#click on the artwork to see what he actually looks like

[criminalamnesia]

ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)

part one here and part two here

ending version 2 here

when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.

of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.

he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.

he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.

he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.

he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.

he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.

he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.

he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.

“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.

the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.

“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.

“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.

“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”

before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.

“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.

“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”

you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.

you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.

“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”

he gives a small nod. “understood.”

you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.

pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.

he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.

“nice place,” he says, and he means it.

you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.

you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.

you were never the problem.

he was.

“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.

best to get on with it, then.

“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”

you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.

“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”

your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.

“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”

“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”

god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.

“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”

“and what?” you interrupted.

“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”

you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.

“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”

he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”

“congrats,” you deadpanned.

“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”

“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”

“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.

you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.

“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”

silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.

“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.

he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.

“nothin’.” he said.

“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.

the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.

you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.

“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.

“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”

he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.

you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”

“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”

you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me— and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”

your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.

“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”

you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.

he turned and walked out the door.

————

author’s note:

muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!

this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)

[mochatsin]

When MC can Draw (Dateables Version)

Drawing and the arts is one of the things you’re most passionate about. There’s a lot of things, and certain demons, that are out there to give you inspiration to draw. How will the dateables react when they find out you’re a great artist?

Wow my first dateables version of my prompts. Hope i’ve written them all well. This version is requested from my tumblr :0 thanks for reading!

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Diavolo

Diavolo took notice when you saw your eyes lingering among the paintings during your tour around his castle. There were portraits of prominent figures from Devildom, from old kings to spearheads that shaped their history. He explains how there’s one royal painter for every royal king, thus the similar styles in every portrait. Since you’re an exchange student then it’s essential you learn about these demons, and Diavolo is happy to tell their tales for you. 

He was taking a stroll around RAD before going home when he spotted you in the school’s gardens, seemingly preoccupied. He wanted to call on you but he was more curious to see what you were working on. Diavolo watches you closely from a distance, afraid that you might hide from him if you spot him like how the others do.

To his surprise, he saw you working on a portrait of him in a style that’s similar to the ones he’s shown you. The way your eyes lingered on those paintings when he toured you around before, it clicks to him now that you were trying to study the art style itself as well. It’s almost identical, but with your added personal touches to make it unique.

His towering size doesn’t hide him very well when you immediately spot him at the corner of your eye. The pillars don't do justice to how large Diavolo is as a demon. You try to conceal the art you were making, it’s embarrassing when the subject of your art is actually a few feet away from you. But he quickly smiles as he walks over to you. Now that his cover's blown, he definitely wants to see everything up close now.

“I didn’t mean to be rude and spy on you like that. But you don’t need to hide anything! Even from a glance I could tell you’re talented. Would it be alright for me to see what you were working on?” You can’t really turn down such a polite request, but you most certainly can’t turn down the volume of his voice that’s booming with excitement as he flips from one page to another.

When you finish your portrait of Diavolo, expect it to be treated like a national treasure. A beautiful artwork of the young prince made by the human exchange student? It deserves the best frame that Diavolo can get his hands on. Expect Barbatos by your door the next day with high quality art supplies. He’ll treat you like one of the finest royal artists to ever live in Devildom.

Barbatos 

He invited you for some afternoon tea at the castle as thanks for lending him a hand in his duties the other day. Though there were some other matters around the castle that Barbatos needed to attend to, he asked for you to stay put first and help yourself to some of the treats he had prepared beforehand. 

You always admired the intricate designs of the tea set Barbatos always prepared whenever you came over. Since you’re a bit bored, you took out your sketchbook and decided to draw the fancy little tea cups while you wait for Barbatos to come back. 

The tea sets that Barbatos prepares always have beautiful pattern designs that range from dainty floral prints up to sets that look more expensive than the Mammon’s weekly bills due to how much the patterns are embedded in gold. If you look closely, you could probably spot little devils on it and it’s cute in its own way.

Little did you know he’s been actually observing you for a while now. He finished his last minute duties rather quickly since it would be rude to keep a guest waiting and that’s when he spots you keeping yourself busy by drawing, your glance going from the tea set to the paper. He wanted to admire that look you have whenever you concentrate for a little bit.

He lets out a small chuckle which gets your attention, a gentle smile on his face as he approaches you. “You’re quite the talented one, aren’t you?” Barbatos says as he takes a seat next to you, glancing at your sketchpad. “Maybe you can tell me more about your work while we enjoy some tea together?” 

Barbatos wouldn’t push for you to show anything, but he’ll be happy once you do. He’s impressed at how well you can make patterns that range from something simple to ones that have intricate details. He likes how you can make a portrait of the tea sets he’s been preparing, and secretly he grabs his finest sets to see if you’ll be inspired enough to draw it as well the next time you visit. Maybe he can also pull some strings to put your own pattern designs onto an actual tea cup and serve it to you next time. 

Simeon 

Sometimes you go to Purgatory Halls to get away from all the constant nagging and chaos of the demon brothers. It’s nice to find that peace and quiet you needed to do your daily tasks or just laze around since you felt like it.

Simeon lets you stay in his room for today while he tries to focus on writing for his novel. He plans on introducing a new character soon and since he trusts you, he starts talking about the character itself. How they compose themselves, what they’re like, the possible role they’ll play in the story, you get all these details before the chapter is even written.

Once he’s done talking he lets you get back to whatever you were doing while he continues trying to figure out how to write the next few parts. Though he soon hears the sound of scribbling pens and wondered if you were doing some homework? He could’ve sworn you were done with those already.

He turns around and to his astonishment, you were sketching the character he was just discussing with you earlier. Given his detailed accounts of the character, you were able to design it well. It’s an understatement to say Simeon is happy. He is ecstatic. You brought this character to life in just a matter of minutes all for him, and that brings Simeon more ideas on how to proceed with writing. 

“You never told me you actually knew how to draw. Your talent at visualizing is exceptional.” Simeon would listen carefully while you talk about your journey to the arts and how you honed your talents while he looks through your other works. Afterwards, he starts to praise your art like a professional critique, telling you what he loves in each work.

His heart skips a beat whenever he finds your old works that’s dedicated to his novels. Learning that you’re also talented with the pen like he is, just in a different element, makes him feel a little bit closer to you. If you’re not busy, he may ask for your help when it comes to visualizing something he’s having a hard time with. He’ll treat you to something nice as thanks!

Solomon

Being Solomon’s apprentice means that there are times he’ll require you to assist him with his research. There’s a few spells and potions that he wants to work on, though they all require a lot of preparation work. You both agreed on doing a bit of divide and conquer on those tasks so that it won’t be too time consuming to finish. 

You managed to do a lot of chores for him which is quite tiring, though Solomon is grateful for your efforts and he has one last request from you which he said is essential to the potion he’s making. There’s a delicate Devildom flora that Solomon harvested recently, and you have to make sure the flower stays fresh because it can wither very quickly if not taken care of and the potion would fail if that happens. He’ll take it off your hands once he’s done preparing everything else.

Normally, one would’ve kept it in a vase full of water and called it a day. Though you decided to not only put it in a vase, but draw up a summoning circle that would keep it fresh. It’s something that you learned from Solomon’s notes, and the sorcerer is astonished you drew the circle so accurately enough to work on your first try when he came to check up on you. 

“Now how did my little apprentice actually manage that so quickly? That would’ve taken me several tries to get the patterns done.” Solomon says with an amused smirk, staring at the circle in awe. Getting one line wrong would’ve instantly killed the flower but right now, he sees that not only is it very much alive but it looks more vibrant than ever. The magic is more potent, Solomon is sure that any potion he makes with its petals would be very effective.

While he was waiting for the potion to boil over in the cauldron, he decided to learn more about this hidden talent of yours. He makes you draw some summoning circles from one of his books, already starting out on the difficult types to draw. All of it is perfect somehow since you’ve had a history of drawing, so your hand is quite steady and you act like it’s no big deal. Solomon will definitely want to see your works in the future.

“A lot of sorcerers can cast magic, but not everyone has the talent to make summoning circles as quickly and accurately as you do.” That’s big praise coming from humanity’s strongest sorcerer. Though that means he’ll want to exploit that talent and call you over every time he needs it in his experiments, it’s a win for him either way because he gets to spend more time with you. 

Luke 

There’s a new event in Devildom where the angels and you were teamed up to open a stall that’s focused on selling sweets and pastries. Luke appreciates your input when it comes to taste testing his sweets since none of the demon brothers are able to give proper critiques like you can, Simeon tends to be a little too nice to Luke, and Solomon is never allowed near the kitchen. Ever. 

Your company is always welcomed and Luke would gladly add any of the sweets you recommended onto the menu. You always come back to the House of Lamentation with a bag full of samples you both baked that day, which always brings a smile to the brother’s face. 

You come back to Purgatory Hall only to find Luke seemingly having a dilemma. He reassures you that it’s not because of the batch of sweets and pastries since you helped him perfect the menu. It’s the fact he needs to make a logo and design for the stall. If it can’t attract any customers then all the effort you both put into baking this would go to waste. 

You sat down with Luke to brainstorm with him, watching the angel stare blankly at the paper with frustration while you ask him for what ideas he’s already had so far. Luke had to go back to the kitchen to pipe some frosting on the cupcakes, though by the time he came back you were already done with the sketch.

Luke is awed at the design, seeing as how you incorporated both his and your idea for the stall in a way that still blends well together. “Y-you’re incredible! How’d you do that so fast though? You know what, let’s show Simeon first!” If Luke had a tail, it would be wagging from sheer joy. He’d be so excited to get the decorations and paint for the stall that he almost forgot about the cupcakes in the oven. 

By the time the stall is finished and running, Luke would definitely flaunt your talent not just for helping him bake but for also designing the stall. “You like the design? They did that!” He would say with an excited grin on his face before pointing at you. Luke enjoys working with you that you both barely notice the brothers getting jealous over the amount of time the angel gets to spend with their human. 

[lanasblood]

VIVID DREAMS | neteyam x reader

dedicated to @andraga12​ just because she’s el amor de mi vida who always inspires me to be better, and I wanted to give back some of the love she generously spreads in this fandom with her personality and her writing! 

neteyam artwork by my talented @cinetrix​ (click here to see more) 

pairing: neteyam x female reader (wc: 1.2k)

summary: what do you call the phenomenon, where you cannot control the longing in your eyes or the fire in your loins, where you consistently fall in love with someone every time you see them? as for neteyam, this someone is you. (proceed with caution, his thoughts are unhinged, 18+ mdni)

Being the son of the clan leader had its benefits, but it also came with its downsides. There was immense pressure to be the best in everything, pressure he put on himself, so much that for quite some time — too long for him to admit — he was accompanied by intense stress and sleepless nights. The days blended together, no longer offering a sense of overview, no longer dividing day and night for him. He was a breathing, working mess, alive but barely living, like the remnants of a walking corpse, whose reflexes still functioned. His body was accustomed to it, his strong physique, sculpted by years of discipline, was used to worse actually, but slowly the burden was taking its toll on his mind for he began to see things, hallucinating, as Lo'ak had called it. It had reached such dimensions that his father had sent him on forced leave, a decision that was infuriating in such critical times, but protest was not tolerated, because deep down Neteyam knew his father was right; some days — the most exhausting ones — it was difficult for him to distinguish his dreams from reality as it all blended together, and that was the last alarming sign for him to know he had to fix his work-life-balance, especially when it came to you.

she's a celestial inferno in his mind  the flames consuming him cannot be denied   as every carnal desire burning his skin  raw illusions rise, awakening divine 

The mere thought of you already numbed his senses, consumed him whole, so looking at you right now how you danced along with your friends, your body effortlessly swayed to the rhythm, accompanied by the traditional instruments, did things to him he did not dare to say out loud. There was an undeniable connection; he was longing for you, needing you in ways that couldn't be described. 

