to fill the big canvas I was drawing these on (even though now I put them in separate files anyways...). The day I drew this I saw a tweet about a medieval monks sketchbook, so I was still thinking about that. I didn't even plan to color it originally but I ended up getting invested, haha

Inspired mainly by these 3 quotes: „KEITH: I’m a walking- I am a shrine to Aterika’Kaal.“ (Sangfielle 12: The Secret Ledger of Roseroot Hall Pt. 4) „KEITH: There's a version of dealing with Aterika'Kaal that ends with Lyke being satisfied that he rehabilitated a god or at least it looks […] like what he thinks Aterika'Kaal would have been before the YVEs showed up. That's probably his main retirement path, but it also might kill him instead.” (Sangfielle 47: Wax, Iron, and Ichor Pt. 4) „AUSTIN: As you’re fading, the last thing that you do is make this blood sacrifice to Aterika’Kaal. Your own blood.“ (Sangfielle 52: Six Travelers: Lyke)

[dazzelmethat]

Miku from 'Sandplay singing of the dragon' for a challenge.

[nemmet]

🥂 fred

ok so this turning into a full piece was sort of an accident, but the prompt reminded me so much of a fic i wrote last year that i just had to go for it!! 🌹

emoji + character ask game

[perexcri]

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - [byler week - day 4]

title from: fourth of july by fall out boy

dedicated to: the lake i lived next to in rural [STATE REDACTED] for 3/4 of my college years

It’s something that haunts him, of course.

It’s the colorful bursts of light he sees when he blinks too fast, the popping in his ears once the pressure builds up, a cool sluice of water against his ankles, and the slickness of forearms beneath his fingers. It comes to him in waves like the ones that lapped against the shore, cuts into the soles of his feet like the juts of limestone buried beneath the mud, invades his sinuses like the scent of dry, overgrown grass and burnt-orange pine needles blanketing the land.

Summer is usually the time of freedom, when the sun stays out far past when it should have gone to sleep and coaxes people out of their homes and into hazy, smoke-filled nights. The world is burning with color, the earth warm beneath his feet, and the hours trickle away in untamed drops of afternoon showers and the lingering blue wash of dusk. When he was younger, summer seemed the season of possibilities: for adventures, for discoveries, for reading new books and seeing new sights, for slipping from the cloak of shadows the rest of the year seemed draped in to finally embrace the warmth of life reignited in his chest.

Once, it had even felt like the possibility of something more.

Mike’s mouth drops into a scowl as he stares at the face of the lake. The book between his ribs and arm presses into his side just a little harder, his hands are shaking, and even after twelve years, he thought he’d be done with these pitiful twists of hope he feels every summer he returns here. He can make it down the main street of the town without worries, even if he does double-takes at every brunette he sees pass by in his car’s smudged windows, and he can make the winding trail down to the lakeside just fine. He can unlock his family’s summer home and breathe in its scent of musty sheets, stale coffee, and woodsmoke of vacations past. Hell, he can even toss his pile of books onto the kitchen table and listen to it groan under the strain of his literature Ph.D. program’s third year, a further reminder that time has passed and his life, for better or worse, has changed.

He’s always fine until he sees the ever-shifting face of the lake, how it mischievously gleams under both sun and moon. That’s when his heart convulses into these ugly, gut-mashing twists and his body gets forcibly wrenched back in time. 1999 dissolves around him like pixels on the screen of a video game being shut off, and suddenly, 1987 burns against his skin. His parents are in the lakehouse, there’s fireworks popping colors all across the sky, and the boy he’d seen around town the past few summers has his fingers tangled with Mike’s, and he’s tugging him towards the lake, his mouth flush with moonlight as he says, What’s the worst that can happen?

A lot, actually. Sometimes, you turn over a stone and discover something either wonderful or frightening, and it slips from your fingers before you have a chance to decide which one it is. Sometimes, the summer fades into the new school year, and there’s no way to contact the only person you’ve ever felt like this for, and when you come back the next year, he’s nowhere to be seen.

And now, he’s got nothing to show for it but the way his heart twists and turns inside the empty cavity of his chest, and the images that haunt the poetry he submits to the campus literary magazine: lakes frosted with moonlight, summer humidity pressing hot between chests and mouths, fingers curled into the damp fringes of hair, distant sparks of light that could be stars or fireflies, though the narrator is always too preoccupied to tell the difference.

He glowers at the lake and how it sucks all the light from the sun, steals its colors to shade water’s surface instead. The sky is growing dimly bruised with purples and magentas and oranges, the water burns scarlet from the light, and the navy cloth of night is quickly overtaking it all.

