#SORRY FOR THE UGLY FONT THOUGH

[iamthatonefangirl]

okay but imagine the winter soldier leaving hickeys and the reader does that thing where you like twirl a whisk on the mark to get it to go like what do u think his reaction would be?

stop I’m actually cackling at this (okay sorry y'all cue me being an idiot again-)

okay but I’m literally already so silly goofy that he’s learned to not question things

jumping around like a dipshit while listening to music that sounds like a fork in a microwave? no questions asked

making weird fucking snorting noises while watching tiktoks? not even gonna bother

randomly speaking in a shitty british accent? nope not happening (don't even get him started on hearing you say "I can't hit my protein" in said accent)

so even though this is a new font of you doing things that confuse the hell out of him, he's not gonna ask, he's just gonna... stare ominously (as he tends to)

"don't look at me like that, this is all your fault," you tell him as you twirl the whisk against your neck. "you're not supposed to be doing this shit where people can see it."

no words, just staring and silently judging

"it's just a trick I saw on tiktok okay? I figured I might as well try it"

more eerie silence

you pull the whisk away from your neck and lean into the mirror to inspect it. "I don't think it's working."

you pull back and try again for another minute

"this shit hurts, you know. beauty is pain, or whatever," you comment, digging the whisk in deeper to see if that'll help

and then he finally decides to do something 🙄

so he walks up behind you and grabs the whisk out of your hand, throwing it behind him

"are you fucking serious?"

"are you implying my marks make you look ugly?" he hisses, bringing his hand to your throat, digging his thumb into the hickey

"you know that's not what I meant, dumbass."

his other hand comes to your waist, pulling you against him

"I'll fucking prove you wrong," he hisses, bringing his mouth to the hickey on your neck and biting on it, already sensitive from the whisk

"goddamnit, James-"

anyways this is literally hilarious anon thank you ily

[ranticore]

happy anniversary STBH!! i bought both books while on a week break and read them both in two days voraciously despite my phone failing to decipher the epub files (squinting at a 200x zoomed pdf is a painful way to read but it was so worth it). i am periodically rotating the characters round my mind like the hypothetical apple number 1. Cain especially has been placed in my little mental cabinet of curiosity that i drop by during quiet hours to think about. love that man. number one cain fan. chewing him like an interesting stick. i love every other character as well though theyre all so fascinating and v human

anyway all this ramble to say i love your works and im patiently waiting for the moth release. ur prose is so lovely and i love love love the way you interpret folklore and mythology and your art

question for the stbh gang: what actually are their daemons? i know felix has estibarith the swan but im so curious as to the rest...

omg noo i'm so sorry the epub didn't work! i know you already suffered through it but for anyone else with this issue, i have a recommendation for google books app (if using android) but even if that doesn't work, you can always contact me and we can make something more readable (like a pdf with big font or something) that fits

i'm so happy that cain resonates with people, that old man is a favourite of mine even if i did forget to change his name from the original placeholder (whoops). he's a lil fucked up now but his story is far from over

as for tha daemons..

Islin: i narrowed it down to two potentials?? That i kind of bounce between. I tend to lean more towards a polled bull than anything else - a same-sex daemon which would be the only one in the cast i think, which i tried to parallel in pern story with him being the only one who doesn't match the canon rules for rider sexuality & dragon colour. but regardless the daemon is called Tarannach and the overall symbolism is a massive powerful dominant animal who is nonetheless "de-fanged" in some way (polled cattle naturally lack horns!) and appears more peaceful as a result. Tarannach is wilful and domineering, disagrees with Islin frequently (before Islin has his spine-growing moments), and unapologetically takes up space. would also be a massive inconvenience in day to day life but that's kind of the point. Before settling as a bull, Tarannach went through phases of wanting to be smaller and smaller.

Bowman has a dog daemon. It just has to be that way, there's no getting around it. I joked around that she would be a poodle but actually I would lean more towards a collie instead, a herding type. Something that looks rough and ready but is actually surprisingly high maintenance. Her name is Nell/Nellie. Her personality is irreverent, never takes anything seriously. She turns into a feral animal during the full moon.

We know Estibariz is a swan but some more about her - she wanted to be a lioness, something big and fierce, and Félix insisted that she would probably end up a serpent or a fox, something with connotations of being a sneaky liar, and he felt that when she did settle, it would be an externalisation of some inner ugliness he never wanted anyone else to see. when she did settle she enjoyed a big I Told You So. When he was taken by Puck and spat out again, she returned as a form-shifting daemon again, and had gained the ability to separate from him and travel long distances. She never shapeshifted willingly though. The first person to touch Estibariz aside from Félix was Bowman. The second person was Helena.

Clarion is the only one whose daemon was actually, for real, a horse. His name was Drey and he was a dapple grey draft breed.

Senca is obviously a witch so also had a daemon who could travel far from her. He was a bird, I thought maybe a nightjar or collared dove. Never got that far in the au so didn't pick a name. We'll just call him Namiliyath

Léa's was a thorny devil

Jean's is a ferret and her name is Missy. It looks like it could potentially be an ermine, a symbol of nobility, but no. It's a common hunting animal, white with black eyes.

Erica's is a magpie

Pascal does not have a daemon. There's something there that looks very swanlike, but it speaks with his voice. In a human au, it's a golden eagle.

I don't think I made anything for other characters, again I never got that far writing it

[inkforhumanhands]

What do you use to make your comic edits? I really like them!! And is there like a process you follow? Like do you storyboard the rough idea first? Sorry if you've answered this somewhere before

Ohhhh man this is going to have to go under a cut due to pictures. Luckily whenever I make an edit I tend to DM my friend process pics while screaming about how horrible they look and how I can't figure out how to fix them. 💀 So some of the record exists!

I use a mix of three different programs. To be honest even though it's free, Photopea.com is my go-to for most functions, especially since they have a large pool of fonts to choose from which means I don't have to go into the font mines and download 500 different ones just to see what's going to look best. I also use Paint Shop Pro, which is the program I learned how to make edits (icons, back in the day) on when I was like 14. I have a newer version now since I finally had to retire the 15-year-old one on my broken laptop, and I still don't really know my way around it that well. It's not the most user-friendly software, but it is a lot better than Photopea at resizing images to make them larger. I also use Clip Studio Paint whenever I need to draw anything for an edit.

When I need resources, I often use dafont.com for fonts. I have a bunch of texture packs from various places on the internet, but my go-to nowadays for new stuff is pexels.com where you can get stuff with a royalty-free license. I also occasionally use my own photos for textures (took a bunch of wall photos in Italy- my dad thought I'd lost my mind). I don't use brushes all that often but there are other free resource spots.

As for process, I usually start with comic panels that I like visually and cut out the characters, then figure out what I want to do with them. For Kill Krew, I knew I wanted to use a bunch of the tiny Foggies, but I didn't know that I wanted to make it a story per se until I finished the first section of the edit where Foggy's holding a bunch of papers and I decided to make it kind of like he was authoring his own memoir. Then I just followed the events in the comic. For my volume 5 edits I did have more of an idea for the story I wanted to tell from the start and looked for comic panels that would fit it. (By the way: never forgiving the volume 5 editors for allowing so many different artists. It pained me to have to use a couple different artists in one edit.)

Anyway though kind of like when I'm writing fic, I just start with pretty much a blank canvas, plop the characters on, and hope they arrange themselves into something that looks cool. This is a very early draft of one of them next to a slightly more advanced draft:

A lot of the work honestly goes into choosing the background and marrying it to other elements such as the text and the cutouts. I use a lot of rectangles for this, as you can see in this Kill Krew one next to a near-final draft below. This is also the phase where elements get resized, whether for story-telling reasons or design reasons.

I also fool around a lot with layers and coloring. An unexpected layering choice can totally make or break an edit. See the original comic coloring (left) versus my coloring change (right):

Or this original panel (left) versus a combination of a picture of a starry sky and a coloring layer (right):

Font is also hugely important to me. I try to find ones that fit thematically AND also look great on the image. Like bad coloring or a bad background, an ugly font can also kill an edit. Choose wisely lmao.

Another thing to watch out for in an edit that's multiple images is to make sure they all look nice together and like they're part of one set. I find this probably the hardest, since different source images (comic panels in this case) often have different coloring requirements, but you want the colors to mesh well between different images. It's tough! And if you make extremely long edits like I do occasionally it's hard to even see what they look like together. Sometimes when I'm looking at them stacked in Photopea it looks like a tiny, tiny photostrip and I have to figure out what's working and what isn't. It's tough out there!

Anyway I think that's all I got! Hope that gave you some insight lol I'm glad I had these process pics because I usually just kind of go into a fugue state while making them and come out covered in blood!

[anewkindofme]

WIP Wednesday

As always, thank you @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad for the tag!

This takes place in "But I'm An Avery". This isn't for the next installment, but for a future one. I put up Mark's POV a week or so back. Here's a look at why Jackson is so upset.

