#and a ginger madman

[justanechoflower]

hey flowey i had a dream we played minecraft with my friends lmao

[fanficsandstuffgod]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ Wallet 𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

japan!schlatt x fem!reader

@fancy-fleur-blog here u go pookie

We were halfway through a night out in Tokyo — me and a couple mates, weaving through the backstreets with canned chu-hi in hand, making dumb jokes and pointing at vending machines like we’d never seen one before. It was one of those warm, electric nights where the city feels like it's got a pulse.

That’s when I saw it — a little blue coin pouch lying near the curb outside a 7-Eleven. Looked kind of beat-up, but I picked it up anyway, figuring maybe someone had just dropped it on their way out. Curiosity got the better of me, so I gave it a look.

Cards, receipts, some loose change… and a name.

Jschlatt.

I paused. Stared at it for a second. Nah, couldn’t be. Not that Jschlatt, right?

Except… it looked exactly like the wallet he showed in that Japan vlog a few days ago — down to the dumb little cow keychain. I pulled out my phone and started skimming through the video like a madman. There it was. Same exact one.

I just kind of stood there like, what the hell do I even do with this? And for whatever reason — blame the alcohol or just the absurdity of it all — I took a photo, DMed him on Instagram, and said, “Hey, found your wallet in Tokyo. Here’s where I’m at.”

Didn’t expect a reply. Figured it’d get lost in a sea of messages. But then, less than a minute later:

“Thank fucking god. I’m on my way.”

I stared at my phone like it’d just spoken.

About twenty minutes later, he shows up. Hoodie, baseball cap, bit taller in person. Honestly, he looked like he'd just run halfway across the city. He walks up, sees me holding the wallet, and lets out the most relieved laugh.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he says, and claps a hand on my shoulder like we’ve known each other for years. “Drinks on me.”

So we end up at this little izakaya nearby — tucked away, warm lighting, quiet chatter in the air. We sit down, order sake and grilled skewers, and he’s just… a guy. Funny, sharp, chill as hell. Not putting on a voice, not doing a bit. Just talking about how he nearly had a breakdown thinking he'd lost every card he owned in a foreign country.

--

The conversation eventually drifted from lost wallets to more normal stuff — daily routines, pets, even family. Normally, I wouldn’t open up that easily. But then again, I don’t usually end up grabbing drinks with Jschlatt in the middle of Tokyo, either.

“You’ve got a cat?” he asked, scrolling through my Instagram like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I nodded, smiling. “Three, actually — and a dog.” I lit up a bit. I love talking about my pets. “That grey one there is Gandalf,” I said, pointing to a photo with all of them piled on the couch. “That ginger one’s Galileo — like the scientist. He’s a ranga and freaks out whenever I sing Bohemian Rhapsody. And that little black-and-white guy? That’s Fat Louie. Named after the cat in The Princess Diaries. He’s a guts — always trying to steal everyone’s br—”

I cut myself off mid-sentence, realizing I was rambling. Schlatt had this look — not annoyed, just… entertained. His lips curled in a crooked smirk, eyes kind of soft.

“Uh, yeah. And the dog’s Levi. Had him for years,” I mumbled, suddenly shy again.

He let out a warm chuckle and nodded. “That’s cute. You’re a big animal person, then?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back a little. “My ex used to get mad at me for bringing animals home off the street.”

He looked up from my phone, eyebrows knitting together. “Mad? Why?”

I blinked, surprised by the question. “Uh... ’cause he didn’t wanna deal with vet bills and food and all that?” I tilted my head, like it was obvious.

Schlatt scoffed lightly and shook his head. “I’d be lucky to have that problem. ‘Too many animals’ sounds like a win to me.”

That kind of stuck with me. We kept talking after that — about his cats, weird rescue stories, the time he almost adopted a dog on impulse in Texas. It was easy, light, and real.

Eventually, he glanced at his phone and sighed. “Right. I gotta go — flight in the morning.” He stood up slowly, gathering his stuff with a reluctant shrug.

I stayed seated, giving him a small wave. “Nice meeting you,” I said with a half-smile.

He hesitated, then turned back, rubbing the back of his neck like he was thinking it over.

“Hey, look…” He paused, eyes flicking up to mine. “Can I grab your number? You’re really chill. Wouldn’t mind hanging out again — under, uh… different circumstances.”

He chuckled a bit at the end, but he meant it. And I couldn’t help but grin.

[adhd-fandom-hyperfocus]

✧₊⁺ Dessert ✧₊⁺

Pairing: Titus x Reader(f)

Arthur's Note: It wrote this for the fat Titus lovers. It's not long, truth be told, I am not comfortable writing smut ;_; and panic every time I write it. So here we are. My small humble offering for the kinky masses. Implied reader is female. Proofread? Never heard of her

Warnings: feederism stuff, breeding kink just at the end, but very light. It's pron without plot y'all.

18+ Minors DNI

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

The bed groaned as he sat down. You had told him to go and relax while you cleaned up the dishes. His large frame resting on the bed, larger now thanks to you. If he weren't a smarter man, a man resistant to warp influence he might think you an agent of the power excess here to slow him down and leave him helpless in doing his duty. But you were not that. Just a simple woman with desire to care for him. And care you did.

Titus smiled as he rubbed the sides of his full middle. It was too easy to just gorge himself when you cooked. Eat like he was some starving baseline. But then again once he was called for duty it could be months before he could taste you and your food again. So yes, he was being gluttonous. He could hear your walk in, smell you too. He licked his lips and smiled, suddenly very hungry again, but for something sweeter...juicer. Oh yes, you had an ulterior motive, but what it was he didn't know, and he willingly let himself be consumed by it.

“You know I am starting to think you are trying to fatten me up on purpose.” Titus moaned as he tried to soothe his stomach with ginger strokes with his calloused hand.

“Trying?” you echo, delicate fingers tracing the curves of his belly, the effects of her work, “I think I have succeeded My Lord.”

The impish smile at your words, the scent of your sweet sex filling his nose, your delicate touch. He was drunk on it all, consumed. His tongue still dancing over his lips, angry it still did not have what it craved. You have ruined him, and he let it. Regretted none of it. He was yours. You lean close to his ear, “I am. Show everyone who you belong to, and make sure you understand no one can sate you like me. No one can sate your hunger like me.”

You lick and nip at his ear, smiling as he groans at your words. He was so close, right where you wanted him, but dessert was never given without a proper beg. You grin as he gasps your name, and you pull back so you can go back to rubbing his belly, “Tell me. Is my beloved full already?” you tease, knowing the answer.

A soft whimper, so soft for a man of his size and power, “Please...no, just a little more. Something sweeter.”

Despite how many times this has happened, Titus always got a little sheepish at this part. Perhaps it was the Astartes conditioning that always made begging, asking like this, uncomfortable.

“Oh, a little dessert for eating all of dinner?” you coo climbing onto the bed, and straddling his round middle. Your weight made him gasp and bark out a needy moan. He could easily take what he wanted. Do what he wanted, but he loved this; feeling weak and out of control. A nice chance of pace, and you were so kind to play your part. Maybe a too well.

You rock on his middle and Titus fights to keep his thoughts from scattering so he can get what he wants, “Yes.” was all he could muster, his hands gripping your thighs as he fights to not just jerk you on his face.

There was fire in his belly and burned down to his raging erection. He wanted to be in you, he wanted to devour you; he wanted it all at once. It was maddening. You lean forward still grinding on him, your beautiful hands tracing those beautiful lips. How he instinctively kissed and licked those fingers, craving you.

“Say, please. My Lord.” you say so sweetly.

“Please!” his normally deep raspy voice cracked with need.