Watching you from afar as he leaned against a rock, originally trying to avoid the festivities following the victorious war party he hadn't been allowed to participate in, it was mesmerizing to him how you moved your hips with such sensuality, it took his mind to places. His eyes aglow like molten gold, were glued to your body, followed your every move, refused to leave your enchanting features even for a fleeting moment. The forest immediately dissolved around him into a big blur of dark green, slowly fading into a hushed background, leaving only you as the focal point of his existence, as if completely bewitched by your presence. And for the first time in his life, despite the unyielding strength he commanded in battle, he found himself powerless, absolutely disarmed and vulnerable against the allure you possessed.

He couldn't control the vivid imagines that flooded his mind in the next second when you bend down to gather the empty bottles from the ground so that no one would trip on them, his hidden wants messing with his reality in an instant. His hands on your waist, the rhythm of your bodies in perfect synchrony, the rolling motion of your hips against his, skin on skin, teeth clinking, lips smacking with each hungry kiss. He couldn't help but picture the way you'd respond to his touch, your soft flesh yielding by the firmness of his grip, your head thrown back in ecstasy, your eyes rolling in pleasure, the breathy moans escaping your lips like a siren's call, pulling him closer to you, deeper and deeper into the depths of desire. 

Wishful thinking. 

He knew that he couldn't resist the gravity of his passion any longer. With every breath, every beat of his heart, he discovered a truth — he was falling, falling, falling, and he couldn't deny it.

Neteyam's breath quickened even more when you met his eyes, only for a second before you quickly looked away, his heart pounded in his chest like the loud drums next to the table with drinks, as he fought to control the raw desire that surged within him. The fire in his loins burned brighter as he felt the energy radiating from you, a magnetic pull even, that defied reason, defied control, defied the chaos raging within him, that became a force he could not contain. And even if the yearning in his blood vessels and the longing in his eyes spoke volumes, his lips remained silent for he had not once dared to confess.

That was however until he heard your laugh a second later when one of your friends said something to you; the combination of eye contact and your melodic laugh gave him the courage to approach you, start a conversation, he had done it many times before, so he could do it again, he was good at small talk, he was Neteyam, it was nothing but child's play for him, he would talk to you and— 

"Does Neteyam have any idea how ridiculously gorgeous he is?"

His heart skipped a beat as he overheard your words, spoken with a touch of wonder and followed by a dreamy sigh. The corners of his mouth curled into a soft smile, and his cheeks felt warm as he chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly. He had never imagined that you would see him in such a light, let alone voice it aloud. It filled him with pride, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of joy and disbelief that he quickly hid with his newfound confidence as he walked the last steps to approach you.

"Well," he said with a playful smile on his lips, "I wouldn't say ridiculously gorgeous, but I do try my best."

Immediately, your eyes grew wide as you opened your mouth to say something but then closed it again, and he thoroughly enjoyed observing the play of expressions on your face. He felt great, his self-doubt vanished in an instant, it was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a version of himself he had never fully embraced before. With his arms crossed in front of his chest and a smug grin on his face, he watched your every move, every flick of your gaze, every tremble of your finger, the color of your cheeks slightly darker than the rest of your skin, every subtle gesture teased his imagination, fueling his fantasies, like your eyes, big and beautiful, a mix of innocence and surprise in them, he couldn't help but imagine the taste of your lips as you nervously licked over them, those lips, oh, those lips looking as sweet and plump as… he gulped and reminded himself to get it together.

And when you turned around, away from him, without any word, quickly leaving the celebrations, vanishing between the thick leaves of pandora's flora, he kept staring at that place and he smiled, accepting the truth that could not be denied any longer: He was consumed by an insatiable hunger for you, a hunger that only you could satisfy, and he swore to himself, in that exact moment, that he would do anything — no matter the time and costs, even if it meant to put the night sky into chains and conquer all the stars — to make you his, for you were his star, his very personal wishing star.

note: thank you for reading, my loves, please don’t forget to leave feedback (I appreciate any form of it, be it likes, comments, reblogs, or just an anonymous message in my inbox) to let me know you enjoyed this 💕

[jiveyuncle]

"Lance," Keith sounds breathless. "Back when we found my lion - the glowing symbols. What did you say about it?"

Lance is still staring hard at where Keith's hand rests on the control panel's screen, face scrunched in disbelief. "That is was written in code?"

Keith shakes his head. "No, no, about the Galra not being able to find it because of something to do with quintessence."

Lance's brow furrows further as he tries to recall what all he said so long ago, then his eyes flick up to meet Keith's. "Um? They were directions - quintessence infused." His lips purse as he tries to list everything. "The inscriptions would only be revealed in the presence of an Altean."

Keith removes his hand from the panel and the stars wink out. He strides toward Lance, mind racing. "Lance," Keith exhales. "I saw similar symbols back on Earth. Back when Hunk, Shiro, Pidge and I found the Green Lion in the cave."

Lance's eyes are flicking rapid-fire between Keith's, "But I wasn't there with you that time."

Keith grips Lance by the arms, hands squeezing tight. "Then why did the cave still light up?"

Lance almost looks as if he's stopped breathing.

Keith shifts his hold from Lance's arms, to hold his face. "The whole time I've been amazed at how much a couple of aliens look like us humans," Keith presses his forehead to Lance's, "but maybe I should've been thinking about how much we look like you."

And Keith can see it - in Lance's face - the moment the full meaning of everything clicks, and then Keith's being crushed in a bone-breaking hug. A wet laugh finds its way into the crook of Keith's neck. "Allura and I weren't the only ones to survive."

Keith raises his arms to squeeze Lance back just as tightly and buries his nose in his hair. "I think we're gonna need another look at the cave back on Earth."

A little glimpse at the Humans-are-the-crossbreed-descendants-of-Alteans-that-fled storyline reveal. I tried to layer so many hints and foreshadowing throughout the fic, and the reveal was just so satisfying to write. Idk if it’s been done before (probably) as I joined this fandom wayyy late but this AU is clogging all my brain space. I’m feral. If you ask me, I will scream your ear off about how this fills a ton of plot holes in canon and strengthens some of the choices made by different characters. Actually, I’ll rant about it on the next post since it’ll be the last batch of artwork for the fic. I’m so excited to draw more stuff within the AU. I just have so many thoughtsssss about how everything connectsssss ahhh

Fic: Sure and Indelible on AO3:

[silkjade]

in the moment we’re lost & found

Featuring— albedo, kaveh, zhongli, dainsleif ⤀ gn!reader, reincarnation au but also a some soulmate au vibes (?), dark / light academia themed a/n: i picked charas i thought would suit the aesthetic cus my favorite flavor of reincarnation au has to do with art and museums / luv history + art + museums + galleries !

— 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎

as an up-and-coming artist, albedo is a rising star in teyvat’s art world, but lately he’s been haunted by a face he sees only in his dreams. it’s unclear, and it drives him insane that he can’t quite make out all the details of this mysterious figure. albedo, whose artwork is notoriously lifelike, knows that something just isn't right; something is missing and he can't quite grasp it. countless times, he's tried to translate the idea of you onto paper, and countless times he's ripped out pages of his sketchbook, the abandoned drawings left crumpled in random corners of his studio, of his house, of his room. they say the mind is unable to create faces of its own so where did you come from? it consumes him— the way you replay in his head once he closes his eyes, as if he'd somehow stolen the memories of somebody else. perhaps this is what the tortured artists sing of when they descend to madness, haunted by an absent muse. at least… until the fateful day he sees you out on the cobbled streets of mondstadt. you pass by quickly, the moment as fleeting as a shooting star, and something in albedo clicks. he doesn’t have time to think, he just moves. his muse is here now within reach; how can he risk letting you slip away?

— 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

careless collision, staggering steps… you snap your eyes shut as you try to mentally prepare yourself for the utter humiliation of falling into the akademiya fountain. except it never comes. your eyes flutter open, and are instantly met with just about the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. however, his expression is one of shock, as if he’s just as surprised as you are of his own actions, and truth be told, he is. because he seemed to have been able to watch the scene unfold, even before the other party had bumped into you. because kaveh is sure something had come over him, with the way time appeared to have stopped and his legs moved of their own accord. like his body was suddenly able to predict the future, or that it was the work of some absurd sense of muscle memory. even so, the weight of you in his grasp feels uncannily familiar. in a good way. it feels right; it feels like he had waited his whole life for this moment.

and suddenly you're hyperaware of how close the two of you actually are— but also of how safe you feel with his arm wrapped around your waist, or of how his large doe eyes seem to peer into your very soul, the carmine hues dancing with renewed life. you really can't shake the overwhelming feeling that you've met before, that perhaps this isn't your first time around at all. and so you have to ask, “have we met before?”

"no, but I'd like to again."

— 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

you quite literally walk into zhongli, knocking his documents out of his hands and all across the marble floor of liyue’s national museum. zhongli sighs without looking up; he had spent the better half of a day organizing contracts and paperwork for a loan agreement to inazuma, though he supposes he should share in the blame for not watching where he was going. hundreds of years have passed since the immortal ex-archon worked as a funeral consultant; these days, zhongli opts to spend his time surrounded by artifacts of bygone times and bygone people. but when he looks up, his golden eyes widen and his blood runs cold at the sight of you in front of him. he freezes, as if time seems to have stopped for the both of you. his focus shifts back and forth between you and the painting across the room: a seemingly ordinary portrait, dated from around the time of the blonde traveler. still, whenever asked, he can confidently say that it’s his favorite piece, even in this house of invaluable artifacts and monuments to heroes, even among all the rich antiquities teyvat has to offer. and here you were in front of him, a perfect match to the painting's subject. the one whom he had once held so dear before being torn away by the hands of time, is now kneeling on the floor in front of him, frantically trying to gather the scattered documents, of which he had long deemed irrelevant. he feels his impenetrable stone heart flutter for the first time in what feels like a millennia because it’s you. he's sure of it. it's you, it's you, it's you.

— 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐅

ever since your move to mondstadt, you've started having satin dreams of knights and castles, false flowers and fictional faces; dreams that undoubtedly end in war and destruction because everything shifts. castles crumble, faces morph— it becomes a nightmare so vivid it feels more akin to a memory than a dream. but through it all only one thing remains constant in that, in every iteration, you always fall in love with the same blonde man.

wandering the tranquil halls of mondstadt's national gallery, you find yourself before The Destruction of Khaenri'ah, a painting tragically beautiful in it's depiction of the ancient nation's condemnation by the heavens. you feel your eyes threaten to water, the ache in your chest an indication that the same anguish you've felt in your nightmares, has now sunk its claws into your heart. it's the first time a piece of art has moved you like this. so much so that you’re rooted in a trance-like state until someone beside you clears his throat, snapping you back to reality. he himself also gazes at the painting although his arm is outstretched; a handkerchief in offering for your tears. it isn't until your fingers brush against his that the blonde man turns to meet your gaze. shades of cerulean, bluer than the depths of the seas, all a mere backdrop to the stars shining in his eyes. stars that match the ones sitting in your own eyes. your heart skips a beat at the revelation. it's him, the man from your dreams. he’s real.

