#inner circle wallpaper

[kataraavatara]

“guys, you can’t criticize the ic’s intervention methods because they WORKED, Nesta got friends and a purpose in life and-” because this is a work of FICTION. the author made a choice to write coercive and abusive “treatments” and have them illogically be successful. if you tried to pull the inner circle yellow wallpaper bullshit in real life you’d be laughed out of any reputable treatment center and for good reason.

[thefallennightmare]

Masked: Stalker!Noah Sebastian-Teaser #2

Here is another little teaser snippet! I'm still working on it and would like to get it posted sometime this week! Again, this is a reminder that this one shot will be very dark. I will post some of the trigger warnings below. Please read at your own risk and if you don't like the darker things, don't feel like you have to read it!

Snippet below the cut! (no pun intended)

18+ TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst, fluff, language, stalking, breaking and entering, watching someone sleep, blood, some medical talk, a very brief mention of bombing and the aftermath of it, a scene of someone receiving stitches, two mentions of the use of drugging, murder, torture, and smut which includes p in v, primal play, knife play, branding, mask kink, chasing through words, consensual nonconsensual, oral with female and male receiving, fingering, possible anal play, and edging. I might add more to the warnings the further I get along while writing. But for now, these are all the warnings so please, read at your own risk.

My screams echoed off of the crumbling wallpaper. The state of this room paled in comparison to the state my body was currently in. I yanked at the bindings on my wrist, trying to break free, but the metal of the handcuffs continued to bite into my skin. He'd managed to handcuff me to the headboard when I was too distracted with his mouth on my nipples earlier.

Horny bitch.

"Stop moving," the distorted voice demanded while now sitting directly on my hips, forcing me against the bed.

The tip of the knife tried to pierce my skin again causing me to buck up my hips towards him, doing whatever I could to overpower him. His dark eyes drank in the sight of me naked underneath him, blood slowly dripping down from the gash underneath my left breast.

"You're beginning to irritate me," Masked.Omens growled, pressing the knife deeper into my sensitive skin.

"Fuck you!" I spat up at him. "I signed up for sex tonight not to be carved like a fucking pumpkin!"

He tsked, the mask covering all of his facial features besides those eyes and those pump lips; the ones I'd been so desperate to taste. Like last time, he wore his entire get-up with the black jacket, black turtle neck, and black cargo pants. At least he kicked off his boots before he got into the bed with me, but those damn leather gloves and mask is what bothered me the most.

Why couldn't I see him? Feel his skin on mine?

Masked.Omens ignored my curses, simply kept digging the knife into the skin underneath my breast.

"It seems like you need a reminder of who you belong to, angel," his voice was laced with lust and I knew from how hard his dick was pressing against my inner thigh that he was getting off on branding me.

From the angle of my head, I was able to look down and see the mark he was carving. A circle with a dot in the middle.

"You're a psychopath!" I cried out a choked sob.

Masked.Omens clicked his tongue while cocking his head down at me. "I prefer creative."

[ariadnethedragon]

HOFAS thoughts as I read it: (SPOILERS below)

All that t*rture in the dungeons, Ruhn’s piercing and tattoos. Baxian’s tattoo. The wings. “How strong is your bite?” Sarahhhhh!!!!! Stop! That was more than I could handle😫

The Middengard Wyrm😖. Nesta dealt with it brilliantly but it just makes you appreciate how impossible it was that human Feyre managed to kill this thing by herself with no decent weapons.

Azriel hugging Nesta and stroking her hair after she took the Mask off🥺

Bryce’s wallpaper being Hunt and the photo of her friends in the phone case—that made me tear up

Imagining the inner circle all surrounding Bryce’s phone trying to figure out how it works is hilarious. Also Nesta being jealous of Bryce’s music collection, “THOUSAND?”

The nightbright angst KILLED me💔💔💔

Hunt just dreaming of Bryce. She’s the only thing pulling him through, “He’d wanted so many things with her. A normal, happy life. Children.” HE BETTER GET EVERY SINGLE ONE IF THOSE THINGS OR HANDS WILL BE THROWN!

Silene. The Daglan. My theories were true😁😁

Sigrid. I had so much hope for her story but I was disappointed. Hopefully it’ll get better

Ariadne!! I wanted to see more of her😕

Ruhn’s bedroom. The burn cream😭😭😭

Lidia FUCKING Cervos. That breakout scene. Magnificent.

Jesiba and Ithan’s dynamic. Librarian Ithan and the fact that Jesiba is a Parthos priestess!!! Also JellyJubilee being the computer password😂

Bryce using the mating bond to teleport to Hunt😭😭😭

Bran and Ace. Lidia giving them her ruby ring for tuition as a goodbye💔

Hunt and Bryce got married?!!! WHEN?

Cloudberry crown sounds funny idk why

If I had a penny every time SJM included a set of unhinged/partly unhinged fae twins (yes connall I’m looking at you) in her series, I’d have three pennies bc it happens every single time

So the astronomer is basically a Voldemort 2.0

Flynn and dec going crazy for waffles on the mer ship

“I never had anyone fight for me” Oh Lidia my love😭😭

Guess I’m shipping Tharion and Sathia now🤷‍♀️

Lidia being turned on by Ruhn lighting a fire—girl, I get it.