***

The ER is abuzz this afternoon. A bus crash on the I-5 has brought in over 20 patients, each with their own set of medical needs. Already, 2 are in surgery. The nurses found 4 that need a plastics consult. They split the cases between Mark, Jackson and Ben. Jackson takes his clipboard and heads for the curtain.

The man is in his 60s according to the chart. Busted up nose that they just barely managed to get the bleeding to stop. Jackson steps closer, still looking at his clipboard.

“Mr. Sturgess, hello. I’m Dr. Avery. I see here you’re complaining about your nose. Can you tell me what happened?”

A familiar, strained voice echoes through the chaos of the ER around him. “I was standing up to speak with the driver when we were hit by the semi. Got knocked to the floor.”

Jackson walks closer. The man’s nose is a gnarly shade of black and blue. It swells up at least twice it’s normal size. Jackson tenderly touches it and the man grits his teeth.

“I want to call an X-Ray,” he says. “It may take a bit, given all that’s going on. But from the looks of it, you may need surgery.”

“Just great. How long will that keep me out of work for?”

“It’s hard to say. What line of work are you in?”

“Counseling.”

Jackson meets the man’s bright blue eyes. There are some scrapes surrounding them, as well as the rest of his face. In comparison to some of the others he’s seen, the man got off lucky. Jackson tilts his head. Sturgess frowns.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson says. “You just seem so familiar.”

“I do a lot of work with the community,” Sturgess offers. “Perhaps that’s it.”

“Maybe.”

Jackson glances back at the clipboard. Duncan Sturgess. Classified as a caregiver. According to the nurse, he gave that information reluctantly.

His eyes scan down the rest of the man’s body. He wears a pair of torn jeans, with burn marks from skidding across the bus. His shirt is a blue polo with white lettering in the corner.

Seattle Correction Camp

Jackson’s heartbeat picks up. He once wore a similar polo, though his was in white. Campers wore white, counselors in green and the head directors, blue. His itched his collarbone and left a nasty rash behind. Especially when paired with the humiliating signs forced around his neck. The most common one reading “Bedwetter”. It took a full decade before he could wear a polo again.

When he heard “bus crash”, he assumed a public city one or maybe even a Greyhound on a trip.

SCC has their own busses. Jackson still remembers the ugly white paint with the name of the “camp” scrawled across the side in gaudy black font.

The first person he met while approaching the bus had deep blue eyes and a full head of blonde hair.

In 16 years, the hair has thinned out, but the eyes remain.

For a moment, Jackson smells smoke. He feels the hand colliding across his cheek. It takes all he has not to whimper in pain.

You’re at the hospital. You’re safe. You’re not bleeding.

One look into those scary blue eyes undoes every bit of his mantra.

“Dr. Avery?” Duncan’s scratchy voice breaks through. “Are you alright?”

Jackson blinks a couple of times. He tries to regulate his breathing, but can barely remember the steps Mark taught him. Instead, he turns and strides out from behind the curtain without another word. He busies to the first nurse he sees and thrusts the clipboard into her hands.

“Y…you need to get Dr. Sloan o…or Dr. Warren for this.”

He doesn’t wait for her to question why.

***

No pressure open tag to anyone who wants to do this!

[pokemon1oadvanced]

His body stretched. He could feel each muscle pull and every tendon tear apart before being stitched together with his veins. He hadn’t missed the feeling of being ripped through time. He didn’t miss the split second of agony before his body became his once more.

He was breathless.

He gave himself a moment to gather his bearings. Once his vision stopped spinning, and his stomach settled back into place, he stood. His hair swept through the motion, breezing easily back into place. He’d never felt himself in such disarray.

“God’s, I didn’t miss that.” His voice croaked out. His eyes scanned their way across the tarmac, taking in the sights of where he had ended up.

The parking lot he found himself in was littered with jet-ski’s. Loki smiled. Mobius.

He straightened himself out, fixing his coat collar before running a hand through his hair. A glimpse of yellow caught his eye. He watched the monstrosity dance in the wind. Human’s are such odd things to believe this would entice others to their shop’s Loki thought as the balloon man flickered with every fresh breath of air pumped through it.

Loki watched it sceptically for a moment before remembering his mission.

He pulled out his temp-pad before sending a message to O.B. Sylvie will meet Loki soon, help restore Mobius’ memories, and then the gang will just have to return Casey and B-15 before they can save the timeline.

Loki sighed. For the first time in his life, he had a headache.

He made his way over to the dull looking store front. Big blocked letter’s read out overhead; ‘Piranha’s Powersports’. He waited for the door’s to slide open before walking through. He was greeted with a blast of cold air. He sputtered.

The shop was filled head to toe with what Loki assumed was water-based extremities. He didn’t pay much attention to the products. His eyes scanned over them as he looked for the familiar spot of grey. He found him, stood in the back, admiring one of the stores jet-ski’s. Loki smiled softly to himself.

Mobius had always held himself with a sense of calm that the God admired. But he’s never seen him like this. The other was less tense in the way he held his shoulders. Softer in his smile. Loki hesitated.

“Getting cold feet?” Loki jumped at the voice. Sylvie stood, watching the scene Loki was transfixed on with boredom. “Can we get back to saving the timeline or are you not finished moping?”

It was a rhetorical question.

“Maybe we could-” He didn’t want to leave him. He wanted Mobius by his side. He wanted someone to turn to when he didn’t know what else to do. It felt like Mobius had been with him for an eternity, and he wasn’t ready for it to end.

“Better choose quickly cause he’s coming over.” Loki was pulled out of his thoughts as Mobius came to stand before the pair, the smile he wore being the one he always wore for the people who he met in moments of time. It wasn’t genuine. Just for work. Loki had never seen that smile turned towards him.

“Hey tiger, like what you see?” Loki blanched. He had thought of a million different scenarios, countless ways he would start a conversation with the man he knew everything about, the man who knew nothing of him. From the moment he saw the man in his little uniform, the shops logo plastered on the front in an ugly font, he thought of what to say. This was not what he imagined.

“Pardon me?” Loki found his voice, though it was high enough to be mistaken for Sylvie’s. The other God just laughed.

“You were staring at the jet-ski’s so intensely I worried you’d burn this place to the ground.” This smile was genuine. Loki knew that for a fact. He gathered his wits quickly before he spoke.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled sheepishly. “I hadn’t realised I was staring.”

“If it wasn’t for your girlfriend, I would have thought you were looking at me.” Loki blushed.

“Yeah, no.” Sylvie stepped in. “I’m… his sister.” The word felt foreign on her tongue. Both God’s shared a look. Their face’s warped into a mix of disgust and confusion. Sister wasn’t the right word for them Loki thought, but it was the easiest for now.

“Really? I don’t see the resemblance.” Mobius looked between the two. Sylvie couldn’t bite her tongue when she spoke a soft; “you will.”

“Anyway-” Loki turned to Mobius, only to find the man checking him out. Loki felt himself flush.

“Jetski’s.” Mobius cleared his throat. “We were talking about jetski’s.” Sylvie groaned. “You ever wrap your thighs around one of these?”

Loki’s face turned more red.

“I-I’m sorry?” He could barely make out the words. Sylvie was enjoying this. She stayed back and watched as Mobius dragged Loki around, talking him through all the different models they had on floor, sneaking in a comment about how Loki himself could be a model, and other little coy remarks.

Sylvie was torn between loving every second watching Loki’s face become as red as a tomato, and getting frustrated once she remembered what they had to do. The timelines were ending, and Loki and Mobius were off flirting. Well one of them was. The other just stood like a fish out of water, gaping at every word.

“Sylvie, turn him back.” Loki had managed to escape the man when another customer had pulled Mobius aside to ask a question. The God was practically steaming from the heat coming off his face.

“Oh I don’t know,” Sylvie smirked at the other. “I quite like him like this.”

“Sylvie.” Loki’s expression held anger, but it didn’t seem as threatening with a face as red as his.

“Oh all right.” Sylvie was quick to agree, but only because they had a mission.

Mobius came back not long after, apologising for the interruption.

“Don’t worry about it.” Loki couldn’t meet his eye.

“We were actually hoping you could show us that one in the back?” Sylvie pointed to the vehicle wedged in the back corner, out of the public’s eyes. Mobius nodded, before leading the two off.

“This one’s one of our older model’s,” Mobius turned, his words directed at Loki with a wink, “but she can keep up with anything you’ve got.”

“Oh Gods Sylvie please.” Loki turned away, one hand on his hip and the other cradling his heated face. Sylvie just laughed some more before moving over to Mobius.

“Am I coming on too strong?” He asked her in a whispered voice.

“Honestly I don’t think you’re coming on strong enough.” Her hands were cupping his face in seconds, and green started to ghost over his temples. Sylvie’s eyes closed as she felt a tug on the man's memories and pulled. She watched his memories with Loki as they came flooded back. She saw moments between the two. She watched as Mobius’ calm façade broke in front of the God as he admitted to not wanting to know about his life. She watched and understood what Loki had tried to tell her in the pie room. Her heart tugged sadly as she remembered the words she spat at Mobius like venom. She pulled away when there was nothing more to ease free from his mind.

Mobius stood for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

His face turned red as he caught Loki’s eyes, and the two turned away with a furious blush.

“Oh come on. Don’t tell me you're both going to be like this around each other from now on.” She huffed, pulling out her temp-pad.

“Give me that.” Mobius grumbled as he typed away. Loki collected himself with a smirk.

“What’s the matter tiger, pussycat got your tongue?” Mobius shoved Loki away as the God laughed playfully; though the laugh soon turned into a scream when Loki’s body began warping again. The two watched as it shredded itself, and soon Loki was gone.

“Didn’t I fix that?” Mobius asked Sylvie, who only shrugged. The two made to step through the time door, but Sylvie stopped him.

“Sorry, about being…” She didn’t know what to say. She doesn’t really apologise.

“How about we grab a slice of pie and call it even.” Sylvie raised her brow. “Once we finish saving everyone, that is.”

“Or we could take one of those.” Mobius followed to the place her finger pointed.

“Do you think we could get it through the door?” Mobius asked as he looked at the jet-ski with longing.

Sylvie just smiled.

Loki didn’t question why there was a jet-ski in Mobius’ office when he came back to the present, though he was confused to find Mobius and Sylvie enjoying a slice of pie.

If Loki is the only one who has his memories of the TVA and has to collect everyone from their original timelines, please have Mobius unabashedly flirt with Loki as he tries to sell him on jet ski’s.

I want Loki to turn red

[whipbogard]

In an ideal world, the current Batman arc will end up like this 🥲

Just want multiverse Justice Triumvirate working together, please 😭🙏

This was before @two-baes stomped on my hopes and dreams by telling me that Skelly Jim is a hallucination!!! 😭😭😭😭

[bybdolan]

The only way I can explain these album covers is that Bruce wasted all of his album cover sexiness on Born In The U.S.A., Darkness On The Edge... and The River, because these covers are tragic.

[praketos-blog]

wait.. reblog my promo.

[overwatch]

so my first thot on the trailer is that it looks overwatch-y? valorant-y? Animation looks very rubberish and the title cards are SO bad. I'm sorry, but where's the theme? Where's the medieval fantasy design?

Is this the same game that revolutionized videogame design with its little gay tarot card theme?? What's with the sans-serif fonts???

on the he, she, we, they, them, non-binary, vegan vegetarians:

Father! I remember his tits bigger though? He looks unhappy. I can fix that. Let this be the time I can un-do his cuckness with Bianca, Gale and Mystra style

I don't remember her at all I'm so sorry? I think she was at the tavern's door? Like ok I guess. Also tf2 reference --why are you booing me--

So Neve means Snow and she has snow powers idk too on the nose for a Romance language speaker. Her outfit is ugly so I am guessing she is from Orlais. Idk I don't dig a "detective" in fantasy, sounds silly. It worked in BG3 bc the detective is a flying elephant so it's already silly in its own. I bet she's gonna have a french accent and if so, I shall kill her first.

This dude just snaps someone's neck in broad daylight so we know he's very edgy

Are we? I hope not, I hate the veil. I feel this one's borderlands-intro is the silliest and it's where this trailer starts to morph with fortnight-y style too much.

This old man looks proper dapper. Just a fancy old man! (Kimmy Schmidt voice) Bridgerton me breeches! Finally there is a piece of media doing an actual necromancer instead of mummies and vampires. Also this looks like an old OC of mine and it makes me very happy. Also fancy font! I like this one with the greenish necromancy colors.

what did you call him

he looked so hot but then his few seconds go to the griffin baby (pretend there's a princess and the frog 2 hour analysis here) and I guess he's a warden YAWN. I hope they stop making black men boring idk what's with this trope in recent videogames, if you know you know.

Mama, I love Qunari, but this look ain't it... why give them gold highlights when it's obvious they're a cool summer... their skintone goes with silver obviously... I saw in another image they had a jade horn which is SO COOL but again... cool summer palette my dudes...

Thoughts on dragon age veilguard?

[mochikeiji]

Unzip

Request: "For your event can I have my bby, Inumaki Toge (sorry for being so predictable) and prompts 50 and 6 🥺👉👈"

50. "Oh, sorry. You were so cute I had to kiss you"

6. "No, don't cover your smile"

↠ Pairing: Inumaki Toge x F!Reader

↠ Warning: mini make out session in the end, mostly fluffy soft times, italicized fonts are Inumaki's lines through texts

↬ Word Count: 1.3k

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

As much as you find the certain white haired but quiet ball of sunshine, there was one thing that sometimes bothered you. It wasn't major— Inumaki was alright as he is now. If not, perfect you would say. The only thing you don't comprehend is that he kept wearing that long sleeved, collar that reached his mouth. Even you find your annoying teacher was wearing the same thing as your boyfriend after yelling hysterically how he's found his long lost twin while poor Inumaki was dragged out of the blue.

You get it's for hiding the tattoos on the corners of his lips. Maybe there was more to it, but Inumaki wrote it on a paper; a way of communicating, that it wasn't at all that sacred or anything to hide. He just grew fond of hiding his mouth for a long period of time. Though he admits it does kind of make him insecure of the times people saw him in person while walking down the streets with a normal attire. All you could ever have in order to read his emotions were his eyes. There were moments you'd catch a peek of his full features during missions. But it hasn't even reached a minute or so he's already hidden himself like a turtle.

Staring longer at him while laying down on bed bored, it dawned to you how you've never caught on what he'd look like if he smiles underneath that suit he wore. This made you tempted to zip down the little zipper in display, but you know better than to pry in his comfort zone. But oh, can you imagine, just a cute kitten like smile. Or even a pout when he's clinging onto your waist during mornings for more over time cuddles. You needed to see that.

"Hey, Toge."

Fingers tugging down the hem of his suit, Inumaki's attention drifts off of his phone from what Yuta was sending and peered at you, "Shake?" he starts, fiddling with your fingers with his. He does this a lot even in public, so intrigued at how much it has an affect to make his insides all giddy and warm from the playful gesture.

"Can I please see you?"

He snorts a little as he types something on his phone. Lucky you, yours happened to be right next to you. The screen lightening, pinging a notification coming from him,

You already are, you dummy.

Inumaki chuckles a bit when he earned himself a pout and a huff from you. Pinching your cheeks gently in a way of saying sorry and waits for you to explain, "I mean, I want to see you. You know," widening your palm a bit, facing it near your own mouth and began waving up and down at him. "Without the thingy in the way."

He messages again,

Thingy? Really? Aren't you cute.

Sitting up from your position, you waddled closer to his body. Inumaki shifts himself to sit comfortably at the edge of the bed for you to settle yourself on his lap. His hands roamed for a good seconds behind your back, occasionally trying to be sneaky once he's reached a bit lower, but settles nonetheless on your hips.

"I wanna see you smile." while playing with the dangling zipper, "I've never really seen you take this off whenever we're together. Don't get me wrong! It's not ugly! I just, you know."

It startled you when he coos quietly. Squinting his eyes and booping your nose softly. If you weren't mistaken, did he just wiggled himself? He resumes to typing once again something quickly and flashes his screen towards you.

You're just precious.

But I'm not gonna do it.

Kind of bummed from what he said. Then again worried you may have been pushing him on, but then you see his index scroll up from his notepad to reveal the other, large bolded text underneath his last reply,

You do it for me.

"Are you sure? I don't mean to sound pushy."

He types again,

You're not. It's nice to hear that someone can't resist my charms.

Gasping dramatically, you slapped his chest with the back of your hand softly. His shoulders jolting from stifled laughter before grabbing your wrist up to the zipper. It was stupid to have your breath held in. What can you say, it was anticipating really. Giving you a firm nod that it was very much okay for him, you slowly zipped down the collar to unravel half of his face. Your smile was wobbly from failing to hide the embarrassment, more now because he kept arching his brows as if he was teasing you.

When it came to a stop at his chest, your hand automatically reaches out for his jaw. Thumb tracing over the swirly marks now that it was up close and woah, do you want to know if he uses some kind of lip balm or lip gloss. They were so pretty! Probably near as the blubbering blindfolded male.

If you could only see yourself so dazed at him, like any other guy, the corners of his lips rose a tiny bit from all the attention he was gaining from you. He could feel his naked soul burn from the sparkles of admiration through your eyes as you stared at him agape, "You're really handsome."

And like any other guy, to be called handsome hasn't occurred in his book until now. Of course, it's a bit more different if someone you love says it, right? Suddenly feeling quite hot underneath your gaze and comment, his fingers threaded through his bangs to push away from his sweaty forehead. Looking away when he feels the blood in his face circulate to paint his cheeks.

No different than he is, you quickly slapped a palm on your mouth, "I-I mean, you're always handsome! It's just, wow." unable to keep your eyes out of his face, so close you could count the lashes on his eyes, "You're wow. Like, wow. You're with me?"

Couldn't you stop already? It's not often he gets someone praising him. It's always Maki and Yuta that gets the spotlight, occasionally Panda if he's down in the dumps. But couldn't you tell by the way he's suddenly the one who's nervous because of you? It felt too good to hear, he had to gulp down the butterflies that were prying his lips into a large grin. Boy, does he want to hide himself as he lowered his hand from holding his bangs up to cup his mouth. Upon witnessing that, you shake your head with a smile,

"No, don't cover your smile." pinning his hand down, planted on his sides as you leaned closer, "I love your smile."

Nothing but pure sincerity came out from you. What choice does he have to deny you when the reason why he can't even contain himself from smiling was because of you? Shyly tapping on his revealed chest random patterns and scanning each part your eyes could reach, he takes advantage of the closeness you two shared just by the lips. Squeaking between the kisses, his arms circles to your middle to pull you in deeper, your hands acting as a support that held onto his shoulders. Unlike the quick pecks that go by in a flash, he savors this one the most knowing he's got nothing to hide from anything or anyone. No one would've guessed he'd kiss as if it was full of raw, hungry emotions.

Even when you pull away to breathe, he still sneaks more littered kisses on your lips until he was satisfied witha goofy smile on his flushed face. Fumbling to grab his phone open for the prepared text he's put in earlier and pushing it between your faces, "Oh, sorry. You were so cute I had to kiss you."

"You planned this from the start didn't you, you jerk." scoffing playfully to mask your own lovey dovey state from floating to the clouds. He shows you another text briefly before throwing his phone out of the way, resuming back to business in a more intimate position feeling himself become in much need.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

Take less, more kisses, cutie.

[r0b0-writes]

My SCC Headcanons!!

Sweet

Type of dude to have a full-on debate w/ you and even tho he knows he’s wrong, he’s gonna keep arguing until you give up

Loves sci-fi (fan of Star Wars)

Enjoys a nice hot chocolate on cold days

Likes to pull pranks (especially on Cap’n)

Drinks ‘Respect Women’ Juice for breakfast

Gets mad when he's sad and sad when he’s mad

Likes to tackle K_K and Cap’n unexpectedly and start wrestling / “-and he takes down the green one! The crowd is going wild!”

Climbs the counters instead of using a stool to get something

First to get upset about something mundane / “Oh? You think you can do it better? Okay, you pour the milk then!”

Does not binge-watch tv shows, but does binge-watch movies

Could never understand the ‘yanny’ or ‘laurel’ audio thing but said the opposite of what anyone else said cuz it was funny to see their reaction

If he has a nightmare he’ll try to calm himself down then seek someone out to talk to

Night-owl

The most vocal about being protective and will start fights / “What’d you say? Wanna say it louder, huh?!”

Likes being carried around, but would never admit it

A gentleman to strangers / “Oh, ma’am! You dropped this!” , “Let me get the door for you!”

Asshole to his friends or family / “I’ll only open the door if you say ‘please, Sweet, your so cool and I could never be as cool as you are’.”

Goes off on his own a lot / “Space is cool, both personal and outer!”

Likes old retro-cartoons

Cap’n

The type of guy to blast his music in the car at a red light w/ the windows down / “you like it?! It's a cover from my band!”

Could and would never change a tire

He likes to tinker around in the shop and build tiny statues of Sweet and K_K

He started reading because he thought it would impress ladies, but now he's a secret book-nerd

Beatboxes when he's alone / “boots n cats n boots n cats-”

Always be plugging! He talks about the band to anyone who’ll listen

Genuinely a relaxed guy, doesn't like drama or violence

Will use old funny phrases to annoy Sweet / “what’re thoooose?!”

Does not like being carried. Put him down. / “I can walk by myself!”

Terrible liar / “I swear I wasn't doing anything, honest! Not me, no way, I would never, nuh uh--”

Hates being compared to the others

An excellent vocalist! Though he prefers playing drums to anything else

Listens to ABBA / “Super Trooper, lights are gonna blind me-!”

If someone asked him out on a date he’d get super bashful

Morning person, he's the first up and the first to go to sleep / “Having a good bedtime schedule is important!”

Watches action anime’s

The actual most protective, but he's not vocal about it. Talk bad about Sweet or K_K and he gets this knot in his stomach. Makes him feel mad and sick.

You may LOOK at the hat. You do not touch. / “Anybody seen my-- SWEET, get my hat off your head rn or I’ll--”

K_K (short for Cakes)!

Type of dude to dance on a table in a crowded restaurant for $1 and a cornchip

Not as wholesome/UwU as everyone thinks / “I once told this guy to fuck off and he cried?”

Daydreams. A lot. / “Hmm? Oh, sorry, what were you saying?”

Loves the Cars movies, specifically the spy one / “I have a self-insert OC and I even designed some for Sweet and Cap’n, too!”

Doesn't sit in chairs properly / “There's a ‘proper’ way?”

Very handy! Knows his way around a car

Would rather have his speakers blown then get in an argument w/ Sweet or Cap’n / “I don't like it when you guys get like this”

Separation anxiety. Does not like being alone. / “Where are you guys? You know I’m bad at Hide-n-Seek!”

Protective but in a different font. He won't get physical like Cap’n or Sweet. Nah, verbal attacks are where he comes in. / “Your comment was really ugly. Kinda like your face. And your attitude. And your- nevermind, anyways, maybe you should apologize?”

Catnaps every day and night

Loves the bass guitar and singing

Will wipe the floor with you at Guitar Hero

Writes fanfic’s in his head

Street smarts! He always reminds Sweet and Cap’n to look both ways before crossing the road / “Just because you see them doesn't mean they see you”

Would follow TONS of positive mental health accounts on social media (if that's a thing in deltarune)

Doesn't know how old he is / "Everyone says I'm the oldest, but none of us actually know! We should just pick a day..."

Randomly buys gifts for Sweet and Cap'n / "Happy 3rd Saturday of the month! Here's some stuff you didn't ask for!"

One time a Virovirokun asked him "how's the weather up there?" and he teared up / "I wanna be short so bad!"

Will always find a way to make Sweet and Cap'n smile if they're sad

[haik-choo]

what the holidays look like with the haikyuu boys

oikawa.

they look like sandy beaches, late sunsets, and tanned skin. festive red and green lights illuminate the bar you sit at with oikawa, the colors bouncing off his face as he looks at the menu. his skin is warm, heated from the setting sun; his arms and shoulders are tan, his pale chest peaking through his loose sleeveless shirt. “it’s strange for december to be so warm,” he murmurs as your finger traces circles on his open palm. “only to you. for everyone else here it’s just another day.” he makes a face and nods, flipping to the next page of the menu. “don’t you miss your home, tooru? japan must be nice and chilly outside right now.” he laughs, finally closing the menu and looking up at you, eyes shimmering. “it’s more than chilly. the roads must have iced over by now. but...” you lean in, anticipating his next words, “but...?” “...but, I am home. I’m here with you.” shy, you scoff, brushing his hand away and rolling your eyes. “oh, shut up.” you look at the beach in front of the restaurant for a while, heart pounding too hard to look back at your grinning boyfriend. from outside your peripheral vision his hand reaches to grab yours again and brings it up to his lips, gently kissing the back of your palm. “I mean it, though,” he whispers, “you really are my home.” the words tickle the hairs on your hand, heating up your ears and cheeks. you look back at him, taking in his glowing demeanor and loving touch, eyes soft. “I know. and you’re mine, tooru.” 

tsukishima.

they look like messy hair even in the evening, neither one of you bothering to comb it when you woke up. there’s no fireplace, instead, there’s kei’s laptop on the coffee table, a video of fire playing, gentle wooden crackles filling the warm silence. the lights are off, save for the lamp that barely glows bright enough to be able to read under it. but, it still works. kei’s long legs are outstretched towards the coffee table, feet clad in red fuzzy socks you got him last year. in his left hand is a small book, some stupid small-font history book he’s reading for work; in his right hand a cup of hot chocolate made with hot water, marshmallows floating on top. you sit next to him, hands in lap, legs outstretched across the rest of the couch, eyes closed, only listening to the faux fire sizzling in front of you. “look at you, Mr. Studious Nerd,” you impishly joke, eyes opening to turn and look at his reaction. “shut up or you’ll get coal for christmas.” you pout, “I thought I got a promise ring?” a resolute sigh leaves his lips, eye closing for just a second, “I knew you’d sneak a look at your gift early.” you smile widely, shrugging. smugly, tsukshima goes back to reading, “good thing I got you something else to actually surprise you.” gasping, you latch onto his shoulder, eyes wide. “what?! really? I thought I checked all of the gift-hiding spots, though?” the sound of a page turning followed by a sigh and the closing of a leather-backed book resonates throughout the room. suddenly, you become warmer when a pair of lips brushes against your forehead. an arm wraps around your shoulder to pull you in, closer. a soft, “I love you so much, you dweeb,” rings like merry bells in your ear. under your breath, shy yet curious, you grumble, smile creeping on your face, “you dodged my question, idiot.” 

kageyama.

they look like his toned legs extended out on the green couch you bought together, ice packs on each of his thighs and around his shoulders. his sniffle can be heard across the living room, red nose under attack from his cold. you smile, porridge in hand in a little festive bowl that has menorahs painted on the sides. “happy holidays, tobio. hope this helps you feel better.” the black-haired setter scoffs, “the only thing that would make me feel better is for this stupid cold to go away.” “I told you not to practice outside with wet hair. now your muscles hurt and you’re sick. you are simply reaping your consequences,” you reason, snobbish look on your face before it breaks with the roll of his eyes. laughing, you move his legs and sit next to him, spoon in hand. you raise your brows when he pouts and looks away, brows drawn close together. “I know you aren’t acting like a literal toddler right now.” “I don’t need you to feed me!” rolling your eyes, you sigh and place the porridge across the coffee table and stand up. “fine. feed yourself you nimrod.” not even two steps out the room you hear a low grumble come from the couch. turning around, you see kageyama with his head low, mouth barely moving. “can you feed me?” you give him a look, “...please?” smiling, you walk back over. his deep navy blue eyes contrast with the light red of his nose and around his eyes; your heart jumps as you feed him, his eyes trained on you. moments pass, silence covers the room in a safe, secure blanket. when he’s done eating, you place the bowl on the table before shoving kageyama aside to lay next to him. “you’ll get sick,” he says, but his arm is already wrapped around you, “maybe.” another second passes before he speaks again, “I really appreciate you, ya know.” you smile, turning on the tv to the sports channel, “yeah, I know.” 

akaashi.

they look like batter-splattered countertops, green and red sprinkles dusting the floor and dangerously close to the stovetop. a warm vanilla scent exudes from the oven, the timer counting down from twelve minutes. akaashi is bent over the burners, stirring beige eggnog with a wooden spoon. unfortunately, it looks lumpy and burned on the edges, somehow. with a sigh of defeat, the wavy-haired man puts a lid on the pot and moves across the galley-way kitchen, leaning on the white counters. you look over from the fridge, amused. “chef’s special doing downhill?” he chuckles weakly, nodding, “you have no idea. I think I burnt it...somehow.” you laugh, closing the refrigerator door with your hip, two glasses of eggnog in your hand, “that’s why I bought these, big man.” he takes the glasses, quirking a brow, “good thinking.” it’s quiet as you lean next to him, both watching the clock tick down closer and closer to zero. in this time you decide to stare at the love of your life, his nose with a slight bump in the middle, his eyelashes grow outward like grass, his tired yet loving eyes, staring straight at you. oh. you blink, turning away. “sorry. got caught in the moment.” akaashi hums from beside you, not missing a beat as his hand comes up, picking something from your hair. he rolls it in his fingers, “looks like dandruff,” he jokes, making you groan and push him away. “I’m just kidding,” you can hear the grin in his voice, you can see it too once he moves to the front line of your sight, forehead coming to rest against yours. gently, he brushes his nose with your own, eyes open only a sliver. “I am so in love with you.” he whispers, voice fragile and warm. heart swelling, you gaze up at him, “I love you, too, keiji.” in the background, the timer beeps thrice, but neither of you really rush to take them out of the oven, you bought extra cookies just in case, anyway. 

kenma.

they look like warm fuzzy blankets layered on his full sized bed, the low glow of the led lights on his ceiling shining down on you both. the sound of clicking buttons and occasional ending screen of a failed level play behind you; your own nose buried in your phone, scrolling past posts of friends out and about. kenma’s sock-clad feet rub against each other in lieu of more warmth as his head shrinks back under the protection of the white blanket on top of him. “I’m still cold,” he mutters before scoffing as he fails the same level again for what must be the thousandth time. he tosses the nintendo aside, shifting closer to you. “get another blanket then,” you muse, eyes still trained on your phone. “hmm, don’t wanna,” you feel his cold nose dig into the back of your neck, his arms encircling your waist; a warm breath fans across your nape, and you twitch. laughing, you try to elbow him away, but he whines at your resistance and holds onto you tighter. amused, you click off your phone and shove it under your pillow, turning towards him. you’re met with glowing 24 karat-gold-eyes and messy hair. he stares unblinking at you, and shyness overcomes you as he shamelessly lands his gaze at your lips. nothing can compare to the image of kenma slowly leaning towards you, sunny eyes closing in anticipation of a sweet kiss. a few beats pass with his lips on yours, and he’s in no rush when he pulls away, still staring at you. “you taste like apple fritter.” shy, you place a hand on his chest, “don’t you have a stream in like an hour or something?” “that can wait,” he whispers, body snuggling into yours. 

sugawara.

they look like ribbon and tissue paper strewn across the floor of a shared apartment. glitter spilled on the table, scissors open wide in an unsafe position peaking out from under the couch (that has an obscene amount of pillows with different holidays listed on them), tubes of wrapping paper scattered in random corners. you sit opposite of the gray-haired beauty, sticking labels on newly-wrapped presents, each of them addressed to a kid at the orphanage down the street. sugawara’s tongue pokes out of his mouth, nimble thumbs placing tape of the edges of the festive wrapping paper. “you know, koushi, not all of the kids celebrate christmas,” the former setter looks at you quickly, shrugging, “I know! I just wanted to get each of them a gift anyway! wouldn’t you be bummed if I got light up cinderella shoes but you got nothing?” you laugh, shaking your head. it’s silent for a few minutes more, the last few wraps being the most complicated ones, spheres and cylinders. you sit, waiting, gazing at the ugly sweater his kindergarten kids had gotten him (they all chipped in a few dollars (or their parents did)) that was a size too small and incredibly itchy, but he still wore anyway. “hmm, whatcha starin’ at?” his voice broke you from your trance. you stay quiet a few seconds more muttering, “you’ve got such a beautiful heart, koushi.” a blush erupts on your boyfriend’s face, his hands stilling before he smiles softly and continues his job. “only because you’re here by my side. you make me a better person each day.” you bite your lip and play with the nametags in your hand, feeling bad because you know you have the best gift out of all of the kids, and he’s sitting right across from you, failing at wrapping a soccer ball. 

tendou. 

they look like empty streets in the earliest hours of the morning, a time so early yet late that the birds are asleep, yet twitching in anticipation to be awake. the snow falls gently on the salted sidewalk, fresh and fluffy. a loud laugh breaks through the silence of the neighborhood street, the crunching of snow following suit. red hair dashes from piles of snow to behind lampposts, garbage cans, mailboxes. you wind your arm up, a heftily packed ball of (almost) ice ready in your palm for ammunition. a giggle leaves your lips as tendou grabs his own ball of snow, cheeks bitten pink by the harsh cold. ‘he’s fast, but not fast enough’ you think as you launch the snowball. it flies through the air, hitting the lanky chocolatier in the face with a satisfying crunch. tendou stills, nose red and wet from melted snow as you laugh so hard you almost fall over. a smile slowly climbs his now-numbing face and he walks towards you. your laughter only stops when he’s right in front of you, gazing down at your gleeful figure with love swimming in his eyes like marshmallows in gourmet hot chocolate. the snow rests on top of his buzzed red hair like white icing to red velvet cake. warmth radiates off him, penetrating deep in your heart. “you’re so beautiful,” he mutters, embracing you. you melt in his arms, but the feeling of wet coldness slapping into your back and the sound of crunching snow tell you of his crime. you can only laugh and call his name, “tendou satori, get back here!” and chase his nimble figure down the road back home, where he’ll hug you -- for real, this time. 

[photogrivy]

When it became all too clear that the woman opposite her did not see the funny side to the situation, Ivy grimaced. The brunette seemed to be losing all hope, her forehead creasing with concern, eyes taking on a puppy-like state that tugged indelicately at Ivy’s otherwise sturdy heartstrings. 

“You look like I pissed in your cornflakes, so I’m just gonna shut up and go over there now,” she cringed, jerking a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction that she was hoping the floor might swallow her hole. 

Ivy wasn’t one to be embarrassed easily; she had a bad habit of speaking her mind even to the detriment of herself and others. She didn’t tend to mince her words, and a lot of the time was pretty unfazed about who she’d potentially offended. In this case, though, she felt guilty. She knew how hard it was to build a business from the bottom upwards, her own photography being a perfect example of the fact. Ivy had spent years trying to hone her skills and curate a portfolio that accurately represented her and what she stood for. If her job shadowing Max, rather than being lead photographer as she’d hoped, was any indication, she still had a way to go, and only time and experience could really help a person improve. 

She grimaced at the woman across from her, the silence between them uncomfortable. With a sigh, Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a migraine coming on as the gravity of the situation weighed down on her. 

“Okay, listen. I’m sorry – It's just...” she paused, weighing out her options. She could apologise, tell the girl her work was wonderful, and be content with her good deed of the day. Or she could be honest but use it as an opportunity to be constructive. She decided to opt for the latter and hope for the best. 

She glanced down at the ruined sheet of paper, now permanently abandoned atop Ivy’s bar. She gave it a quick once over, this time trying to look past the ugly font and poorly lit images, instead focusing on the subject of each photo. 

“So, your work’s actually kind of amazing. Assuming those pieces, the clothes, that’s what you’re selling? Right?” She asked, hoping to earn herself back some brownie points with all the right adjectives. “But the photos are the issue here. You need to know how to frame them, the kind of lighting that shows them off and makes people wanna buy what you’re selling.” 

As good as Ivy was at what she did, words weren’t her area of expertise. She tended to flounder over the correct terminology, technical terms sometimes going straight over her head. But she knew her way around the camera, even if she couldn’t always put it into words.  

She jabbed a finger at one of the dresses on display, a pretty green piece that was being poorly showcased on a backdrop so stark and oversaturated that it looked a harsh yellow. 

“The colours don’t blend well together, which I’m betting you absolutely know already,” Ivy shrugged. 

If the woman worked in fashion, then she surely needed an eye for colours and the correct blends, as well as what trends were current and how they might mix well together. 

“The lighting stinks, too. But, honestly? Your presentation is great. The clothes, too. You just need a little help with the framing and the lighting, something an actual photographer might be able to help you with?” 

Staring at the bartender over the rim of her glass, Chess lifted her eyebrows in tandem with the other woman, accidentally mirroring her features. She figured it was probably time to give up on the sodden sheet of paper and feebly dropped it atop the bar, popping first her thumb, then her forefinger between her red lips and sucking the sticky sweetness from her fingers.

"I mean, yes?" Chess frowned, "I need all of these things?"

Trying not to be horribly offended as the woman began to laugh, Chess put her glass down with a little more force than entirely necessary, the sugary-pink drink slopping against the side of the glass. She really wished she understood the joke, because it was clearly absolutely hilarious to the other woman. She was practically holding onto the edge of the bartop to keep her upright, for crying out loud! As her laughs ganered the attention of literally every other patron in the bar, Chess resisted the childish urge to shove her to get her to shut up. Instead, she simply slunk down further in her seat, hoping the pretty Instagram models from her table hadn't noticed she was about to be laughed out of the place.

"Why not? What's wrong with it?"

Chess peered down at the sodden paper, damp, but still ultimately recognisable as her work. Chess had always thought of herself as having an eye for beautiful things. Her tiny apartment was impeccably decorated to the best of her ability, and to her finances. And of course, her wardrobe was stuffed with beautiful pieces. She'd been pretty proud of her work, even with her limited graphic design skills and resources. Her blog looked nice, didn't it? Then again, she hadn't actually done the majority of the work on there. She'd had Sara Otto, computer whiz extraordinaire, to code her gorgeous little corner of the internet. She hadn't been able to pay her, of course, but she'd packaged up her vintage leather jacket Sara had always coveted and given it to Jax to take home on his next visit.

"No? I took these photos." she frowned, biting her bottom lip. Sure, she'd used her iPhone to do most of the work, and the lighting wasn't great, and her iPhone camera wasn't great...

Nerves settled in the bottom of Chess' stomach. Was her stuff really that awful?

"Oh God. I'm literally here trying to pitch myself! Are you telling me that it looks like my six year old made this?"

[merrybandofmurderers]

[ID: a banner with swirls of glowing green glitter. white text reads "Six Sentence Sunday" in a thin curling font /END ID]

tagged by @transfenris-truther. more than six sentences, but we all know that's just a suggestion anyway. follows this scene

~

“Dorian, I’m sorry.”

Dorian boggled at him. “For what? It’s not as though you shoved me in front of that maul.”

“It’s… going to scar.”

“You just saved my life; you think I care about that?”

“You’ll care later, when you’re preening in front of a mirror and you’ve got this greatly ugly mar on your skin.”

Dorian paused. Lavellan never spoke of scars this way, wore his own proudly, was borderline reverent of them, congratulated others on their own, traced his fingers over Bull’s in blatant appreciation. Lavellan was not one to think of scars as ugly or even unfortunate to have.

“Do you think I’m that shallow?” Did Lavellan think Dorian saw his scars that way?

Lavellan still wouldn’t look at him. “It just—it means something. To you. That you don’t have scars.”

Dorian sucked in a sharp breath. Yes, it did. Growing up in Tevinter, it meant a great deal that his arms were unscarred, that his skin overall was healthy and whole, unblemished. He hadn’t realized Lavellan had picked up on that.

“I appreciate your consideration, but I doubt anyone’s going to look at this scar and think ‘blood magic’.”

Lavellan flinched, looking even guiltier.

~

@gaysolavellan, @calicostorms, @mrs-theirin, @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas

[oh-ranpo]

mistletoe wishes.

pairing: owen joyner x reader an: this is the first in my little Christmas collection that I have ideas for, so I hope you enjoy it! please let me know what you think! if you want to be added to any of my tag lists, please let me know!  word count: 3.7k+

The Christmas party was already well under way by the time you arrived. It had taken you over an hour to decide on which Christmas sweater you wanted to wear, as you had way too many, but you were happy to see that you weren’t the only one who was decked out in the holiday spirit as almost every single one of your friends were wearing an ugly sweater of some kind.

“Look who decided to show up,” a voice greeted you, and you grinned when you turned to see Charlie heading in your direction. He had a drink in his hand and a Santa hat on his head, so you knew that he was already having a good time.

“Sorry I’m late, my wardrobe decisions got the best of me,” you replied as he pulled you in for a hug, his hand holding his cup away from your body so as to not accidentally spill anything on you. 

“Well, it looks like it paid off. That sweater is amazing,” Charlie complimented when he pulled away and he saw exactly which one you had picked out. “Owen is going to die when he sees it.”

You had gone with your festive Star Wars sweater that had Darth Vader on the front wearing a Santa hat similar to the one perched on Charlie’s head. The red and green font across the front read, “I find your lack of cheer disturbing”, and it was one that you had adored ever since your other friend, Owen, had bought it for you the year before. 

“Is he here?” you asked, and Charlie nodded, the smile on his face growing as you both heard Owen’s voice fill the air. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine! I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe waiting to be kissed.”

“I think he’s still a little bummed that he’s one of the few people here without a date,” Charlie chuckled, and you giggled yourself, despite your heart falling in your chest. You knew exactly how he felt as this was the first year in a couple that you were showing up to Christmas parties by yourself as well.

Your last boyfriend, Jake, had recently broken up with you in October just before Halloween. You had been devastated, as the two of you had already put together your coordinating costumes and you had been looking forward to the holiday season together. You were sure that, when he ended things, your holidays were going to be ruined, only to be proven wrong when Owen had shown up at your apartment that Halloween in his bright yellow jacket and short shorts, ready to pull you out of your own personal misery. Surprisingly, it had worked, and now you knew that you owed him a holiday saving grace.

“I guess I’m gonna go find him,” you told Charlie a few seconds later, and he nodded as you assumed that he went to find the girl that he had been talking to for the last few weeks that he had brought along as his date for the night.

It didn’t take you long to find Owen, as you headed down the hallway in the direction that you had heard his voice. The familiar blonde was leaning against the wall, his phone in his hands as his finger swiped across the screen, seemingly lost in his own little world.

“That doesn’t look like mistletoe to me,” you teased, as you referred back to his previously shouted words, and Owen looked up at the sound of your voice. 

“Yeah, well, I needed to say something to help myself feel better in the midst of this little Christmas love-fest,” he replied sarcastically, as his eyes trailed down to your sweater. A smile immediately formed on his lips as he pushed himself away from the wall and slid his phone into his pocket. “Wow, what a great sweater. Whoever picked that out must have great taste.” He was teasing now, and your heart lifted as it seemed that whatever little mood Owen had been in was starting to dissipate.

“I know, I’m quite the sweater connoisseur if I say so myself,” you teased back, and Owen rolled his eyes playfully.

“Right, cause you picked it out,” he drawled and you grinned even more.

“I did actually. Just a few minutes ago.” This earned another eye roll from your friend before he gestured back the way you had come.

“Did you want to get a drink?” he asked, and you nodded eagerly. Your first mission had been to find him, and now that you had, you were ready for a drink.

The two of you headed towards the kitchen while Owen started ranting at the lack of single people that had shown up to this particular party.

“I know it’s like, cuffing season or whatever, but come on. Does everyone have to be in a relationship?” he groaned as he leaned against the kitchen counter while you poured yourself some punch. You were thankful in that moment that he couldn’t see the look on your face, as your back was to him, because you were sure that there had been a quick flash of hurt that had formed on your features at his words. It wasn’t like you didn’t agree, but it was a painful reminder that you were also newly single, and you were one of the few that was spending the best holiday, in your opinion, alone.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” you replied when you turned around after regaining your composure. Owen had a red cup in his hands now that you knew was filled with the same liquid that was in yours, but he didn’t seem to pay it any attention as his eyes scanned the room. There were a few people hanging around, but they were all so engrossed in the conversations they were having with their dates that none of them seemed to notice either one of you.

“I mean, it’s fine, obviously. Like, good for them. But you can’t blame a guy for hoping for a romantic Christmas miracle.” There was a flash of something in his bright blue eyes when he looked over at you, but before you could place it, it was gone.

“Romantic, eh? Oh, Owen, I didn’t know you were into stuff like that,” you teased, and the corners of his lips turned up slightly as he finally lifted his cup so that he could take a small drink.

“A guy can dream sometimes. I blame the holiday atmosphere,” he responded coolly, and you nodded as you tried to quell the racing of your heart with a sip of your own punch. The feeling was one you had been experiencing a lot since Halloween night, primarily when you were in Owen’s presence, but you pushed it aside and ignored it, just as you had been for the last several weeks.

Eventually, the two of you moved into the living room where most of the rest of your friends seemed to be, and you took the next few minutes walking around and saying hello. You didn’t miss how Owen stayed close behind, though you were sure his reasoning for it was because you were one of the only other single people around, and he didn’t want to get stuck with a big group of couples where he had to pretend like he didn’t feel incredibly awkward being alone.

“Oh my god, look at you!” Savannah cooed when she saw you. “And look at your sweater! Wait, is that the one Owen got you last year?” When you nodded, a small gasp slipped from her lips as she grabbed your hand and quickly pulled you to the other side of the room, away from everyone else. The movement startled you, and the wild look in her eyes made you nervous.

“What are we doing?” you asked apprehensively, just as Savannah spun back around to face you.

“Is there something going on with you and Owen?” The question caught you off guard, but also made your heart clench at the same time. 

“No? Why would you say that?” you asked, and Savannah gave you a pointed look. You had no idea where all of this was coming from, and it seemed like a stretch to say that it was caused simply by your choice in sweaters for the evening. It wasn’t like it was the first time you had worn it out.

“Ever since Halloween, the two of you have seemed… different. I mean, I always thought that Owen had a thing for you, but Jake was always there. But now that he’s out of the picture-“

“Wait,” you interrupted, your hand coming up to stop her. “What do you mean, you always thought Owen had a thing for me?” Your heart was racing again, and when Savannah gave you a sympathetic look, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder to try to find the boy in question.

Owen was standing a few feet away, talking with Charlie and Charlie’s date, but the second your eyes landed on him, his eyes lifted to meet yours. It was as if he could feel you looking, and a smile immediately blossomed across his features just before you turned away.

“See, things like that! He’s always looked at you with literal heart eyes, and I was sure as soon as Jake broke up with you, he was going to make his move. I think he’s just been hesitant because he doesn’t want to rush you.” 

You couldn’t believe what Savannah was saying. You and Owen had been friends for a while now, and there was never a time where you thought he might like you. Sure, the two of you had grown quite close, but you just thought that your friendship was special. When he came to cheer you up, he was just being a good best friend. There were no other emotional motives, right? No, there couldn’t be.

“Savannah, I think you’re reading a little too much into our friendship,” you sighed, as you tried to reason with both yourself and her. “Owen doesn’t like me like that.” 

“But how do you feel about him?” she pressed, and that was the topic of conversation you really didn’t want to reach. While, before Halloween, you had never seen Owen as anything other than your closest friend, recently you had started seeing him differently. It all started with the fluttering in your chest when he was around, and slowly it had progressed more and more, but you had gotten quite good at suppressing it. You thought, at first, that it was just because you were lonely after having been in a relationship for over two years. But now, as the feelings grew, you weren’t so sure that could be to blame any longer.

“We’re just friends.”

It was clearly not the response Savannah was looking for, but just before she could protest further, she glanced over her shoulder, and another smirk formed on her lips.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about over here? I hope it’s more interesting than what Charlie and his date are carrying on about.” Owen’s voice made your heart stop, and when you felt his arm brush against yours, you did your best to hide your immediate emotional reaction.

“I was actually just about to go and get another drink. I’ll catch up with you guys soon,” Savannah told him before giving you a quick wink and walking off. You and her were going to have to have a serious conversation about subtlety later on.

“What was that about?” Owen asked, as you turned your attention to him. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you replied quietly, before lifting your cup to your lips once more. You hated that you felt a little weird standing alone with Owen now, and you did your best to shake the conversation you had just had from your mind. “Did you want to maybe go find a game to play?”

“I thought you would never ask,” Owen responded brightly, and you couldn’t help but smile as you both went in search of something to entertain yourselves.

There were several different games that were being played throughout the house, but eventually, you and Owen found a game of charades that you were able to insert yourselves into. Anytime you had played this game, it had always been with Owen because Jake thought that it was stupid. More times than not, you and Owen won, and it had become an almost unsaid rule that you would be partners anytime you played.

“This isn’t fair,” Tori groaned as you jumped from your seat on the couch in victory when you and Owen won. “It’s like you two can read each other’s minds.” 

You grinned as Owen lifted you from your feet and spun you around quickly in a tight hug before setting you down, his arm remaining wrapped around your waist as he turned to face his friend. 

“You just wish you had a connection like us,” he taunted, and even though you knew that he was just being cocky, you still felt another pull in your chest as you slowly moved out of his embrace. He didn’t seem to notice what you were doing, which you were grateful for, as you didn’t move too far out of his reach for it to be obvious.

“We’re just really good at being on the same wavelength with these things,” you added, and Tori gave you a look that was similar to the one that Savannah had given you earlier in the night.

“Clearly not all things,” you heard her murmur, but you didn’t ask for her to elaborate because you were sure that you could already guess what she meant.

“I’m not really ready to go watch everyone be all couple-y again just yet. Did you maybe just want to… walk around?” Owen asked when the rest of the charades group started to disperse. You nodded, though you weren’t sure where exactly you were going to walk as the house wasn’t that big, and it was too cold outside to walk around out there. However, Owen reached out to take your hand as he guided you back down the hallway, away from everyone else, and you didn’t pull away as you followed him.

“You know, I thought this party was going to be a drag as one of the few single people here, but it’s actually been quite fun,” Owen mused as you walked through the hallway. You nodded as you looked up at him, your fingers still laced with his. 

“You’re welcome,” you joked, and when he looked down at you, he laughed.

“I mean, obviously I’m having a good time because you’re here. We just hadn’t talked about the party or anything, so I didn’t know… I wasn’t sure…”

“Wasn’t sure of what?” you asked, as his voice trailed off and he seemed to get lost in his thoughts. Owen’s gaze was fixed on the floor in front of him while he walked, and he didn’t look back at you when he spoke again.

“I wasn’t sure if you would find someone else you could bring so you wouldn’t feel lonely too.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, as you let your eyes scan across the various pictures on the wall as you passed.

“And who in the world would I bring on such short notice? It’s not like I’ve been hanging out with anyone since Jake broke up with me. No one but you, anyways,” you replied, and it took half a second after the words came out of your mouth for you to realize how bad it sounded. “Which I’ve loved, of course. I love spending time with you.”

Owen slowed to a stop in the doorway for the stairs that led to the basement as he dropped your hand and lifted his to rub the back of his neck nervously.

“Actually, about that…” he started, but before he could continue any further, there was a gasp from behind you, and when you both turned to see what was wrong, you were surprised to see Savannah at the end of the hall, a wide smile on her lips.

“What’s going on?” you asked nervously, but instead of responding with words, Savannah just pointed above your head. You and Owen both looked up at the same time, and your stomach rolled when you saw the familiar green plant dangling from the doorway above you.

“Mistletoe,” you whispered, and Owen inhaled sharply from next to you. You hadn’t actually thought that anyone would have put up mistletoe, as it was incredibly cliché, but it was also no surprise that since they did, it would be over a high traffic area like this particular doorway. You hadn’t known about it, and it was clear that Owen didn’t know about it, and now, you felt stuck.

“Umm,” Owen started again, and you looked up at him to see that his cheeks were flooded pink, and you were sure there was embarrassment and awkwardness written all over your face.

“We don’t have to do this,” you replied quickly. “We can just pretend like we never saw it.” When you glanced back down the hall, you saw that Savannah was gone, which was also surprising given that you were sure she would have loved to witness this particular moment, even though you weren’t sure which way it was going to go. It was probably for the best that you didn’t have any kind of audience when you had your heart broken in the middle of a Christmas party.

“I mean, it is tradition,” Owen spoke up a moment later, and you gave him a quizzical look. “I mean, this isn’t how I really saw this happening, but now that we’re here…” His words only confused you more as you tried to piece together exactly what was happening.

“How you saw what happening? Getting a kiss under the mistletoe? Of course, I’m sure it wasn’t with me,” you laughed half-heartedly, and the small smile on Owen’s face quickly disappeared as his blue eyes bore into yours.