TAGLIST ;; @meimeimeirin @mixed-kester @salmonthepan @hcbnkdf @moonrolling

(send an ask to be added/removed. if you’re bolded, it means I cannot tag you; your blog might be hidden ! )

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 6 - Just Somebody That I Used to Know

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma, Modern AU

Summary: Exes cause some unexpected moments for both you and Benedict...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: not much... swearing, propositioning for sex.

Word Count: 4.0k (longest chapter so far!)

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, Benedict runs into his ex-wife unexpectedly, and it throws him for a loop. Plus, Tom's sudden change in status causes a crisis of confidence for reader.

3 months later (15 months ago)

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you elbow him in the ribs, maybe uncharitably, but he’s being mildly irritating. ”Let’s just stick to practical stuff,” you argue, seizing his laptop and bringing it in front of you to take over.

“Come on, who doesn’t need an 18th-century replica cannon?” Benedict argues jovially, hooking his chin onto your shoulder and fluttering his eyelids in an attempt to get his way.

“I would argue your brother and my best friend,” you state pointedly, looking at him askance with a raised eyebrow, even as you secretly enjoy his silliness.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right,” he hums, sitting back up straight, “they’d probably just find a way to actually weaponise it during one of their fights.”

It’s three months later, and, just as she predicted on the first night they met, Kate and Anthony are engaged. Returning from a trip to Lake Cuomo two weeks ago, she had an enormous rock on her left hand and a grin like a Cheshire Cat, not just because of the jewellery. She claimed she orgasmed for thirty minutes straight even before she got the ring. You’re still in a low-key disagreement with her about whether that’s even possible.

Today is an uncharacteristically sweltering June day, so you and Benedict are taking refuge in the cool air-conditioning at Battersea Power Station, down the road from the gallery he’s exhibiting in. You sit on a sofa with iced coffees trying to cobble together a gift registry—a task Kate and Anthony have lumbered you both with as matron of honour and best man.

“Who has their wedding registry at Harrods and Fortnum and Mason anyway?” you grouse.

“Family tradition,” he states airily. Sometimes you forget just how rich the Bridgertons are.

“You’re far too fucking posh,” you roll your eyes. “What’s wrong with John Lewis, like normal people?”

“Tell you what,” one of Benedict’s arms encircles your waist and lightly tickles, causing you to squirm, a distraction tactic to wrestle back control of his laptop with his other hand, “if we get married, the registry can be at John Lewis, and you can explain to my tearful mother why you want to break Bridgerton tradition.” 

You know it’s an offhand, meaningless comment said in jest, but the words ‘we get married’ seem to echo around your head, even as he cackles triumphantly to himself and clicks ‘add to registry’ on the ridiculous cannon. As revenge, you swipe his brownie and take a big bite which he attempts to snatch back. You are giggling and tussling, crumbs flying, when a sophisticated French voice cuts into your childish playfulness.

“Benoit!? Je pensais que c'était toi!”

Your giggles die out as you untangle from Benedict to observe a beautiful petite brunette woman with elfin features. She clings to another striking woman who can barely conceal her look of disdain.

You feel Benedict freeze up, his body suddenly tense. Defensive.

“Tessa,” he nods after what feels like an age of awkward silence.

Oh god. It’s her. This is his ex-wife. For some reason, here in London.

“It’s good to see you,” she switches to lightly accented English, her arm gripping the other ladies tighter.

“Likewise,” he says curtly, holding himself stiffly in a way that suggests anything but.

Tessa turns her doe-eyes to you, pointedly awaiting an introduction. It takes him a moment to realise it, and your chest suddenly aches in sympathy for the little-boy-lost expression you can see through the cracked veneer of civility.

“Oh right… Thérèse Durand, Tessa, meet y/n y/l/n,” he gestures flatly. “Y/n, this is Tessa… and Clarissa,” he sneers the other woman’s name, and instantly you know who she is—the one Tessa left him for.

You politely nod and make an awkward small wave gesture, unsure what else to do. Benedict appears to be in some form of shell shock; gently, you squeeze his arm until he blinks as if coming back online.

“Well… I can see you are busy,” Tessa nods at the laptop, “I will not delay you plus,” switching back to French for the last word, exchanging loaded looks with Clarissa.

With another awkward nod, they turn their heels and walk away.

‘She looked weird, didn’t she?’ he stutters as they retreat.

“I don’t know her, Ben,” you remind softly, “I just met her.” Mainly you are concerned by how utterly disconcerted he is by merely bumping into her.

“Trust me, she looked weird,” he affirms, still watching the space they occupied even as they turn a corner and disappear.

You just rub his arm in what you hope is a soothing pattern, unsure what to say.

“Ughhh. A continent of 745 million people… I was just bound to run into my ex-wife at some point, right?” his sarcastic humour flaring as he puts his head in his hands.

“You even tried to put a body of water between you,” you concur, attempting levity. “Seems bloody unlikely to happen… but then I’d say so is a replica cannon for a wedding present, but you insist on it,” you joke softly, bumping his shoulder lightly. 

When he tilts his head up and cracks a tiny smile, you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

—

“Although marrying you may suggest otherwise, I have not had a complete taste bypass,” Kate barbs at Anthony as they stand around a coffee table the next day.

They are moving in together pre-wedding, and they definitely have strong opinions about each other’s possessions. You and Benedict have arrived to assist them in unpacking their fancy Kensington mews, but your primary role may well be as referee.

Kate turns to you. “Y/n, please, do you like this thing?”

You purse your lips, not wanting to offend.

“Be honest,” Anthony adds, hands on his hips, looking at your expectantly.

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

“What's wrong with it?” Anthony asks.

“Honey,” Kate loops her arms around his neck, “it’s so awful, I can’t even begin to tell you what’s wrong with it.”

Anthony rolls his eyes, but you can tell he secretly enjoys how she nuzzles his neck, and he pulls her into his arms. “Brother, what do you think?”

Benedict is staring out of the window; he doesn't even turn around, just mumbles. “It’s fine.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, concerned about his moroseness but say nothing.

“Look, I think it will be fine in your home office,” Kate offers conciliatory. “It will go perfectly with that ugly drinks hutch thing,” she suggests, wanting to sound helpful.

“Wait, wait….,” Anthony withdraws from their embrace. “You don't like my home bar??” he throws his hands up in a what-the-hell gesture. 

Kate goes to answer but is interrupted by Benedict turning around to speak. “You know, we started like this—little disagreements about things. We thought it was so cute. Well, want my advice? Put your initials on your shit now, so you know whose is whose before it all gets jumbled together.”

“Ben …” you murmur a warning, seeing his irritation flaring. He ignores you.

“Cos someday, believe me, you will go twenty rounds on who gets this coffee table. This stupid, ugly, the-80s-called-and-they-want-their-glass-monstrosity-back will cost you five times as much as you paid for it in legal fees from the firm of I-don’t-even-want-this-but-I-want-you-to-have-it-even-less and Sons.” 

“I thought you liked it?” Ant counters, frowning deeply.

“I WAS BEING POLITE!!” Benedict exclaims loudly before storming out.

Kate and Anthony gape at the doorway, shocked at the completely uncharacteristic outburst.

“He… he just bumped into Tessa,” you offer quietly as if to explain, then with a nod, go to seek him out.

“I want you to know something,” you hear Kate say as you leave, pulling Anthony into her arms and placing a kiss on his cheek. “I will always hate that fucking ugly eyesore you claim is furniture.”

You find Ben outside lingering on the pavement, kicking a loose stone into the gutter. Looking to all intents and purposes like he needs a cigarette to calm down.

The minute he sees you, he holds up a hand, an admission of fault. “I know, I know.”

“Ben…. you’re going to have to find a way not to express every feeling you have the moment you have them,” you point out, aiming for delicacy. 

This morning he berated a kid in Costa for getting his tea order wrong, which is unlike him. You know that the only reason can be bumping into Tessa and all the residual anger and hurt about it bubbling to the surface.

“I just bumped into my ex fucking wife. So yeah, excuse me if I try to warn my brother what a shitshow their life could become,” he grumbles, confirming your suspicions. 

“There are times and places for these things… and when they are just moving in together might not have been the time to bring up divorce,” you try to point out gently.

“Oh really? Well, next time you’re giving a lecture on being a fucking droid, R2, let me know, and I’ll be sure to sign up,” he snarks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!?” you demand, hands on hips indignantly, your own anger flaring at his cutting remark.

“It means nothing bothers you. I never see you get upset about Tom. I never see you get upset about anything at all; in fact,” he derides. “Don’t you care your longest relationship ended? Don't you experience any sense of loss?!”

“I feel things; I just choose to deal with my break up privately, like a grown-up,” you volley back, aiming to wound as much as he did.

“Please,” he rolls his eyes witheringly. “Sleeping with a bunch of idiots doesn't mean you have dealt with your breakup; it just means you’re avoiding it.”

“Better than not fucking anyone, you coward,” you shoot back, hurt he would bring up your recent, mildly slutty behaviour.

For a few moments, it's just a nettled staring match; you are not willing to give an inch. 

“Besides, even if we know relationships are more than likely going to fuck up, you don't wish it on your friends or family, right? You want to believe that it will work for them. I mean, I don’t fully get those two as a couple, but fuck they are so happy, Ben,” you gesture at their windows. “I want to believe it will work for them. I really do. And even that it will work for us again one day. That we will find our people.”

You see all the wind fall out of his sails, deflating before your eyes. 

“Fuck, you’re right,” he sighs, “I'm so sorry,” he pulls you into a hug. ”I never want to fight with you,” he avows, his breath warm on your temple.

“I'm sorry too,” you admit into his jaw. “I didn't mean the coward thing,” you mumble, feeling guilty but enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

“No, but you’re right,” he concedes. “I need to get back out there properly. God, Tessa just really threw me for a fucking loop yesterday, and I didn't sleep at all. I’m taking it out on all the wrong people today.” 

His honest confession feels like the Ben you know and, yes, love. You band your arms around him tighter and stay quiet for a few beats, knowing all is forgiven.

Just as you break apart, Anthony bursts through the front door hauling the coffee table with considerable effort.

“Don't say a fucking word,” he grouses.

—

“Could you come over?” you snuffle as the call connects. 

It’s a month after Kate and Anthony moved in together, and you know they are out celebrating tonight, so you don't want to bother her.

“What’s wrong?” Benedict’s cadence changes as he realises you sound off. It appears he’s moving to a quieter spot, the loud background noise of wherever he is fading slightly.

“He’s getting married!” You wail, gesturing wildly so the wine almost slops out of the bottle you are swigging from.

“Who is?” You can hear his frown, even down the phone.

“Tom!” You exclaim over a hiccup as if irritated he can’t read your mind.

“I’ll be right there,” the reassuring promise in his sincere tone makes you clasp your chest. Good old handsome, sweet, reliable Ben. What a great friend. 

Half an hour later, you answer the door with a tissue in hand, uncaring that you likely look a state—your hair half up in a messy bun and swamped by an oversized hoodie, concealing your pyjama shorts and vest. 

You collapse into Benedict’s arms when he shoots you a sympathetic look.

“Thank you. For coming. Why are you so smartly dressed?” you hiccup into his fancy shirt.

“I was uhh on a date,” he admits reticently as you break apart.

“You left a date!?”

“Yep. I just said my best friend is having a crisis, and I had to go. It’s the truth,” he shrugs.

“Aw, I’m your best friend,” you pout with quivering eyes, which makes him laugh.

“You look like that silly emoji. And, of course, you are,” he says as if it's the most obvious thing. “I mean, I didn't tell her that my best friend is a woman—probably not a first date revelation,” he points out, slinging an arm around your shoulders and manoeuvring you towards your sofa.

“Oh god, first date?! Shit, I'm sorry. Go, go back to her!” You attempt to shoo him away, but he pulls you tighter under his arm and rolls his eyes as he surveys the mess that is currently your living room—so very out of character. 

“You really did spiral, didn't you?” he chuckles, picking his way through the scattering of empty crisp packets and Cadbury wrappers to place you back on the sofa.

“She is supposed to be his rebound fling; she's not supposed to be ‘The One’,” you bawl, pointing at your laptop screen, still open to Tom’s wedding invitation.

Benedict takes the laptop and sighs, exiting the email window and smiling to himself as he sees your wallpaper - it's you and him in the novelty photobooth from last year's New Year party, heads together and grinning inanely. He closes the lid and twists to look at you, realising you have indeed not dealt with the heartbreak of your split with Tom at all over the last few months. You were just in denial about it all up until now. Knowing he has to tread carefully, he touches your shoulder.

“You broke it off because you wanted different things, remember?” he soothes. “Do you suddenly want kids?”

“No,” you pull a disgusted face.

“Then this is for the best,” he posits, brushing the hair from your cheek caught in your tear tracts.

“I’m difficult,” you lament, wallowing in a touch of maudlin self-pity now you have an audience.

“Challenging,” he amends with a crooked smile.

“I’m too closed-off and particular,” you throw out.

“You know what you want and refuse to compromise,” he argues, rubbing a thumb over your cheek in a comforting motion.

You look up from your self-indulgent tears and see his handsome face defending your worst qualities as positives, and you have never wanted another human more in your life. Perhaps the bottle of wine isn't helping, but right now, all you want - emotionally, physically, sexually - is the man before you.

“Fuck me, Benedict,” you murmur.

He barks a laugh. “Yeah, you've got yourself in a pickle,” he opines, bemused. And you wonder if he's being deliberately obtuse.

“No…” you clarify, placing your hand over the one curled around your face. “Fuck me. Please,” you stare into his eyes intently, making your request clear.

A thousand reactions ripple across his face, mostly surprise and confusion, but you also see how his pupils dilate, making your heart race. 

“I don't think that’s a good idea,” he stumbles as his gaze flits to your mouth.

“That's not a no,” you point out, boldly swinging into his lap, straddling him, as you see him wrestling with so many thoughts.

“We are best friends,” he whispers, sounding almost afraid.

“And as my best friend, I am asking you to take me to bed and fuck me,” you state plainly, sliding your thighs wider until your core rocks over the seam of his jeans, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck.

“You've had too much to drink.” He sounds like he's trying to clutch at straws, but you don't miss how his hand is gripping your hip now, fingers warm through the cotton of your pyjama shorts.

“Enough to be emboldened, not enough to be unaware of what I'm doing,” you supply, attempting to alleviate any fear he may have of taking advantage. “You would simply be helping a friend in need, please.”

With your cards now all on the table, you see he is frozen, the conflict writ large on his face and part of your heart cracks. Oh god, maybe he doesn't want this, and he has no idea how to let an upset, vulnerable friend down gently.

“Fuck…” you mutter and drop your forehead onto his shoulder. “I never stopped to consider you may not want to fuck me anymore. I’m such an idiot. That was 11 years ago….”

The hand on your hip flexes.

“That's not the problem,” he growls, and your head shoots up to see the vein in his temple pulsing. 

“Then what is?” you whisper, your limbic system alive with the idea he finds you attractive.

“You have just found out your ex is getting married, you drank a bottle of wine, and now you are propositioning me. I’m worried a large part of you will hate me tomorrow if I say yes,” he confesses, sounding almost vulnerable. “I’d prefer to keep you as a friend than fuck you and have you resent me for it.”

“But you want to?” you whisper, craving the affirmation to your fragile ego.

“Like you wouldn't believe,” he barely murmurs it. “But please get off me.”

You see the sincerity in his eyes and back down, feeling so many things in your tipsy heart—guilt you backed him into a corner, sad he turned you down, happy he respects you enough to do so. 

Believing it is the grown-up thing to release him from this messed-up evening, you climb out of his lap and head towards your front door. The shame and embarrassment are starting to creep in; your need to hide and deny what you did ramping up.

“You are a better friend than me,” you acknowledge as he trails behind you. “And I apologise. Thank you. I guess I just needed confirmation that I'm desirable to someone.” you mumble, looking at the floor.

“Didn't you just have a date last week?” he points out as you both hover in the hallway.

“Yeah, but that's different….” 

“How?”

“It's not someone who truly knows me,” you sigh, finally looking up at him again. His eyes are soft with understanding. He's so beautiful you almost want to cry.

“I need you to know something…” his voice even, but there's something awkward in the way he stares at the wall over your shoulder as he speaks, “....you are a beautiful, sexy woman. Anyone would be lucky to have you. I just….” He trails off, struggling for the right words.

“I understand,” you nod conciliatory. “I’m going to be mortified when I sober up,” you admit sheepishly, and you see his shoulders slump. 

“I can’t leave you, not like this. I’d be a bad friend.” He takes a deep breath and steps aside into your kitchen. “Come on,” he coaxes when you just stand there staring at him. “Let’s get you a cup of tea and sobered up.”

You then watch as he potters around your kitchen making you toast and tea at 9 pm on a rainy Thursday evening. It’s such a wonderful, giving thing to do that you can only stand there and watch, mildly dumbstruck. It’s only when the inviting aroma hits your nose that you realise you haven’t even eaten anything except crisps and chocolate since yesterday. 

He leads you to the sofa and then hands you a steaming hot mug of tea just how you like it and a plate with two perfectly toasted slices of bread slathered in butter. You tackle them greedily, murmuring your thank yous as he takes a seat in your armchair, a respectable distance, and queues up something brainless for you to enjoy.

You don’t talk as the next two hours unfold, him giving you space but also his presence so you don’t spiral into thoughts of how your rash moment may have ruined your friendship. Wordlessly telling you he is here as a friend and everything will be okay, despite the awkwardness. Bringing you another round of tea and toast, making himself some this time too. Even handing you paracetamol from your bathroom cabinet to pre-empt the muzzy head you can feel approaching. It's like he can intuit your needs before you can, making your heart clench even harder.

“I’m mostly sober now,” you confess quietly as an episode of the show you’re watching ends. “And I’ll be okay, honestly. Thank you for dropping your plans and coming to check on me. And I’m truly sorry for what I did. Propositioning you. I hope you can forgive me.” 

“Let's consider it even,” he smiles mildly. “For the car ride from St Andrews?” he prompts when you look confused.

“Okay,” you giggle, heaving a huge sigh of relief, knowing somehow all is forgiven.

“Now, if you are truly okay, I shall get out of your hair,” he offers, slapping his legs before rocking to his feet.

“I'm okay,” you confirm quietly, a little pang in your chest that is not wanting to be alone but not saying it. Instead, you also stand up and drift again towards your front door to show him out. You want to ask him to stay but know it's a selfish request.

“Thank you, bestie,” you overenunciate and throw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a bear hug.

“You are welcome, bestie,” he chuckles into your hair.

His body is warm and feels wonderful pressed against yours, and you linger, just indulging in the feeling of being held, squeezing your arms a little tighter, burying your face into his neck and huffing his delicious aftershave. You know you are pushing the boundary of what is acceptable for a hug between friends, but he's not fighting you off.

You pull back a little to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Ben, for everything,” more sincere now, sotto voce. 

“You’ll be okay,” he assures, smoothing down your hair with tender strokes. “Dorset was just a blip on your radar. There is someone much better out there for you. Don't let him be the reason you doubt yourself. He is not worth your tears.”

It's a beautiful, supportive speech, and on instinct, you push up to give him a quick peck on the lips as a thank you. Just like at New Year's, his lips are warm and plush beneath yours as you press into them. Except this time, he freezes, and instantly, you realise your mistake.

“Shit, sorry,” you murmur as you fall back to your flat feet, realising that was a foolish move after what transpired earlier. 

Something feels charged, and you sense a change in him, in his breathing.

“Again.” It's almost a snarl, and you worry you have annoyed him.

“Yes, Im sorry again,” you confirm meekly.

“No,” his eyes pop open, blazing, and his voice has taken on a different tone, almost foreign. “Again.” You merely frown until he pitches forward, his breath harsh on your lips. “Kiss me again.”

“But….” you begin to protest, even as you do as he asks, heart in your throat. Your lips meet, and he kisses you back this time—ferociously.

And a firework explodes in your chest. 

It's as if you have never been kissed before, your skin tingling all over with instant exhilaration. As your lips slide together in an almost desperate dance, his hands grab your face, tilting your head to the left. Then he is opening his mouth….

Oh fucking hell.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989

[bsgpiece]

Really enjoy reading your thoughts and seeing your artwork on SaNami moments. You capture them so well! I'm sure you get plenty of these kinds of questions so apologies for asking about another one.

What are your thoughts about a SaNami marriage proposal and how do you think it would happen?

Finally I got to answer this question!!! It took me months because I really couldn't decide how it would be. I'm so sorry! First of all thank you so much for saying this, it means a lot to me!!! Hope you like this post as well!

Here goes my thoughts about it... Warning for a VERY LONG post! (Almost a fanfic lol)

Sanji always wanted to marry Nami. Ever since he first saw her! Even more after they shared their feelings for each other, their first kiss...

They weren't even together yet when he bought the ring he would use to propose to her. They had stopped by an island famous for their diamonds, and when he was going to buy supplies, he saw that ring on a jewelry shop.

He just knew Nami-san would love it (he was actually lucky he found it before her, otherwise she would have already stolen it lmao), just didn't know when to give it to her. It had to be on a very special ocasion.

Time passes, the special ocasion never seemed special enough. Deep down he knew it was a engagement ring and it would only suit for a proposal... and then, they got together. Like, all his dreams became true. He could finally ask her to marry him, right?

Could he? Should he? Was he actually enough to give Nami all the wonders she deserved?

It's been some time since he last doubted his value that much. He learned his lesson in WCI, but... would Nami want to spend the rest of her life with him? Because that's what marriage means to him. Could he actually make her happy for that long?

On the other side, Nami always new, deep down, that a relationship with Sanji would last as long as she wanted. She had that kind of power over him, but more importantly, she was completely in love with him. Being with Sanji just gave her that comfort of knowing she would never be alone again, a feeling that she would be happy forever. Yes, forever. If it depended on her, their relationship would be for the rest of their lives.

She just didn't say these things out loud all the time. Nami just assumed, after such long time as nakamas, and then as lovers, Sanji knew this already.

Nami knew Sanji wanted to marry her. He always talked about growing old together, kids and family. But as time passes, she tought it was actually weird he never proposed.

She even started to doubt herself. What if Sanji didn't want to marry her afterall?! What if he didn't love her?

Yeah, no. That's silly.

There's got to be a reason. Nami swore to herself, after rescuing Sanji from WCI that she would not misread his feelings ever again. So she started to provoke him, once in a while showing him pictures of wedding dresses, talking about the married couples they met at islands and how it would be sweet to be like them... sometimes she would even say she always wanted to rob a engagement ring, but didn't have the opportunity.

And then.. she would observe his reaction.