That was all you needed, with a kiss on his chest and a nod from you Titus pulled you onto his face and started to devour you. Your cries filled the room as the man feasted like a starved madman. His tongue plunged so deep into your core you almost felt he might consume you, desperate to taste and have you.

He doesn't even stop for air, mouth, and tongue merciless in his hunger for you. Your body shakes as he feasts like the king he is to you. Because like you said now he knows none would satisfy him the same way. Care for him like you do. The tension and boiling stimulation inside reaches a fever pitch and before you can catch your breath from him licking up his reward for being such a gluttonous lover, you are pushed onto your back. Titus is grinning down at you licking his wet lips.

“I just had the most delicious idea my love,” he croons getting close to your ear, nibbling on it and kissing down your neck, “I think I would like to make sure all know you belong to me now. For when I am gone, yes?”

You feel his cock press against your still raw folds, “The milk you will produce for out child will be so sweet, I just know it,” he continued pushing himself inside you. You gasp as he starts to plunge himself to the hilt inside you.

You smile dreamily, completely and utterly yours. What a gluttonous husband you've made.

[montcumbry-gaytor]

Will you tag me when a Cicero fic comes out please <3

Hysteria

cicero x male reader smut

CONTENT WARNING : GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, VIEW AT YOUR OWN RISK.

— sooo.. yeah, I had an idea for this, I'm a Cicero lover so I'll take any opportunity to write for him.

tw : main characters are literally assassins. canon appropriate language. whiny insane man. ginger man .. spooky.

The night was young for the Dark Brotherhood, there were killings to be had, sacrifices to be made in the name of the mother.

However, the Listener -you- had taken a night to yourself, dispatching a handful of assassins to do the mother's bidding before retiring to your personal quarters.

The room had a biting chill, the stone cold, but somehow warm in comparison to the outside, which had been pelted in snow for days. The hearth burned, the embers crackling, a white noise that became comforting.

Having already stripped of your steel chest-plate and boots, and the leather armor beneath it, you settled for a dark colored tunic and some trousers, though it felt odd to be dressed so casually in times like these.

You scarcely felt deserving of this time, resting felt like a limited resource. So much to do and so little time to do it.

"You sent for me, dear Listener?" Cicero asked, hanging in the entryway.

A madman, a jester, a fiend. Many names men and women alike had given him, accurate, but they overlooked his potential.

"Yes," You replied, your bones felt heavy, having been carrying out your own duties, the duties of a dragonborn, a tiring lifestyle you'd picked up just when you were seconds away from being beheaded. "Keep me company, will you?"

You had asked, and Cicero hardly hid the joy the request brought him. Spending time with his beloved Listener? who in their right -or terribly wrong- mind would deny such an ask?

"But of course!" Cicero said with a grin, approaching with a gleeful grace before taking his floppy jester hat off and holding it over his heart, bowing to his Listener. "I'm at your service, My dear."

You gave a weary smile, and placed your hand on the back of Cicero's neck to pull him close, the other grasping Cicero's hat, tossing it somewhere to be recovered later.

"Good." You murmured, looking deep into the assassin's amber eyes, like pools of whiskey that stared back in return.

There was a time when you considered killing him for trying to kill Astrid, but a clarity had washed over you as each piece of the Dark Brotherhood's puzzle put itself into place, and in the end, you spared Cicero.

And as a result of keeping Cicero to fight at your side, a little relationship had spawned between the two of you.

You pulled Cicero close, lips meeting, something that was soft at first, something that short-circuited Cicero's brain each time, the tenderness of his Listener set him ablaze.

Cicero's hands tightened on your clothes, chasing the kiss hungrily, he loved the affection, the attention.

So you indulged him, fingers curling into the ginger wisps of hair, making Cicero shudder, pushing his tongue past your teeth, trying to taste you, like a mad, hungry dog.

It was a stumble to the bed, it's wooden beams creaking under your shared weight, but Cicero slumped back.

There were practically hearts in his eyes the way he looked at his lover, enraptured by his sweet.

"What a beauty you are, my dear Listener, what a privilege it is to lay with you.." Cicero praised, a mad grin on his lips, but you had merely smiled at the flattery.

Your knees dug into the mattress as you pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it off somewhere before creeping forward, pressing your lips to Cicero's yet again.

Cicero's greedy hands touched anywhere he could, adoring each scar from his Listener's battles, his triumphs and his killings, every single mark delicious, no more precious than a painter's brushstroke.

You'd settled for petty rutting for the moment, lips dancing as your tongues mingled, Cicero's knee between the your legs, his hands gripping your hips and tugging, hungry for every noise that escaped the your lips.

"Careful.." You said softly, thumb caressing Cicero's lower lip.

Cicero hardly listened though, and rolled the two of you over, a wicked smile on his lips. "I know little about being careful, sweetling." Cicero said, craning down to press a trail of kisses over your neck, down your chest.

His lips caressed every scar in sight, he adored them all, his Listener's skin was a precious thing.

"So pretty..." Cicero sang in a whisper, his breath a warm fan over your skin, which spawned gooseflesh as a shiver ran its way down your spine.

He would do anything to please you, to prove his worth by doing everything he could to satisfy you after such a long day. So Cicero sought out to do just that. His hands pulled the dark trousers down in a slow creep, letting them meet the floor with the rest of the clothes.

What good were clothes anyway? Cicero thought, they hid his beautiful Listener's body away from him, clothing was his enemy.

Your hand crept through Cicero's hair as the jester peppered kisses over your inner thighs, murmuring sweet nothings in deluded rhymes.

His fingers slipped just underneath the hem of your unders, teasing the skin there.

"Oh.. how soft you are, sweetling, like the silk of the night mother's gown." Cicero muttered.

A little odd compliment, but it was sweet in retrospect, it was coming from a deranged assassin dressed like court jester after all.

You had intended to make a comment, but was cut off as the cold air met your groin, Cicero's fingers pulling your unders down and away, leaving his beautiful Listener nude, like a blank canvas waiting to be marked and savored.

His tender hand wrapped gingerly around your length like the hilt of his dagger, and stroked in a terribly slow motion.

"Well then... shit." You had gasped, your breath leaving your lungs in brisk pants, the mere touch sending a pang of heat south, taking your blood to rush down with it.

"My, my, and i thought i was the eager one." Cicero says, his breath running over your thighs, pressing kisses to the innermost skin, nipping when he deemed it fit, all while stroking the Listener's cock.

It felt like a task he was unworthy to take on, to satisfy his Listener was a thought that made Cicero's heart swell, oh, how he loved him.

The sensations were enough to pull a bittersweet moan from your lips, the gentle squeeze of his palm as he neared your tip, the pad of his thumb rubbing the slit, gods above, it felt like it was too much.

But of course, to Cicero, he wasn't doing enough. You needed more, he would provide, he would do anything for you.

His tongue ran over his middle finger, slicking it with spit, making sure to be very thorough. He would not tolerate his Listener in pain if they did not request it.

Then, he pressed the tip of his middle finger to your hole, rubbing gently around the rim, before gently pushing in, grinning at the noise it drew.

"Cicero-" You rasped, but he paid little mind to it, as you did his little rambles and tunes, it meant little.

His slender finger pushed against your walls, opening you up in a beckoning motion. "You sound so cute, Listener." Cicero whispered.

Only a psychopath would call the prophesied Dragonborn cute.

Nonetheless, he pushed a second finger into you, he would make sure you were fit to take him, he did dream of making you bleed, but hurting you without your expressed permission would make him pale.

His mouth fluttered over your thighs, his dominant hand stroking you firmly, and his fingers spread you open. The sensory all combined into that of a raging fire in your loins.

"Cicero.. fuck- slow... slow down." You rasped, getting far to close to your orgasm than you wanted to be, it'd been far too long since you'd done this.