The book presses more forcefully into his side; it shakes. He’s twenty-eight, and he should be over this by now, but he can’t help that every time he sees the water, he thinks of how it tasted pressed between their mouths, or how slick it felt against the other boy’s skin, or the way they’d forcefully embraced after clambering back onto the shore, the other boy’s back crinkling into the reedy grasses of the shore, Mike sprawled on top of him, alternating between pressing his ear to the other boy’s warm chest to hear the racing pulse of his heart, or else tilting his head up to admire how the colors of light burst against the other boy’s skin and eyes. They rained on him in showers of colors Mike thinks couldn’t exist except for that summer, and how they shaded every single other moment they spent glued to each other’s sides after that. He’s twenty-eight, and he should be over this by now, but nothing beats the feeling of weightlessness that comes from falling, falling, falling down into love when you’re sixteen.

“This is stupid,” he mutters, which is something he tells himself a lot, but it’s mostly to remind himself that twelve years of a pitiful crush on a boy he knew for one summer are, in fact, a little ridiculous, and he’d been ridiculous to decide to do his summer research at his family’s old lakeside home. He’d been studying the Romantics the past three years, and for some reason, he thought this was his last chance at letting their wayward paths cross once more. At this point, it isn’t even about his own wish fulfillment–he simply needs peace, to press his fingers into the other person’s wrist and know he’s alive so they can say their goodbyes and part in peace.

The water laps against the shore, just a little closer to his battered sneakers.

“Stupid,” he repeats before forcefully tucking a chunk of his hair behind his ears, turning on his heels, and storming back to the comforting recesses of the lake house.

  Summer is the liquidity of time: he passes through the barriers of day and night, today and tomorrow with ease, sleeping at odd hours, poring over dusty volumes of poetry and diaries he’d checked out in haste from his university’s library. There’s more coffee than blood running through his veins, and when he goes outside, it’s only ever to drive into town to buy groceries or refill his car’s tank. He doesn’t look out the back windows at the lake, and he sure as hell doesn’t try to breathe in more of the musk of pine trees than he has to.

He’s safe, cocooned in his family’s old home, huddled under blankets against the frigid wash of AC he keeps steadily pumping through the vents. He hunches at the table, sprawls on the couch, curls up on the bed in languid fits of sleep, and the taste of undercooked pasta or frozen dinners becomes the all-too familiar fuel to his days of research, note-taking, and thesis writing.

When he does pull out his old weathered notebook of poetry, it’s only ever to scratch down a few lines in tired replication of the old greats: John Keats, Lord Byron, Pushkin. He used to go outside for hours and try to capture the endless summer delights in shoddy, amateur lyrics, but he knows better than to let his pens fall into those familiar strokes now, and he’s fine in the dusty corners and wilting walls inside, anyway.

All dependent variables are removed from the equation, and his summer becomes one of controlled focus: he will get this research done, and he will focus on the next stage of his life, and he will not, for any reason whatsoever, follow the pitiful tugs of his heart towards some vain hope that the other boy will remember, that he’ll show up again, that he’ll even want to come back to this lonely corner of the country on some vague inclination that Mike might be here, too.

  Except for one day in early July, when there’s a faint knock at the door that makes his head jerk up from the volume of Coleridge’s poetry he’s been mindlessly thumbing through. It’s as soft as a breeze off the face of the lake, and for a moment, he can almost convince himself he’d only misheard the breath of life around him.

Until there’s another, slightly louder, unmistakable staccato: knock knock knock.

He wrenches open the door and is met with hazel eyes he’d only ever had the courage to admire under the colors of fireworks, moonlight, and the last dying rays of summer sunsets. His hair’s been trimmed from the shaggy bangs he’d once worn, and it’s strange for it to be mid-summer and him to be clad in jeans and not shorts, a collared shirt and not a polo.

The volume of poetry slips out of Mike’s hand and falls, painfully, on the arch of his left foot.

“Is it really you?” he asks through a wince of pain.

Will grins, his face alight. “Yeah, it’s me.” There’s a beat, then, with a quirked eyebrow, he asks, “You remember?”

How could I not? Mike thinks, drinking in the matured features of the boy he only knew for a summer, now grown-up and full and alive.

Once more, summer becomes a time of possibility, and the love kept captive in Mike’s chest feels a little less small and derisive. He feels whole and electric, like he could dissolve into the brief flares of light and color of those fireworks from long ago.

For the first time in twelve years, the world seems blossoming, full of possibility, and when Mike reaches out, he’s greeted by that feeling of life beneath his fingers, a chance to know that this is real.

With a grin, he realizes that the possibilities are endless.

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the lake in question: