#i mean i drew the slug

[xysible]

i have an irl friend who also likes csmp

this is how the anchorblade gifting went right? /j

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Hair

Written for @hinnymicrofic November 2023 - Prompt 10

School year 96/97, told through the medium of Hair

He first noticed Ginny’s hair in October, at Quidditch practice. Well, not so much noticed, because of course he had noticed before that she had hair in a general sense. She obviously wasn’t bald, was she? No, it was more like he paid particular attention to her hair, specifically. It happened when she dived sharply for a loose quaffle, twisting as she went, and whatever she’d used to clip it up to her head came loose. Suddenly, her hair was tumbling behind her, first as she hurtled towards the grass, then as she soared upwards, aiming for the hoops. It caught the late afternoon sun, and almost seemed to glow, like flames streaking through the air behind her. Ron saved her shot (with his face. Classic.), and as she pulled up in front of him, face alight with laughter, her hair fell forward, like a cloud around her shoulders. Harry decided the odd feeling in his stomach was hunger - must be time to head back up for dinner.

-----------

Ginny was grateful to Dean, checking over her Charms essay, really she was, but honestly, it was a bit dull, just sat there in the common room, waiting. Her gaze fell idly on the table in the corner, where Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting, deep in conversation. Harry had his back to her, and, for want of anything better to do, she traced the line of his hair with her eyes, where it fell, curling just slightly towards his collar. She imagined running her finger there, feeling where his hairline met the pale skin of his neck, and she shivered slightly. 

“It’s pretty good, Ginny. You just need to add a bit more about the Substantive charm’s practical uses and then I think you’ve covered everything.”

Ginny jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice, suddenly feeling very guilty about the direction of her thoughts, and more than a little surprised. I mean, where the fuck did that even come from?

-----------

The Slug Club Christmas party was every bit as appalling as Harry had feared. Luna’s company helped to make it just about bearable, as did the amusing spectacle of Hermione attempting to avoid McLaggan. The biggest problem was that no matter how many utterly terrifying/incredibly dull/undoubtedly influential (delete as applicable) people Slughorn seemed determined to introduce him to, Harry found his attention constantly drawn to the flashes of long, red hair from across the room, everytime it caught the candlelight. It was impossible to miss, a beacon that always drew his gaze. But as always, Ginny remained just out of his reach.

-----------

At breakfast, before the Hufflepuff match, Ginny watched Harry carefully. Sure enough, she quickly picked up the signs that he was stressed. Losing Katie was bad enough, but Ron’s (ahem) mishap and Cormac’s subsequent recruitment was significantly more concerning. It seemed like every few seconds, he’d run his fingers through his hair. Long, slender, strong fingers, oddly delicate despite the callouses from his wand and the handle of his firebolt, though why her stupid brain insisted on noticing that, she had no idea. Well okay, maybe she had a bit of an idea. But anyway, the constant agitation made his hair stick up in spiky black tufts, even more unruly than usual - which was really saying something, wasn’t it? 

Maybe it would be neater if he cut it shorter? she thought - but he wouldn’t like that, would he? Because if it was shorter, it wouldn’t flop down over his forehead, covering his scar. And, now she came to think about it, she wouldn’t like it either. There was something strangely hot about he always looked so dishevelled, like he had perennially just got out of bed. She wondered, not for the first time, whether it was as soft as it appeared? She imagined running her own fingers through it, the feeling of it against the delicate skin between her fingers and… oh crap, she didn’t just sigh out loud, did she?

“Everything okay, Ginny?” enquired Hermione, her tone solicitous, but her expression irritatingly knowing. “You look a bit… flushed.” 

“Yes, fine,” she answered, smoothly, returning Hermione’s arched eyebrow with one of her own. “Just a bit warm in here, isn’t it?”

-----------

By the time Harry arrived at The Burrow at Easter, he knew he was in real trouble. Being in such close proximity to Ginny was… problematic. Everything about her was just so bloody attractive, and it did things to him. Case in point: when Hermione was finally persuaded to make up the numbers for two-aside Quidditch. Harry honestly didn’t expect this to be an issue - after all, he’d played Quidditch with Ginny countless times, and okay it was often a bit distracting, but this was something else. Obviously, her lips didn’t help, pink and slightly parted as she concentrated on stealing the quaffle from under his nose, but the main difference was the way she was dressed, in the unseasonably warm weather. Those  unnecessarily short shorts, and the way her t-shirt stretched over her chest… well, anyway. He needed something else to focus on, and fast. Ron! Yes, genius. Thinking of Ron, instant mood killer. Ron with his ginger hair. It was the exact same shade as Ginny’s ginger hair, wasn’t it? Ron’s ginger hair, which was cut short, and not at all like Ginny’s which was long and thick and shiny, and currently braided into a thick plait, hanging down her back towards… Oh Merlin! This isn’t helping AT ALL! 

“Harry! Look out!”

Unfortunately, Hermione’s warning came way too late, but at least sorting out the minor cuts and bruises from his collision with the tree branch and subsequent tumble to the ground gave him something else to think about. 

-----------

The moment they stepped through the portrait hole, Harry pressed her against the wall, his mouth on hers. With only a moment of hesitation, Ginny allowed her hands to slip up his back, feeling his shoulders tense at her touch, before sliding them through his hair. 

Yeah, I was right, she thought to herself, it really is as soft as it looks.

After that, she really didn’t do much in the way of thinking at all.

[xoxoch3rry]

Through Sickness and Health

(NOT MY GIF)

Paring: Carl Grimes x best friend!reader (Set in s4)

Warnings: Mentions on blood and sickness, a little sad but other than that none.

Summary: Carl comforts the reader on patrol when the reader's mom gets sick.

I awoke to the sound of someone coughing. I rolled over and saw my mom stumbling out of our cell. I quickly got up out of my bunk and ran over to her “Mom, mom are you okay?” I asked as she collapsed on the floor spitting up blood "somebody help please” I yelled out making Rick, Daryl, and Michonne run out of their cells and over to us.

"What happen?" Daryl asked making me look up at him with tears in my eyes. "I think she's sick" I looked down at the floor letting the tears fall from my eyes and onto my dirty white shirt. "Ok let's get her to cell block A," Rick said lifting my mother off the floor bridal style.

"Go back to bed okay, we can take care of her" Michonne looked at me as I was still sitting on the floor watching Rick carry my mom down a hallway. I quickly gathered myself and wiped my face with the back of my hand as Michonne helped me off the floor and back into my cell. I laid back resting my head on my pillow while Michonne covered me with my blanket. "Just go to sleep, it's okay," she said petting my hair.

I didn't want to get up and do anything knowing that my mom is sick and in a room full of other sick people. I slugged my legs over the edge of my bed and slowly stood up. I walked over to my pile of clothes and picked up a black tank top and a pair of jeans and put them on. I laced up my shoes and walked out of my cell and over to Carol "hi honey, how are you doing" she asked looking at me. I just shrugged my shoulders and grabbed a plate that had bacon and eggs on it and walked over to the table to take a seat. I looked at my food and pushed some of the eggs around with my fork.

I looked over at Beth who was holding Judith feeding her "Do you want this?" I asked motioning toward the plate of food "are you not hungry" she asked looking from the plate to me. "No not really," I said pushing the plate towards her and standing up from the table, and walking outside.

The bright sun made me squint my eyes a little looking for a certain someone. Spotting him I began my walk to the other side of the yard. "Hey" I called out making him turn around to look at me "Hey," Carl said walking towards me, "My dad told me what happened, how are you feeling?" he asked examining my face "Fine" I looked down at the ground. "Carl you're supposed to be on patrol" Maggie yelled from across the yard catching both of our attention "right," Carl said putting a thumbs up at maggie. "Can I join you?" I asked looking over at him. "Yeah, sure if you want," he said regaining to walk along the fence as I followed behind him.

We walked in comfortable silence for about five minutes till he spoke up. "Im sorry" Carl stated looking over at me. "For what?" I questioned. "I wasn't there for you last night when you were alone and needed someone"

"I wasn't alone, Michonne was there." I looked over at him "I mean I would have liked to have my best friend there" I glanced back down at the ground. He stopped in his tracks and turned towards me. "I know I'm sorry" he hugged me. I embraced him back burying my face in his shoulder. "I just hope she gonna be okay, cause she all I have" I cried allowing tears to stream down my face and wiping them with my hand. As he just rubbed my back soothing me.

I drew back from the hug and smiled at my best friend "Thank you carl". "Of course what are best friends for" he grinned back at me as we began to finish the patrol.

[toxictoxicities]

hi hello im back with a coupla questions

Emergence is essentially the canon, except for Saint/post-Saint correct? and

can i please make a mini-animatic/comic thingy for emergence please please your designs are beautiful

(Spoilers) So yeah for Emergence no slug cat ascends, including Hunter- so almost exact canon other than that. I plan for things to truly shift at Saints campaign- all the same of course just until you get that last echo and become f u n k y, from there I'm having Saint accidently miss seeing Pebbles and go back to Moon from there she proposes the idea to free her instead of the big spoils.

For the second question of course you can! Here's the refs so far for Emergence (not to confuse Suns in their dress I drew em in haha- though if you're doing a formal setting then- by all means go ham and use the dress~!)

(There are 2 more iterators though I hadn't finalized their designs yet- they're just in Excised Signs local group anyways!) Good luck~! Be sure to tag me on what you do >:)

[neptinaut]

I wanted to draw more but after I drew the gay slugs (that are canon in an AU a friend and I have been working on for about a year) my motivation evaporated

They r my everything I love them sm (infodumping under the cut)

Spearmaster is a very much biased individual, his region was left alone during Enot’s spiral (caused by Saint)

and even if it wasn’t, he was alone so he really had nothing to loose other than suns (and moon too but he’s always been prepared to loose her) He should and eventually will realize that he is being biased and apologize for how he acted. Spearmaster is honestly one of my favorites in this AU because he’s so complex but he hides it very well.

He doesn’t *claim* to be perfect but views things in a very black and white way, and anything he personally finds morally correct is the standards he holds everyone else to too, deeming anyone who aligns with something he sees as morally wrong to just “being bad”

(which is not a good thing to do, and the death of suns has caused the start of being in the process of realizing that)

Spearmaster isn’t a bad person, they’re loving and kind and generally forgiving, they just have one fatal flaw that’s stopping them from being the empathetic person they want to be, SRS’s death caused Spearmaster’s whole world to fall apart (not literally) which causes him to have to rebuild said world, meaning looking at things from an unbiased perspective which is where enot comes in, they both are real pieces of work;

Spearmaster has a problem with biases

And enot is a master at being a self-pitying loser (/aff)

But what makes their bond so strong is that they both wanna be better, they’re both flawed individuals that have eachother to catch them on said flaws and help them find a different way of thinking.

Enot is an interesting case because while he realizes and understands his mistakes in the past are not good and people are allowed to be upset with him, he feels misunderstood. he feels like if they just knew everything they wouldn’t hate him. He’s stuck in a loop of self pity and self loathing.

Luckily Spearmaster is able to help ground Enot whenever that loop starts happening, just like Enot is able to catch Spearmaster when he’s doing something self-distructive for his own beliefs

[folkloric-love]

"You will find a woman who is more than the sum of her parts." Meet Vasilka, the demure and reticent "daughter" of the Abbot of Saint Markovia's Abbey. She enjoys cooking and sewing, and often takes in mending work for the villagers in exchange for small tokens and wine. She loves flowers and animals, spending a great deal of time tending to the gardens that provide food for the long-term patients confined to the Abbey's hospital. I was invited to join a campaign-in-progress to take on the role of one of the major NPCs and was more than happy to play as the demure yet slightly unsettling Vasilka! After receiving a rough outline of her character and background, I immediately began work putting my own interpretation onto her. I drew a great deal of inspiration from the Pinocchio archetype and characters with an emotionally flat affect, such as Rei Ayanami and The Plain Doll. It was The Plain Doll, especially, which informed a great deal of her personality and character arc, and I even tried to mimic her voice and cadence. The Bloodborne fans in the party were delighted, and one of the players said they "would turn into a slug and be comforted by her." It's quite possibly the highest form of praise I could receive for Vasilka, so thank you so much for that! It is my hope that the party will help to awaken the latent emotions buried deep within her heart and help her to become more "human." Please take care of her, everyone!

Thank you, @luclovestruck for bringing my creepy yet well-meaning daughter to life!

[twst-drabbles]

The World, Chewed and Spat Out 2

Summary: You take Azul to the beach to introduce him to a very unique friend of yours.

The beach was not as familiar a place as, say, the stringy lines of kelp that Azul would often hide in as a child. As warm, beautiful, and fascinating as this place was, it was simply too open, too vast. The sun wasn’t supposed to be this large orb of light in a changing sky. It was supposed to be stray rays through unstable waters that find themselves lucky to hit the sea bed. The clouds weren’t supposed to be perfectly white and reflective. They were meant to be large dollops of sea foam that languidly drift by in their scummy form.

Azul never felt truly comfortable on the beach, as close as it was to home, but he can’t deny the beauty of it. Though, whatever stability he managed to grasp overtime was being tested. As, in front of him, was something that Azul could have only described in his head as a monster.

“These, creatures,” Azul almost wanted to say ‘things’ but decorum dictated he keep his true thoughts under a veil of polite words, “have a name? Truly?”