"Your wish is my command..." Cicero said, and he made you regret your words.

He pumped slowly, causing your hips to twitch and desperately try to fuck into his fist, and his fingers spread out in a scissoring motion inside of you, it felt hot, too fucking hot.

Cicero licked warm trails of spit up and down your thighs, bruising them with viscous bites, and whispered praises against your flesh. He loved watching you come undone.

"By Talos..." You cursed, your fist balling into the sheets below you, and you cried out as Cicero dared to push a third finger into you, pushing you open, savoring your voice.

He loved the way you writhed, his sweet Listener becoming undone like a ball of yarn.

Your body burned, you were terribly close, practically shaking as your hips jolted into Cicero's fist.

And then he pulled away, his fingers slipping out, his palm leaving your dick aching, and his lips ghosting your skin.

"Not yet, my dear, not yet." Cicero giggled.

You had laid there, catching your breath, trying to control the way your body raged, and when you looked at Cicero again, he was stripping away his shirt. "Can't have this getting messy.." He muttered under his breath.

He leaned to the side, fetching one of the bottles on the wooden side tables next to your bed, a small vile with a pinkish, syrupy liquid inside.

"I'll have to fetch more of this for you..." He murmured, thinking aloud.

Then, he shoved down his trousers, his erection leaking, the tip red, so ready to take you, to sate your every desire until you could not speak.

He haphazardly uncorked the bottle with his teeth, and spit out the cork. You could still hear it clatter to the ground, but had little care. Your eyes were occupied watching Cicero as he poured the fluid over his length, his free hand stroking it over his flesh.

"Oh, Listener, I cannot wait to make you weep." Cicero giggled, rubbing his tip over your hole, looking deep into your eyes the entire time.

"You can't?" You asked, and Cicero raised a brow, curious. "What if i said.. you had to?"

Cicero frowned oh so quickly. He would never dream of disobeying you, you said jump and he would ask how high. He would never do something you didn't want.

"Please don't sweet Listener... Cicero just wants to have you.." He whined, it was cute, he was desperate.

"I didn't hear that, Cicero, you'll have to speak up." You teased, adoring how Cicero pouted, and crooned over to kiss down your arm and to your palm.

"Pretty, pretty please, Listener. Let Cicero fill you."

Cicero pleaded, his cock twitching between your legs, you knew he couldn't wait, you couldn't either. So you gave him a nod of approval, and Cicero shuddered with excitement.

His left hand pressed your thigh, pushing your leg open, and his right occupied his cock, aiding it as he pushed into you.

Cicero was slow, and through clenched teeth he grunted and huffed. He aches to push in all at once, to revel in your tightness, but he controls himself for your sake. All for you.

It's when your hips finally meet as his length fills your hot walls that he lets out the breath hes been holding.

"Fucks sake.." You whisper. Your eyes are closed as your body adjusts, and when you open them, Cicero is watching desperately, waiting for your command.

You beckon him closer with your hand that isn't balled in the sheets, and he leans forward, and your hand finds his shoulder, pulling him into a kiss where his tongue finds yours again.

That's the permission he needs, and his hips roll into you, slow at first, drawing himself out before pushing all the way back in, pushing deeper each time, but his eyes don't leave you at all.

He's enamored by the mere sight of you beneath him, slicked with a cold sweat and filled by his cock.

He's fucking the night mother's chosen, how beautiful.

His hand that lingered on your thigh unsteadily plants into the mattress next to your head, he towers over you, ginger hair sticking to his forehead as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his hips aim upward to fuck against the bundle of nerves deep inside you.

He's terribly accurate, precise, he knows where it's at from the countless times he's done before, and yet he treats it like a blessing every time.

Cicero practically whimpers at the feel of you, every inhale has a giggle, hes mad and intoxicated because of you.

"There you go... fuck-" You rasp, your mouth parted as noises escape your lips without thinking. "Good boy."

Oh, he loves that. His cock jolts inside of you, his teeth catch his lower lip. He thrusts into you, begging you to praise him more. He craves your approval.

Your hands find his lean, freckled shoulders, your nails dig in, and he adores it. The marks you leave are things he cherishes, and things he mourns when they fade.

"So good for me, Cicero.. ah-" You grunt, if you were close earlier, you were teetering on the edge now.

Cicero can feel it in you, you squeeze down on him and he moans at the very feeling, his hips snap into you, his heart pounds like a war drum. He's merely a loose cannon you've lit.

"Don't you dare stop.." You command, and Cicero shakes his head. He'd never dream of it, no, he'd do this forever if it were possible.

Your stomach burns, and something deep feels so tight that it pulls every muscle in your body taut. All you can think is how badly you want to let go.

And despite his exhaustion, Cicero's pace doesn't falter.

All breath leaves your lungs, your hips jolt on their own and your brain numbs for a moment, each muscle spasms as your cock spills out white over your belly. And Cicero chases his release as quickly as possible.

He's a whiny mess, and his hips shudder, your walls flooded in thick ropes of his seed, and he breaths out wistfully as his high comes down.

Cicero can hardly help with how infatuated he feels looking at you, your sweaty body, the cum dripping down your sides and out of your hole.

"So.. So, pretty." He whispers, and cuddles into you like a contented pup. And your fried mind decides aftercare can be handled after you've taken a good nap.

— if it wasn't obvious.. I think Cicero has a deep servitude kink.

[nottswitch]

hey i hope i’m not disturbing you but is a wondering if you could do a fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader (fem) where it’s an already established but fred and the reader have been friends since the beginning and the reader is a prefect and helps to get fred out of trouble and after one such occasion fred is like i love you and it’s just like fluff

if not that’s ok

⋆˙⟡ ravenclaw!prefect!reader helps her boyfriend out of trouble

not disturbing at all, tysm for your request <3 as a ravenclaw, i appreciate the thought! was giggling and kicking my feet while writing this, so i hope you enjoy!

warnings: lots of fluff

navigation ; masterlist ; fred m.list ; how to request

“i assure you, professor, that mr. weasley had just overstayed his welcome in the library. nothing more.”

you stood in front of professor mcgonagall, your composure well-kept, but your heart secretly beating at light’s speed. your face didn’t show any emotions, but on the inside you were fuming; you could swear your current body temperature wasn’t healthy for a human. the ginger behind you let out a chuckle and you offered merlin another prayer, begging that fred wouldn’t blurt out something outrageous and ruin your lie, created in haste and therefore, fragile.

“i wasn’t aware you had such a zeal for knowledge, mr. weasley,” mcgonagall addressed fred, raising her eyebrow. he shrugged with a smirk on his face.

“what can I say, professor, i am quite unpredictable!”

you rolled your eyes. mcgonagall didn’t seem to take his words at face value, but she was likely tired of his antics and, after all, he was with you, a prefect, an exemplary ravenclaw student. she trusted you, which made you feel bad every time you openly abused that trust to get your madman of a boyfriend and his brother out of trouble.

you heard mcgonagall call your last name and straightened your back.

“your responsibility. please, escort mr. weasley to the dormitories and remind him not to overwork himself.”

the professor shot fred a warning look and strode away, her steps loudly bouncing off the walls of the empty corridor. you breathed out a sigh of relief and motioned him to follow you.

“that – that was brilliant, hun!”

fred caught up to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, placing a kiss on your temple. you scoffed, but a smile graced your lips nonetheless.

“mr. weasley, you annoy me to no end,” you said, giving him a frown, which apparently appeared comical, as the boy just chuckled and continued sprinkling your face with small kisses, from your cheek to your forehead and back again. “now stop that, we have to go!”

in a matter of seconds you were sat on the nearest windowsill, fred’s arms locking you in place without a way to escape. he always did that, his athleticism be damned, picking you up and carrying you wherever his heart desired.

“love, what are you doing?” you whispered as he continued to pester your flushed face with his lips. “mcgonagall is right round the corner!”

“helping my little prefect loosen up a bit.”

you sighed and cupped fred’s face with your hands, moving it away ever so slightly, so that you could see his eyes. a usual hint of mischief glimmered in his gaze, and you were on the brink of surrendering at his mercy and giving him a proper snog. but your luck had been tested enough that evening.

“babe, can you promise me something?” you asked, your eyes fixed on him with hope.

“what is it, hun?”

“can you stop doing this? i mean, sneaking out at night. at least when I’m on patrol duty.” you sighed, tweaking your expression to display your best puppy eyes that fred could never resist. “i’m surprised georgie isn’t with you!”

“brother mine didn’t have any fun in his bones tonight,” fred scoffed. “hun, you know how i am. you can ignore me, i’ll serve detention, nothing new.”

“but I can’t! i don’t want you to get in trouble,” you admitted, scanning his face for any traces of sympathy for you.

“baby, i am trouble.”

you grinned as fred pulled you closer to him and pecked your nose. he emitted homely warmth and you felt safe, even though it was far from the truth – any professor could sneak up on you at any point, hell, even a fellow prefect, who wouldn’t be so kind to two students virtually snogging in the corridors way past curfew.

“i love you, my little prefect,” fred muttered against your lips, your noses so squished together that you could barely breathe.

“i love you too,” you replied, brushing his cheek with your thumb.

your lips blended in one as you kissed under the moonlight softly enveloping your silhouettes through the colourful stained glass window. fred wrapped his arms fully around you, one on the back of your head and the other safely belted around your waist. a sleeve of fred’s oversized cardigan served as a cushion, keeping your nape from freezing against the chilly glass, adorned with the first november frost.

“so… you promise?”

“give me your schedule, hun. can’t get my prefect in more trouble, can i?”

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

The Key to His Heart

It is often said that the key to a man’s heart, goes through his stomach. Well, that doesn’t apply to the man who owns my heart, and vice versa. By all means, we do indulge in culinary treats. 

In our younger days, it was heaps of take-away; Indian, Chinese, Indonesian. Never Italian, though. Angelo would’ve been devastated if we sought out Italian food somewhere else.

And there were of course the sweets, to satisfy the madman I lived with. 

(Still lives with, to be clear.) 

Ginger nuts, jammy dodgers, scones, Mrs. Hudson’s home baked cakes and biscuits, tiramisu, chocolate mousse, and sticky toffee pudding.

But I’m rambling. My madman, the great Sherlock Holmes, still doesn’t eat the amount of food I would like him to. He still claims that it slows him down. Not that he has places to be nowadays. If you don’t count his beloved beehives that is.

I seem unable to keep my thoughts collected on one topic today. The thing I was going to tell you about, was how I, John Hamish Watson, was given the key to the detective’s heart.

Everyone thought we were a couple from the day I moved into Baker Street. Quite a lot of them took it as a personal insult, when we, well, mostly I, objected to the assumption.

“Not gay!” I shouted out to anyone who cared to listen.

Few did, but the one that mattered the most, always listened. It still hurts to think about. 

Sherlock is interested in all kinds of things, but the thing that has stuck with him since childhood, is the fascination for bees. I was stunned when he told me about it quite early in our acquaintanceship. Living in London assured that we didn’t come across them very often, unless we walked the parks. We mostly ran through the parks, always chasing the bad guys. That was a relief, because I was terrified of the tiny creatures. 

“How is that possible? You invaded Afghanistan,” Sherlock protested when I told him.

“Well, childhood trauma isn’t that easily forgotten, Sherlock,” I stated.

When I was eight years old, I was stung by dozens of bees. I had been fighting with Harry, and she pushed me against our uncle’s two beehives. The push was hard, and both hives fell to the ground. I can still recall the angry buzzing and the bees’ fierce attack. It was summer, and I was only wearing a pair of shorts… 

Enough about my childhood horrors. 

It took me too long to realise that I loved Sherlock. Even when he came back from the dead, I acted like I hadn’t grieved him like a lover.

Keep calm and carry on.

Sherlock’s sudden illness, which forced him to stay in bed for almost a fortnight, made us both come out of our shells. His high fever made him hallucinate, and he was quite talkative throughout. He pledged his love for me numerous times a day, mostly in his sleep, so I didn’t put much into the declarations. I worked it out in the end and did some pledging myself.

He wasn’t entirely convinced at first. The not gay statement still lingered in his mind, and he was reluctant to do more than occasionally holding my hand and hug me. So, I decided to convince him. I just had to get Harry on board. She was surprisingly amenable to my suggestion to buy her share of our uncle’s cottage, which we both had inherited some years previous. 

Sherlock didn’t know about it. I had almost forgotten about it myself by that time. 

The cottage was called “In the Meadows”, and the name fit perfectly. It was surrounded by them on three sides, and said meadows needed some taming. Nobody had lived there for at least three years. An old neighbour had kept an eye on it, though, so it wasn’t in total decay. It needed some loving hands, which I hoped Sherlock and I could provide.

I took him down to Sussex one sunny Saturday in May. The neighbour had assured me that beehives were in place, and the gear needed to tend to them.

“Happy belated birthday, Sherlock,” I said when we stood outside the house.

“What do you mean, John?” he asked, too stunned to deduce and observe properly.

“It’s for you. Or us, really,” I told him.

I was so anxious for his reaction.

The blinking came first. I had anticipated that. What came as a total surprise was the kiss once he had spotted the hives.

He turned to face me, cradled my face, and pressed his lips softly against mine. I almost stopped breathing but finally got my arms to work and circled them around his waist.

“My John. You…how…but you’re terrified of…” Sherlock stuttered after he broke the kiss.

“Well, I’ll just have to trust you to protect me for once, then,” I murmured, still dazed from the tender kiss.

“Do you really love me that much, John?” Sherlock inquired.

“More than anything,” I told him, which lead to further kisses.

If you wondered; yes, we’re both retired, and our address isn’t 221B Baker Street anymore, but “In the Meadows”, Sussex.

-------------------------------------------------------

This is also my entry to the Sherlock Challenge of July, prompt: key.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @sherlockchallenge @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno

@helloliriels @raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler

@topsyturvy-turtely @jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh

@brandiwein1982 @meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie

@shy-bi-inlovewithregandmoony @lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog

(Tell me if you want to be tagged or untagged)

[cuti3-p13]

SPILT INK

A short LAMS one-shot

DESCRIPTION - John spills ink. Thank god for Alexander Hamilton.

Stacks on stacks of worn cracked paper piled on rough desks was all John knew for the first few weeks since he’s joined Washington’s staff.

Coffee and scarce rations were all he lived off of those last weeks, and John was starting to feel it. It was true, the aides got access to better food and more supplies, but it did not even compare to the life he’d lived when he was back home. John quickly shrugged that thought off with a slight frown as he bit on his tongue. A flair of pain shot up. Good. He couldn’t afford to think selfishly here.

It was dark, the sun had set about an hour ago and John was not even halfway through his translations. He traced the curve of his nose with a finger and scanned the parchment, muttering the words back to himself carefully.

His hands ached. The smell of ink might be stuck in his nostrils. It would be blood a few years later. John tore his eyes away from the parchment to find the ink leaking slowly onto his desk.

“Fuck- “

He hastily grabbed the nearest cloth (which happened to be his coat), and soaked up the ink before it touched the pile of paper it was seeping towards.

John sighed and felt his throat tighten, emotions threatening to spill over as he looked at the mess on his desk. It had been a long day already, and there was still much more work to do.

Man up, John. Get it together. Do not even think about crying over something as small as spilt ink.

Once his workspace was cleared of the spilled ink and his jacket was discarded somewhere behind him, John settled in again and picked up his quill.

The moon was well into the sky when John woke with an ache in his jaw. A few seconds later he realized he fell asleep on his desk.

Fuck.

Movement caught John’s eye, and he picked up his head from the wooden surface and looked around the room. The fireplace had been out for a while, only a few ashes were still glowing red. The candle on John’s desk was at the bottom of its wick, but it still burned bright.

Red hair caught the firelight from across the room, the figure walking down the stairs quietly. John went to speak, to notify Hamilton of his presence but he selfishly opted against it.

Hamilton crept silently to the desk on the far-right side of the room - near the fireplace - and started flipping through prices of parchment, muttering to himself and shaking his head like a madman.

John blinked. This little ginger fellow was even stranger than he’d thought.

“Ah-ha!” Alexander grabbed a small parchment paper quickly and John could see the outline of his triumphant smile.

“Hamilton?” John called, making himself known. Hamilton spun around, hiding the parchment behind his back quickly and morphing his face of surprise into an easy smile.

“Ah, Laurens. I didn’t think you’d be awake so late.” Hamilton had was still behind his back, and John couldn’t help but incline his head to try to get a better view. He was very subtle, though.

“Oh, well I just finished up my translations. Since our dear Marquis is not here i had to pick up some of the extra work.” Hamilton hummed at that and nodded, walking over to where John was sitting. The shorter man’s eyebrows furrowed. “What ever happed to your coat?”

John grimaced.

“Ink may have spilled.”

Hamilton laughed, tipping his head back slightly. John found himself smiling along, the tips of his ears growing hot. “And so your solution was to clean it with your coat? I thought you were raised a gentleman, Laurens.”

John bristled and crossed his arms defiantly. “I am a perfectly fine gentleman, thank you. It was that or let it ruin the parchment.”

Alexander didn’t seem to buy it. He shook his head with a smirk and leveled John with an unimpressed look. “And I assume you do not know how to get ink stains out of your clothing?” John felt his face heat up again.

“Of course.” Alexander quipped, tugging John’s jacket off the chair where it hung. “Come with me, I’ll save you the embarrassment of Meade’s ruthless teasing. He will never forget this if he sees it.”

——

SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT IVE HAD WRITERS BLOCK SOOOO BAD! LOVE YALLL

[cannibalmetaphor]

below the cut is a list of cannibal / eating people media I’ve consumed (pun intended) 🥩🔪 to honour my username of course! I’ve also got a running watchlist! send me asks if u have any recs!!!

consumed… 🥩🔪 favs are in bold

nbc hannibal (tv show)

interview with the vampire (tv show)

midnight mass (tv show)

the terror (tv show)

strangers from hell (tv show)

hazbin hotel (tv show) (briefest of mentions)

bones and all (movie)

ginger snaps (movie)

raw (movie)

the fan (movie)

mother! (movie)

romero’s zombie series (movies)

earthlings (book)

life ceremony (book)

tender is the flesh (book)

a certain hunger (book)

exquisite corpse (book)

a madman’s diary (short story)

on the menu (watchlist)… 🥩🔪

yellowjackets (tv show)

true blood (tv show)

the vampire chronicles (books)

the hannibal series (books)

dracula (book/movies)

to be devoured (book)

mother for dinner (book)

mexican gothic (book)

the centre (book)

off season (book)

eat the rich (graphic novel)

chew (graphic novel)

cannibalism: a perfectly natural history (nonfiction book)

eaters of the dead (nonfiction book)

eat thy neighbour (nonfiction book)

Jennifer’s body (movie)

the hills have eyes (movie)

martin (movie)

trouble every day (movie)

hellbender (movie)

the neon demon (movie)

fresh (movie)

ravenous (movie)

rabid (movie)

the green inferno (movie)

cannibal girls (movie)

Titus (movie)

[leo143]

Enchanting

A/N: First time publishing a story, sorry if there are any errors !! [Took the scene right out of the book]

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow… turn this stupid fat rat yellow!”

Ron waved his wand at Scabbers, clearly the spell was a dud. Harry and I shrugged our shoulders. “Perhaps you didn’t say it correctly?” I interjected with curious eyes. “Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the bushy-haired girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it?” I noticed Ron furrowing his brows, almost knitting them together. I swear his face is turning more red than his hair if that girl doesn’t leave. “Holy cricket, you’re Harry Potter! I’m Hermione Granger. You must be?” She looks over at me and keeps her posture polished. “Erm.. Y/N Y/LN…” Those were the only words I could croak out before she smiled softly and moved onto the ginger. The bushy-haired girl side-eyed Ron whilst speaking to him, “And you are…?” My neck snapped towards Ron’s direction as he continued chewing on whatever chocolate candy was in his possession. “Mm.. Ron Weasley.” “Pleasure,” said Hermione, with a hint of annoyance. 

“That spell you casted was a bit ridiculous. Surely you know others? I, myself, know a few and they all have worked.” Hermione sits besides me, taking out her wand and pointing it at Harry’s glasses.

“Oculus Reparo.”

I watched in amazement at how well her mending charm worked. Harry’s glasses were fixed! I glanced at Hermione, entranced at her talent. Was I even capable of doing that? How- Why- What? Ron, Harry, and I were breathless. This random girl around our age just so happens to pop up looking for a toad and ends up here using a spell. “H-How did you.. Wow.” I could barely form words as my lips curled into a small grin. Ignoring me, Hermione stood up and dusted herself. “You three had better change, you know. I expect we’ll be there soon.” The brown-eyed girl leaves the compartment and Ron scowls behind her back. “Whatever house I’m in, she better not be in it too.” I could only grin so much until Harry nudged me, “What house do you think you’ll be sorted in, Y/N?” I hesitantly answered Harry, although I could feel my face heating up. “My folks have been sorted into Slytherin so I suppose I'll be in it too.” Ron spat out his chocolate frog. “What?” He said shocked. ”Slytherin? You’re telling me your folks are Slytherins?!” “You’re overreacting-” “Am not!” “Are too!” “Shush! Both of you!” said Harry loudly. “Look. Vold- You-Know-Who was sorted into Slytherin and he turned out to be a madman. But Ron, look at Y/N. She’s been laughing and getting along with us. We can accept that, can’t we?” 

“Yeah,” said Ron, squinting his eyes.

I grinned and playfully punched Ron’s shoulder; I wasn’t grinning at the thought of friendships. Oh no. My mind drifted elsewhere; grinning at the thought that I may cross paths with Hermione again.

[alltheyoungmoons]

Record Shopping

@wolfstarmicrofic | 997 words | Rated T | ATYD Timeline Compliant | CW mention of war (nothing major)

Unintentionally wrote this on a whim yesterday and realised it fit the last two July prompts "Missing Scene" and "Fluff". Wrote this to slot into the 1979/1980s chapters of ATYD and I reference a couple of things from this other incredible short fic by @snailwriter. Song referenced is this.

March 1980 started and ended with a full moon. Remus tried to see the irony of being welcomed into his twenties by a Blue Moon. If that wasn’t an omen of things to come… but then again, he had opted out of taking Divination. 

It had been a gruelling start to the year, but with the news of “Baby Prongs” on the way and the fact that Remus had been relegated to minor duties, he and Sirius had spent more time together without fighting than ever since the beginning of the war.

Remus’ birthday fell on a Monday, so Sirius insisted on going out to celebrate that Sunday, just the two of them. They ended up record shopping in Kensington, pressed shoulder to shoulder while sifting through crates of records in companionable silence. Sirius was often quiet these days.

 He was busy inspecting a copy of Pink Floyd’s The Wall when Sirius called out for him from the new releases section, waving a dark-covered record as to beckon him and grinning like a madman. He snaked his way across the displays, his eyes never leaving him, relishing in how alive he looked, a glint of the incandescent kid he’d once been illuminating his silvery irises.

“What do we have here” Remus mused when Sirius held the vinyl in front of his chest to show off the cover. It was a picture of the band - three men glancing directly at the camera with various expressions and a woman with a mane of ginger curls on her profile. Remus thought that they all sorta looked like they belonged in Slytherin, but didn’t mention it, as not to upset Sirius and as to pretend, even if just for a couple of hours, that they weren’t themselves, that they didn’t know anything about wars and dead relatives and they were just two normal, dumb twenty-somethings in love. Of course this all but lasted five seconds before Sirius, still grinning with his gaze fixed on Remus, flipped the record on the back and pointed to the fourth track with his slender index finger.

Remus had to read the short sentence three times.

“Are you fucking for real?”

“Moony, it’s perfect!”

Remus was stunned. He knew Muggles had some knowledge of magical creatures, from their shared heritage that they shrug off as “folk tales”, but he hadn’t lived between Muggles for so long that it was shocking to see such evidence in the wild, so to speak.

“You better like it because this is your birthday gift.”

“I already chose my three records, actually”

“Well lucky you I’m feeling generous, so I’m getting you a fourth. Even if they do kinda look like pretentious prats, don’t you think?”

“You’re one to talk” Remus scoffed

“Moony, don’t start calling me names now, or we won't be able to make it back to bed in time.”

Remus went to pick up the copy of The Wall he’d left behind, plus the latest single by Blondie and London Calling, which had come out a few months before. Sirius slipped him some cash and he paid, as the other boy was -still- not very acquainted with muggle currency.

They got home and had takeout from Huang’s, who was kind enough to gift them a couple of beers when he found out it was about to be Remus’ birthday. They sat in the living room, evening into night, listening to music, and as midnight quickly approached, Sirius put on the record he insisted on buying, with that stupid song. It wasn't bad, though a bit to rockabilly for Remus' taste. As the grandfather clock in Flat 7 chimed twelve times, the stereo started thumping a steady rhythm accompanied by strumming chords that sliced through the silence, immediately captivating. After a few riffs, a low voice started drawling out

I was a teenage werewolf Braces on my fangs I was a teenage werewolf And no one even said thanks And no one made me stop!

The two boys froze, exchanging a glance. It was Remus who broke first, melting into a fit of hysterics.

“It’s so stupid!”

“I know! It’s brilliant!” Sirius was wiping his eyes. How long had it been since they were happy tears?

I had a teen-land mind I had to blow my top And under teen full moon No one could make me stop! No one could make me stop!

Sirius slipped from the sofa to snuggle up to Remus, who had lain on the floor catching his breath. He kissed the tip of his nose, gently.

“Happy Birthday, Moons.”

A teenage werewolf Parallel bars A teenage girlfriend Got a lot of scars Somebody please make me stop Ohhh please…

“Would you have fancied me if I had braces on my fangs?” Remus mused jokingly.

Sirius answered with a gravity like his honour depended on it “What kind of- yes? I would’ve probably been gone even more. I like the nerd thing, if you haven’t noticed.”

You know, I have puberty rights And I have puberty wrongs No one understood me All my teeth were so long And no one made me stop!

“You can officially say you were a teenage werewolf, now”

“Yeah, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt”

Sirius slapped his arm.

“Oi!”

“What I mean is - we’re not teenagers anymore.”

“Haven’t you had a few months to adjust to the idea already?”

“Calling me old?”

“Never in a derogatory way, my love - I haven’t felt younger than sixty since I was thirteen.”

Sirius went quiet, clouding over. How much of their teenagehood had been lost to the war already? His brother would never live to see his twenties. Their futures, this new decade, were unfolding in front of them, ripe with potential and terrifying like the concrete mystery of a black hole. For now, though, Remus was content with lying on the carpet, his lover in his arms, listening to some weird Muggle band making light of his life’s curse.

[allisamemory]

On the Other Side of the Screen (Part 2)

As someone who is a part of three siblings, he felt it’s mandatory to get all of the Fontaine siblings and get them to max level (now crowned, though. Those are for the best of the bests). Only one siblings remained to be brought home.

A.K.A in which an avid player of a certain gacha game contemplates about a “family” that’s on his mind.

(Written before 4.1 hits)

_______________________________________________

He sat in front of his laptop as he stare at the clock.

3… 2… 1.

18:00

In an instant, he immediately open the wishing screen, and lo and behold, Childe is there. Due to his own insistence to be true to the story, he had rid Childe of his artifacts and bow and gave it to Ganyu temporarily. As for his artifacts, he’ll give it to Neuvillette until his artifact luck granted him a good set.

Of course, Childe isn’t happy with this. The Harbinger have been trying to get his attention - how his icon has an exclamation mark, even though there’s no star of the Monoceros Caeli in his inventory that’s inactive.

Choosing to ignore the ginger, he went to Zhongli’s banner, and pull. 63 pulls saved, but he can only do a ten-pull three times until he reached gold.

The purple shooting star streak the sky, and after a few blue stars…

There he is. With his little hat, coat, holding The Bell for some reason even if doesn’t fit his gameplay, and the cute robot penguin…

“Welcome home, Freminet.”

The boy looked around nervously as he opens his character screen and prepare to lose about 80% of his current mora.

_____

“Alright, you two.” He said as he placed Freminet between the magician twins in his teapot. “Starting from today, you three will be in charge of commissions in Fontaine until you three graduated (reached friendship level 10). I already gave Fremmie some directions.” He ended as he waved his cursor on Freminet’s head as a means to headpat him.

“Commissions…?”

“Yeah. You know, go around beating monsters or rogue mechas, testing Antoine’s blimp, and diving underwater- in which that will be Fremmie’s job.”

The three siblings looked at each other as if they were talking to a madman.

“What?”

“That’s it?”

“I mean, yeah. You might have to talk to someone once in a while, but don’t worry. The Traveler will take over if that were to happen. Also, I’ll have one person each day to guide you around so you’ll have a full complete team.” He swirl his cursor as if waving his hand. “Any question?”

“… Activating discussion mode.” Lynette looked up to the screen and calls his name.

“Yeah?”

“Do they know that we are…”

“Oh, don’t worry. They don’t.”

Lyney raised his hand. “But you say that you have two harbingers in your group.”

He nods. “One of them is Tartaglia, but he’s behind bars, so you know. The other one, I can’t disclose. I kept a promise with them to not disclose their identity. No, it’s not Arlecchino. I don’t even know if she’s playable.”

“I see.” Lynette simply says, summoning a cup of tea to her hands.

“… Are you worried that she might…”

All three of them went tense.

“Ah, I guess it’s not surprising that you feel that way. Considering the fate of Signora.” He fell silent for a bit. “And to be fair, I don’t know if I’ll pull for her if she is playable. It comes down to whenever I have enough Fates to call her.”

He’s currently saving for Neuvillette. If the theory of him as the Hydro Dragon is true, then someone like him will be perfect to bring along should Celestia is available. But he’s also an Archon Collector, so Furina is a must…

Wait, why is he even thinking about this.

“We’ll see.”

Whatever happens, happens. This is a motto that solve him a bunch of trouble in his rather troubled and messed up life…

“Besides… Are you guys even happy with how she is?”

That question earns him a confused look from the three.

“… It’s nothing.”

It’s weird, really. He was so used to seeing Lyney being cheerful and being all flashy in the battlefield. Lynette is as calm as ever, but he can feel some sort of tension in the way her tail swish around.

Freminet is doing his scuba helmet idle mode that he swore stays longer than usual.

Of course, they don’t trust him. Who would trust someone who pulled you out of nowhere, claims that the Traveler is his avatar of some sort and told you to do these jobs? They’re not even part of the Adventurer’s Guild.

But they still do it anyway? Is it because they want to trust him? Or is this an effect of being someone from the upper layers of reality?

… He’s thinking about this way too much. “… Alright! Here’s the commission. Let’s see… Where’s that randomizer…”

After doing a bit of a randomizer game, today’s guide will be Fischl, who has her full honor of guiding the newbies to their new side-jobs.

“Follow me, magicians and diver! Our duty in this world does not wait!” They then exited the teapot, a little bit confused, but determined.

He sighed. As he controlled the siblings in battle against a bunch of treasure hoarders, that ninja - Chitose‘s words come to mind.

“Several years ago, a serious clash appears to have occured between the Knave and a certain child at the House of Hearth - this leads to the latter replacing the former. This previous Knave - ‘Teacher’ appears to be using the current Knave’s name to keep a hold of his suboordinates as they act across various nations - his goal at present affiliation, however, are unclear.”

He took a sip of his tea and open his phone while his current team took a small break. He stared at the re-introductions of the three siblings, complete with Fatui background, and read the lines said by Arlecchino as uneasiness growing on his stomach.

Who is she, really? What happened between her and this ‘Teacher’ guy? What did she do about this situation? And, what trouble is she trying to brew in Fontaine?

Is she really trying to stop the Prophecy? Whatever he tried to do, be it reading Lyney’s character story or looking at cute fanarts of her, it still doesn’t clear his mind of his distrust.

“The Knave… Can you really be trusted?”

He shakes his head. As he heard Fischl calling out to him, saying that their break is over, he put his tea on the side and continue “playing”.

_______________________________________________

(Note: this was written before the 4.1 trailer drops and around the time the Fontaine siblings are reintroduced as Fatui, which is why the Player didn’t mention anything about the trailer.)

[serialadoptersbracket]

Round 2, Match 52: Jupiter North vs. Keishin Ukai

Submitted kids:

Jupiter North: Jack, Morrigan, Martha, Charlie, Hawthorne, Cadence, the rest of unit 919 eventually

Keishin Ukai: Shouyou Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Kei Tsukishima, Hitoka Yachi, Chikara Ennoshita, Kazuhito Narita, Hisashi Kinoshita, Yuu Nishinoya, Ryuunosuke Tanaka, Asahi Azumane, Koushi Sugawara, Kiyoko Shimizu, Daichi Sawamura

Propaganda under the cut!

Jupiter North:

1. “This man is a true collector! He has never once seen something and said no. Jobs? He's got at least 50 and counting. The wildest outfits you've ever seen? He'll buy them in a heartbeat. Wacky ideas? He's never heard of a bad one. Things In Jars? He has a whole room for them, of course. Children? He adopted his nephew and is probably halfway through the papers for Morrigan. I'd bet that he's eyeing the rest of the Hotel, too.”

2. “he’s so!!!! ok so the main character of the series is morrigan, and her blood family sucks ass. they hate her guts and also she has no friends. she is very lonely and believes that she will be lonely until she dies at a young age. until jupiter comes along!!! he’s really the first person to tell her that she’s worth something and that cares about her. and usually he doesn’t patron people (sponsor their education and mentor them) but he’s her patron <3”

3. “He loves his kids so much. He broke the law many, many times and nearly got arrested quite a few times for the happiness and safety of his children”

4. “He’s a gay ginger madman with a rainbow flag for a wardrobe and the ability to see anything you’re feeling. What more do you need?”

Keishin Ukai:

“One day ur a lonely 20-something working at the local corner store, the next ur a single dad and rookie coach to 14 wayward teenagers.”

[diabolik-boys]

late to the party but blogs I appreciate! :') (and general thanks)

I got tagged in the post going around (a few weeks ago sorry about that) about blogs that others appreciate and I kind of wanted to make my own post about it because I'm going to elaborate on blogs I enjoy (and it would become a very big blog post and I'd feel a little guilty adding onto post directly and making it super long with my ramblings of a madman)

Regardless, I got tagged by @hanakohanabe here, and @mukami-kuron-mrsadisticcat (@theshiningidols-koukuron) here. Thank you so much you two :') I get really emotional thinking about it, and it means a lot to me.

For my friends:

@renamami My shining gem, you've stuck with me throughout some of my hardest moments, and I appreciate knowing that every day, I can wake up and send you a message or see a message from you, and we spend most of our days together. You're an essential part of my day to make it feel normal, and I appreciate you more than my words can express. I love you dearly, and want to see you smile. I know you can fight through any hardship that comes your way, even if life feels like it wants to take you on another difficult journey. You ground me and help keep me here day by day. You'll never stop making me proud to be your friend. I love you, and thank you for being my best friend throughout everything. I'm proud of you always.

@mukami-kuron-mrsadisticcat (@theshiningidols-koukuron) Kuron, you've been such a wonderful friend to me all throughout my time of operating my blog. I appreciate all of the support you have given me, and for simply messaging me whenever I needed a friend to talk to and some support. You run an amazing blog. I find myself often just reading through it time after time thinking of how Kuron fits into the world of Dialovers so perfectly. I consider him a canon Mukami brother. The effort and hard work you have put into your blog shines through effortlessly. And I'm always going to admire you. You're a wonderful person, and a dear friend. Thank you.

@mukami-kou-dazzlingpinkidol Kou! Right along with Kuron, you extended your friendship and support for me at a time I needed it the most. Thank you so much for your kindness and for the support for me. I have always cherished any conversations I had with you or Kuron, and it has meant the world to me.

@hanakohanabe Hime, you've stepped into my life whenever I least expected it, and I really appreciate everything you've done for me. You've listened to me some days when I needed it the most, and your friendship has been really appreciated. Thank you for your love and support for me. I hope to continue spending time with you and having a lot of fun together! You're a wonderful person, and I admire your dedication to your blogs! You're a precious friend, and I appreciate you very much.

@ruki--mukami/@goldazu Jas! It's so good to hear from you anytime we get to message, and I have long admired you and your dedication to Ruki and how amazingly you portray him. I am so thankful for everything you've done for me, and you have been such a kind friend to me for a long time. Thank you for taking time to listen to me whenever I needed it most, and for your friendship. I hope you are doing well, and please be sure take care of yourself! Breaks are important, and I'm really proud of you!

@amistyshadow Misty, I appreciate you sending me messages just to check in on me, and I've really grown to appreciate your kindness and company. Thank you so much for lending an ear when needed, and for your support for me as your friend. You've been really kind and have extended yourself to me whenever I needed someone to talk to, and that has always been so kind of you. Thank you.

@briyettaspring Ginger, thank you so much for your friendship and for spending time with me. I've had a lot of fun talking with you, and I have really appreciate you listening to me whenever I needed it and for being my friend. Thank you for being so kind to me, and I hope we continue to grow closer!

For blogs I've interacted with a little (thank you so much!) and hope I get to know more: @eyelessdoll-y, @bobateasilverpearl, @mermaid--bride/@cutelih, @lavander-aavaros, @ajumierose, @diabolikpersonals, @sumire-bride, @kirua9, @bluebird-dolly-bride/@dryams03, @iricathel, @kindan-no-kanojo, @thatonefrenchwitch

I appreciate all your blogs and I admire what you do.

I admire a lot of blogs on here, but I hope I can get to know you all more. I also want to shout out @the-mostdiabolik-of-lovers/@fruit-of-infidelity, @bluebird-dolly-bride/@dryams03, @iricathel, @kindan-no-kanojo, @mino-diabolik as I really like all of your OC blogs and have checked every once in a while to read up on their interactions. Thank you for keeping this community interesting!

Also @diabolikpersonals, I admire you very much. Thank you for all you do.

I am pretty shy, but I would love to connect with more people and make more friends. If you ever feel lonely, feel free to send me a message or an ask.

I'm really busy a lot of the time nowadays, but I will do my best to keep on posting on weekends only.

Thank you all to my followers as well. You keep me going. :')

As always, much love. - Admin Azusa

[ceironwrites]

The moment Childe started to feel something for you, you would be sparring with him.

Childe had found it. An opening on your side. It was his time to strike.

With one foot he lunged himself forward to point his weapon at you— he drew closer and closer. When suddenly, he flinched.

He maneuvered his body to evade yours, stopping just beside you.

You took this as an opportunity to point your own sword at his neck, smirking in victory. "What was that, Childe, got distracted?" You playfully teased the wide-eyed ginger staring down at you.

"I'll let you win this time, Comrade." Childe mimics your smirk. He's not giving you the satisfaction of being praised for defeating him.

"I'm honored." You said sarcastically as you sheathed your sword. Childe saw you roll your eyes dramatically, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

The moment Childe started to love you, he hesitated to deal the final blow during your daily sparring session.

When his weapon suddenly slips from his hand, he catches it by the blade, injuring him. A mistake he has only ever made when he was a kid. He would laugh it off, and you'd be looking like him like he was a maniac for laughing with a bleeding hand.

He felt himself grow weaker with every day he spent with you. What was causing it? Childe just couldn't wrap his head around it.

Childe had decided one day, to find someone else to spar with. It's when he pushes his opponent to the ground that he realizes that the problem was never with his strength, it was with you.

For Childe, sparring with you just felt different. It felt strange. It was more exhilarating than when he sparred with others. But what about you made it so different? Was it the way that you hummed when you come out victorious in a sparring session with Childe? Or the way your hair falls gently to your face when you point your sword at him from above? Was it how your eyes sparkled in excitement when you see an opening for you to strike him?

'Oh damn.' Then it all clicked inside Childe's mind. No, nothing was wrong with you at all. Something had changed, and it wasn't you or him becoming weaker. It was his heart that had started beating for something other than the heat of battle.

It had started beating for you.

The moment Childe realized he loved you, he laughed like a madman— with ears tinged pink.

it's this madman's birthday! happy birthday childe!! even if u never crit and I've benched u I still love you bye!

oh and btw! requests are open~ you can leave it anonymous in the asks <33 thanks babies ~

bonus art without the watermark found here! -> @ceirondraws

[applepies-and-starlight]

Was Ishmael always your favorite from day one, or did Canto 5 swing things in her direction?

So, she wasn't like, my favorite favorite day 1, but I did have a higher opinion of her compared to the rest of the cast (barring Ryoshu and Sinclair as food name oomf was making propaganda about them like a madman), her initial demeanor also gained her extra points because I generally gravitate towards characters that Actually Respect The MC/PC i won't say no to unhinged characters can we at least pretend to be civil during work hours and not treat me like a dog? It makes me sad :(

And then Canto V dropped.

Normally, this wouldn't be. That Big of a deal, if it was in literally any other position I'd just go "oh cool, so that's what happened" and moved on.

Problem: there was probably at least 20 different sleeper agents in my brain. And all of them involved Azur Lane

(Context for confused LCB moots: Azur Lane is Arknights' weirder, hornier cousin set somewhere in a WW2-adjacent period where all of your units are warships given human form known as Shipgirls (official term: KAN-SEN) and you fight against a robotic menace known as the Sirens)

(Editing Apple: putting this under cut because... oh lird. It's long.)

I had this like, entire ramble I wanted to go off on but at some point I didn't know where to take it lmao, but the basic idea is the following:

I got into Azur Lane last year because of spite and (eldritch-ish) pirates (Hello Royal Fortune!)

Got dragged into lore rabbit hole

Got convinced to read eldritch apocalypse fanfiction of Azur Lane (Whispers of Saturn)

Loved the fanfic a lot, started making Pirate shipgirl ocs based off the fic's concept (eldritch creachurr)

First iteration of Whaleship Essex created; whale-like mermaid-siren figure who has albinism and is a little Too trigger happy with whale murder

Made her look like Ishmael LCB because haha funny reference

Devs went fuckshit crazy with the anniversary event; Marco Polo was raining the wrath of God (who, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, was a false god), the god in question was fucking up the world with a weird white membrane (which, now that I think about it, kinda acted like pallidification), the french were getting back together, everything is great

I try to add the false god(s) into the lore timeline of my Azur Lane shit, cue updates happening to Whaleship Essex where she's the only survivor of her group and knows that someone else also survived but blames them for not being able to Do Something about it

New Pirate event happens

Devs stole 2 of my OCs and made them canon (hi, Hind; hi, Galley) and they also happen to be close to Whaleship Essex while they were my OCs

I work around what the Devs have given me and decide that they're in a state of kinda died-but-not-really (long story)

(Note that I came up with all this oc stuff around like. November or something.)

Overall my hype for The Sea™ and eldritch horrors have reached an all time high

Canto V releases; I learn about it while trying to make a Limbus AU for Murder Drones

I decide to check it out because. Water.

Doomed sailor yuri

"Holy fucking shit did I just predict Canto V with my OC that's completely unrelated in every way except for the fact that she looks A Lot like Ishmael???? What?????"

Present time; I have been stuck in the Limbus hole ever since (and apparently my brain has delusionally stuck itself onto our favorite ginger sailor so uh. hi fellow ishmael irls!)

Sooooo... yeah

Basically we wouldn't be here if the stars didn't align at Halloween 2022 and Manjuu + Yostar gave the AL fans someone who isn't a pirate

[ihatetaxes99]

In retrospect, I feel like Dabi was a very confused character. Not in terms of the man himself, more so in how his story was handled.

Everything about Dabi screams heel. He's got that down to a T. He is a thoroughly vicious, evil character who borders on the demonic, who takes pleasure in causing as much damage as possible. This isn't like Shigaraki who is ambivalent to harming others, or Toga who sees it as a way to achieve her own twisted love, Dabi revels in causing pain and misery, to his immediate family yes, but also just to people in general. And then, he gets an ending worthy of a heel. Tortured, strung up, clinging to life as a shambling corpse in a dingy cell all while having to stare at the man he hates so deeply. It's an ending very befitting of such a vile person, a cathartic way to see someone so heinous meet his maker. The more detestable a bad guy is, the more satisfying it is for a general audience to see him suffer in such a way.

But there's a problem. Because, much like with so many other aspects of BNHA, it comes off as Horikoshi trying to have his cake and eat it too. Because not only is Dabi supposed to be a heel, he's also supposed to be sympathetic as a result of his backstory. The audience is intended to both see him as a demonic being of pure evil and an unfortunate result of Endeavour's abuse. Obviously, a character can be both awful and sympathetic, Ginger McKenna from Casino is a strong example of that, but so much of Dabi's behaviour in the first half of the story constructs him as a vile madman, only for a sudden swerve into Tragic Backstory Blvd. I think that's why the reaction to Dabi's fate has been how it is. Because when you look at it purely through the lens of what he has said and done, it's a satisfyingly grim conclusion for a deeply evil person, for whom karma has finally caught up. But the half-hearted walking of the line between "Dabi is an awful monster" and "Endeavour is the real villain", led to mixed messages, to put it lightly. It doesn't stick to either perspective. I get trying to be subversive and innovative by blending character tropes, but sometimes it's better to just do a common trope well, instead of completely bungling a character's tone and feel in a bid to be more unique.