Sanji got nervous a little everytime. However, she could see a spark in his eyes when he said no other woman would look as beautiful as she wearing those dresses... or that any life they chose would be the best, as long as they are together...

But then.. He would sometimes ask her if that's what she wanted. If she could she them together for that long when they saw old couples passing by... How perfect she was and how she deserved the best of the best forever.

And then it clicked her. Yeah, this time she read him well.

That damn traumatized man. How big of a idiot he was. How many times did she have to tell him she loved him? Nami even got a little angry when she realized he was actually insecure.

How can a man like him fight the worst enemies in the world without any fear of death, and at the same time be afraid of being rejected by a woman who openly said the loves him?!?!

Oh well. Guess she did had to give him a little push.

Sanji already planned a thousand times his proposal, but he would never think any of the possibilities were good enough. He was thinking so much about it, trying to get the courage to actually do it, that he would always carry the ring with him anywhere they go.

He never new when or if he would do it. He wanted so, so bad to ask her. He needed to.

One day the crew stopped by an isolated island. There were only a few small villages around, but the place was beautiful. One of the most amazing beaches they ever saw.

Before Sanji could think of anything, Nami asked him to take her on a walk at the beach on sunset. Of course he said yes with big heart eyes.

The crew were all exploring the island while they went the other side, walking by the sand till they were distant enough not to be seen.

Sanji was not prepared by how beautiful Nami looked (he never was). She was wearing a simple, yet gorgeous, green dress. He could see she even put on a little make up. This was an actual date, he thought.

Nami hold his hand really tight, she knew this was her chance to tell him what he needed to hear. This time she was the one who felt nervous.

Nami stopped walking and stared deep into Sanji's eyes for a while, without saying anything. She had planned telling him how she valued him and how she wanted to be with him till her final days. However, when she was about to say anything, she notice Sanji's hands trembling while holding hers.

He started to caress both her hands and looked down at them, avoiding her eyes for a few seconds.

What a big idiot he was.

He knew Nami better than any man ever could.. He connected the dots... Sanji glared back at her, he sensed her uneasiness. How could he doubt himself so much he let her realize that and want to reassure him?

He always admire how smart and determined Nami was. Why would he doubt her decision to be with him?

Suddenly a wave of courage overflowed him, and Sanji got on one knee right in front of her.

He never been so scared in his life, but if he was to be rejected, it better be after actually having the guts to ask her, right?

Nami froze for a second. She was planning on giving him a little push, but she never thought he would actually... propose?! Not that she didn't want it. She never got so many butterflies in her stomach like in that moment. How did he know what she was going to say? Was that observation haki?

Before she could think anything further, he slowly let go one of her hands and got something on his pocket.

Wait, did he actually had a ring all this time?! How didn't she notice? She wasn't the catbuglar she once was... erm, not that it mattered now. She quickly paid attention to him again.. and damn. He opened that little box and showed the most beautiful ring she ever saw in her life (and no one knew about jewelry like she did).

Sanji slowly started to speak, his voice trembling a little.

"N-Nami-san... I'm sorry I took so long to finally do this...

I love you more than anyone or anything in this world. I don't know if I'll ever be enough for you, or if I'll be able to give everything you deserve in this life... But I swear making you happy is and will always be my priority. Even though I'm a big fool...

Will you marry me?"

Damn right you're a fool. She already forgot about the ring while looking into his eyes while he spoke. She couldn't contain her smile.

Finally, she thought.

"Yes, I will."

She said, very affirmative, so he wouldn't misheard it.

His eyes widened, like he wouldn't believe what she just said. In seconds, he couldn't even see her straight for how many full of tears his eyes were.

"R-really? Am I really worth of... of spending the rest of my life with you?"

She sighed. Eyes also tearful.

"Of course, you idiot."

I don't even have to say they hugged and kissed right after!

That day the Thousand Sunny had one of it's biggest parties.

About the wedding itself, let's talk about it some other day!

If you got till here, hope you enjoyed it.

I would love to hear everyone thoughts!!! 🧡💙

[hyunverse]

wingman ʚɞ felix

lee felix && reader.

genre — fluff, pining, drabble.

about — you confront felix about his failed dates which you've set up. all hell breaks loose . . . or does it?

note — hi hi! do leave ur feedbacks, i love reading them ₍ᐢᐢ₎ requests open!

felix is tired. the whole day has been nothing but complete shit. as he walks down the hallways of the university, all he could think about is crashing onto his sofa and sleeping until the sky turns black. he’s not even thinking about what to have for lunch, too occupied with the thought of going to sleep.

“idiotic lecturer,” he hisses under his breath, both hands clasped onto the straps of his backpack. he had worked tirelessly on his assignment, only for the pages to be ripped up to pieces by his lecturer.

the hustles and bustles of the building makes felix’ head dizzy. he quietly cusses again upon realizing that he forgot to bring his headphones. being stressed makes you forget a lot of things — felix makes a mental note to calm down.

"lix!" a voice calls out — your sweet, sweet voice.

felix briefly looks back, turning around quickly when he remembers that he's avoiding you. immediately, his steps become faster. you've been blowing up his phone with angry texts from last night, and he knows exactly why.

"lee felix, i know you heard me," you yell, trying your best to catch up with your best friend, "please, stop avoiding me!"

as much as felix wants to curl up and hide from the world, he pauses in his spot at your last words. the blonde simply can't bear to see you plead. a deep breath is taken before he turns around to face you.

"i don't get it, lix. this is the third time i've set you up with my friend and you ghost them."

you're visibly frustrated — he hates that.

"the date was kind of boring y/n," he mutters, looking at everywhere but him, "i don't think we clicked that well."

a sigh slips past your lips, "did you even try?"

"i did!" he defends.

brown eyes glance around the area to ensure nobody's nearby. only artworks stare back at felix.

"i always try to like the people you set me up with," felix adds, "but i just can't. maybe you should stop setting me up with people."

"i just want you to go out and socialize lix. that's all. you barely go out, for god's sake. sometimes it feels like you yell at your computer more than you talk to people."

ouch.

his eyebrows furrow, face screaming disbelief. you've never said anything of the sorts to him, always so caring. so gentle.

"you're not in charge of my social life, y/nnie."

"but i'm your best friend! i just want to know why you keep on ditching my friends."

his lips part to talk, yet nothing but heavy exhales slip out. the tip of his tongue grazes his lower lip to wet them. at the meantime, your eyes bore holes into his pale skin, constantly pushing for him to answer. the pressure and the sounds of the airconditioner compressors intensify, boiling felix' blood.

"why, lix?"

"because i'm in love with you, okay?"

"what?"

the moment felix realizes what he had just said, his breath hitches. suddenly everything is silent — no sounds, just pure fear. fear of you turning away and abandoning him, fear of not being friends anymore, fear of —

"felix?" you mutter again, "do you mean that?"

his rings decorated fingers scratch the back of his neck, the other hand busy checking his pulse.

"lix?"

"i mean it, really."

"oh," is all that you manage to say.

just oh? felix could feel his saliva getting thicker, and that feeling in his stomach sinking even deeper.

"yeah. . ." he mumbles, and for the first time in forever, awkwardness surround the two of you.

"well," you breathe out, "i like you too, actually. . . been setting you up with all these people to try and. . .you know, get over you. felt like you didn't like me and if you had a partner, it wouldn't be as hard to get over you because i'd feel like i have no choice but to do so."

"huh?"

it's your turn to turn embarassed. you could feel your whole body heat up.

"yeah. . ."

"all this while, you've been setting me up because you didn't think you had a chance?" felix utters in disbelief, eyebrows raised, "i've been in love with you since forever."

the words sends you spiralling, cheeks turning red. a whirlpool of emotions overcome you — happiness, disbelief, stupid — name it. you're possibly feeling every emotion available except grief.

"i feel so stupid, lix" you can't help but smile; he thinks it's adorable.

felix bites the inside of his cheeks and the grip he had on his bagpack straps tightens, "you've been setting me up on dates for months now, how about i set you up on one this time? a date with me, at the park tomorrow?"

you swear you've never felt this giddy before.

"of course, lix. i've been waiting for this since forever."

[maleyanderecafe]

Hey, Idk if you’re into sadodere stuff, but i found this game that was just released with some great artwork. https://mellowbile.itch.io/where-he-is-king

Don’t feel obligated to play. Just a recommendation!

Normally I don't do sadodere stuff because, well, I am a yandere based blog, but I figured I might give it a shot. This game is very bloody and contains nudity, having an r18 rating on it. It is, however, very wonderfully made visually, with animations for the blood as well as quite a lot of CGs. The main character we see here, Friedrich “JunJingl” Marchosias, has quite a number of horrific forms, all of which look very cool and horrifying. You can try the game here, but be sure that you read all of the warnings since it can get pretty gruesome.

The story itself is pretty simple. The MC ends up meeting Friedrich, a god of sorts with a legion of demons hell bent on becoming the only god around. He and the MC had made a deal in the past, which allowed him to become powerful and he's come back to destroy the MC. Most of the endings involve running away from Friedrich, in an some horror form or another being unable to escape. Friedrich usually ends up torturing the MC, whether it be cutting her open and ripping out her guts, amputating her, eating her face, taking out an eye amongst other sorts, each with it's own unique CG and animation. There's even one where bugs come in and eat you from the inside out. There are two endings that don't end up with the MC becoming a sack of meat, with one making a deal with Friedrich again, basically stating that the MC will be his pet, causing the MC to give up their will and not be killed by Friendrich. The other is relating to his status as a god. The MC realizes that in this world, gods gain power through belief, so the more you believe that a person is a god, the more god like they become. By viewing him for what he really is, a demon, the MC is able to remember the knife they carried with them, ending up stabbing and eating his heart, with her becoming the god.

This game, at least from what I can tell, is a sort of artistic vent from the creator, and basically what I would consider either a murdersim or a torture porn to some extent. I will say that while I feel like I'm not the target audience for either genre, I can enjoy the various experience it does give me. For one, I think that the game is actually very well made from the CGs to the animated effects. Each ending has at least a handful of CGs, all of which make Friedrich this horrifying being, with tongues, teeth, eyes sticking out and making them into a true monster. I really enjoy the various forms that he takes, each more horrifying than the last. I think I just have a great love for unique monster designs honestly because that's something I hope to achieve one day. The effects for the blood splatters are really nice and watching the MC's guts come spilling out is very horrifying. I think that I really like the endings where he gouges out the MC's eyes and it actually stays on screen as if your eye had actually been taken out. It reminds me a bit of one of the routes in Forcefully Yours where Riker takes out the MC's eyes. It looks a little better on this one, but it does look very splendid. Out of all the endings though, the ending where we eat his heart and become god is my favorite, because, well, if you know me, you know I love destroying things and watching them suffer.

Generally the only real issue I have with this game is the font, because at times it is rather hard to read. The UI for some of the preference screens is also a bit small, which can likely be changed so that it's easier to actually be able to click on them. Perhaps a trigger warning before the game might be good too? I suppose since it's on the main page, it's not as big of a deal, but that's what I would at least think would be nice.

Friedrich himself is more of sadodere, which is someone who is sadistic to the person that they like. I wouldn't really qualify him as a yandere though, because while he does have some endings that do show affection towards the MC, (as seen above in the screenshot), most of them just involve him torturing and eventually killing the MC, mocking them and making them into a piece of meat. I guess you can sort of see it as a type of sadistic yandere, but he doesn't always show affection in all endings, or even most endings, so based on the very slim chance that it is, I really doubt it.

I think for what it is, it is a relatively well made game. Considering it is supposed to be a murder sim style/ torture porn style game, I think it achieved that very well. I've heard from friends that this anon has been going around promoting their game, so hopefully this ask response will do it justice. I'm sure that many in the yandere crowd will enjoy such a more sadistic game, so hopefully this will help get more people to play it. If the game does sound interesting, please give it a try.

[factual-fantasy]

25 asks :00000

@ocinstituterep (Posts in question)

The cooling suits they wear at the beach are the same ones they wear under their uniforms :00 And it doesn't necessarily reflect the sun,, its just a battery powered suit that keeps them cool :}

I wasn't pressured into drawing the art exactly,, but all the questions about it did push me a little into looking into the series more.. That's not really a bad thing though, I did enjoy drawing those pictures soooo-

I get this question a lot <XD When I was first designing my sona I wanted to add something to their hands. At the time my hands were covered in Band-Aids from dry skin and cat scratches. So I thought "Hey! Bandaged/bloody hands would be cool and edgy :DD" So I added them <XDD

Oh yeah, that episode was a bit odd huh? XD I think in my version of Octonauts they didn't go all the way down to its stomach- maybe just into the mouth and got the Puffer fish out.

Now the REAL episode that I basically 100% cut is the cone snail episode. You know why? Cone snails are estimated to have poison strong enough to kill 700 people! And there's NO antidote!! NO ONE would have survived being stung. Not even the Captain. They all would have died and left Peso abandoned on a ship full of the bodies of his friends in the middle of the ocean... :x pretty dark huh-

@britneyt

Thank you! :DD

@gregorythechild

XD I was getting tired of Gregory being a little snot. In game and in the fandom. So once again I made a character good out of spite! XDD

SKJAOSKJOSX I DO ACTUALLY XDDD

The basis for my Kirby Anime AU is I just found a way to add all the Metaknights to the story. You know, Axe knight, Mace night, Javelin Knight,,, etc.

This is obviously a SUPER angsty AU. For example, Axe Knight was Metaknight's first follower and best friend. But then he sacrificed himself to save Metaknight. Thinking he failed his soul was restless and he now wanders the galaxy fighting Monsters and honoring Metaknights name.. Not knowing that Metaknight survived. Its a REALLY long story that I should ramble about sometime XDD

I would advise against it,, there are plenty of good reaction images out there to find! I should know, I have 996 of them saved! I'm almost at 1000! XDD

@pinkbomb08

Thank you! And not at the moment no- but I might draw him again someday :}}

@cudlycorncornsworthcoberson

Noooooothingggg... :}}}

@annathefenecfox

I think its because the poor guy probably doesn't have enough free time to practice consistently. Being the Captain he likely has so much to do all the time.. and when he can finally sit down and indulge in hobbies,, he likely would just rather relax and read a book instead. :( Poor fella

Ah, sorry. I don't know of any. <:/

I have actually! :DD I did not sleep good that night :}}}

@invaderdrey

Thank you so much!!!! :DD

Thank you so much! And as for the memes.. ehh, I'd say just to be safe, don't make em. Comments are more than enough. The first thing I do when I wake up is check Tumblr and see if anyone left a comment on my posts. Literally! Comments are the best thing you can give me!

Thank you so much!! :DD

Heck yeah, that's the best part! <XDDD

It definitely depends on my mood, I'm split 50/50 on which one I enjoy more :000

@chickenmilk120

@its-paperd

:DDD Thank you so much!! That means a lot!

@milk-powrit (Post in question)

<XD Thankfully no, Jangles is not an iPad kid. He was just playing on my phone because Bibi and I were conked out and he was bored XDD

@simon-says-lots-of-things

:DD Thank you so much!! And yeah, I don't care what's canon or not. I wont be drawing any lovey-dovey/shippy content unless its with my own original characters. Its just not my thing man, 🤷‍♂️

@twohourstoolong

Thank you! And yeah if I were you I'd ditch pinterest. Any time I have been browsing artwork on google and clicked the link, It always took me to some stolen artwork on pinterest. I'd just rather people never found me then have found me through stolen art on pinterest..

I have not :0 sounds thrilling though! :D

[cometcon]

I uh... I did it again. XD My brain has been going brrrr over this fucking GORGEOUS artwork by @zunkome2 on Xitter (click the view on Twitter button to see their art) and it inspired me to write fanfic of it. I love this art so fucking much!!!! I hope I can keep practicing and be as good as them one day. :D

So yeah, I could not stop thinking about this and I love that Blitz is canonically such a horse-girl, and I can totally see Striker realising and using that to his advantage in trying to draw Blitz in and hopefully get him on his side.

Anyway, my brain decided it was time to take like 5 hours of my day on and off making me try to write this to the best of my current ability. Enjoy. XD

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

Blitz was in Heaven.

An ironic descriptor, considering their actual location, but picking a better one would have been impossible right then; especially with a hellhorse nuzzling his chest ever so gently in search of another rawhide strip. Her mouth may have appeared vicious - and technically yes, that Lovecraftian maw was capable of crushing flesh and bone to mush in a single bite - but the non-business parts were also far softer to the touch than anyone less familiar with the creatures might expect.

"Sorry. I'm all out," he murmured regretfully, giving the beautiful beast a scratch on her forehead as she shoved her muzzle into his other hand. He had to take a small step backward however when she suddenly whipped her head up and to the side with a greeting whinny. Strange. What was that abou-

"Lot of others would've lost a limb for that." The unexpected voice made Blitz tense, tail shooting straight out behind him in surprise before curling tightly, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks. He peered around the hellhorse's neck, praying his mortification wouldn't be obvious to the cowboy now leaning against his mount's side. How the fuck had he arrived without him noticing? Striker plucked the wheat stalk from between his teeth and smirked. "She likes you."

Blitz coughed awkwardly and began backing away, mind and mouth both rapidly trying and failing to come up with a believable excuse for his actions. "I was just- uh… I was looking for… We had them at the circus, see, and I thought maybe- Strips are really good for their teeth, you kn- I mean of course you'd know that! I just-" Striker's eyebrows had been climbing steadily higher beneath the brim of his hat the longer Blitz waffled on, and in desperation he found himself resorting to a ridiculous escape route he hadn't used since he was nine years old. "Ah, I think I hear Luna calling me! Coming Loonie!" 

He skittered across the corral and clambered over the fence, cheeks burning hot as he cursed himself silently. Why had he turned into such a blathering idiot in front of the one person he'd actually hoped to impress this weekend? Blitz knew a ruthless killer when he met them and Striker was clearly I.M.P material. After a pathetic show like that though, there was no way he would want to-

The ground under his boots had begun to vibrate while he fumed, faintly at first, then increasing to a thundering roll. He instinctively darted to the side and kept walking, expecting whoever it was to just barrel past him at the reckless speed they seemed to be going. But his path was abruptly cut off by a fiery grey mass, Striker expertly bringing his mount from full canter to a standstill in a cloud of dust. He swung her around to stand side-on so he could look down at the choking imp, that shit-eating grin Blitz was quickly becoming familiar with exposing a gleaming gold fang to the sunlight.

"Pretty sure your hound went bean-pickin' with the rest an hour ago," Striker commented, leaning forward to rest an arm on the pommel, free hand tapping his thigh absentmindedly, "Since you got so much free time to burn, how 'bout you come help me check the fences? Got a few posts loose on the South end thanks to that pesky varg pack last night." The hellhorse shuffled under him, pawing at the dirt and snapping her jaws a little at the mention of vargs. "Bombproof wouldn't mind catching a few either, I bet. Maybe you'll get to see her on the hunt."

"Oh, uh…" Perhaps he hadn't completely blown his chances after all? Striker certainly wasn't behaving like he thought Blitz a dithering moron, literally chasing him down to offer another opportunity to spend more time together and bond with Bombproof. What an incredible name for a hellhorse… No, focus! He could salvage this. He just had to pull himself together and show what a great prospect his group would be compared to farm work in the boonies. Preferably without turning into a rambling mess this time. He forced a nonchalant shrug. "Sure, why not?"

Striker slipped his boot free of the stirrup, hand extending in clear invitation. Blitz's brain stuttered, immediately dropping every part of his own peptalk as it dawned on him what the other had actually meant.

"What, you plannin' on walkin' there? It's miles of Wrath terrain. C'mon Blitz, I don't bite," Striker drawled, head tilting as his eyes took on a knowing glint, "Unless you ask nicely."

Well that decided it. Blitz was reaching for the proffered hand before he could second-guess himself, so caught up in his whirling thoughts Striker had to correct which foot the distracted imp tried mounting with. Blitz didn't have long to stew in his humiliation at least, preoccupied by the ease of how he was hauled into the saddle, hands directed to grip the pommel while the taller demon reached around him to grasp the reins. Striker nudged his leg out of the way, retaking the stirrup and leaving Blitz to squeeze Bombproof's sides tightly with his thighs as she responded to her rider. A moment later they were galloping down the driveway, wind whipping past their faces and her powerful form surging below them.

Blitz was wrong. His time in the corral had been a beautiful experience, but still only comparable to Earth at best. 

Now he was in Heaven. 

And he never wanted to fall.

[brokenmachinemusings]

hi tumblr you get to hear my insane sgdlr ramblings theories whatever about mr vein which mifht be wrong but I DOTN CARE

LINK CLICK SPOILERS . OBVIOUSLY!!!!

ok sooooo first i connected the dots with cheng xiaoshi and vein bc they had the same shadow that dropped from the top left in the anniversary pv’s. most people reacted with “you didn’t connect shit”, but i’m telling you, i connected the dots.

what caught my eye on the shadow thing is that vein’s shadow didn’f have the same circular borders as liu xiao and xia fei who were obviously meant to be the same style. so they deliberately kept it at just the top left (to cover him up also). and did i mention cheng xiaoshi looks like he is trapped behind glass in the anniversary artwork? no i didn’t. i personally think all of the anniversary artworks are supposed to represent a special part of each character (qiao ling stepping out. you know).

i have not fully analysed vein’s outfit design because frankly i’m not sure what else to search up but. i’ll talk about the parts i did find

so. first of all the pattern on his shoulders looks like blood. isn’t rhat fun!

second of all the little knots around his design, i’m pretty sure are ‘round brocade knots’ which represent “balance, completeness, good fortune”. i haven’t made exact ties between that and vein myself yet but it’s worth noting it.

i didn’t find out anything else about his design. the necklace is cut off just perfectly to not be able to see what it is (like liu xiao’s)

anyway. i’m just gonna jump to my theory. i think he is connected to either cheng xiaoshi or the disappearance of his parents!!!! wow. it might sound unlikely i am aware but this is what theories are for.

the biggest reason i came up with this is because we don’t need a new villain. we don’t need to be introduced to someone new when we already have liu xiao. but you know what liu xiao wouldn’t do? GET HIS HANDS DIRTY. at least, most likely, he strikes me as the type to work behind the scenes.

so what other reason would there be to introduce vein? “you could make the same argument for xia fei” well yeah but xia fei is a pushing force in how cheng xiaoshi and lu guang discovered their powers (probably. idk)

okkkk back to vein and cheng xiaoshi’s parents actually. why i think it’s likely they’re either missing because of vein or, if they’re dead, their bodies got disposed of for some reason? it’s because if they were caught in the earthquake THEIR BODIES WOULD BE FOUND BY NOW. at least that’s what makes sense to me lore wise. and i don’t think they would just ghost their child for like 12 years. and because from narrative storytellijg it would make sense if vein was the one that did something. (let me redirect you to pattern that looks like blood on his shoulders)

of course this could all be a red herring but the last time i said something was a red herring it turned out to be true. so i choose to stick to it this time!

the other possibility (or actually, both possibilities could ring true) is that vein was the one who shot cxs. who else would? (feel free to debate lol) i don’t think xia fei would have interest in that after the whole overseas trip business, liu xiao wouldn’t want to do it himself (he’d make someone else do it) and li tianchen is an option but we don’t know if he will be the one to do it in the end. so

i don’t have a good way to end this weird theory bit. if i think of something else i will add it. it has been plaguing at my mind. thank you tumblr user for reading my weird theory rambling and feel free to debate me. if i tjink of anything else myself i will edit and add it

[wanderfan2000]

The Depression - WanderFan2000′s Side of The Story

Before I get started with this, I need to say for the sake of my viewers. What I’m about to talk about is MY side of this Tumblr drama that’s been going on around here regarding me and my love for the Wander Over Yonder episode, “The Lonely Planet”.  Keep in mind when I first read the post, I felt depression, flabbergasted and shock all take me over. I couldn’t shake it off and it still continues to take me over this morning. So, without further ado, let’s begin with…

“Why do I have depression?” you might ask. Well, I’ll explain…

I was looking at the “Wander Over Yonder” tag like I always do when I came across a post written by a fellow tumblr blogger, it involved a question with highlighted words as I clicked on it, I never thought I’d find myself in the MIDDLE of a Tumblr drama war.

