#been wanting to draw that for a WHILE though

[twice-in-a-blue-moon]

Solomon x GN! reader

Warning: suggestive

Minors DNI!

It's too early in the morning as you mindlessly shuffle your way to the kitchen with the smell of coffee in the air coaxing you along. Being one of two occupants in the dormitory leads you to the conclusion that Solomon's already awake.

Your foot hardly makes it past the threshold, immediately stopping as your eyes land on him -- back turned towards you, leaning over the counter rubbing his eyes with a yawn while he waits for the coffee to brew. The only thing adorning this body is a pair of boxer briefs, so that means you're getting quite the eyeful of his glorious pact marks.

What a wonderful morning already.

As quietly as you can, you sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around him. His muscles tense at the sudden touch, though he quickly relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Good morning," he says in a deep, raspy morning voice that drives you to near insanity. You can almost hear the smile in his words, knowing it's already made his morning just by being in your arms.

You place a little kiss on his shoulder. "Good morning to you, Sol."

That's when your hands begin to wander along his torso, feeling the smooth skin beneath your own, following all the little dips and curves. You go so far as to push your hands beneath the waistline of his boxers so your palms lay flat against his hip bones. You notice Solomon's breathing growing heavier from your exploring.

He chuckles lowly, "what are you doing?"

"Mm," you hum as you continue to pepper kisses along his shoulders and up the nape of his neck, while your hands rub up and down the sides of his pelvis, "just appreciating the morning's gifts."

This makes him groan softly and his arousal to grow steadily.

"You know what you're doing. And it makes me want to do more than just appreciate you." Solomon turns to grab a hold of your hips, spinning you around until you're pushed against the counter he'd been previously leaning on.

You're stuck between two forces who do not intend to budge, a rock and a hard man...place, if you will.

His face draws in closer to yours, his breath fanning across your skin and the warmth of his lips brushing against your own. There's a fire burning in his eyes that almost feels misplaced, as if the deep blue within them could drown out anything that wasn't soft admiration for you. But it's a look you've seen before, one you'd gladly see over and over.

A sly grin tugs on your lips as you decide to push him one last time, knowing what's to come if you do.

Your hands slide up along his broad shoulders before letting your fingers travel down to the pact mark that's occupying the area of his collarbone. Then, out of nowhere, your tongue makes contact with his salty skin, tracing along the lines of the pact mark in a fluid motion. Solomon's knees nearly buckle as he shudders from your intimate touch.

"Fuck it. You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you." he growls, pinning you harder against the counter, and grabbing your face between needy hands to smash his hungry lips against yours.

Indeed. What an even better morning it's become.

[moonstruckme]

remus x reader but all she needs is him to feel better about a shit day<3

(requesting this after ur gorgeous display of remus x bratty reader who needed a nap lol)

Thank you for requesting angel <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 427 words

Your bones feel heavy as you trudge up to your front door, but the key slotting into the lock is a relief. It’s been the kind of day where bad things seem to multiply onto themselves. You’d spilled coffee on your pants on your way to work, your boss got mad at you for a handful of small, punishable-by-death infractions, nothing went as quickly or as easily as it should have. 

But when you open the door, the air smells like basil and steam, and you’re home. 

“Hello, lovely,” Remus greets you as you step into the kitchen. He doesn’t raise his voice from its usual mild tone or look up from where he’s mixing a sauce on the stove. For reasons you may never be able to parse out, this is immensely endearing to you. “How was your day?” 

“Can I have a hug?” you ask, already going to him. 

“Oh, of course, yeah.” Remus balances his spoon on the pan, enfolding you in his arms when you come. His palms slot just where he knows you’ll want them. “Not very good, then?” 

You give a tiny shudder as your bones liquefy. “Not awful. I feel better already.” 

A breathy laugh. “Flirt,” he grumbles fondly, setting his lips to the top of your head. 

You shrug, too content to be chastened. 

“No, come on.” Remus draws a heavy line with his thumb. “Was it anything in particular, or just a bad day?” 

You sigh. As your lungs deflate, he holds you closer. “Lots of things in particular,” you admit. “Really, though, I feel better just being with you.” 

He hums. “I’m glad, dovey.” His voice has lowered to a soothing rasp, his thumb shushing along the material of your shirt as he drags it back and forth. Steam from the stove warms the left side of your body. “Would you feel even better if we talked about it, though? I could leave dinner to simmer for a bit, put on the kettle.” 

You’re not sure. Remus gives you time to think, and you find that when you take a deep breath, you’re not pushing past the blockage that’s sat tight at the base of your throat all day long.

“Sure, I could talk,” you say, nestling your face further into the crook of his neck and shoulder, “but could we keep cuddling while we do?” 

You can practically feel your boyfriend rolling his eyes, but his lovesick smile is in his voice, too. “Of course we can. Just hold on while I get the kettle going.”

[often-daydreaming]

Crossroads

Standing in the very center of the abandoned road Danny carefully pulls a stack of aged envelopes out of his bag, the dozens (Sixty four in total) of unsent letters were carefully bound with string and rubber bands and he hesitates for a second, his gaze lingering on the most recent one still left unsent before he sets it down in a bowl in front of him. He doesn't have much time. If he waits for too long then Jazz was bound to notice him missing and with the idea of her or anyone else noticing and trying to stop him Danny strikes a match and sets the bowl of ingredients on fire like he was taught.

Nothing would stop him. Not when they were running out of options.

'I, Daniel James Fenton, heir to Infinity and student of Hope and Time summon the fates. The three who are one. The one who is three. Show yourself to me Hecate.'

He calls for them like Pandora taught him to, his power cracking the ground around him and after a while they appear, in-between the roar of thunder and a bright flash of light. Each one is a different part of the same being. All three of them were wearing the faces of someone he knew and a stranger and in the privacy of this moment far away from everyone who ever knew him Danny averts his eyes, his head dipping slightly in acknowledgement. He can be polite when the situation calls for it.

'Daniel.' The youngest one wearing his sister's face smiles at him nearly drawing closer before the roar of thunder stops her advance. 'It's been so long.'

'Too long'

'This is the first time he's called us sister.'

'But not the last.' The middle one disguised as his mom doesn't need the same warning as the first but she crotches down to stare at him eye to eye. It's painful to look at but he knows it's not real. 'You look so thin Danny. Are you eating? Are you hungry?'

'He is, but not for food. Look at him. He wants something.' The last one cuts in. She's wearing the face of a stranger but his core knows her. Deep down some part of him recognizes this woman and her dismissive tone and he hates her.

She wasn't wrong though.

'I need answers and Clockwork told me to ask you.'

They all smile at that, large abnormal smiles but after dealing with the supernatural for so long it doesn't bother him so he holds out the small package meant as a gift to gain their help.

The middle one comes close enough to take it while the first cheerfully tells him.

'You can ask us three questions little prince.'

And the stranger finishes with 'But you'll only get one answer from each of us.'

'So think about your questions Danny.'

'Think carefully.'

Alright, nobody told him they worked like this but he's worked with worse before so for his first question he tells them. 'I want to know about my parents.'

He needs to know if they'll even be willing to help them out.

The above is more of a late night thought but basically an adopted Danny calls up the fates as a work around to things Clockwork can't do because of the Observers being annoying.

[paintpanic]

Res AU Joronia drawings. Character rambling and bonus doodles under cut.

This AU takes place a good while after the events of Triple Deluxe happened. Since then, Taranza's mostly recovered mentally from everything. He was able to move on from his grief and (somewhat) forgive himself. Now that Joronia's in his life again, seemingly back to her former self, some of those wounds he'd thought were fully healed have started to ache again. He still feels ultimately guilty for what happened to her.

He's thrilled that Joronia's been given a second chance at life, but is somewhat wary deep down. This feels to good to be true, that she's just back with seemingly no strings attached. The other shoe could drop any day now, and he could lose her all over again. Fearing this, he wants to make the most out of what could be a short time to be together again with his friend.

Joronia senses that there's a distance between the two of them now that wasn't there before. It shouldn't be surprising; he's probably still hurt from what she did. Other people definitely are. She's determined, though, to work hard to make it up to everyone she's hurt, and to prove to them (and herself) that she's not really like that, that she's capable of being better.

The Mirror's influence twisted her mind and her perception of reality. It made her feel like she was inadequate, and that everyone else were enemies to be subjugated. Now, she's supposed to be normal and better, but she still feels like there's something wrong with her head. She still doesn't feel good enough, and it still feels like everyone hates her. It's hard to trust herself. She's not sure if it's some lingering effect of the Mirror, or if there's just something inherently wrong with her now. She's scared.

She's afraid that something will happen, that she'll revert to how she was as Queen, and that she'll hurt Taranza again. Someone who'd always helped her, who'd stuck with her even when she was absolutely horrible to him, and who's kindness she's relying on again now, staying at his home as she worked on getting her life back together. She's a burden on him, and she always has been. She hates it.

Still, her deepest, most selfish wish is that they could be real friends again.

---

These two need to have a long, honest discussion about their feelings toward each other and themselves. Both of them are absolutely terrified about that prospect, though, because they each think that the other secretly resents them to some degree. If they actually talked through it, they'd quickly realize that they both want the same thing.

[stickyspeckledlight]

Pardon My French [Yan!Boothill x GN!Reader]

You fight back in the one way you can, or, at least, you try.

Ao3

Word Count: 2.2k

Tags: Reader is GN but Boothill calls them 'princess' once (reader is hurt by this disrespect), swearing. It's boothill. Oh and also there's some dead guys here and there but they're kinda glossed over (because reader sure does not wanna think about that too much)

Notes: Sup muddlefudgers it's me with a quickie. Didn't proofread this since I wrote this in mostly one go so sorry for any errors you may find lol. Also Boothill kinda sucks, but like. It's yandere so they always kinda suck. That's kinda stupid to put as a note isn't it now that I think about it huh. HOLY SHIT 2k words how tf did that happen---

(Written before 2.3)

Boothill is an opponent you have no hope of overpowering, much less escaping. How exactly do you outrun a Galaxy Ranger with an exorbitant bounty on his head? Much less one who manages to keep you attached to his hip all the while evading bounty hunters? The lifestyle alone is exhausting, and whenever there's a moment of downtime, you just go and hit the hay.

Suffice to say, there isn't much you can do to fight back. Not to mention that he needs far less sleep than you do thanks to his cybernetic enhancements (but seeing as how all but his head is gone, it'd be better to call it a butchering). Also thanks to his cybernetic enhancements, you now know very well what it's like to have all the bones in your hand nearly shatter.

If you want to fight back against him, you muse as your thoughts drift to a restful sleep, you'll have to utilize that silver tongue of yours (maybe more like rusty iron tongue, but improv shouldn't be too difficult).

You've taken great pains in observing your captor ("You call a guy takin' you to the stars over yonder a 'captor'? Tch, drop that talk before I think you have a hankering to be treated like one of my prisoners."). Your observations? Vigilant. Prefers his drinks to have a strong kick. A hand always lingering to draw his gun when need be. However, these are not going to aid you in your mission. Oh, no. They will not.

It is when you are wrapped in a blanket huddling next to a simmering fire that you are able to put your plans into motion.

"...those clock-sucking muddlefudgers!" Boothill seethes, venting all his frustrations to you as if hearing his woe didn't make you feel a bit giddy. He grumbles, throwing a piece of shredded cloth to the fire, unable to get rid of the fresh blood that stained it, "Ambushin' us in the middle of the night like that! Smart move I admit, but doesn't change that they got to see how pissed I can really get. Though I was done with them after that lil' scuffle, but seems not..."

You hum noncomittedly. "Kinda was a bummer to get my beauty sleep interrupted. One of those motherfuckers nearly shot me." And it's true. You can barely keep up with Boothill as is, after all. Sure, he'll drag you with him anyway, but when that does happen, he starts making demands of you. Better to use your own feet than the abilities of a needy cyborg, right?

Boothill hums in a way you can mistake as apologetic. "Yeah, ain't too peachy of them to do that darlin', those sons of a nice lady." He briefly frowns, like he's been met with a great offense, before throwing a pebble at some poor sap's corpse. This seems to have resolved his previous grievance. An amused huff escapes his lips. "Too dead to do anythin' more though." The rock embeds itself in the boy's chest with a meaty squelch. Although such a sight and sound is no longer foreign to you, you can't help but shiver and curl your toes, your mind flooded with the very real possibility that that could be you. Frankly, it's a miracle you've survived this long. You've pointed this conundrum to Boothill before: if he's supposedly doing this to keep you 'safe,' then why is he introducing you to dangers worse than a mugging in an alleyway, or a petty thief holding a store clerk at gunpoint?

His answer was a single bullet. The cut on your cheek is still healing.

("Darlin'," he coldly mutters to you, in the same tone he uses to an enemy before lodging a bullet in their skull, "maybe you oughtta think 'bout how lucky you are that I find myself real fond for you. Because if I didn't," the warm muzzle of his gun presses against your forehead, and his finger teases going in and out of the trigger guard, "let's just say nobody could guess that you've ever had such a pretty lil' face. 'Fraid the galaxy ain't to kind to dreamers like you.")

After that, all you really have to say is that your Ranger friend is the most incorrigible, selfish man you've had the displeasure of knowing.

Your lips twitch. "Mmm, you really did show these sons of a bitch what for, Boothill."

"Not enough," he admits, crossing his arms, "if these dumbashes thought they had a chance in the first place." Yet, a smirk crosses his face, "But...maybe this'll show 'em not to poke their head where it don't belong."

"But, if they're dumbasses in the first place, do you really think they'd be smart enough to realize that?"

He shrugs. You deflate a little; your plan isn't working in the slightest. "Then they get what they asked for," he leans his head back against the tree behind him, staring into the stars with an exasperated awe. The stars used to inspire you, to the point you bought an expensive telescope to observe them better. But that was when you weren't dragged into them against your will. If you do somehow escape your captor's clutches, you know that any aspirations for interastral travel you once bore will have fizzled into dust, like a dying star. Why explore the cosmos when all you've seen of it is death, thugs, and crime? Why willingly go into that, when you may either end up a corpse or worse: stumble into someone like Boothill.

Out of everything he's done to you, that is his greatest crime.

That strong accent with an off-kilter robotic filter snaps you out of your thoughts. You then realize that Boothill has been talking while you were spaced out. "Why the long face, darlin'? Yer lookin' a lil' outta sorts." There's something a little offputting about how his gruff voice...softens, when he says that. You aren't sure if it's something to be relieved about, or if you should start laughing.

"Ah, haha," you chuckle soullessly, "Nothing, just...thinking. Guess I'm pretty tired, huh? Those, um," you rack your mind for which profanity he used, "er, cocksuckers, really interrupted my sleep, y'know?"

"Can't say I didn't notice." He grumbles, almost childishly, "Made it pretty clear you got no sympathy for those muddlefudgers." He scrunches his nose with a frown.

Ah. You perk up. Maybe your plan, as subtle and soft as it is, is working. "Of course. No reason to have any love in my heart for motherfuckers who barge in on my beauty sleep." And life, but you don't want to set off an argument. Yet.

"..." He just nods. Begrudgingly. A small smile plays on your face.

"Seriously, how stupid do you have to be to degrade to the kinda dumbass that challenges the Boothill?" You tap your chin, to give the appearance that you're giving this any semblance of thought, "Either they like their boss's cock that much, or they really just want a good story to tell to their next fuck."

"Never knew you were this vulgar," He frowns. His countenance is exactly that of a child being forced to tip the swear jar, "Why doncha get along with tha' beauty sleep you were yapping on about?"

You cannot help but beam, "But they're just a bunch of motherfucking sons of bitches, Boothill! Much as these dumbasses had their heads stuck up their asses, they turned my sweet dreams into a pile of shitballs. They deserve to be remembered as the sorry little fuckers they are, right? I'm just giving them the appropriate eulogies!" Your curses are poorly strewn together, but it doesn't matter, when Boothill looks like he's sucked a lemon with how puckered his expression becomes.

"Sounds to me you ain't so tired after all," he huffs, "seein' how you're yappin' so spiritedly."

"Learned from the best, Ranger." You smirk, "If anyone should take the blame for corrupting me, it's gotta be y-o-u."

"Corrupt? Hardly," he spits out a laugh, "I think the words yer lookin' for are 'wisening up.'"

Well, he's not exactly wrong. Suddenly, your tongue tastes like a bitter thing, and it makes you want to scrape your tastebuds off. "Good point. You did help me realize that I fall for do-gooder facades too easily."

The instant you gave Boothill a little taste of the bitterness coating your tongue, he groans with a scowl. "This again? I don't got the energy for 'another one of yer tantrums."

You scoff. "Should've thought of that before kidnapping me, but I guess not all of us have basic human decency."

"Maybe," he hostilely drawls, "I ought to shut that little mouth of yours."

Gags aren't exactly pleasant, but you know what? Getting your mouth stuffed with some dirty rag is the least of what he's done to you. "I didn't take you for some baby who can't handle an ounce of criticism. I thought you liked the truth, Boothill. Or are you just that delusional?"

"Ain't delusional, princess," you recoil. 'Princess'? Really? The pain you feel at being called such a thing quickly fuels more anger. And you didn't think he could disrespect you more. You feel incensed in a way that's a complete 180 from how you anticipated the remainder of the night going---you were supposed to play with Boothill, not fight him in an unwinnable battle (because he's a cheater), but here you are. Emotions are quite a volatile thing, you suppose. "You said you was a dreamer; gushin' 'bout the stars, all about how you'd abandon all yer folks for even a chance to touch 'em. And lookat you, dreamer you, livin' your dream. And why are you livin' yer dream? Me," he lowly growls, "so don't get fussy with me."

"I," you swallow. Your teeth clench, your face contorting into a pained snarl, "didn't ask for any of this shit. Tell me, Ranger," you blankly register that you've stood up at some point, "did I ever say I wanted to live as a fugitive? See things like--like---" Your breath is uneven, as every horrible thing you've seen flashes in your mind like a film, "---like this?!" You gesture over to the corpses littered about the forest, all with a permanent look of shocked horror etched on their faces, with a smoking hole between their eyes. "Boothill," you gasp, subconsciously taking a step toward him--- subconsciously thinking about how much you want him to join the forest ground, "I wanted a fucking choice, on how I wanted to live my life---and you've put that square in the grave!" For some reason, you laugh, "I should've ignored you. Better yet, wait for you to die, and then I wouldn't have to be here," another humorous idea sparks in your mind (and you are too engrossed in your humor, in this near bout of insanity, to notice how Boothill's expression goes from a beast's to a calm, calculating predator's; blank and cold), "and hey, could've gotten a decent amount of cash to do with as I pleased." The hilarity is nearly too much for you to bear---you're clutching to your stomach, and you can hardly breathe now.

"(Name)," you hear seethed very, very near you, dripping with malice and a need to harm, "I think," cold, apathetic metal comes to your arm in a crushing grip, "you don't really mean that."

You laugh. Your arm feels a little funny, a little numb and sagging, but you just laugh. You laugh and laugh. You think about how you can curse and he's stuck with juvenile attempts at doing so; you think about how guts strewn about the forest floor really just looks like a bunch of spaghetti; you think about how funny it is that you've technically gotten your wish, though granted by a cunning genie.

And you think about how you'll never get to see your dreams accomplished. All of the anger, jovial despair, fear, and betrayal that you've felt gathers into the fuel for an ugly spectacle of your tears. Because although anger has been your boon companion, there's only so much you can take before you need to let it all out. Feeling returns to your arm; the metal has relinquished its hold. Your knees shake and collapse, but metal keeps you from taking the brunt of such damage. As your chest heaves, you finally, finally find it within yourself to ask the one question that has been taunting you for so long.

"I, I, I," you cough, "I loved you, Boothill. Why'd you have to ruin everything like this?"

He pursues his lip in a thin line, but as you cry, it relaxes---softens, even, and his revolver is put back in its holster.

"Darlin'," he quietly says, "leavin' you behind like that would've meant I'd never see you again. And," cold metal tips your head, to meet the dark eyes of a horribly broken man, "if I was sent back in time to make that same choice...I'd do it again." His other arm wraps around you, stroking your back, but cold, inhuman metal is no comfort to you.

Your first kiss tastes like your dreams: of salt, showered over budding blooms.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

okay so when reading the final chapter of svsss volume three, the interactions between yue qingyuan and tianlang-jun are so—

Shen Qingqiu wanted to say something when Tianlang-Jun raised his chin, squinting at Yue Qingyuan. “I remember you.” After thinking for a bit, he said with conviction, “Back then, the Huan Hua Palace’s old geezer wanted you to help him with the ambush, but you ignored him. So you’re the current sect leader of Cang Qiong Mountain? Not bad.” “Your distinguished self’s memory is also quite good.” Tianlang-Jun smiled and smiled, then gave a sigh. “If you were also trapped in a pitch-back darkness for over ten years, unable to glimpse the sky or sun, with nothing to pass the days but for reminiscing over past affairs, your memory would be quite good as well.”

tianlang-jun remembered him, and while yes, it's clear he has a pretty good memory and might also be using it as a way to throw his potential enemy off-balance, it is still a very interesting way to go about it. and the rejoinder yue qingyuan sends back at him, perfectly polite - even respectful! - totally unflappable—tell me you do not see the potential there!!

but never fear, if you are not yet convinced, i have more:

Tianlang-Jun continued to sit upon his stone, completely at ease. “I remember that you also waited until the last moment to draw your sword that day,” he said to Yue Qingyuan. “Doing the same now?” Yue Qingyuan didn’t answer.

tianlang-jun remembered a lot about yue qingyuan, even small details like his sword, and the actions he took (or didn't) upon the day of tianlang-jun's betrayal. to me, this reads as though, even then, he took note of yue qingyuan's power as something to look out for. he is also, despite all of the other people around, primarily engaging in conversation with yue qingyuan.

Tianlang-Jun pulled his hand back and smiled. “Honestly, in the beginning I had no malice, nor did I find fun in the idea of the world burning. I only occasionally crossed the border, coming here to sing songs or read books—it was quite nice. However, since I’ve already been in residence beneath Bai Lu Mountain for so many years, if I don’t follow through on something along the lines of your thoughts, I’d truly find my circumstances a bit too unjustified.” Yue Qingyuan flicked his finger. Xuan Su sprang three inches from its sheath, its spiritual energy seething. The bones of Tianlang-Jun’s body cracked and popped, almost like his joints had been dislocated. He made a sound of surprise. “As expected of a sect leader. Not bad. Your master was quite mediocre but had quite the eye for disciples and successors.”

okay first of all, the tension here is remarkable, and second of all, the compliment at the end—tianlang-jun, for the power level we know he possesses, is being practically effusive with his praise of yue qingyuan's strength something we know to be greatly prized by demons.

this segment follows the previous directly, but i had to give it it's own spotlight, for reasons that i hope will be readily apparent:

Then Tianlang-Jun reached out and grabbed Xuan Su’s blade directly, as if he couldn’t feel a thing. “But why not draw it all the way?” he said with a smile. “You can’t do anything to me with only this much.” Yue Qingyuan’s gaze hardened, and Xuan Su jumped another half-inch from its sheath.

tianlang-jun: oho, you'll need more than that much to handle me, big guy

(jokes aside, considering the rampant spiritual energy of xuan su, described as so powerful as to be oppressive in volume 2, and the susceptibility of demons to spiritual energy, tianlang-jun is truly doing the absolute Most™ right now.)

... moving decidedly away from jokes now, this is one of the most pivotal lines for them, in my opinion. it comes at the conclusion of wu chen's reveal of the betrayal-that-wasn't, and how su xiyan chose death over bringing harm to tianlang-jun, only for it to find him regardless:

“It wasn’t that she didn’t care about you, but that she was without alternative. Yet the world is pitiless, and so you passed each other by…” Tianlang-Jun’s lips seemed to tremble slightly. A long moment passed. Then he said, “Is that so?” Right after those three words, he asked again, “Truly?” “This one swears upon his life that his words contain not a single falsehood,” said Master Wu Chen. Tianlang-Jun turned his head to look at Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan. As if seeking confirmation, he asked, “Truly?” He didn’t even care whether someone was in the know; he was just asking anyone he could. Unable to say anything, Yue Qingyuan silently lowered his head. It was unclear what he thought.

it is clear that the tragedy of su xiyan and tianlang-jun was one that yue qingyuan felt keenly, not only for his response here, clearly processing some significant emotion, but also for the way that he used the same words to describe his relationship with shen jiu just a short time later:

“I really…didn’t mean to not return,” said Yue Qingyuan. “Only, it really is true that the world is pitiless, and so the two of us passed each other by…”

pardon me while a cry a new freshwater body into existence.

there is truly so much more that can be said about what makes these two a great fit for each other, especially in a canon-adjacent/post-canon scenario, but i'll save that for another day. for now, i will let these excerpts speak for themselves.

[b14augrana]

‘Kiss of Strife’

Football has always been your safe haven, but your home life gradually starts to manifest in different ways away from home, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your captain

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 2 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of family issues associated with emotional unavailability and forms of abuse. please tap out if this content makes you uncomfortable and read at your own discretion

A/N: an alexia x teen!reader angst fic was requested so here it is!! i decided this will be multiple parts as well so i hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest of this little series

(i wrote this pretty late at night and it isnt proofread so please excuse any mistakes regarding the tense, grammar etcetc)

Everything is perfect.

You’re scoring goals for your club and bagging assists. Your name is no longer a strange string of consonants and vowels but a recognisable word within the community of Cataluña, and it is only because of an ambition you dedicated the rest of your life to pursuing.

That’s just in the face of football though.

At home, there is a drought. The four walls of a family house are meant to behave like a dam which stores love and affection in the place of water, but your house is devoid of that.

Your house fosters a bitterness that doesn’t go hand in hand with anything along the lines of love and affection. The drawings on the fridge, created by a 5-year-old you, have faded over time, the ink being nothing more than splotches in some areas — a testament to the lack of care and attention your efforts received.

Relationships are barely surviving on simple greetings and empty ‘I love yous’. You crave something that is dangerous to want, but in your heart burns a desire to get the hell out.

Your lullaby is the faint yelling from the living room as you shut your eyes and focus on the gradually increasing volume of both voices, contradicting each other and trying to stab each other with no blade.

Your little sister crawls into your bed, her body flush against yours, another little arm wrapped around hers. Beneath your covers, there is warmth. Beneath your grip, there is safety.

During the school holidays, a child is supposed to savour every waking moment they spend at home and appreciate every day of it. You find yourself asking God why that isn’t the case, as you walk to practise with your sister’s hand in yours.

She sits on the sidelines picking grass as you train with your teammates, dreading the inevitable passing of minutes as you practise skill after skill. When you retreat to the bench for a quick water break, she runs up to you, bunches of chamomiles clutched in her hands that she begs to insert between the weaving of your braid.

From the day of your first training with the team, Alexia was drawn to you. She blamed it on her captain instincts, seeing as you’re the youngest on the team and therefore has the most potential, but now it’s gone beyond her captaincy. She’s known you for months, almost a full year now. She isn’t just your captain anymore.

She isn’t aware of the reality of your home life beyond the telltale signs such as the slightly sunken skin below your eyes or the bruises that taint your skin and are allegedly caused by your ‘clumsiness’. She knows there is something more to the extra effort you constantly put into training and games — she doesn’t know yet that it’s the pent up anger, sadness and fear manifesting in more productive forms.

You pour your heart and soul into the movement of the ball, in hopes that you can pursue your dreams of running away from what is restricting you from pursuing even greater dreams, an actual dream.

School starts back up for your sister. Things have been looking up for you, a huge burden off your shoulders. The house hasn’t shaken with another argument for a while and for once you get to know what silence is while you sleep, really sleep.

With every passing day, you find your memories with your father to resemble a garden; you can’t have a garden without flowers, just like how you can’t have memories of him without doing anything with him. When you were young, your garden was comparable to a rainforest, a new species in every corner, a kaleidoscope of beauty..

Until there was no more new species to plant and nurture, and the ones that already existed were getting neglected because all that you receive when you look at them are sour memories of what once was — the gardener you used to be, how rich the soil was, how steadily the flowers grew and how proud you were of your garden.

Your garden is dead now. It has gotten to the point where he doesn’t care about planting new flowers or watering the plants that already exist, leaving them to die of thirst. He’s absent and his emotional unavailability killed your flowers.

The little girl in you that wanted nothing else but love from her parents, loved that garden with her whole heart. She would’ve done anything she could to plant one more flower, she would’ve used the last drop of water in a drought to water her plants.

Alexia noticed something different about you today. The way you bounced around rather than the usual trudge… you had actual, sleep-induced energy.

Your sister also isn't with you. Alexia later asks you about it while you two are getting water and she learns that your sister is at school, and there is a smile on your face that she didn’t even realise had been absent for days until she saw it again.

Alexia has always been nice to you. The others treat you like a teammate, but she treats you like a friend. It feels like a special privilege, knowing ‘La Reina’ personally. She’s obviously a pillar in women’s football but to you, she’s much more.

She harbours a soft spot for you in her heart that becomes evident when she asks you if you need a ride home, and who are you to turn down such an offer when the ache in your legs is close to becoming unbearable?

“You’re talented, chica,” the woman says as you slink into the passenger seat of her car. “I haven’t had the chance to say it, but there hasn’t been a player like you for quite a bit.”

Her praise is so much more than just a couple of words from your captain. Though you smile and say a shy thank you, your heart races because you’ve just been called talented by one of the best players in the world, and there is no feeling greater than that. It gives you a tiny sliver of hope for a brighter future than what you’re already living, and for a moment, escaping your four walls seems possible.

The joy you experienced during the whole car ride is short lived once her car pulls into your driveway. Perhaps she can see the way your expression drops and your demeanour falls, because her hand finds your shoulder and squeezes it in a way that comforts you. “Do you want me to walk you to the door?” she asks, and though you really wish she could, you shake your head for the better.

There’s a slight frown on her face before she nods and drops her hand. You think about the possibility of her knowing that there’s something going on behind the closed doors of your home, and a big part of you hopes so, but no words besides a ‘gracías’ and ‘adios’ manage to find their way out of your mouth despite the pleas for help and support bubbling in your throat as you shut the door of her car.

When you reach the patio, the door opens to bombard you with the raucous of an argument happening around the corner of the hallway.

Your limbs are barely functioning and your eyes are struggling to stay open which is an obvious sign of the exhaustion soaring through your body, hence why you skip right past seeing your parents and beeline towards your sister’s room.

For as long as you can remember, arguments have been a consistent part of evenings spent in your household. Sometimes violence finds itself becoming the last resort, leaving you stuck to bear the brunt of a heavy hand. It’s what happens when two sides of the same coin try to work out — two negatives can’t make a positive, it’s impossible for them to get along and there is never a last word. That’s the unfortunate reality of your parents’ relationship.

You sink into the soft mattress of your sister’s bed and beckon her from the desk to lay beside you. She flips her paper over and abandons the seat to run over to you, her little body falling into your embrace. When she asks you what they’re talking about this time, you tell your sister that they’re just having a little disagreement, and if she sleeps it off, it’ll go away. It’s a promise, you say, before you proceed to tell her all about your training and your teammates. It’s her favourite thing, and she says it’s better than a bedtime story.

In no time, little exhales slip past her mouth as her eyes flutter shut, and you roll her off your body, tucking her into the butterfly printed duvet. With tentative steps across the hardwood, you find yourself at her desk and your fingers ghost over the piece of paper as you squint to read it in the dimness of her nightlight.

‘Mi papá hermana guapa

My sister is strong. She plays fútbol and she is good at it. My sister takes care of me and takes me to her pracktise, I like going with my sister. She helps me sleep and when I am with my sister, I am not scared. I am proud of m–…’

And the rest trails off. The body remains incomplete, but there’s one last sentence at the bottom of the page.

‘Amo a mi hermana.’

You place it back on her desk as you fail to combat the tears flooding your waterline. ‘She must’ve been instructed to write a poem by her teacher… for Father’s Day’, you think to yourself. Turning away so you don’t ruin her writing with your tears, you wiped them with the back of your Barça jacket sleeve and flipped the page around before making a dead silent exit. The house was completely still beside the low noise of talking from the TV and light snoring.

Your tears are not because of happiness. No, they stream down your face because it’s then that you realise something, and it opens up a whole new portal of questions.

As the streak of silence is broken and you’re forced to fall asleep to the low humming noise from the living room and a restless mind, you wonder what twisted realm of anger and bitterness your father lives in that forbids him from showing the smallest signs of love to his kids.

But, you already know the answer to that question, deep down. Instead, you wonder if you’ll see Alexia tomorrow, stretching in her usual spot, and you wonder if she’ll look up and smile at you again and invite you over.

You hope that’s what will happen. You pray for it.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Clavis’ 4th Birthday Story (Part 3)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

—An incident that happened after I left to make tea at Clavis’ request.

The sounds of swords clashing rang in a corner of the large garden.

The two had been going through paperwork in the office only a short while ago, so how did they end up fighting each other with their swords drawn?

(Clavis aside, it’s rare to see King Chevalier entertain anyone)

Clavis caught King Chevalier’s swing at the right moment.

To the untrained eye, the two would look evenly matched.

Clavis: Haha, you’re stubborn. Just drop dead already.

Chevalier: I thought I’d settle this quickly, but it looks like you have some fight in you today.

(I really should stop them, but…)

I was reluctant to when I saw how Clavis was enjoying himself.

(Now that I think about it, every year on King Chevalier’s birthday, Clavis would celebrate by swinging his sword)

Chevalier doesn’t see any value in birthdays and doesn’t accept any well wishes or celebrations.

So Clavis swinging his sword every year to celebrate(?) acts as a reminder.

(Perhaps it’s reversed this time)

(Even though King Chevalier says he doesn’t celebrate…)

If their official business was actually something important, I doubt King Chevalier would drop it and draw his sword.

It’s likely that the pile of paperwork acted as a an opening to this unique present.

(I don’t know what caused this change of heart, but…Clavis must be happy)

Watching the two exchange blows didn’t feel right

(I wanted to make Clavis happier than anyone else did…and now I feel like I’m losing to King Chevalier)

(It’s a little frustrating…)

Clavis: Chevalier, I don’t have time to casually beat you up. My lovely fiancee looks like she’s jealous.

(Hm…?)

Clavis, who had been engaged in a fast-paced sword fight, took a step back and reached into his pocket.

What was quickly thrown to the ground exploded, creating a plume of smoke.

(Woah, the smoke’s coming this way!)

As I held my breath, I suddenly found myself lifted out of the smoke that clouded my vision— 

Clavis: Let’s run.

Emma: Woah, huh…why?!

Clavis carried me with ease and ran through the garden.

--

Before I could even process what was happening, we arrived at a guest room decorated just like the ones in the castle.

Clavis set me down like a gentleman and peeked down the hall.

Clavis: Haha, so he didn’t chase after me in the end. Looks like I won today.

Emma: King Clavis…what was that fight just then?

Clavis: Rebellion of course. There was no way I was going to let him take up more of my precious time on my birthday, regardless of circumstances.

Emma: Is it okay to rebel against official business?

Clavis: I verified that it could all be done tomorrow…That man took advantage of me. Ah, just thinking about it makes me angry.

(...That sour look. I wonder what they talked about while I was gone)

Clavis: You forget about that treacherous man too. In the time left, our new maid will be celebrating with me.

Emma: …

Clavis: What’s wrong?

Emma: …King Clavis, didn’t you call me your “lovely fiancee” earlier?

Clavis: Hmm…Did I?

(I’d like to think I was imagining it, but there’s no question about his demeanor)

(My surprise operation…)

I resisted the urge to collapse and removed my glasses.

Emma: How long have you known?

Clavis: Oh, so the new maid was Emma all along…!

Emma: Don’t pretend to be surprised.

Clavis: Haha, don’t pout.

As if to console me, Clavis hugged me around the shoulders and kissed my forehead.

Clavis: I love you, so how could I not have noticed? I’m confident that I can see through any of your disguises.

(Now that I think about it, he even recognized me while I was dressed as a man some birthdays ago)

(He knew from the very beginning but pretend he didn’t to not let me down)

(My heart’s a mess from both happiness and frustration)

Emma: I guess I still need to practice more if I want to surprise you.

Clavis: Yes, that’s right. But your aim wasn’t to surprise me, was it? My lovely fiancee, whom I didn’t think I’d be able to see on my birthday, appeared before my eyes and stayed by my side the entire time. Furthermore, she showed just how much she loved me when she saw through and stopped all my pranks. Is there a man out there that wouldn’t feel over the moon by this? I doubt it. I had another wonderful birthday this year. There were some complications, but you made up for them. 

When I looked up, Clavis’ smile melted my heart.

(That’s the face I wanted to see)

It was one different from the joy he expressed while with King Chevalier.

Only I got to see Clavis look this relaxed.

(...My surprise failed, but getting to see this kind of happiness on your face made it all worth it)

My frustration vanished instantly, leaving only happiness in my heart.

Emma: It’s still too early to feel satisfied. The real thing’s just beginning. 

Clavis: Haha, is that so?

Those alluring golden eyes made my heart skip a beat as he held my gaze.

I couldn’t help but kiss him when I saw the look of love on his face.

When I stole a kiss, fingers curled around the back of my neck, fanning the flames.

(...I was thinking about getting the cake I prepared for him…)

Clavis sealed my lips with his and slowly shed the gentlemanly facade.

Every touch sent heat down to my core, snatching away any confidence I had to leave this room.

(Rather than cake right now…)

I also placed my hand on the back of his neck and desperately tried to take in all the love given to me.

Emma: Apologies to King Chevalier, but…I want to spend the rest of the time with you. I’ll celebrate you for as long as we can, Clavis.

Clavis: Yes, of course. But I have one complaint…

He gently pushed me down on the bed and lifted the hem of my maid skirt.

Clavis: This skirt’s a bit too long for my birthday, don’t you think?

Emma: ……You pervert.

(Wait, no. It’s his birthday today. It’s his birthday)

When I shook my head and lifted my skirt, Clavis smiled as if he was about to burst into laughter—

Clavis: I’m a man who likes to be celebrated, so I’ll let you celebrate as much as you want.

—Eventually I was able to leave the room just as the morning sun began to light up the world.

I prepared the tea and birthday cake while savoring the happiness from the sensation of my body still feeling flushed.

But Clavis, with an elbow propped on a pillow and dreamy expression on his face, didn’t even try to get up.

Emma: Don’t you want to eat?

Clavis: Of course I do. But the problem is that I don’t feel like getting out of bed today. Oh dear, what a problem indeed. I could eat if my kind-hearted, lovely fiancee would feed me.

Emma: ……

Clavis: Every year I look forward to being wrapped in your love. Can you at least do this for the birthday boy?

Emma: …Just for today, okay?

(I have no choice but to respond when he’s looking at me expectantly)

(But I can’t bring myself to look at Clavis when he looks so charming after just waking up)

He’s normally fully dressed by the time I’ve woken up, so it’s rare to see him with just his shirt.

I turned away from Clavis, who still had the traces of last night surrounding him, and carefully placed the tray with the birthday set on the bed.

While I sliced the rainbow cake with the fork and brought a piece to his mouth, eyes down, I felt a strange sensation on my leg. 

Emma: W-what are you doing?

Clavis: Oh, would you like me to explain in detail? Sure. I saw your exposed legs, so I thought you were offering— 

Emma: Hurry up and eat your cake, happy birthday!

Sensing a hint of pleasure, I shoved the cake against his lips, but his hand didn’t leave my leg. Instead, he began to tickle the back of my knee in a lewd way.

Emma: Nn…

Clavis: Haha, that was a sweet sound.

Emma: The cake’s about to fall off.

Clavis: We can’t have that. I don’t want to miss a single piece from a cake you made. Come on now. If you keep looking away, it’ll really fall. 

(Ah, that’s why he’s playing a prank…)

Determined to overcome his sex charm, I met his gaze.

I had to steel myself so my hands wouldn’t shake when met with such overwhelming charm, but Clavis looked satisfied.

Clavis: You really know how to please me, don’t you?

Emma: Do I?

Clavis: Yes. I present you with the honor of Lelouch Master. A title only you could earn.

Emma: That… Might make me feel a little happy.

Clavis: Don’t feel so modest. You’re “very happy” aren’t you?

(Geez…)

I felt so embarrassed that I unconsciously tried to look elsewhere, but a finger on my knee started acting mischievous again, as if to reprimand me.

Clavis: Keep your eyes on me, Miss Accomplice. After all, everything I do is out of love for you, isn’t it? Not just now, but everything else up to this point.

(“Accomplice” instead of “fiancee”...There was something implied there)

(Why accomplice all of a sudden…)

(...Ah)

Emma: Clavis, it can’t be that…all the pranks played on King Chevalier…they were— 

Clavis: As expected of the Lelouch Master. You’re pretty sharp.

(I see…those pranks weren’t for King Chevalier)

(Maybe they were evil deeds done out of love so that he could watch me flounder about)

(Which means I was unknowingly an accomplice to Clavis’ evil)

Emma: You played me.

Clavis: Haha, you still have ways to go. After Master, you should aim for Legend.

Emma: Of course, I’ll get promoted right away. I’ll reach Legend next year.

Clavis: Oh, that’s a lot of confidence.

Emma: So, um…that means I want to understand you even better than before!

(No one loves Clavis more than I do)

Feeling more embarrassed, I shoved the cake in his mouth and kissed his cheek.

I’m sure my face was bright red while Clavis smiled at me in delight.

Clavis: Now then, let’s see what your future holds. Can you love me even more, Emma?

[soaringwide]

Pick a Card: What is Unique about You?

Hey :p

Welcome to a new pick a pile reading. Today we'll do the winner of last poll, with What is Unique about You? Which is a ''get to know yourself'' type of post.

We'll look at 3 different things: what makes your mind unique, what makes your heart unique, and what unique wisdom do you hold. For each row, I'll draw at least 3 cards to get a full picture.

So focus on the picture that draws you in the most, and remember that this is a general reading meant for multiple people so it might not resonates 100%.

Check out all my pick a cards here

I'm also on ig

I offer paid readings, see my pinned post :)

PILE 1

Cards: King of swords, 2 of Cups, the Emperor, Ace of Swords, 10 of Swords, Page of Swords, Queen of Wands, King of Cups, Page of Wands, 10 of Wands

Right off the bat, pile 1, you have a very intellectually active mind, always pushing boundaries and looking forward. Air and Fire dominate your reading, and there is a strong presence of King figures. You seem strongly seated in your power and the things you've learned, and may shine as some type of authority figure to those around you. With two Tens, there is also the idea of completion, which implies the end of a cycle as well and the beginning of a new one. But let's look at the rows.

What is unique about your mind:

To you, seeking knowledge is the greatest form of power one can aim for, and you take it to heart. You're always reaching out to learn more, which is a way for you to transform yourself and overcome life's difficulties. Your mind is explorative, methodical, and forward thinking. I also get the idea that you might be neurodivergent in some way, and that you use this thirst for knowledge to bridge the gap between you and people, always pushing to learn more about those around you, like an eternal student of humans, which helps you function in society. You like order and cataloguing things, organizing everything you've learned in systems which again helps you understand the world and those around you better. There is no topic that your mind cannot tackle, you break things down until you have full control over them. You probably have many areas of interest.

What is unique about your heart:

You've been through your share of heartaches and know what it feels like to hit rock bottom. Despite that, you've never let it paralyze you for too long, for you know that when you fall the only way is up. You're heart is brave and determined, but you may also guard it fiercely. Your heart is ruled by your mind, but it also has a strong passionate fire which fuels your progression in life. You've got this well of optimism within you that makes you look forward in spite of everything else. You probably hide it well though, and may enjoy a more twisted or darker style of humor, which is well-meaning and is more the result of your life experiences than a desire to shock for no reason. For you, laughing in the face of pain is a way to move forward and to tell life that it can't keep you down forever.

What unique wisdom do you hold:

You know that you can overcome anything with the sacred fire on your side. Your unwavering passion and go-getter attitude are the reasons why you came this far. You've also learned that your emotions are not here to put you down but great guides that can help you through life if you listen to their messages. Despite your mind ruling everything, you're deeply empathetic and while you keep that to yourself, it is a strong force that underlines the way you move in life. You've learned that it's necessary to work hard to get what you want and you're deeply ambitious, not so much in financial matters since pentacles are absent from all of your cards, but on a soul-level.

PILE 2

Cards: Ace of Wands, the Hanged Man, 3 of Pentacles, Ace of Swords, Queen of Swords, Knight of Swords, 3 of Cups, 8 of Wands, 4 of Wands, 10 of Pentacles, Page of Wands, the Magician

What makes your mind unique

This is the pile of the deep thinkers who plan ahead carefully in order to take the right actions. You have a knack for thinking outside of the box and being highly creative, which allows you to see the steps ahead in a very practical and goal oriented way. It may look like you take your time before acting, but so much is happening under the surface, and when you do decide to move, it's calculated and purposeful. There is also an element of passionately researching things before setting on an opinion, relying on the wisdom of others to feed your own. There is no end to your quest, there's always something more to learn.

What is unique about your heart

You are a deeply honest person who strives for being true to what you feel and think. You may have a tendency to rationalize your emotions, which may make you look a bit harsh or detached at times because you say things as they are without considering how it makes other people feel. However, you are deeply loyal to your circle of loved ones and will go above and beyond to defend them. You are highly communicative of what you think/feel (those things tend to blend for you) and do not hold back in any circumstances. Being truthful is a way to honor yourself and you like speaking up, not only to make things right, but also, to bring clarity to yourself. It's like you need to talk or write to bring sense and order into what happens within, and you tend to do the same for others.

What unique wisdom do you hold

Again, a very fiery creativity comes through here. You've learned to be proud of yourself and what you've achieved. That in order to create something great, you must start with the first piece and patiently build it bit by bit. And that will mean different things for different folks, but for example it could be a creative venture, or a career/studies, or even a strong social circle that took you years to nurture. You never lost your passionate spark, always looking forward to what can be improved, looking up optimistically. There is no end to your adventure and you want to add even more wins and achievements to your track records. You truly are a creator and truth seeker in the deepest sense, inventive and clever, and your found the fire to carry you forward for years to come.

PILE 3

Cards: Justice, Temperance, 8 of Wands, 4 of Cups, the Hermit, Longing of Wands, 8 of Swords, 5 of Cups, Death, 7 of Pentacles rx, Queen of Wands, the World

What is unique about your mind

You are very quick thinking, rapidly making connections between things and sparking new trails in your mind. It's a way for you to bring order to your perception of the world, to make things right and balanced through understanding and making up your own opinion on things. You are very aware of humans shortcomings and have some type of rational empathy for the failures of others. You have a very neutral approach to things and always make sure you have all information at hands before making a judgement, but once you do, there's usually no turning back.

What makes your heart unique

You're somewhat a bit closed off emotionally, which makes you distant from your emotions. You have a very explorative way to approach them, as if you had to actively seek to understand them in order to perceive what they want to say. You really think that your emotions are to be listened to, but you also often feel threatened by them, which makes you hesitant to let yourself feel them. The other side of that, is that you can easily feel overwhelmed and stuck in what you feel, unable to see beyond. But you're fully aware of that and determined to see through this mystery. You may need to spend some time contemplating what you feel, perhaps through journalling or meditating, or anything done alone, which also implies that when you can't do that, you remain in the fog. You're also not someone who acts against their heart, which may freeze you in place a bit when you're not sure about how you feel. You are whole and authentic in that way.

What unique wisdom do you hold

You've been marked by loss and grief in the past, and felt like something that you held dearly, something you cherished and put a lot of effort into, got struck and destroyed. But you're fully aware that change, even when dramatically painful and unwanted, brings the seed of something new, and that you can find a new beginning in all things. This gave you a vicious sense of independence and optimism. Like the only way to get revenge on life is to shine brighter. You keep your sufferings close to yourself and I get the feeling that you go back and forth between looking back in regret and looking forward in hope. I do however feel like the hope side is stronger these days because of that wisdom of change I was talking about. Life is made of cycles and you know how to dance with its tune.

[fanatical4creation]

INVERTED!Poppy!!!

Finally made her up, I was just putting it off and putting off designing her but then I took my pen, my new laptop and drew it, now look at her!!!

Alright let's start shall we?

Design:

"OMG FANATICAL WHY DOES POPPY LOOKS LIKE A FRISK-" Shhhhh, you need to calm down, i'll explain everything;

Alright, bare with me: The original Poppy mentions in an animation, that she's talking to her therapist, that people usually thinks she's a Chara, but she's none! And I think, I theorize, I suppose that the reason why she looks like a Chara is bc an Frisk was drawing her (you know her lore?), so supposing that the whole concept of Invertedverse is that the original universe Underswap, that Frisk who drew her is an Chara, so if the Frisk drew a Chara in the original, here the Frisk that is now a Chara would draw a Frisk....... so, that's the logic here.;

Even though Poppy is still not a Frisk nor a Chara, but I don't think I translated that into her design, maybe I'll redo it sometime.

Her clothings are intriguing. It's her original teenage/adult clothings but with some green and a purple cloak or cape, whatever that is. This cloak represents her importance inside OmegaTimeline, that reminds me;

View from back Ω:

Made it with wind because it's cool, plus, her silhouette is cool too

Story:

Core was the "ruler" of Omega Timeline, everyone would look for them when there was a problem and needed help, everybody trusted them, but they put Poppy on their place... Core is a very mischievous character, no one really knows why they put Poppy in charge.

Omega citizens theorize that the reason is because Core was lazy, or that they didn't like the attention, or maybe they wanted to focus fully on recruting people, even thought after Poppy got in charge Core was rarely seen interacting with people and also the numbers of new survivors to get to the OT decreased.

Poppy tries her best to help remain peace within Omega Timeline, even if it requires all of her energies, thought she could really use some help, she thinks that the reason why her parent is more absent while she was in charge was because they knew she could everything alone, and that she should do it.

She doesn't have many friends, and the old ones got far away because she's too busy working signing papers, solving problems, financing projects, etc, etc.

Character:

She suffers. That's the truth, she just needs a vacation and a hug from her girlfriend.

She doesn't like parties... just thought it was important to mention.

Poppy doesn't like her parent, almost hates them even, they seem so irresponsible, imature and a coward, after just letting their daughter in charge of a (practically) country in surprise, it's expected for her to feel that way

Poppy has to be the clueless character in the whole Invertedverse, the reason is that she's so busy at work, or too busy being tired, and she usually gets information on what's going on from Core, but Core have been very silent lately, wonder why...

She has the hobby of playing board games, dancing and origamis!

She likes to cook more for others than herself

Sometimes she would visit the Madame T's orphanage, mainly to see Cadence and her friends, but also to donate and all of that things famous ppl do in orphanages idk.

Even thought she does a lot of hard work sometimes she'd take credit over someone elses work unintentionally, i mean, she's kind of the president.

She can't lie, like literally, maybe it's just her morals, or maybe it's a supernatural force idk.

She also keeps taping her fingers in hard surfaces all the time, I think it's anxiety.

Oh yeah, her full name is still Poppy Marusina, but she can also be called Iris Marusina, or maybe I'll change that to her original name, idk

Poppy (c) fmsdraws

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Can you do a smut where Axl Rose slaps readers butt as a joke or something but she moans when he does it?

A/n: I originally got this ask while I was at school and a teacher saw this notification I think

Warnings: smut, spanking, fingering (f receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Axl come home from a six month long tour and was exhausted. His sleep schedule was totally fucked up which led to him waking up at absurd hours and falling asleep at worse hours.

You were brushing your teeth, just getting ready for bed. Axl was trying to get his sleep schedule back in order so he'd been trying to stay awake for as long as possible, at least until you got into bed with him.

Axl came in, dark bags under his eyes. "Hey, beautiful." He mumbled with a tired smile as he came over to you. You smiled back at him, though it was weird with the toothbrush in your mouth.

He wrapped his arms around you, his eyes struggling to stay open as he waited for you to finish brushing your teeth.

He chuckled lowly, a smile playing at his lips. He was clearly thinking of something.

You spat in the sink. "What is it?" You asked. Axl shook his head.

"Nothing, don't worry about it, I'll see you in bed." He said and turned to walk away. Before he actually did he landed a harsh smack to your ass.

You jumped a bit but nothing could've had you miss the noise that came out of you. Axl froze in his spot and stared at you, suddenly not so tired. "What was that?" He asked, his deep voice coming with such a teasing tone it had a heat pooling between your legs.

You waved him off. "Nothing, go to bed." Your face was burning a bright red as you spoke. You washed the toothpaste out of your mouth, Axl standing nearby, holding a bright smile on his face.

When you were done you went straight to the closet to find something to wear to sleep in. Axl came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you once more. "That wasn't nothing and you know it." You didn't respond and just kept looking through your clothes.

Axl's hands moved to your hips, giving them a quick squeeze before moving under your shirt. You hummed softly as his hands moved to cup your chest. "You liked that, didn't you?"

You huffed and gave up on looking for clothes. You took your shirt off while Axl unclipped your bra. He groped your body, fumbling with the fly on your jeans as he kissed down your neck drawing more needier sounds from you.

"Hah, fuck, Axl." Your voice was airy, your eyes closed as the gingers hand slid into your undone pants.

"Don't worry, I'll make you feel good." He hummed as he slid your pants down along with your panties. His fingers toyed with your clit while his other arm held you up, close to his chest.

Your legs kept wanting to close around his hand so he slapped your ass again, drawing another moan from you. “Spread your legs, can’t fuck you right if you keep ‘em closed.” He mumbled in your ear.

You tried harder to keep your legs spread, though it was hard when Axl’s slender fingers slid into you. With how long you and Axl have been together he knew just what you liked, he knew what spots had you begging for more and he made a point to hit them over and over again.

He slid another finger into you and your knees buckled. Axl slapped your ass again. “Can’t even follow simple instructions.” He tsked, another spread palm coming down on your ass. “How sad, huh?” And another.

“Fuck! Do it again.” You whined, shaking your ass for him. Axl seemed to shine at the idea as he pulled his hard cock out of his shorts and lined himself up with you.

“Wish I’d found out about this sooner.” He said, groaning as he pushed into you. You bent over the dresser in the closet, giving Axl a better view of your ass.

Axl was never one for sweet and slow as he soon set a harsh pace that had your body bouncing up and down on the cold wood dresser. Your moans echoed off the walls, though they were muffled by the clothes.

Axl’s hand kept coming down on the plush flesh of your ass, leaving bright red marks sure to stay as bruises. His other hand gripped your hip, making it easier for him to slam his hips into yours.

“Hah, m’gonna cum, fuck, m’gonna cum!” You moaned as Axl spanked you again.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum on my dick?” He asked, giving your cheek a rub to ease the stinging. You nodded, reaching down to play with yourself. Axl smirked as he leaned over you, kissing your neck and shoulders.

“Fuck, Axl, ‘m so close.” You whined, body already shaking. Axl grunted in your ear, you could feel his body leaning against you more.

You were about to ask if he wanted to stop so he could sleep but he drew you out of your thoughts with another harsh hand on your ass.

You could feel him pulsing inside of you, his deep grunts falling right into your ears as he came. Feeling his hot cum hitting your gummy walls had your eyes rolling back.

Axl held onto you tightly, slowly falling to his knees and bringing you with him. You sat in his lap, leaning against him and kissing his jaw. “Tired?” You asked, your own voice coming out airy.

Axl kissed your forehead, pulling you tight to him and falling asleep.

You weren’t planning on sleeping in the closet, but Axl was warm and you were getting tired yourself so you got some clothes together to use as pillows before curling up with Axl.

[allastoredeer]

I have no problem with al being a bottom, I just have a hard time with bottom king lucifer as a top. May I have examples to try and see your side?

Exhibit A:

Dat smirk.

Exhibit B:

Soft Top Lucifer

Exhibit C:

Demon Top Lucifer

Exhibit C:

That sexy shoulder bop

Exhibit D:

Look at this guy.

Exhibit E:

Obvious one.

Exhibit F:

I just wanted to post this one cuz I like his smirky little face.

LOL no, seriously though, there's no specific way a character has to act or behave to be deemed a top, bottom or switch. It's a preferred sexual position that isn't dependent on outside factors, it's just what a person enjoys, and what the reader/viewer wants that character to be. That's essentially what it is. It's not based on logic, it's based on what position the fan prefers for them to be in.

Lucifer could do his sexy little shoulder bop and still be a bottom. He can give the most suave, seductive smirk and still be a bottom. It's different for everyone.

But as for why I like top!Lucifer, here are a few reasons:

A) I really like it when shorties top. So often, in almost all fandoms I've been in, the default for a popular ship is the shorter one bottoming and the taller one topping. As a shortie myself, I just...ugh, I get so tired of it. Especially since the bottom is typically softened, UwU-ified, and turned into this delicate little flower. Bringing personal feelings into this, I've been very short and very thin all my life. I've literally been described as "delicate" before, and as someone who enjoys sports, running around, and is just a loud, rough and tumble person by nature, I absolutely hate it. It's given me a lot of mental and emotional issues, and a lot of the treatment and comments I've gotten has made me feel belittled, vulnerable, and weak. So, while being a bottom doesn't mean you're any of those things, short characters have been treated like that for a majority of the fandoms I've been in, no matter what their personality, stature, behaviors, or attitude was, and seeing it brings out of love of dark and negative feelings that I'd rather not re-live when I'm trying to enjoy myself in fandom. (Which is another reason why I dislike so much bottom!Lucifer because he's so often softened down and turned into this naive, dare I say, helpless little lamb. The moment Alastor overpowers him or easily manipulates him into a deal, I am outta there.)

B) Lucifer has that top energy. Can't explain it. He just does. To be clear, I don't see him exclusively as a top. He's a switch. But I do headcanon Alastor as exclusively a bottom, so in any radioapple relationship I write or draw, Lucifer will top.

and C) the most important reason: I like seeing Alastor get railed.

Alastor bottoms in all the ships I have for him and Lucifer is no exception. Besides, I find a lot of versatility and potential in Lucifer being with/fucking a sinner, especially considering his distaste of them. Makes for a good hate-fucking scenario, or a very emotional and in-depth character deep dive of him coming to terms with his own bias and internalized hatred of them and finding love and companionship in one of the very people he despised. That's some delicious mental turmoil and the perfect opportunity for character development.

(LOL there's a lot of talk of Alastor not bottoming because of his ego, and yet nobody considers that maybe Lucifer wouldn't bottom for Alastor because he's a sinner. He is the embodiment of pride after all. So, combining that with his disdain for sinners, would he really "stoop" so low as to let one of them fuck him? Food for thought).

But seriously though, when it comes down to it, I just like Alastor bottoming and Lucifer topping. Yes, bottom!Lucifer and top!Alastor has been soured for me due to popular fandom depictions of it, but even before those were popular, I simply preferred Alastor bottoming. I enjoy it more, not just for his character, but just...because. I just do.

Thing is, I don't think there has to be a list of reasons for why you prefer a character topping, bottoming, or switching. People are allowed to do whatever they want with these characters. It's fandom. This is a playground. We don't have to have a reason, we're just here to have fun.

If you can't see Lucifer as a top, Anon, that is a-okay 👍👍Thanks for asking for a different perspective though, it's always awesome when a person seeks to understand someone else's point of view. I don't know how well of a different perspective I offered, though. I have a hard time answering questions like these bcuz they just don't make a lot of sense to me. It's hard to say why I like something when I just...do. I just vibe with it.

To boil it all down, my examples/answers are all based on what I like and how I feel. I like bottom!Alastor cuz I enjoy it. I like top!Lucifer because I love seeing Alastor get railed - especially by a big, powerful demon king. Very yummy.

Also, LOL, considering Alastor is exclusively a bottom to me, anyone I do ship him with will automatically be the top, regardless of who they are XD So I guess that's an important factor to consider too 😂

I don't know how well I did with answering this, but I do want you to get the perspective you were looking for, so! My fellow bottom!Alastor truthers who are reading this, drop why you like bottom!Alastor in the comments below for our lovely Anon!

I'm curious about what you guys have to say too.

[chrxnicdaydream]

Domestic skk where Chuuya gets home after a long day at work, only to find the apartment empty, with no Dazai in sight.

The lights are off, not a sound to be heard, but Chuuya can feel Dazai’s presence— some kind of sixth sense they’ve both been cursed with since they were 15.

Chuuya slowly removes his coat & shoes, letting his eyes rove over the empty kitchen & living room, till his eyes finally catch the top of a familiar head of mussed, brown waves.

Tension he didn’t realize he was holding releases at the sight, & Chuuya takes a deep breath before padding around the couch. It would do no good for his own stress to add to Dazai’s, if tonight was indeed one of those nights.

As Chuuya rounds the sofa, he finds pretty much what he expected. Dazai is curled up against the armrest, looking small despite his gangly limbs.

What Chuuya hadn’t expected was for Dazai to be fast asleep— soft breaths puffing against the expensive fabric of the armrest.

Chuuya blinks in disbelief, but can’t help the fond smile that steals across his face. Dazai always has such a hard time sleeping, so finding him like

this was a welcome surprise. Especially compared to the more somber situation that Chuuya was worried he’d be faced with.

Chuuya removes his hat & gloves, laying them aside as he crouches in front of the couch. He shamelessly studies his partner while he can’t be teased for it.

Dazai looks peaceful— cheeks rosy with sleep, & unfairly-long lashes dusting his faint spattering of freckles.

Those freckles felt like Chuuya’s little secret, because the only way to know they existed was if one got close enough to see.

And it was no secret that Dazai didn’t let people get that close.

Chuuya finds himself brushing a finger over those freckles, following the perfect slope of Dazai’s nose, tracing his high cheekbones down to the contour of his smooth jawline.

Chuuya pinches Dazai’s chin between his thumb & forefinger, tilting it at just the right angle to press a gentle kiss to Dazai’s forehead. He bites his lip to hold back a laugh at the way Dazai’s nose scrunches at the disturbance, but he really doesn’t want to wake the brunet. He obviously needs the sleep if he fell asleep here, still in his work clothes.

Why is Dazai out here? If he knew he was this tired, why not at least lie in bed?

Chuuya absently brushes Dazai’s bangs away from his eyes as he leans into the touch, releasing a contented sigh.

Oh. Chuuya’s eyes widen. He was waiting up for me.

Or, trying to, at least.

This time Chuuya doesn’t stop the warm chuckle from slipping past his lips. He presses another soft kiss to Dazai’s temple, then carefully scoops him into a princess hold. He carries his sleeping partner to their room, smiling as Dazai nuzzles his face into Chuuya’s neck.

His partner really is such a cat.

Chuuya sets Dazai down on the bed, careful not to wake him, & draws the blankets up under his chin, just the way Dazai likes it. He doesn’t bother getting him into comfier clothes— obviously, he was comfortable enough to fall asleep as he was.

Chuuya does change his own clothes, though, & brushes his teeth before turning off the light & slipping into bed next to Dazai.

He turns to wrap himself around Dazai from behind, but before he can, he finds himself with a face full of mackerel.

Soft hair tickles Chuuya’s chin as Dazai snuggles into him again— always seeking out the nearest heatsource.

“I thought you were asleep, you malingerer,” Chuuya scolds quietly.

“Shh, I am asleep,” Dazai whispers, nose digging into Chuuya’s breastbone as he tries to burrow into his partner’s chest.

Chuuya rolls his eyes, but he can hear the grogginess in Dazai’s voice that tells him he wasn’t faking it. He doesn’t fight the urge to bring a hand up to card through Dazai’s fluffy waves.

Dazai doesn’t grant him a response other than to press himself even closer to Chuuya, so that they’re practically melded together. Chuuya smiles, pressing one more, languid kiss to the crown of Dazai’s head— pausing to breathe him in— before closing his eyes & letting sleep overtake them both.

Chuuya version

[clotpolesonly]

Declan's hair in tvTRC; a dissection

ok i'm sure you guys have been waiting with bated breath for me to weigh in on this particular subject (lol) but i needed a hot minute to collect my thoughts on the matter. turns out i've got quite a few, go figure.

first things first: i am contractually obligated to say it's a goddamn travesty of a departure from canon to make Declan fucking BLOND and why the FUCK did they do that??? i was screaming in dms the second he showed up on screen, my sister can attest to how far i threw my phone across the couch in my outrage. i mean, honestly who suggested that?? turn on ur location i just wanna talk

-deep breath-

okay got that out of my system

so we all knew immediately that it was stupid as shit and entirely unnecessary...............but i've got a confession to make

i don't hate it

at least, not anymore. i'm actually kinda fascinated by what they've done here and what it adds to Declan's character/what it says about him psychologically. especially because he doesn't stay blond -- his hair is only like that for a little under half of the first season, though it's unclear how long he's had it like that before (tv)canon starts.

what the show has done here is given Declan a relationship with his hair that's not entirely dissimilar to the one that Ronan has. it's never said explicitly i don't think, in either the books or the show, that Ronan shaved his hair off because 1) he looks too much like his dad with it long and 2) it's something that he can control, but it very much comes through anyway, and the same applies to Declan here.

both boys -- all three boys, actually, but Ronan and Declan especially, more than Matthew -- are made in Niall's image. they resemble him very strongly. they look in the mirror and, for better or for worse, they see their father, and that's something that becomes really fucked up and complicated when your father is murdered, and when you hate him, and when you're afraid of becoming him, and when you miss him.

Ronan dealt with it one way (shaving it all off, making himself unique) and Declan here dealt with it another way (distancing himself from his father, yes, but also doing it in a way that made him more similar to Matthew). (and to his mother, which is a point i'll come back to later; you know the scene i'm talking about.)

Declan is a control freak of epic proportions, we all know this, and seeing it manifest in changes to his hair is not remarkable i don't think, esp in conjunction with how meticulously he manages his wardrobe. everything in his life feels outside of his control, so he grasps at what he can to feel secure. that's textbook.

then he fights with Ronan. most of the scene plays out more or less as it does in the book, but i want to draw your attention this bit of dialogue --

Gansey: "Why are you even here?" Declan: "I don't need to explain myself to you, I can go wherever I like. Free country and all." Ronan: "Then you're free to go somewhere else." Gansey: "Ronan... Declan, just go." Declan: "He's failing almost all his classes. What, Ronan, did you think I didn't know? Your teachers call me every time you skip class, dumbass, you keep going like this and you're going to -- " [Ronan tries to punch him again, Gansey intervenes] Gansey: "That's enough, both of you! Look, Declan, I'm not saying you're wrong, but you are not Niall Lynch, and you never will be." Ronan: [scoffs] "Not looking like that. You and your bimbo girlfriend get a 2-for-1 special at the salon?" Gansey: "Ronan, knock it off." Declan: "Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you." Ronan: "Well, I don't. And I'll never forgive you."

the salon comment is a petty side swipe that made me snortlaugh ngl, but it's also a direct acknowledgement from Ronan that what Declan is doing with his hair is Declan, in his own way, trying to distance himself from Niall while simultaneously trying (and failing) to fill his shoes. he's shining a spotlight on Declan's biggest source of internal conflict in a way that's both casually cruel (Ronan's specialty tbh) and humiliatingly dismissive. what an effective jab at someone like Declan who is, underneath his deliberately unremarkable exterior, every bit as proud as Ronan is. he's trying to be Niall and he's failing so badly even Gansey's begging him to stop, and he's trying to be Not Niall and he's so obvious about it as to be pathetic and laughable.

it's notable that the blond doesn't stay much longer. we only see it once more -- delivering his ultimatum to Ronan through Adam as he gatekeeps Declan at monmouth, a confrontation i must note is between a natural blond (Adam) and a fake one (Declan), and no words are exchanged about it but we do get a rather pointed look at the hair from Adam right before he delivers his line about fighting and it being "Ronan's thing" that makes Declan back off -- before we get to the biggest departure from Declan's canon arc and what i really want to talk about:

✨ the dorm room dye job ✨

this is, honestly, my favorite non-book-canon scene in this adaptation so far. that probably does not surprise anyone, because i am me, but hear me out!!!

let's run through what we actually get in this scene:

- Matthew asking Declan what he, Matthew, is doing in the morning, and Declan rattling off Matthew's entire schedule for the week, all while nagging him through his bedtime routine - Declan texting Ronan repeatedly and getting left on read - Declan trying and failing to sleep (intercut with Ronan and Gansey sharing insomnia time), growing more restless and texting Ronan some more until Ronan blocks his number and the texts stop being delivered - Declan going to their suite's bathroom to dig out a cheap dusty box of hair dye from the back of the cabinet and rushing through the process of mixing and applying it while Matthew sleeps - Declan staring at himself in the mirror and then smearing dye across his reflection

obviously, exactly none of this is book canon, and i don't not understand why some fans are crying foul on screentime they consider "wasted". should priority have been given to book canon elements and scenes? yeah, probably, and there are things that didn't make it into the show that i would've been glad to sacrifice this scene for, HOWEVER i want to talk about why this scene, as presented, within this slightly alternate show canon, is worth its screen time imo.

the show is really making an effort toward expanding the characters and relationships outside the insular gangsey -- the fox way ladies and the Gansey family have both gotten subplots, and much more attention is being paid to the Lynch bros than we got canonically this early in TRC.

without being inside the POVs of Ronan's friends like we are in the books, it makes sense that we get to see Declan more objectively for the overburdened teenager that he is. we get to actually SEE him being relied upon to manage and parent Matthew, day and night, no breaks. sharing even a bedroom with him, there is no reprieve and no retreat from that responsibility.

and we see him trying to manage Ronan too, which is overbearing and aggressive, yes, but we also see his preoccupation and his mounting anxiety. the little tics like him tapping his thumb against his thigh and the breathing technique he employees (the same one that Ronan uses in ep 2). unlike when they were brawling in the parking lot, Declan defends Ronan to Matthew ("he probably just lost his phone again" despite all of his messages being read). (this is a characterization tidbit described in Greywaren actually, in case any viewers haven't read TD3, that Declan was always far more understanding of Ronan and his behavior to Matthew than he was in confrontations with Ronan himself).

i digress, anyway, Declan tries repeatedly to get through to Ronan until the messages stop being delivered and Declan (correctly) assumes that Ronan has blocked his number (again).

all that nervous energy boils over and Declan beelines for the bathroom. he obviously knows that the box of dye is in there, he goes right for it. it's ambiguous how long it's been there -- either it was there before they moved into this room, in which case it may have been what inspired Declan to bleach his hair in the first place, or he may have bought it himself months ago and decided not to use it (probably because it's cheap and he usually has higher standards than that lol, he'd rather get it done professionally).

but this is not a moment for standards. this is an impulse. it's rushed and clumsy and jittery. he tears the box getting it open. he fumbles the little conditioner thing. he tosses the instructions aside with barely a glance. his phone is right there on the kitchen counter, always in the frame but face down, conspicuous in just how much Ronan is not texting him back.

this is, as mentioned up top, a bid for control. Ronan is uncontrollable, a variable he cannot account for and a loved one he cannot protect, and so Declan does what a lot of teenagers in fucked up circumstances do -- fucks with his hair before he can think better of it.

the only thing that slows him down is dropping the bottle, which almost wakes Matthew up. Matthew, right over Declan's shoulder in the mirror. Matthew, always in the frame just like the silent phone, always on Declan's mind, never allowed to more than an arm's length away.