Besides, who was Azul to insult prospective contract signers? Just because this once-human creature had their skeleton blooming out of their skin like fatty flower petals didn’t mean they were any less deserving of respect. Well, as much respect as the value of this golden contract in his hands had. The more use he has out of this creature, the more he’s willing to extend some of his carefully cultivated olive branches.

However, Azul has many doubts as to whether he can make this creature do anything. By all means, it looked no different than a corpse, despite the fact it didn’t smell like it. In fact, it didn’t smell of anything horrible. The sunlight reflected off of the delicate bones stained red with mucus and coagulating viscera, an odd black mass that beat within the cage of its ribs, and yet anything below that was still of warm flesh that twitched against the sand you all stood on. All this, and yet no scent.

Azul’s stomach was still tight, and the doll-like stillness of this creature you had dragged from the sea did nothing to comfort that.

“Everything has a name, Azul,” you spoke as you drew in the sand in a language Azul will never understand, “Though, not all of us are equipped to hear it. And not all of us should try and learn them. Let alone say them.”

You spoke to him of your name and its meaning but you never told him what it actually was. Just another piece of information that he will never learn no matter how hard he or Jade may comb through the internet and pliant minds. You only told Azul a first name, a potentially fake first name.

Time had passed since the raid of his vault and the destruction of his paper collection, and yet still Azul refused to speak of your human name. You never once commented on that, and Azul isn’t sure if he should be irritated or relieved.

“A warning like that makes me think that I shouldn’t attempt to make a deal with this… friend of yours.” If even its very name was a danger, a curse waiting to be cast, it wouldn’t do him or his customers any good to have it near.

“And yet you stand here with a contract at hand, with your feet still in the sand,” you pointed out and extended your hand, as though to invite him near. “If you tell me you’re a cautious individual, don’t get angry when I laugh in your face.”

And how can Azul fault you for that? One look at the company he keeps would speak of his nature as a risk taker.

Even so, he sighed as he extended the contract to the creature that sat below you both. “Does it need a pen?”

This creature, with its skull empty of any eyes save for the slugs that rested within, signed a name Azul could not read, with a finger dyed in the ink of its chest organ. The creature was embraced by the tide as it rose past his knees and soaked the once dry sand.

Azul was compelled to give an order. “Bring more of your brethren to me. As many as you can.”

It sank beneath the waves with only a dull rattle of a laugh.

The contract in his hands was the only evidence that it ever existed…

[how-to-scug]

how to scug, but like, literally haha

im going to be honest, i dont think i landed on a solid design, but i tried this out, and i think i like it a lot! so heres the promised slug cat tutorial!

the program i use is firealpaca, and the pen i use is "paint 1985 square" set to 17 px

step 1!

turn off anti-aliasing.

this is optional, but for this i have it off,

step 2! pillow?

have you guys heard of the pillow method? well i just imagine a pillow. winged canvas did a video on youtube that you can find here, it can be helpful for this step. also i keep this step at a low opacity and on at all times, just to trace over

step 3! give em legs!

im not sure how to describe this step. its really just giving them legs, i like to think about it like drawing baggy pants that end tight at the ankle, you know? thats it for this step

step 4! cat.

dont mind the image title, for this step, i drew the ears, for this i drew them like a cats, and connected the legs to the head that i also had drawn. for the head, i have them a little cheek fluff, and a wide v shape for where the head is facing. if your good at drawing cats, your already better than me haha

by now i can turn off that layer in the beginning, but i wont because this is future me berating past me for forgetting i had it on

step 5! detail!

when i say detail, i mean i gave it feet (triangles, really) a super simple arm, a face, and fur! thr fur is, although optional and just the design im going with, is important to understand. theres a million tutorials on how to draw fur, but something i found important to understand is to try to draw fluidly.., i guess? its kind of hard to explain, but its helpful to understand organic shapes i feel to understand this step better. if you want a tutorial on how to draw fur, you can find it here, also by winged canvas

finaly, the-half-step-thats-sort-of-just-here-so-i-can-feel-like-i-finished-a-peice and thats shading!

i made a seperate layer for the shadows specificaly, and thats not to mess up the linework that i made before, and also because i kind of like blotchy shading. often though, i would suggest shading under the lineart layer. while shading this, i half thought about which direction the shadows should be, and half thought about the most common places i see others put shadows, and this was the result.

shadings my favorite part of the process, other than blocking out colors, fyi lol

and thats it! i hope this helps! a lot of the work i will be honest is drawing the frame/guidline layer in the beginning, as well as planning what the pose is and whatnot, so the pillow method should help a lot there i hope. it did for me at least!

i hope you guys learned from this! and if you didnt, tell me what i could have done better! i hope you have a great day!

[shamelessliarkickapow]

Arrvatarr! The Last Arrbender! Chapter 3, part 1/3

Zutara pirates AU rated M... fer Might need to upgrade to E!

If you haven't read the first two chapters, read here on AO3!

(Remember now, chapter 2 ended with Iroh saying that thing down in the brig...)

The pirates lounging with bowls of hot grub stopped laughing when all the lanterns around the galley flared in a brief, bright whoosh. In their sudden silence, they could hear a distant shouting voice.

“And I thought Katara had an anger problem,” Sokka said with sort-of-joking awe. “At least she doesn’t light the place up when she goes ballistic.”

“I don’t go ballistic.” Katara thunked down her bowl on the long table so she could forcefully fold her arms and glare even more forcefully at her brother. “I just get tired of being the only one who does any real work around here!”

“And then you go ballistic,” Toph smirked at her bowl. Katara opened her mouth to snap something about how especially unhelpful some people really were, but a few words of that distant shout came through clearly.

“-fucking pirate!”

“Ten yuans he’s talking about Katara,” Suki said.

Toph banged the table with a fist, annoyed she’d been beaten to the bet.

“I mean, obviously,” Sokka huffed.

“Why would it be me?” Katara demanded, pressing one hand to her chest. “I heard pirates, anyway. You all need your ears checked.”

“I don’t know, Katara,” Aang said with a teasing smile. “He seems to find you a lot more interesting than any of the rest of us.”

“Probably because none of the rest of us were flirting with him,” Suki said, sipping from her wine and casting a sly side-eye at Katara - who was huffing and scoffing too much to manage a riposte.

“What was I doing?” Toph demanded. “Don’t get me wrong - Shouty Pants is all yours, Sugar Queen-”

“Hey!”

“-but I thought I was really laying on the charm this time.”

There was a brief silence as everyone around the table squinted at Toph and then each other.

“To what instance of charm are you referring?” Sokka asked with one extremely arched eyebrow.

“You know, the bullying and insults.”

Another pause, which Aang waded into. “I don’t know much about flirting, so I may be way off base here, but that doesn’t really sound right to me…”

“Hah, okay Twinkle-toes. What do you think flirting is?”

“I don’t know, being nice? Making the other person a little gift or something?”

“Just pay attention to what Katara does,” Sokka shrugged. “Since evidently she’s flirting with firebenders now.”

“Where do you think I learned the bullying-?”

“I am not!”

“Sokka, don’t be obtuse. She’s just flirting with fire princes.”

“Suki, I swear to La-”

“You all should have heard his crew trying to-”

“Shut up, mud slug, or you’re gonna be eating floor sweepings for the next month.”

“Heh heh, how would I know the difference?”

“Ugh! You’re all driving me crazy!” Katara stood in a rush and snatched her bowl of perfectly palatable food off the table. “I’m going topside to finish my dinner in peace. Sokka and Toph, you’re on dishes. Yes, you have to wash them, you can’t just earthbend them clean. Suki, feed the prisoners. Aang-”

She turned her fierce eye on him. He was watching her with those huge grey eyes, brow creased in trepidation. Katara gentled, just for him.

“Come up top when you’re done for your waterbending lesson.”

Then, she raked a seething glare across the rest of them and stomped off.

.

.

“Prince Zuko… I fear for your virtue.”

Zuko’s shoulders dropped and he gaped for a solid half-minute. His face became painfully hot. When he again regained the power of speech, he could only do so at great volume.

“What?”

The lanterns on the walls flared violently.

Iroh went on, by all appearances serious. “Pirates are notorious for such contemptible crimes, my nephew-”

“You did not-!”

“-particularly against the pure and righteous-”

“-trap us in this nightmare situation-!”

“-and perhaps it was your shall-we-say unsullied glow-”

“-because you were trying to maneuver me-!”

“-that drew the attention of such a blackguard as-”

“-into bed with a fucking pirate!”

Iroh dropped his voice again, scowling his performed disapproval. “-that devilish waterbender, Katara.”

Zuko began pacing even harder, hands fisted in his hair. This was the end. He was going to die imprisoned on this ship because his uncle had slipped unnoticed into dementia and Zuko, sentimental fool that he was, had followed him blindly into some kind of delusion.

“Honestly, Prince Zuko - I have seen cat-foxes watch sparrowkeets with less hunger and anticipation than I saw on that girl’s face this evening. On more than one occasion.”

Zuko paused and scanned the old man, dubious but unable to stop himself hoping. Because for a moment, Iroh sounded and appeared deeply genuine. Entirely sane. Then his eyes rounded and brightened again.

“And now that you are under her power, she could at any moment attempt to have her wicked way with you!”

“Uncle! Stop this charade immediately!” Zuko folded his arms and leaned back against the wall of the hull, glaring bleakly at the corridor beyond the bars. “We’ve lost the ship. The crew will be lucky to make it to landfall before running out of fuel and then they’ll be stuck in the Earth Kingdom. Why? Why would you do this?”

“The men will be fine - they can firebend into the furnace and limp the last of the trip if they must. We were going to lose the ship and the crew no matter what,” Iroh shrugged. “A metalbender? Unheard of! And a master waterbender at night? The odds were very much against us.”

“We didn’t have to swear any oaths. We could have just surrendered. Or better yet-” His voice rose as he shot the old man a vicious glare. “-we could have skipped being prisoners altogether and told them from the start that the Fire Lord won’t pay to get me back.”

“But then, my nephew, you would not be aboard their ship, and there would be no chance of you falling prey to that-”

“No more jokes! This is serious!”

“More so, I think, than you realize.” Iroh peered at him with a concerned line in his brow that had Zuko’s stomach clenching with a different kind of anxiety. “Life has not afforded you a great many enjoyable opportunities lately… and I just want to see you live a little before I pass on…”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Zuko sighed. “You’re in excellent health, Uncle.”

Iroh was quiet for a brief moment. “It’s a joke but also true, you know?” he said in his gentle way. “For so long, you have been withdrawn. You search, and you wait, and you deny yourself anything that might make life a little pleasant-”

“I grew my hair out.”

“Prince Zuko, that was four years ago.”

“It takes time!”

Iroh only peered at him with a sort of dry incredulity. Zuko huffed and glared at the far wall.

“I cannot believe that you trapped us with a crew of idiot pirates just because I refused to demean myself at any of your whorehouses.”

“Truthfully, I had initially intended to be the only hostage,” Iroh said with a shrug. “I figured, if you were free, you would be able to figure out a rescue. So long as I did not exert any effort into escaping and the escape was a success rather than an attempt, I would still be honoring my word… you know, sort of. Honorable enough for pirates!”

That was… a little comforting. At least this mess had started from a rational line of thinking.

“But then I saw that young lady’s face when you breathed fire.” A wistful little smile took Iroh’s mouth and he tugged his beard again. “She was impressed, my nephew. And interested. And I do not think that is a young woman who meets many men impressive enough or interesting enough to suit her.”

Despite knowing better, Zuko felt a thrill shoot through him. Because desire had certainly made its appearance on his end during their fight, and the thought that that fierce, confident, lovely girl might have felt the same attraction was tempting indeed.

He realized what he was thinking and shoved the notion away. “And so you decided I should be a hostage, too. On the incredibly slim chance that a girl who despises the Fire Nation might want to take a tumble with a prince of the Fire Nation.”

A disfigured, banished prince, no less.

“Do not discount the possibility! Perhaps she does despise the Fire Nation, but what better way to avenge herself against the specters of her past than to take out her frustrations on you, standing as a symbol for the royal lineage that has waged this war on her people?”

Zuko thought of a Water Tribe village reduced to stealing coal to survive the winter and rubbed his chest through his robe. It was still sore from her whip. There would definitely be a mark.

“She seems more inclined to take out her frustrations on me with her element rather than anything… intimate. Besides, the point is that we’re trapped now until they release us. Whatever that’s going to take.”

“Perhaps you should practice sounding happier about the prospect. Like this, whatever it’s going to take…”

Zuko fixed the old man with a disgusted, mortified look. Iroh shrugged.

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to win our freedom with your prowess, you might need to at least seem enthusiastic about the opportunity-”

“You’re delusional. It’s not going to happen.”

“Perhaps now would be an ideal time to discuss some techniques that could be instrumental to-”

“No, now is not the time!”

“You are right, of course. No doubt she will enjoy instructing you in serving her pleasure-”

“Auh!”

“-and your naivety will only add to your nubile enticements.”

“Nubile? Uncle, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Perhaps it is destiny,” Iroh said, cheerfully dodging the question. “Your years of celibacy and monkish devotion to your quest have prepared you to be the perfect blushing target for that dastardly waterbender-” He scowled again, though it was belied by the sparkle in his eyes. “-whose depravity, I have no doubt, Prince Zuko, could sink to formidable depths.”

The tone with which he said it didn’t make it a warning so much as an enticing probability.

Zuko stared at his uncle for a long moment, too embarrassed and horrified by this conversation - and fascinated by the prospect - to formulate a response. Instead, he sank down against the wall to sit on the floor, his elbows on his knees and his palms covering his eyes.

The way he saw it, there were two possible ways this situation could play out. First, the pirates would find out they weren’t going to get paid and decide to release them. Not likely, but possible. The second and by far more likely possibility was they would find out and decide to hold Zuko and Iroh in traction until some other compensation could be settled on.

…And third - so unlikely it hardly rated on the list - the waterbender, Katara, would decide to take her price out of Zuko one way or another.

He abruptly remembered her smirking face as she stroked his jaw and pinched his chin.

Determined little thing…

Fire spewed through him at once. Her petty insults called for petty retribution - and Zuko imagined snatching up those pouting, mocking lips in a punishing kiss. He imagined how her curves might feel when he gripped them, stroked them, held them to him. He wondered if she would meet him as fiercely on that battlefield, if she would try as hard to subdue him as he meant to try her.

From her looks, that particular hunger and revulsion that mingled about her eyes and nose and bared teeth, Zuko hesitated to hazard a guess. He’d thought she might have been… almost… flirting with him… but it seemed more likely that was just how she talked to her captives.

Uncle was evidently convinced otherwise. But then, Uncle had a whole face. He could afford to be optimistic. Zuko had learned that, when it came to how women saw him, he was better off managing his expectations.

He hadn’t really found a lot of opportunities to so much as talk to girls during his banishment, and even when a chance presented itself, it was spoiled from the start. In the colonies, he was known for his disgraceful banishment. In the rest of the world, he was an invader - a crazy one, come to ask strange questions in his hunt for a legend. Every eye that fell on him saw his scar before anything else about him. There wasn’t a lot he could do to turn those kinds of first impressions into a rendezvous.

But he wasn’t a fucking monk. Zuko noticed girls almost constantly. Laboring on docks and in fishing boats. Swimming at distant beaches. Tending children and chores. And along rivers near villages in the Earth Kingdom, there were always women. They would stand on the banks and watch his ship or boat approach before vanishing into the woods or among the houses. Some, too bold to be so easily flushed out, would carry on with their work in the shallows, doing their menial tasks as his vessel passed by.

Those were his favorites. The women and girls who kept working as if he was not there, as if a Fire Nation ship was to be shooed off with a wave because her labors were more important.

By rights, their mundane lives should not have held any interest for a prince at all…

…and yet Zuko had a sense of them being in motion, striding toward the future before them while he remained static, ever reaching for impossible glory and grasping only smoke. It filled him with a hunger that had grown steadily more powerful over his years in exile. Hunger for life. For some mundane pursuit. For the chance to begin building something for himself.

But that was a separate desire entirely from the very un-monkish craving he felt for those village girls. It was worst when he came upon them roughing up their laundry. There was something about the physicality of it. The pink in their cheeks and the sweat clinging in their hair and shadowing their frocks. The brisk shimmy of hidden flesh as they scrubbed.

He only ever watched them from the corner of his eye and never through the spyglass. That had happened once accidentally years ago, and he’d been briefly entranced - and then felt incredibly bad when the girl spotted him and dashed off into the woods, laundry abandoned on the rocky shore.

Which was… just all kinds of messed up.

Realistically, there was no approaching those village girls. Zuko could only ever frighten them. They were like soaring birds - only to be appreciated from afar, and not too obviously lest they startle and flee.

But now, here was this waterbender. He looked at her - and she looked right back. A pirate out to take what she wanted, driven to fight for whatever future she desired. And yet she also possessed that soft strength he had been admiring from afar, a sweetness and gentleness as she looked after that weird kid. If she was doing laundry on a river bank, she would glare right at him and keep scrubbing until he fucked off. She might even come out onto the river to hurry him on his way. She was a whole different level.

Zuko wanted her in so many ways, it was hard to sort through. The prospect that she might pursue him was definitely too good to be true.

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh said gently, “it is perfectly normal for a young man to find his first dalliance intimidating. Why, when I was-”

“I am not,” Zuko growled as he emerged from the cover of his hands and glared at his uncle, “intimidated.”

It was the truth. He was skeptical and eager in equally excessive intensities. He was almost dizzy in the turmoil between pleasurable visions and crushing doubts. But he wasn’t intimidated.

Iroh peered back at him, all seriousness once again. “What do you intend to do?”

“Whatever I have to do to get us out of this.”

The old man’s expression brightened, but Zuko hurriedly pressed on.

“That’s probably going to mean offering some other compensation they want. Which… I don’t know what that is yet, but I’ll figure something out.”

Iroh raised a finger and opened his mouth to make some doubtless annoying suggestion, so Zuko kept going.

“In the extremely unlikely event that it plays out the way you think it will, that’s not gonna be a problem either. I’m ready. I just don’t see it going that way and I’m not stupid enough to try anything before I’m sure.”

“Good idea. Better to let her initiate. I am certain your shock and maidenly outrage will only heighten her appetite for you.”

“Maidenly outrage?” Zuko sneered. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

Iroh smiled brilliantly. “Romance novels, my nephew. A man must be open-minded when in search of carnal delights-”

“Never mind. I’m sorry I asked.”

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

hi slug! what's your favorite all stars song/s?

The minute this was asked, I immediately drew a blank on any besides Summit of Divisions (<- maybe the top fave) and Cross a Line. Let's uhhhh check the wiki.

Oh the 2nd DRB Non-stop Mix counts? Fuck yeah, I love that. I like a lot of the Hypmic remixes in general. The ARB song ("Are you game for more? Do you want more?") is fun too. Fight 4 Your Pride counts...? I mean, I like just about all of the main stageplay songs, so sure. Why not.

Kizuna and Next Stage are fun in their own way too. In general, I think I appreciate the all stars songs that are more boppy, since you have to hear the same tune over... and over... and over... for a good eight or so minutes as it makes its way through all the guys.

[armyangxls]

Halloween Movie Marathon

Ryan Hudson x Plus Size Reader

You were currently finishing the final touches of preparations for your Halloween movie night, while dancing to She Wants Revenge.

Suddenly you heard a creak of wood.

Your body tensed up, and your heart rate quickened.

"What was that?" You thought

You'd think after everything you've seen while being around the Drew crew, you wouldn't be scared of ghosts or the creeks of the floor.

You spun around at the sound of the door creaking open, getting ready to run away from it.

Where you saw the sight of your amazing partner Ryan in a blue shirt and orange ascot holding a bag of your favorite takeout, you sighed in relief that it wasn't a killer or a killer ghost.

"You scared the hell out of me! I thought you were a killer! Ryan I mean Fred!" You said, breathing out, and smiled.

"I'm so sorry! I thought you heard me, y/n/n I mean Daphne!" He said, smiling, setting the bag on the coffee table in the living room.

You wear a purple shirt, skirt and a green bandana around your neck.

You slugged your arms around him, hugging him.

His cologne consumed your senses

aroma of fall pine trees, and cinnamon.

He wrapped around you, kissing the top of your head.

"You smell amazing!" You said, muffled into his shirt.

"Thank you!" He said, chuckling and smiling.

You both pulled apart from the hug.

"What movie first?" He asked,

"(Your favorite horror movie)!" You said, smiling.

"Yes, the best!" He said, smiling.

You put the DVD in as Ryan got the food out and set it up.

~

You both had finished eating, now you were in the middle of the movie, cuddling up against each other, his arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest, soft heart beats in your ear. Your eyes glued to the screen no matter how many times you had watched it, it was just as entertaining and surprising as the first time.

You lifted your head from his chest, your eyes finally wandered from the screen to Ryan who was staring right at you.

"What?" You asked, confused, scared that there was ghost behind you.

"Nothing you're just soo beautiful!" He said, looking at you, you reminded him of a gorgeous renaissance painting with a look of the shining 70s.

You heart skipped a beat and raced after your breath, no matter how many times he complimented you it felt same as the first time.

"Thank you! You're beautiful too!" You said, your eyes glistening as you stared into his emerald eyes.

"I'm so glad I have you!" You said softly, smiling, scooting even

"I'm so glad I have you too!" He said, gently putting his hands on your cheeks.

Your face heated at his touch.

You both pulled apart, you closed your eyes, your lips met his soft as marshmallow lips in a soft affectionate kiss, the feeling that felt like a warm bonfire on a long autumn's night went through both.

You both pulled away from the kiss, your hand subconsciously went in his hair messing with it.

"Happy Halloween my love!" Ryan said, kissing your forehead.

"Happy Halloween Ryan!" You said, smiling.

Author's note: Hiii guys!! Happy Halloween!! I hope you guys like this fanfic!! Also I think this is the first Ryan Hudson fanfic!! 😱😱 :))) 💜💜💜

[meadowlarkx]

Maedhros/Maglor and 26?

26. ...as an apology

Ensconced by the bookcase, Makalaurë strummed a minor chord. The strings shimmered in the shadowy corner, releasing a sound like a sorrowful sigh—like snowfall—like the rustle of leaves in a withering tree. His black curls, disheveled as the robe he wore, blended seamlessly into the shade. Maitimo reflected rather ironically that his little brother had found the only darkened corner in Fëanor’s house: the study where Maitimo spent the fifth day of each week.

The flowing music faltered, and an audible sniffle could be heard.

Maitimo raised his gaze from the tract he was reading for next morning’s lessons and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

The harp was as big as Makalaurë was, but he had managed to haul it across the courtyard and up the stairs. His head was bowed in sorrow near the harp’s shoulder, and with his robe askew he resembled a crumpled bloom or perhaps a slug on a leaf. Still his weeping tugged at Maitimo’s heart.

“Makalaurë…” he began.

“Cease your interrupting,” Makalaurë sniffed. “I am composing.”

Here? Maitimo bit that back.

He returned his attention to the book. His tutor had been explaining some key points of Tirion’s history…

“You would not understand,” Makalaurë sighed. “There are times one must give voice to the emotion that lies in one’s heart, or resign oneself to Mandos’ halls with Grandmother.”

“Is this about what I said earlier?”

“No.”

Makalaurë went on playing. The melody now filled the room, one solitary, desolate note at a time. He started to hum in his beautiful voice, and lyrics threatened upon the horizon.

At the desk, Maitimo exhaled slowly. He hated when Makalaurë was angry with him. He was his favorite, dearest and brightest companion, and Maitimo could not bear to see him unhappy. He was also the most insufferable person in the world. He was very lucky, Maitimo thought, that Maitimo’s tutor had explained the concept of a tactical concession: and that he had Maitimo, who was older and smarter and reasonable in every way.

He closed the book and steeled himself. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Makalaurë cut off the music with a jarring motion of his hands; the strings twanged unpleasantly. “Whatever for?”

Determined, Maitimo rose and went to the shady corner with the bookcases. “I am sorry,” he said carefully (if tersely), “that I said Tyelko was better company than you.”

“Oh, it matters not!! You were simply expressing what you truly felt. You should always be honest and speak plainly. I am not upset at all.” His voice wavered.

Maitimo could not conceal the sigh at this.

Makalaurë wiped away tears and snot with the back of one hand. “You don’t really wish to speak to me,” he pronounced.

Maitimo grabbed the dampened hand. “I’m truly sorry.”

Makalaurë looked hopeful, but quickly disguised it, closing his traitorous eyes to become the picture of noble woe. “Empty words; you are merely appeasing me—"

“I am not. Do I spend all my days with Tyelko? I did not mean it, and I should not have said it. I’m sorry, Káno.”

Makalaurë peeked at him. “Are you?” he allowed.

“Yes.” Maitimo kissed his dark hair, and then his brow, and then his cheek. And lo, victory! everything was well again.

Maglor did not go to Maedhros, at first, when the news came of his return. He shied away from his presence like a shadow skitters from the light. Of course, his excuse was setting things in order in the Mithrim camp before departing for Fingolfin’s tents, but he lingered longer than he needed to—partly because he could imagine how the Mithrim camp might look to Maedhros, and that was humble, poorly-fortified, and rustic, despite the progress he had made in thirty years ruling there. The day drew on and at last, he could not resist the impulse to know, and see.

When Fingon showed him to Maedhros’ bedside, Maglor understood that Maedhros would not be surveying the Mithrim camp a while yet, nor anything else. His brother was asleep amid the furs, so still that Maglor first feared he was dead in truth. His right arm was bandaged and bloody, and his body scarred and windburned and starved. His eyes moved beneath his pale eyelids, as though chasing out some evil, and his breathing beat weakly. Weak himself, Maglor watched and made himself learn every detail, every wound and scar. Fingon, with a sympathetic look that was entirely unwarranted, showed him a chair and some poultices and left them alone.

He did not take the chair, but knelt by Maedhros’ bedside as he had done at his brother’s coronation. His mind refused to understand that Maedhros really lived and might yet wake. What he understood thoroughly was that Maedhros had suffered. It was one thing to know it, to imagine it every sleepless night and every moment his gaze drew towards the dark fortress of those mountains—to think of it each time he told his council there could be no attempt at rescue. It was another to see it.

When Maedhros woke, Maglor knew he would not want his apologies, or his company. He would do better to give them now.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Nelyo, my love, I am so sorry.”