The story in particular was all about my countless obsession with “The Lonely Planet.” It even included pictures of questions I told some other WOY fan about the episode and how I wanted them to draw fan art of the episode. Then I started reading more, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing… 

The blogger was explaining how the lonely planet artwork, the questions, everything related to said episode was basically just a giant huge pot of NSFW content and many other things. I didn’t quite understand it, but once I did, shock and depression took over my body. 

Now that I’ve gotten the backstory out of the way, let me explain MY SIDE of the story…

First of all, everyone should know that I would NEVER in my lifetime do ANYTHING to harm Wander, he’s a character who I love and will love forever. I clearly don’t understand why on earth the Wander fandom wants to go against me, especially after seeing what I have been doing regarding my fan artwork of a sentient talking planet we’ve only seen in ONE episode and especially, the thing about me not giving a hoot about the opinion! 

But there’s no need to attack me or say anything about it. Just because I’m obsessed with an episodes of Wander that involve him getting captured by a lonely, sentient planet who ties him up with plant vines DOESN’T mean that I obsess with these episodes MORE than the entire series. I love the WOY series as a whole, each episode is unique and special in their own way, plus I always get a laugh out of a lot of them.  Now, lemme talk about my art work of Wander and Janet: 

One thing I’d like to point out that whenever I draw Wander and Janet together nowadays, I draw them as Forever Friends. Because I like to think that Janet enjoys loving over Wander as a friend rather than trying to force him to love her. NTM, she has Maurice as her husband now.  Now I understand that a lot of folks aren’t fans of the whole “plant vines tying around Wander’s wrists ofc, many of them aren’t fan of the vines touching his face ether”. In fact, in a deleted storyboard, there was going to be a scene where Wander was completely surrounded by plant vines. It even mentions that the vines were going to be stroking his face. This never made it into the final episode, tho. Thank grop, I can’t even imagine what the fandom would’ve done with THAT. 

But anyway, the plant vines in all my fanart for this episode aren’t stroking Wander at all, they are cuddling him sweetly. (Well, in Janet’s defense.) Because the vines love him just like Janet loves her forever friend. 

Yes, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I wanted to express my feelings for what I do whenever I draw fanart for Janet. 

Listen, guys, I apologize for any convenience that my artwork, questions and screenshots centered around this episode have made you all uncomfortable. But you need to keep in mind that it is still based on the episode with a different twist: Janet is now obsessed with having Wander as her FRIEND, NOT keeping him as her lover. I mean, sure, I draw artwork based on what happened in the actual episode, but it’s fun to draw something different that Janet can obsess with Wander.  The thing is I don’t want you to view me as a bad person, especially someone who you think is obsessive with fetish. But I am NOT OBSESSED WITH ANY OF THAT! I don’t want to draw A N Y T H I N G that could cause a problem in the fandom. 

Also, the artwork that I draw of The Lonely Planet in particular, talking about it, screenshots I share, I keep all of this FRIENDLY! I don’t want them to be viewed as “NSFW” content because I would NEVER do anything to upset you guys out there, you are all my FRIENDS and I LOVE all of you! 

So, please, don’t block me just because of my obsession. I’m a friendly person who wants to love everyone I meet on here. I’m sorry if the thing I did made everyone upset and uncomfortable. I won’t do it again. 

- WanderFan2000 

[water9826]

CURSED SOUL MEGUMI! MEET CHIMERA!

From the poll, it seems like this goopy boy was next on the roster. It was more difficult that I thought to get his spikes right. And even now they’re not perfect by any means. I’m a writer not an artist :,)

Anyways! This is Chimera, one of the six guardians in the story. He stays hidden in the shadows most of the time, but will appear if he needs to. His design is inspired mainly by WD Gaster from Undertale. Specifically, the artworks that depict Gaster as a goopy mess. Chimera is similar. The goop is a reference to the goo Megumi’s shikigami turn into once his technique is released. It’s also a reference to Megumi’s domain appearing like it’s made of ink (the domain is where Chimera gets his name). He can only speak in quiet warbles or clicks. He is more vocal through his eye lights, which he can shift the appearance of. He uses this ability to entertain Yuuji at times. It’s like a little picture show for him :)

Onto the drawings! The first one (top left) is the closest I could get to having Chimera look like he is made of ink. The sharpie I used was not the best so he looks more dull without the filter. The second (top right) is what the drawing actually looks like. Chimera has tiny eye lights and does not have too much details on his body or face. He also frequently appears in a tinier form for convenience or out of moodiness. The third bottom left) is my first concept design for Chimera. I kept all the elements the same except I made him goopier and with floating balls of ink. The small chart that depicts the meaning of his eyes is still canon and I’ll definitely be referring to it in the future. The fourth (bottom right) is just to show a sticky note I found at work of tiny drawings of blob chimera ^^

Until next time!

[wordsandrobots]

Falling for a Fool: Afterword

A confession: I cannot get through episode 45 of Iron-Blooded Orphans, properly, without coming to the verge of tears. I have discovered that if I turn the sound off, I can make it about as far as the back half of episode 46 without that happening. Which made it a lot easier to take screenshots, but it still got me, in the end.

And that's exactly why I fell in love with this show.

It's trite, but I think everyone should have the chance to be moved by something, whatever it is and wherever it comes from. Stories, all artworks in fact, are there to make us feel something. To convey emotion and meaning, to play on the keyboard of our minds and allow us to hallucinate meaningful things in safety. A couple of years back, the thing that moved me was an anime about child soldiers in space, produced to sell model kits. It worked. I did buy a lot of model kits. I also got to have my emotions twisted to bits by a superbly crafted tragedy.

I can wax lyrical about the technicalities of that process. I can do the writerly bit, as I've said before, of pulling apart the mechanics of how this show works and why it hits me so hard. That doesn't change the fact it *does* hit me, hard, and that's why I've spent my time since first watching it writing so much about it. It was exactly what I needed to see, when I saw it, and the inspiration it has given me has been absolutely wonderful.

I guess the reason I decided to run back through the imagery of the series, and specifically that concerning Yamagi and Shino's relationship, is that I wanted to check my working. I'm nearly at the end of the huge story I developed off the back of my first fanfic for IBO, the culmination of two and a half years of work. When I post it, likely at the start of August 2024, I will have approaching 650,000 words worth of 'here's how I would do a follow-up' on Ao3. That's a lot. For me, it's a hitherto unheard-of amount of consistent work.

Yet it started, very simply, with this: how do you save Shino?

Because the end to his arc in the show is a moment of deliberate pointlessness. It's got to be, for the narrative to work. But I have a soft heart and more than that, I'd fixated on what precedes the failure of Shino's daring gambit. Those scenes between him and Yamagi throughout episode 45 and the fundamental, unintentional cruelty of asking someone who adores you to enable what is, however much it wasn't supposed to be, your suicide run.

There are any number of ways to save Shino, in the sense of imagining he wasn't actually dead when Flauros was blown off into space in the next episode. It's easy! But which option allows one to best drill into what he and Yamagi are to each other, in that moment where he finally demonstrates he isn't the totally oblivious himbo after all? What is the method that allows them to come together again, not as comet and tail, but something more equal? Something that, rather than just clicking one's fingers and declaring, 'all is well', admits to everything dire and disturbing about Tekkadan.

Because those things are the point. And to me, they are vital to my love of the original work.

So. My apologies for a couple of days of scab-picking on main. I needed it, I think, to look back and see that, yes. What I have done follows (in my own mind at least) from what's on-screen. As much as my fic is essentially a work of reconstruction -- of redeeming love from hopelessness -- the heart of it remains full of rust and sharp fragments, of blood and pain, and a bitter understanding that the world does not care about you in the slightest.

And that the point is to care anyway.

[brunchable]

My Girl [Oneshot] || Single Dad!Doctor Strange × Child!Reader

Word count: 2.7K. Summary: Stephenlearning to be a Dad after disappearing for five years. Requested by @justmewoo (I hope you like it) Themes: Wholesomeness, Fluff. Single Dad Stephen A/N: I used some funny scenes from 'Life as we know it' and 'Game Plan'

Wong and Stephen were outside in front of a childcare centre. "So while I was gone... you had a kid?" he asked Wong with a perplexed expression on his face and his arms folded, not knowing what to expect.

Wong's lips turned up into the tiniest, almost imperceptible hint of a grin as he said "To be clear, while you were gone. You had a kid. Surprise! You are now a father."

The grin that had been on Stephen's face evaporated, "What do you mean I had a kid? How?"

"Don't make me explain how children are produced, Strange. You are the expert since you created your own!" When Wong heard the bells ring, he took a pause and said, "Oh, here she comes."

You raced towards Wong with a huge smile on your face, shouting out to him as 'Dad' since he had essentially brought you up all by himself. Wong took you in his arms, spun you around in the air, and said to the man, "Daddy, look what I made today."

You presented Wong with a painted sketch that depicted the two of you doing morning Tai Chi exercises in the Kamar-Taj. When Wong wanted to take a closer look at the drawing, he had to tilt his head back and squint his eyes "Wow, that is very impressive looking. You have made me seem to be 10 years younger."

"Don't be silly," you giggled, "I made sure to make you seem exactly the same."

Stephen sneaked a glance at the artwork and snorted after seeing what it was.

"The apple doesn't fall very far from the tree." Wong murmured for a while before swallowing hard and cleared his throat, “Anyway, (Y/N), I want you to meet Stephen, he’s your actual Father.”

You looked at Stephen warily and hugged Wong, “No, you’re my Dad.” you pouted and wrapped your little arms around his neck, hiding your face against the crook of his neck.

It might’ve been the first time meeting you but Stephen felt a pang in his chest when you didn’t want to refer to him as your ‘Father’. Stephen wasn't exactly the warmest and friendliest guy in the whole wide world, to put it mildly. He was a full-time Master of the Mystic Arts, and as such, he kept himself imprisoned behind closed doors the whole day. Stephen was a loner due to his single status, his aloofness, and his egotism. He did not eat enough and he wanted to be by himself. He was hardly able to take care of his own physical being, so adding a second member to the family was much more than he could bear at the time.