Matthew is in the background of this entire scene. every shot of Declan's breakdown, Matthew is there, if indistinctly.

and there's something else about the cinematography that really elevates this scene, and that's the fact that, once Declan enters the bathroom, the entire thing is shot through the mirror. we don't get another shot of Declan straight on to the camera in this episode, we only see his face in reflection. we are seeing Declan seeing himself, which is perhaps the truest way to view him, especially in this moment.

remember that this was catalyzed primarily by Ronan's judgment (and Adam's, and Gansey's). Ronan ridiculed Declan for his hair a few episodes ago, not just for its own sake because it looks ridiculous but specifically in conjunction with talk of their father and Declan's inability to fill his shoes. Ronan essentially called Declan a failure and a phony, and the hair now symbolizes both.

Declan is so so conscious of how he is perceived, constantly thinking of himself within the context of how others think of him rather than engaging in actual self-knowledge. he is his own panopticon and this scene showcases that EXCELLENTLY.

which makes this messy breakdown so interesting, because it is unobserved by anyone but himself and, in the end, he obscures even that. he blacks his hair with bare hands (buddy, that's gonna stain so noticeably afkdjh) and then stands there, staring into the mirror at his own reflection -- at his own failure to perform the identity he's chosen for himself -- until he can't bear to see it anymore, and then he smears the dye along the mirror to block it all out. all that messiness, that vulnerability, hidden even from his own eyes.

and of course i need to touch on the identity of it all. of course i do!! because hair color means something in the Lynch family!! the resemblance the older boys have for Niall is so integral to the family dynamic and how they all relate to and interact with each other. the boys have daddy issues out the wazoo, and you would too if you were Made In Your Father's Image.

for Ronan, looking like dad was a source of pride for a long time, and is now a source of pain. but for Declan, looking like dad is equal parts pain and shame. everything Declan is, so much of his facade, was deliberately constructed to be different from his father -- Niall was reckless, so Declan is careful. Niall was loud, so Declan is staid. Niall was volatile, so Declan is predictable. Niall was eye-catching, so Declan is invisible.

and now, Niall was a brunet, so Declan is blond. it's another step along the road of rebellion against the legacy he inherited. Niall claims god broke the mold, but Declan knows just how similar they are, both physically and in their natural inclinations (though we haven't gotten into the latter much yet in the show). his father is not a man he respected and he is deeply afraid of being too much like him.

Declan bleaching his hair was a reaction to that, and it was a reasonable one, but it was also fundamentally, in both Declan's eyes and Ronan's, a disavowal of his connection to and place in the family. in rejecting his resemblance to dad (and therefore Ronan), Declan functionally declared himself Not A Lynch.

which makes this, dying his hair dark again, a bit of a reclamation? in a way? or, no. that would feel triumphant, and this scene has the definite air of tragedy.

maybe i should say it's a concession instead. the waving of a white flag. it's an admission that trying to disavow his family is a losing game. he cannot cover up what he is. no amount of bleach can wash away his father's blood in his veins. he will never be Niall Lynch, but he will always be Niall Lynch's son, for better or for worse, and there's no point in trying to pretend otherwise.

this scene is Declan giving up on his last desperate bid for an identity separate from the legacy he inherited. there's irony there, and honestly i find it very in keeping with what we get from him in some of the flashback details in TD3. i wrote a meta a while ago about the moth's wooden box and the alexandria townhouse both as symbols of Declan's complicity in his own oppression as a child -- ie, cages that Declan chose to step into of his own volition, because feeling powerless is worse than feeling trapped.

in this context, dying his hair dark again feels very similar. he's feeling powerless and so he makes the choice to figuratively reclaim his position in the family, even if that position is and has always been awful and traumatizing and something he's spent his entire life trying to break free from, because the alternative is to acknowledge that there is nothing that he can do to free himself. he would rather be complicit than helpless.

there may or may not be something to unpack with Declan choosing blond, especially that shade rather than something that would've been more aesthetically fitting for him like a cooler platinum shade. namely that, in distancing himself from his resemblance to Niall, he actually strengthened his resemblance to Matthew and also to Aurora. he could've dyed his hair some middling shade of brown and honestly it would've been far more in line with his desire to be bland and pedestrian, but he chose a hair color that aligned with the other half of his family (the dreamt half of his family).

was it some subconscious desire to replace their mother for Matthew's sake? Matthew was Aurora's favorite, he was the closest to her and undoubtedly the one who took her loss the hardest in the immediate aftermath, and we know that Declan took up the kinds of duties that used to be Aurora's like cooking Matthew good meals and being his emotional support (as best he could).

the fact of Declan taking on Aurora's most defining feature in the aftermath of her falling asleep (to him, functionally, her death) and his staunch refusal recognize her humanity (such as it is) or to engage with her memory is really haunting, imo. honestly, Aurora and his relationship with her is such an underrated factor in Declan's psychology, she had such an enormous impact on him that's rarely discussed in the detail it deserves. here it's like his feelings about her are leaking out of him subconsciously even as he's trying his damnedest to repress them.

or, hell, idk, that might be reading too much into it. it may just have been that blond was as far from his natural color as he could get.

but honestly it doesn't feel coincidental. nothing in this arc does, which surprised the hell out of me as i was watching. "Declan is blond now actually" is the kind of cracky nonsense that should've had me flipping tables, but it turns out, when it's a concept that's actually executed with thought and attention to detail and a real understanding of the character, blond!Declan is something that can actually be so personal.

so

thank you for coming on this journey with me. if you read this far, your brainrot is probably nearly as strong as mine is for writing it. i might write another one later digging into some more of the details from the back half of season 1, but for now, i need to go outside and touch some grass or something. stay tuned i guess. <3

[weirdozjunkary]

While I can’t force myself to draw (and I don’t have many ideas at the moment.) I do wanna share a few ideas for the Sonic Mecha AU that I’ve had floating around in my head for a while.

The AU is still mostly inspired by SGRB, but I’ve been wanting to stray from that show a bit more, just for more ideas. Still unsure about a lot of things, but I have a pretty good idea for the most part.

S0N1C is a 20(ish) foot robot created by MilesElectric to help deal with the ever growing problem that is Dr. Robotnik and his various machines. He has a fully conscious and adaptive AI system, allowing him to adapt on the fly, and also just be an overall nice dude.

Having to deal with other machines, he’s gifted with an incredibly powerful core, as well as superspeed. While this does help defeat near any obstacle in his way, it also makes him require almost constant stimulation. If not, he will find ways to stimulate himself, often being annoying to those around him. Usually he just runs around to alleviate it.

Unfortunately, one day, his overeagerness and hyperactivity caused him to do a dangerously stupid stunt and attempt to go as fast as he possible, causing him to somehow travel near 10 years in the future.

Miles ‘Tails’ Prower, owner of MilesElectric, both designed and built Sonic from the ground up. Though he’s technically a dad of sorts to him, Sonic views him more of a ‘younger’ brother (mostly due to how small he is compared to him.) Being the kid genius, he usually stays behind the console and help guide along the mission. He does help on the feild from time to time.

Knuckles the Echidna has acted more of a role model/brother figure in Tails’ life. Aside from schooling, he has physically trained him, so he could hold his own in a fight. Outwardly he seems kinda hostile, but he’s actually a big sweetheart deep down. During action, he’s there to also help guide in the missions, as well as talk sense into the group. He actually was the person to suggest creating another robot in order to keep Dr. Robotnik and his robots at bay.

SH4D0W is a 20(ish) foot robot created by G. U. N. in order to manage Dr. Robotnik. While he has similar attributes in not only physical appearance as well as overall design, he has some drastic changes. Aside from his darkened and more threatening colour scheme, he is a no nonsense brute who gets the job done, he almost never acts like his own person, despite having the capabilities to do so. He has a job, and he wants to stick with it, it’s only when S0N1C comes back when he finally starts to loosen up.

As well, his speed and strength is limited in order to not let another mishap happen again. His speed is capped at around Mach 1, though he usually stays slower, especially in towns and cities. He doesn’t care that he can’t go faster. Though his ego does get bruised a bit when Sonic goes faster than him. Being made from G. U. N, most of what went into creating him has been kept a secret, Tails is the only one outside of G. U. N. with access to his blueprints, and even then, a lot is redacted. Still, it doesn’t hinder repairs or anything on the field.

[quillpokebiology]

what would members of the solosis line with drifblim fathers look like?

Pokemon Crossbreeds: Respiration

Respiration is the name for members of the Solosis line whose fathers were Driffloon/Drifblim. The breed got its name from the process or cellular respiration, which is when Oxygen in cells is used to make sugar. The breed is known for their melancholic personalities and their quietness. They were bred for their higher HP and their ability to learn Acid Armor.

Solosis

Respirative Solosis have a rounder shape and an X on their mouth instead of a diamond shape. The thing on their head becomes cloud shaped instead. These Solosis are quiet, and because of their nature, they've been nicknamed drifters. While they aren't ghost types, there are legends of this breed having spirits trapped in their jelly, waiting for them to get out.

Duosion

Respirative Duosion gain the traits if Drifblim, including sharper limbs, lighter colored underbellies, and lines on their bodies. There is also a 50% chance they can be born with red eyes instead of black, but I'm sticking with showing the black-eyed ones here. They have more oxygen inside of them than standard Duosion, and releasing it is how they are able to move around faster (sometimes it can sound like a fart and it gets old when you're supposed to teach about these things to first graders for a project). They're more active at evening.

Reuniclus

Respirative Reuniclus keep the X and markings of Drifblim, but the air that would float above them is now atop their head. Instead of the usual circles inside of Reuniclus, they gain little hearts that match the ones of Driffloon. The most notable change is their second pair of arms that resemble Drifblim's tentacles. These Solosis use their extra pair of tentacles to aid them in battle and help them with other simple tasks, making them useful service pokemon for paralyzed people. Like they're fathers, they're crepescular and travel in groups.

//My designs can be used by anyone if you credit me! Talking about designs under the cut

Solosis was super easy to draw, but I was confused about coloring. I kept wondering whether purple would be too much or if green wasn't enough. Eventually, I just settled on keeping it green.

Duosion was fun. I already like Drifblim a lot so it was fun making a pokemon crossed with it. Got inspiration from a basketball with the lines, lol. Had mixed opinions on the red eyes but I decided to stick to black when showing drawings though. I have what it looks like with red eyes though if anyone wants it

Reuniclus was the hardest, and I'm using thst lightly bcuz I didn't struggle much. It was more just sitting there and wondering if I should draw the arms downwards or keep them up. Wondered about the ears, but I just decided to move them so the air could fit. Wasn't going to give it hearts, but Driffloon has hearts, and I thought they looked cute, so I left them.

Thanks for reading this far if you did!