The words felt blasphemous in the chill air: a presumption, however quiet. He kissed Maedhros’ mouth and felt the warmth that still pulsed in his brother, and hoped that somehow, it would carry them all through whatever came next.

[mirthlxss]

Off to the races

Chapter 12: White bikini off with my red nail polish

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.”

master list

price x oc, series.

a03: pricescigar, Off to the races is posted in full.

taglist:  @deadbranch , @jxvipike, @smoggyfogbottom, @slimvevo-blog (who specially requested a tickle of piercing convo), comment or dm for a tag.

warnings: mention of alcohol.

a/n: “But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.”― Anne Bronte

Frenzied hands darted to and fro, half-slurred shouts slugged across the room as stumbling feet shuffled between bags. A hectic attempt at preempting the impromptu trip abroad had spiralled into the three drunken fools teetering about, blurred eyes blinking heavily as they shoved whatever items deemed plausible into whatever luggage possible. A mess, it was a mess. 

Throughout the ordeal, she had learned her exposé’s name.  

“Pavel.” Hurled through wined stained lips, explosive disgust emphasising the ‘P’ each time she spat it out. Chanted like some sort of malediction, the others joined, stomping around the room and cursing the man as they helped her pack. 

“I mean, fuck him, right?” She swivelled on her back foot, nearly crashing into Johnny as she tried to face them both, shaky hands grasping onto his forearm in an effort to steady herself. The Scott wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulder, though he was no more stable, both swaying together, attempting to smooth out a dress between them. 

“Sleazy little fuck.” He agreed with all her sentiments wholeheartedly. The second he clapped his eyes on those photos the man felt the distinctive garble of bile rushing up his oesophagus. It plagued him as much as Price and Kyle, perhaps for more selfish reasons, that night all he could think of was his sisters. What if it was their private photos thrown up on screen? What if his sister had been taken from her life, captive to a crime she’d staggered into?

“This one?” Kyle held up a pouch stuffed full of products, half-lidded gaze faltering as he leaned closer to the two, decidedly shoving it into one of the duffle bags before awaiting an answer. He soon latched onto Lily’s other side, arm wrapping atop Soap’s as he cuddled into the others, foreheads butting together with mild amusement. 

“I want to say something, though, I don’t know if it’s allowed.”  An electrified chuckle presses past his lips, and the two draw closer, cheek to cheek with Garrick as they urge him on. 

“Not like that’s stopped you before.” Soap scoffs, biting grin only spurring the other on. He knows what Kyle’s gonna say, the question whirled around his mind at some point too, it was only natural. 

“You gotta tell us now.” Lily nudges her forehead against Garrick’s cheek, humming softly as he laughed aloud, pushing her back in his drunken state. They all swayed as a collective, arms locked around each other as they drew closer by the second, urgently needing to know the secret that tempted to spill. 

“The piercings.” Kyle exasperated, Johnny howled out laughing in response, Lily grinned from ear to ear. It felt like she’d never left university, like she was clinging to two housemates as they pawed over ‘going-out’ tops and drunkenly blazed through social barriers, bonding over embarrassment, wine and illicit piercings. 

“Which ones?” She urged, barely able to keep herself from cackling. Kyle’s gaze flickered down to her breasts and Johnny nearly collapsed them all, veering violently as he threw his head back snorting out his amused delight.  

“You know!” 

Dawn crashed down upon her head so hard it felt like the pitiless blades of sunlight that lacerated her curtains were stabbing her through the atmosphere. Moving seemed a monumental task, so nauseated at the world she’d convinced herself that even gravity felt heavier as she wrenched upright. For a dreadful moment, everything spun, wispy grayscale sparkles smeared across her vision before her body caught up with her movement. Heavy slaps of queasiness prevented any real progress, stuck hunched over on her bed taking small, desperate little breaths. 

Three, hard knocks chimed to the pounding of her headache. It took another round of knocking for her to realise it wasn’t just the war drum of her hangover marching all the alcohol out of her system. A dull, rasped attempt at calling out seemed to die before the door. Vocal cords scorched from a night of cheap wine and shouting. 

The entrance swung open anyhow, his bearish gate filling up the space and assessing the damage, dutiful in the way he combed over her and the room in one long look. She’d expected him to come up with something smart and smug, rub in the fact that she probably looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. He remained quiet, eyes fixated on the neat pile of luggage by his feet. 

“Going somewhere?” With a raised brow, Price stepped over the bags and focused back on Lilith, sucking in a short breath as he watched her try, and fail, to hide a small retch. 

“I know you’re going to follow up on Pavel.” Lilith grumbled, hands slowly grasping at either side of her head as she let out a pained groan. “And that you’re taking me with you.” 

“And so you’ve packed.” His weight shifts, contemplating the situation. Apart from the small pile of bags, everything seemed to be put in its rightful place, clean and tidy. Not a glass nor even a bottle in sight. If it wasn’t for the awful state she was in, he’d have a hard time deducing what happened. 

“You’re a very good alarm clock.” Lilith barely manages a tiny laugh, small huffs forced through before she retreats into another drawn-out groan. Everything hurt. What made it worse was the fact that it was all self-inflicted. 

“You weren’t at P.T., n’ wanted to check in is all.” 

“Thought P.T. was optional.” 

“It’s strongly recommended.” A moment passes and they both chuckle airily. She had come to find that most things with the Captain came ‘strongly recommended’ in other words, ‘you'd better bloody do it’. 

Price remained hovering beside her bed, quietly listening to the general plight of existence that came with waking Lilith. She seemed softer, steeped in the sticky ache of her bad decisions, not fully firing on all cylinders. What puzzled him was the compliance, the packed bags and the lack of lip. Besieged by the forlorn shock of her subdued nature, disbelief mounted at her compliance. It became clear that they would not argue. 

Struck now with the anticlimactic gape in his morning, a chunk of time was carved out of his calendar, devoted to clashing and corralling his captive. He’d anticipated an uphill battle, felt the goosebumps bite at his skin as he stood outside her door. This, her, ready and rough around the edges, was not planned for. Complexion pale, a sickly sheen to her skin, he knew it was just a bad hangover but the desire to cosset her riled within him so urgently it felt like he had taken the fight within himself, absorbing the anticipation and putting it to work against his self-restraint. 

He had the whole morning free. What better than to cavort with his captive instead?

The grip tightened around the bottle he’d brought in with him, intending to use it as some sort of bribe or force her to sober up with it. A cruel, creaky squeal cried from the bed frame as he sat down beside Lilith, shaking his head at the delayed reaction she gave to the high-pitched sound. 

“Ere’ get this down and we’ll try some painkillers.” He breaks the seal on the cap, offering her the gently fizzing electrolyte, sighing deeply as she grimaces at the smell. “C’mon Lilith, love, it can’t be that bad.” 