It took one month for Stephen to finally get you into a bath without you having to throw a tantrum and getting him wet in the process, four to get you to eat his attempt at cooking, and six to finally get you to sleep in the same room as him and eight when you finally seem to stay calm every Wong tries to leave to do his duties. When Wong isn’t around to help him out, his cloak was the one he trusted to keep an eye on you—and you ended up preferring the garment’s company more than his, since Cloak always plays tea parties with you.

Another month passed and your separation anxiety with Wong eased gradually. You often sought comfort in Stephen's bed for protection from your terrifying nightmares. The presence of another person in his bed caused the Doctor endless nights of uneasy sleep since he was not used to it. After waiting another month, Stephen caved in and conceded that it was OK for you to share his bed with him on a nightly basis.  Finally, it was the present day.

"Strange! Strange!" your voice squeaked from behind him. Stephen chose to ignore you and go on with his task, continuing to hammer away fiercely at the computer. You were persistent in your attempts to get Stephen's attention, and the older man made a clicking sound with his tongue as his line of thought became derailed.

"Tch." He let out a low groan as you roughly pulled his purple hood backwards. He showed his fangs while snapping his head in the direction of the obnoxious and little runt, "What do you want?"

Perhaps he was too harsh. No, he was certain that it was just due to the fact that you were a crybaby child. What a frustrating situation. You cried out in an uncontrollable manner, burying your face in your sleeves in order to hide your tears from him. Stephen rolled his eyes and then shifted his attention back to his task. Aren't you supposed to just let children scream themselves to the point where they pass out? He was certain that he had read it in some book.

Flashback

Wong’s ears perked up when he heard your wailing upstairs, “She's up. She's up.” Him and Stephen rushed up to make their presence known.

“Okay, honey. Hey, we’re just downstairs.” Wong walked up to your bed and sat on the edge of your bed in Stephen’s room.

“Hey. Hey. Look at the sleepyhead,” Stephen cooed from behind Wong.

“Come here.” Wong waved his hand to urge you to come closer to him.

“No. no. don't pick her up.” Stephen pulled Wong to get up from your bed and you began crying again.

“Why?”

“Because she needs to learn how to self-soothe.”

“She needs to what?” Wong scowled at Stephen, now he was telling him how to parent?

“Self-soothe? Soothe herself?” Stephen replied, he’s been reading books on how to be a Dad and the topic of self-soothing came up, “I just read it, Wong. It's important.”

“Okay. . .how about we just give it a minute?” Wong suggested, concerned that you might lose your voice if this keeps going, “Everything's okay. Happy, happy girl.” Wong said in a baby voice.

“You know what? Let's just sing a song,” Stephen shrugged, he and Wong nodded at each other for validation.

“Alright, We'll sing a song. . .”

Stephen slightly flailed his hands in from of him, trying to squeeze his brain for a song, “Uhhh. . . Theee wheels on the bus go round and round,”

“Round and round,” Wong joined in.

“Round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round, all through the town,” Both men sang in unison but only made your cry worse.

The two of them kept bouncing not knowing the lyrics that came after, “The– er. . .uh. . . I don't know,” Wong blinks.

“And then Keanu Reeves saves the bus,” Stephen kept singing, referring to the actor’s movie.

Wong scrunches his eyebrows but sings along anyway, “Saves the bus, saves the bus.”

“And then Keanu Reeves saves the bus. . . And then . . . he dies?”

“That's all I got,” Wong shook his head.

“Does he die? I don't know,” 

“Okay. Maybe she's just hungry.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"H-hungwi, Strange...." You hiccuped. Slamming his hands on his desk, Stephen ruffled his already messy hair in frustration. How much could a kid possibly eat?! He swore you ate more than he did. Noting the way you watched him with wide, fearful eyes and the way your bottom lip trembled like a kicked puppy, Stephen sighed once more. He couldn't cook to save his life.

No matter what you did, he could never seem to fully gain Stephen's attention. You were lonely. You missed going on walks in the park, playing, and much more. The only thing you really learned through your stay with the older male was to be quiet and read. Your reading level was high for your age. It was the only thing Stephen praised you for. He even gifted you some books when you ran out of materials to read. Sitting on the couch, you brooded. You were hungry. The grumbling emitting from your stomach told you so. Maybe you could figure out how to cook for yourself. If only Wong was around more to teach you… you couldn't deny how horribly lonely you felt without him this Sanctum.

“Alright, kid, I got you a happy meal.” Stephen walked in the living room to find Cloak patting your back, trying to cheer you up after Stephen snapped at you. 

Cloak noticed Stephen and shook its head disapprovingly. He could almost feel the piece of garment glaring at him for upsetting you.

Stephen sauntered towards you and sat on the coffee table, he inwardly smiled, finding the little pout you got very cute. He opened the box and pulled a pink llama toy and shook it in front of you.

You crossed your arms and turned your little body away from him. You heard him sigh, he was trying to maintain his patience this time, not wanting to upset you or make you cry, “What do you want? You said you’re hungry, so I got you chicken nuggets.”

“I want to go outside. To the park.” 

“Outside?” Stephen nodded, “Okay, will you eat if we go outside?” 

You quietly nodded your head, still refusing to look at the man.

“Alright, let’s go.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Stephen takes you to the park, carrying the box of happy meal on the left, your hand on the right. Cloak held your hand as well, leaving you in between it and Stephen. It was hard not to receive weird looks each time someone walks past, it’s not everyday they see the Cloak of Levitation.

Instead of walking, you were skipping and Stephen somehow found it fascinating how your mood changed completely—almost as if you forgot that he even snapped at you. As you came closer towards the playground, you gasped, seeing Peter in his Spider-man suit in the distance surrounded by other kids. 

You pulled your hands away and attempted to run from Stephen but he caught you before you could go, “Hey, Hey. Where do you think you’re going?”

“It’s Peter! I have to go!” You pull your hand but Stephen refuses to let go.

“You have to eat first, that’s the deal!” Stephen said firmly, however, your lips began to quiver again.

“I want to go now!” You replied to him and stomped your feet. 

Stephen clenched his teeth, “Alright fine! But don’t complain if the nuggets get cold.” 

He lets go of your arm and you immediately run towards Spider-man, screaming his made-up name instead of the real one. Cloak hung itself on Stephen’s shoulders now that you’re gone to play. Peter, knowing your voice, he noticed you instantly and greeted you.

“Hey kiddo! Long time no see!” Peter crouched down and performed the handshake that he taught you.  Stephen watched at how Peter interacted with you and kind of felt envious at how easy he makes it seem like. He threw his head back and sighed heavily. Maybe he should try and learn how to make balloon animals?

“Hey Stephen!” Peter approached him and took the seat next to him.

Stephen straightened up, “Hey Kid.” 

“Still not getting along that well with (Y/N)?” Peter asked, “You know, maybe you should get her to meet Morgan, they’re the same age.”

Stephen shrugged, “I’m not really close with Pepper.” 

“I am, well. . . sort of.” 

“How do you do it?” Stephen asked the younger lad.

“Do what?”

“Being so great with kids?” 

Peter played with his thumb, thinking whether it was appropriate to say what he thinks, “Well. . . I guess it’s because I’m not serious all the time?” 

“I am not serious all the time.” Stephen defensively replied. 

“Have you played house with her?”

“No.”

“Tea Party? Dolls?” 

“No and no.”

“See! You need to adjust to her interests as well, not just her adjusting to yours.” Peter advised and it got Stephen thinking. . . he does barely spend time with you when at home. You kind of just do your own separate thing, “You need to make as many good memories with her to remember you by.” 

“I guess you’re right.” Stephen shrugged.

“I am right.” Peter commented. Stephen looked to the direction of the playground to look for you and when he couldn’t see any sign of you, he started to panic. Stephen got up suddenly, startling Peter, “What? What’s wrong?”

“(Y/N). . . where did you last leave her?” Stephen asked, “I can’t see her.”

“I left her by the slide—” Peter couldn’t finish his sentence since Stephen already ran towards the playground shouting your name. Peter then webbed himself up on a gazebo for a wider view on the vicinity.

“(Y/N)!!” Stephen shouted, “Excuse me, have you seen a little girl with dark hair? Carrying a pink llama toy?” He asked one of the mothers nearby, who shook her head. Stephen brushed his hair back, he could feel the pounding of his heart, inside his head.

He felt a mix of emotions right now, he didn’t know whether to get angry first or panic, clearly listening to him was least of your concerns.

“(Y/N)!!” Peter shouted from above the gazebo.

Stephen ran into the wooded area close to the playground, “(Y/N)!!”

“DADDY!!” You shrieked when you heard Stephen’s voice.

“(Y/N)?! Stay put!! I’m coming to get you.” Stephen followed the sound of your crying. 

“Stephen! She fell in the small ditch.” Peter yelled out as he swung through the trees, “I’ll get her!” Peter went ahead to grab you out. Stephen followed shortly after and when Peter set you down on the ground, you immediately fell into the comfort of Stephen’s arms. 

“Daddy!!!” 

“Thanks Peter—(Y/N) are you okay? Are you hurt?” Stephen held your small head in his hands, examining for any cuts or abrasions. He wiped your tears away when he found none and kissed your forehead as the sense of relief splashed over him like cold water, “How did you end up there?”

“I was helping chase another kid’s ball.” You looked down, expecting him to get angry at you, “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“It’s okay, Daddy’s not mad—just don’t get out of my sight without letting me know first okay?” Stephen couldn’t help but smile, it was the first time you’d ever called him that. 

You sniffled and nodded your head.

“That’s my girl.” Stephen chuckled and lightly pinched your nose, “Let’s go home. Peter, you want to join us for dinner?” 

“Wait, are you serious?” Peter asked excitedly, “Sure!”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“Alright butterfly, time to go to sleep.” Stephen called you into bed and you obediently stopped playing with dolls with Cloak, to run into Stephen’s bed in your pyjamas. 

“Can you tell me a bedtime story Daddy?” You asked as you scoot inside the thick blanket. 

Stephen placed his arms around you, bringing you in closer to him, “A bedtime story?” 

“Yes, please.”

“Um. . . okay,” Stephen cleared his throat, “The Big Bad Wolf blew down the Granny's house. . . and uh. . . ate the Goldilocks and then there was something about the porridge. The end. Good night.” 

Stephen turned to look at you and chuckled, “What? What’s with that face?” 

“A bedtime story is supposed to make you feel peaceful. I’ll show you~”

Stephen sighed, “Fine. Fine. I'm going to listen to this one time, then that's it. Then you go to sleep. Do you understand me?”

“Mhm!” You nodded, “Once upon a time there was a princess and she had a lot of beautiful dresses. She had a pink dress, a red dress, a blue dress, a green dress, a purple dress, an orange dress, a yellow dress—”

“I get it, I get it—A lot of dresses, a lot of colours. So what?” Stephen urged you to continue and you scowled at him.

“So each dress had a secret power. The pink dress, which had pink sparkles all over it, could make her fly. And the blue dress, which had blue sparkles all over it, could make her tiny. And the green dress which had green sparkles all over it, could make her sleep.” You smiled and looked up at Stephen who seemed to have dosed off while you took the time to tell him a bedtime story. 

“Cloaky!” You whispered and the cloak went over to your assistance, “Can you please turn off the lamp?” The cloak gave you a salute and flew towards the lamp on Stephen’s side as you nestled yourself in his arm to prepared to sleep.

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