“That’s not what I meant,” he insisted, his voice serious now as he took a half-step closer to you. “You’re the only person I could ever imagine wanting to kiss under the mistletoe.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the look he was giving you now, and you found it hard to formulate a response. You had no idea what was happening, and even though Savannah had insisted there was something that Owen felt for you, you hadn’t really allowed yourself to believe it. However, if you truly had heard his words correctly, maybe you were the wrong one.

“I, I don’t understand,” you replied lamely, and Owen’s hand reached out for yours once more, this time more hesitantly than the first. You could see the conflict in his eyes, and while you were hopelessly confused, you could make this emotion out better than the rest. He was nervous. 

“You know that I would never, ever want to do anything to ruin the friendship that we have. But, I’ve pretended like I don’t have feelings for you since the first day we hung out, and I gotta be honest, kissing you here, right now, would possibly make me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

You didn’t know what to say. Savannah had been right. You thought that you were so good at reading him, and yet you had missed the mark completely on how your own best friend felt about you. Sure, he was an actor and you were sure that he was great at hiding his feelings, but you felt quite dumb that you hadn’t noticed before. Not that it would have mattered then. But it sure mattered now.

There were a few, long seconds that passed between you as his confession hung in the air before you made your next move. He was waiting for you to make the call on what happened next, and instead of spilling your heart to him with words, you leaned up onto your tiptoes, curled your free hand around the back of his neck, and pressed your lips tenderly against his. 

You could feel him kiss you back immediately, and his free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you smiled against his lips. It felt perfect, though incredibly cliché, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Owen had been the one that had always been there for you. He had been the one to cheer you up after your first heartbreak, and he had been the one to stitch the pieces of your heart back together. The connection you shared was deeper than friendship, and you saw that now. You could feel it pass between you as your kisses continued, and even when he pulled away to rest his forehead against your own.

“For the record, you make me the happiest I’ve ever been as well,” you whispered, causing an even bigger smile to form on Owen’s features. 

“Maybe coming to the Christmas party alone wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” he mused, and you giggled as you buried your face in his neck. “Even better, now I don’t have to leave that way.”

Butterflies raged in your stomach as he kissed you again, but then a few seconds later, the sounds of someone clearing their throat behind you caused you to jump. Both you and Owen turned to see who had just walked into your moment, and you were greeted, once again, by Savannah’s smiling face.

“Just friends, huh?” She asked simply as she slipped past you, and you hid your face in Owen’s shoulder. You could feel him look down at you and then back at your friend, but he didn’t say anything as the blonde disappeared down the stairs. 

When you looked back up at Owen, he was smiling down at you, and your heart skipped in your chest as you immediately smiled back. 

“What do you want to do now?” You asked, and Owen pulled you closer with the arm he had wrapped around your waist before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“We can do whatever you want. I already got my Christmas miracle. I’m good to go.”

tag list: @alexpjoyner​, @crybabyddl​

[artemis-entreri]

Hey! So I'm listening to Starlight Enclave... How much has changed in Menzoberranzan since timeless? House Baenre no longer worships Lolth? What the hell?! Just how badly has Bob fucked us?! Why Wizards still bothers with him I'll never know.

[[ Hey there, happy new year! Sorry about the late response, my life is always crazy busy. XD;;

A lot has changed since Timeless, but sadly most if not all of it is lazy worldbuilding (or more accurately, worlddestroying). I'll explain in more detail below, but in short, Bob has always gone over the top in making his mark on the Forgotten Realms. His mark has never been attractive, the metaphor that I like to use is that he's using a giant sharpie marker and writing his name in giant ugly black letters over an intricate piece of art that many creators wove together. With the changes and "lore" he's introducing in Starlight Enclave, he's put down his marker and taken up a giant paintbrush, dipped it in the ugliest color you can think of, and painting over everything with his name in lettering more annoying than Comic Sans font. More detailed version under the cut, which contains spoilers.

So, to answer your question, Quenthel Baenre, the Matron Mother of House Baenre, no longer worships Lolth. It’s unclear how the rest of her house feels, but since they’ve taken on a bunch of drow that are also soured on Lolth, the majority of House Baenre doesn’t worship Lolth. This came about in Relentless, beginning with Kimmuriel coming to this amazing revelation at the illithid hivemind that Lolth is a “disease”. He delved into the memories of Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0, both of whom had the memories of Yvonnel the Eternal (aka Yvonnel 1.0) implanted into their brains. Yvonnel 1.0 was supposedly there when the drow first went underground, so she had firsthand knowledge of what life was like before Lolth. Kimmuriel used these memories to show Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0 of those “better times”, and talked them into realizing how Lolth has been nothing but damaging to the drow. 

Meanwhile, the CotH and their allies were losing a war against (yet another) drow surface invasion. This time, it’s because the latest drow fanatic priestess had literally every drider that were ever sent to Lolth in her army, she pulled all of them out of the Demonweb Pits with the help of two rogue yochlol. Quenthel wasn’t liking how things were turning out even though she still worshipped Lolth at this point because she was concerned that House Baenre’s status would fall if the Melarni priestess succeeded in her surface takeover. She went to the surface to try to snatch the glory for herself, but then ran into the Melarni forces and got delegated to playing a supporting role. 

This is what eventually led Quenthel to the CotH + allies and made her willing to allow Kimmuriel to enter her mind. Following Kimmuriel’s completion of his talk no jutsu, Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0 made a magic web that undid all sorts of evil enchantments with no specifications on what it can’t undo. The driders realized that going through this web turned them back into drow, so they abandoned the fighting and all ran through it, getting turned back into drow. House Baenre then adopted these drow and went back to Menzoberranzan.

So, what’s incredibly stupid about this is, well, everything, and I plan to talk about it in detail when I do my Relentless analysis, so I won’t do so here. Suffice to say, Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0 have ALWAYS had those memories, they just for some indeterminable reason never chose to examine them. For Quenthel, sure, we can say she’d have just dismissed it as heresy, but Yvonnel 2.0 who’s now in love with Drizzt and desperate to do anything she can to please him would surely have looked at those memories and have gone AHA! Then, there’s the size of the drider force, which is entirely too small for how many driders were sent to the Demonweb Pits. The drow turned a ton of their kind into driders, not to mention driders of other origins that went to Lolth. I don’t remember the exact details but when we discussed this on Candlekeep, we’d determined that Relentless had the number of driders off by at least an order of magnitude. Then, there’s that web of total decursing, the last thing that Bob needed was yet another deus ex machina, but of course he had to go and do it because he’s too lazy to organically/logically bring about events. Pwent goes through it and boom! His vampirism is cured. Artemis throws his dagger through it and boom! It’s purified of all the souls it’s ever taken and in doing so, has redeemed him. 

And of course, there’s the ultimate stupid in Bob completely dismantling established drow lore that has prevailed for basically as long as drow have existed, replacing it with total garbage. To make a long story short, Lolth, who was originally known as Araushnee, was the wife of Corellon Larethian, the god of all elves. Araushnee lusted after Corellon’s power and plotted to kill him, however she failed, and she and her people were exiled to the darkness.  Araushnee was transformed into a demon and banished. Angry about her defeat, she made one last attempt on Corellon’s life but failed again. Corellon let her escape because despite all that she’d done to him, he still loved her.  Araushnee took on the name Lolth and conquered the 66th layer of the Abyss for herself. Her followers, the Ilythiiri dark elves, were transformed into drow, and with traits that made it difficult for them to live aboveground, they went into the Underdark. 

Araushnee and Corellon had two children, twins Vhaeraun and Eilistraee. Vhaeraun aided his mother in her attempts to overthrow his father, so he was banished as well. Eilistraee was spared this punishment because she had not behaved traitorously, but she willingly took the curse upon herself so that she could follow the exiled drow. She willingly let herself be cut off from the elven paradise and her kin because she foresaw that the drow would have nothing but darkness, with only Lolth to guide them. 

There’s a lot more to that story, but Bob decided that his version is better, so he made it so that Yvonnel’s firsthand memory was that none of the above ever happened. Instead, Yvonnel remembers a different story, that the drow were tired of the haughtiness and unwelcoming surface societies and chose to go underground in search of greener pastures. They didn’t find them and as time went on, forgot their original intent, but Kimmuriel helps Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0 remember that original intent. Then, in Starlight Enclave, Bob has it so that the aevendrow are part of the original group of drow but didn’t decide to go underground, and that their records are from way back then as well. He makes it so that their records correlate exactly with Quenthel’s memory. Just like that, he retcons an intricate story, profaning all of it and especially the beauty of Eilistraee’s sacrifice. 

So, there you have it. You’ll have to decide for yourself how badly Bob has fucked us. As for why WotC bothers with him? I suspect it’s a combination of that most of them have never actually read any of the Drizzt books, and that they’ve sunk so much money into him to make him a cash cow that they don’t want to do that with someone else, instead preferring to take the easy route of milking the cow until it runs dry. Such a shame really, a company like that should realize what following the easy route too much does, but you know what they say about money. ]]