“Kyle and Johnny, I’m gonna kill them if I ever recover.” Divisive mutters, uttering various curses under her breath as she pushed herself closer toward him, placing her hand atop his and letting the other guide the bottle back to her parted lips. 

“Good girl.” He watches her intently, unconsciously swallowing with her. “Serves you bloody right for getting so drunk.” His grumble delved deeper into his chest. “Dumb and Dumber got their fair share of punishment this morning, nothin’ like a good long sprint to work off the booze ay’.” 

Lilith pulled away and restrained a garbled cough, amused at the thought of Soap and Gaz dragging themselves around the base to the tune of Price’s shouting. The drink swooshed around her body and felt incredibly unsettled, borderline threatening, nausea fighting against her with every deep breath. Shaky hands raked through her hair as she pulled it atop her head messily, soon shuffling across the sheets to settle beside John, resting on his shoulder with a pitiful noise. 

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.” Despite his chiding, John shifted to wrap his arm around her, drawing her frame closer to himself. 

“Feel sorry for me!” Lilith demanded half joking and half petulant, intention clear as she let her weight fall back, trying and failing to slump back into bed with his arm around her. He only remained upright for so long, as usual, finding it very hard to deny the woman what she asked for. How could he? After all that’s happened, How could he? When the thought of her invading his team, his space, slowly began to shift into something different. Was it an invasion if she was now welcome? Accommodated for? There was a place for her in their base, in their dynamic, in his schedule, in his mind. 

And this morning? Now, by his side. 

John allowed himself to recline back, laying beside her awkwardly at first. Unsettled as he looked straight ahead at the crumbling ceiling, counting the cracks he’d need to fix, adding them to the list of things to do. They had embraced before, it was fleeting and well missed but this was entirely different. Far more intimate. More so than felt natural, for the prolonged minute of quiet that fell between them, the Captain began to question what he was doing. 

“Thank you, by the way, for all the things on the list.” Coy, voice barely above a whisper. She shifted on her side to look at him. “I thought you’d cut at least half of it.” 

John adjusted himself, taking in the timid tones of her voice, surprised to see she almost looked guilty. The depths of his pupils widened, encroaching upon the blue, committing every bump and divot of her visage to memory. It felt imperative as they’d not been this quiet and this close before. The self-conscious cloy vanished with her proximity, enthralled by her presence once again. Though wicked, dishevelled and rough, she still seemed to have a certain allure. 

“Was plannin’ on teasing you for that list.” He huffed. “Must’ve slipped my mind.” John took his opportunity, hedged his bets on the lull of her hangover and the unguarded disposition that came with it. He gently coaxed her closer, the firm hold around her shoulders now drawing her flush to his torso, relaxing even further as Lilith curled into him without protest. It was overindulgent, the comfort gained from feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the weight of her head on his chest. He daren’t begin to console his ever-fretting mind, the gnaw of culpability and duty could not be reasoned with. The longer Lilith stayed, the less he could justify his actions, and the more outrageous his behaviour. 

“So, where are we going then?” She sighed softly, eyes barely fighting off sleep as they blinked slowly, soon resorting to just lightly closing them. 

“Netherlands, tonight, flying commercial.” John began to slowly draw circles against the exposed skin of her arm, slightly bemused at how swiftly she seemed to slip into drifting off. 

“Hm, taking Stockholm syndrome to a new level huh.” Lilith hummed with a sleepy smile. 

“Stockholm, Lilith, is in Sweden.” 

“Fuck.” 

AUTHORS NOTE: SO very sorry for slow ass replies, my excuse is that my job is draining my soul from me. Anyway! Enjoy a slower chapter before I actually sit down and get to writing more exciting onesss, who doesn't like edging yourself with slow-ass character-building anyhow? TOODLES LOVE YOU!

[the-trinket-witch]

Hihi! A couple questions for Levi!

Has your OC ever been blackmailed? Or do they do the blackmailing? What about your OC fits the nefarious energy the canon characters give off? Or are they meant to balance them out?

Are they intimidated by the tweels? How did their first meeting go? Have they ever had the opportunity to put them in their places?

Thank you!!!

(Ask meme here:)

I actually answered his first meeting with the Tweels here! But as for the other question:

He has been blackmailed of course XD it's Octavinelle What it was over?

"Oh don't think I'm deaf," Azul chided. If eyerolls could sound, his would have made the office quake. "I've heard about these secret little get-togethers here and there. I don't know who all is involved, but currently Jade is in the midst of finding out what it's all about."

"Well, if you want to act like you know already, why drag me here?" Levi volleyed back with a sigh.

"To give you an out. Snitch. Rat out your little cohorts and I can ensure you receive no retaliation from me. I'll even keep my lips sealed as to who said," a smile drew up on Azul's lips. He might not be able to tell, but that didn't mean the Other Eel lent in the doorway couldn't. If there is a coup being brewed somehow, this little Blue Slug isn't getting off so easily, the scylla thought.

[lilywily143]

I saw you talk to one of my mutuals and I got curious about this.

What do you mean by ocean AU? I’m curious and wanna hear about it 🥺

(Sorry if this is weird since I’ve never spoken to you before-)

no no no keep the asks up, it gets me happy seeing people wanna talk to me

@absolute-solver read this when you feel okay to

And well so far me and @w3t-c4t are making a little world that right now.. is only original characters.

We are focusing on making animals into new kind of drones. Maybe we'll try to get the show story involved in a way, but i don't think it's likely currently

But we only accidently got this into a au because of sea slugs. We both think they are adorable so we drew different sea slug species as drones.

Then it esculated to sea cucumbers then jellyfish, and now we are really getting into it. We have basically were doing only designs for weeks but this week, we started thinking about world building.

The drones have the chest light thing in different shapes depending on which depth of water they live in. One is a water droplet.

We thought that the drones would be living in a frozen over ocean. The drones that are based on animals that can break ice get imports from drones like seals or penguins.

Their "campfires" are hydrolic vents. Seaweed is a popular snack. There are MANY sea slugs and i'm gonna make snails soon.

And brine pools ooooo those are fun. There are things of the saltiest wayer ever that it makes its own pond in water. It's cool.

It's so salty that is can kill animals and the coast of the ponds are literally covered with dead animals. Also if they are IN the pond, they don't decay. But macrofauna can live in it. So yeah I have been excited to draw those kind of drones.

I actually already drawn scallops. Because they are macrofauna, which i didn't know.

So yeah, we are doing our best on brainstorming!!

Also we don't have a name for the au yet so if you have ideas, I'd like to hear them

[rexthefox]

Drew a slug cat V (Specifically the Prom ver!) To celebrate murder drones 2nd year anniversary!!

This show means an ungodly amount to me. Here's to hoping we get episode 7 news in glitchX!!

Also here's to potentially not being dead??? I haven't posted in months.