“Because I’m yours, Day. I’m fucking yours.” Screaming crying throwing up

Lidia: “I want you all the time”😭😭😭😭😭😭😩😩😩😩💗💗💗

Idk why but I am disappointed in the Autumn King, I thought there would be some redemption for him for some reason

Ruhn: “I am going to live and I am going to live well without you”😭😭

Bryce was always a queen but now she a queen Queen👀

Avallen becoming all green again.

Hunt being a demonic test tube baby😂😂

Dec being the first to look for service. Typical😂

Ithan x Perry???? Cinnamon and strawberry? I start getting suspicious when they notice all the nuances of that person’s scent. I think they’d be cute though

Nooooo, the prime—I keep thinking of him as master oogway from king fu panda and it makes me sad

Sabines finally dead🥳🥳

Ithan is prime now? Okay okay pop offf!!

Hunt finally breaking free of his halo and freeing Isaiah as well❤️

Is the under king from the ToG universe??? Valg??

Connor💔💔💔😭😭😭 The bullet. Memento mori

Sathia and Colin McCarthy. This will be interesting

Commando Hunt. The underwear was too small🤭🫨🫨

Morven guest room having red lace thongs😂😂

Okay tharion and sathia are really growing on me🥰🥰🥰

‘She’s my mate you fucker’ SCREAAMMING

Ace finally calling Lidia Mom😭❤️

Lidia is the descendant of Brannon. The fire, the hind/sacred stag. OH MY GOODNESS!!!!!

Pollux being incinerated☺️☺️☺️

The sprites and Irithys💗

The kill switch, the godslayer rifle. Bryce just blackholing the Asteri. She is so brilliant and cunning and clever and I love her.

Danika and the pack. Light it up Bryce. I SOBBED

Jesiba crying and then her sacrifice😭😭😭💔💔

Ember and Randal going to Prythian. Randal bonding with Rhys but more importantly Ember and Nesta—I want to cryyyy🥹🥹🥹

Starsword/Gwydion back in Prythian…whats going to happen in ACOTAR 5???

The princes of Hel—you gotta love em

Lidia and Ruhn finally having that beer

Flynn x Perry? Jealous Ithan😏

Syrinx running for his life when Hunt and Bryce share a heated look. It’s nothing new but it cracks me up all the time

Pegasuses in Avallen🥰🥰

[berriblossom]

Chapter 2| Pleasure over Power

Ayato x Male Reader

✄----------------------------------

For a long time, Ayato knew when not to get too involved or too committed to something. Relationships can and were temporary, friendships for the longest time were seen as politically motivated relationships and factors of his life and young career as the Yashiro Commissioner. Thoma and Ayaka were the only exceptions. However, he counted them more as family than as friends.

So when it comes to experiences and certain joys of life you can only have with a partner or friend is a foreign concept to him. Even in the department of lustful intimacy, Ayato would only in his dreams wish for such a fantasy to come true, nights where he'd have to resist the urge and irrefutable pleasure brimming in his abdomen, begging for him to just release all these inner desires. But did he?

Not until now.

"WhA~! Wait! S-Slow down a little [name]! Please!" You lapped his tip again, taking his cock fully into your mouth while slowly rubbing circles on his thighs. Ayato fully forgot himself and how much pride he had in himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started when you asked how he ended up in Ritou's red-light town, with the stare you had at him, the way your eyes crinkled mischievously, and how he was flustered. he innocently didn't know anything you were talking about, nor had any idea what he wanted.

"I just needed...I just needed to relax.. that's all. Nothing I wanted is whatever this all is..."

Ayato didn't even touch on the topic of how you recognized him if you spread rumors of him being here? What could happen? What about his position? His sister and Thoma? What would they think of him, what would the other commissioners think of him? Before Ayato could put a pin into those thoughts and his fears for his reputation, you cut him off.

"Do you think you are the first Inazuman official to come here? I mean, the Kanjou Commission is right next door. So what is there to fear dear Yashiro Commissioner?"

You smiled, your voice dripped like the finest honey found deep in the forest of Mondstat, your little chuckle at his small stutters and surprised face. You explained further. "I have seen many people secretly enter that house, and seen many secretly leave it too. Going back to their wives, husbands, children, and clans. Therefore this isn't the first time I've seen such a high official here. though you do give off a different type of desire. A more unknown and hidden one, no? Mr. Yashiro?"

You tilted your head towards him, your thumb still rubbing against his knuckles, they were laced with small knicks and scars from sword practice and training. Ayato remained silent, but the tension between the two of you grew deeper and deeper, the small clasp of waves against the rocks and the peer in Ritou was a pulling reminder of the time and place. Time felt slower here, no wonder people can get lost in it. And Ayato hasn't even done anything yet, not anything exciting for how this place ran.

But he didn't run, rather he just flipped his hand over slowly and shifted his palm to touch and align with yours. His fingers slightly dancing against your palm and wrist, almost as if he was scared you would make a sudden move. But you didn't, rather you just relaxed your hand and let him be a little gentle. It was cute, to say the least.

You huffed out a laugh as you saw his blush growing on the tips of his ears as you hummed and leaned forward a little. You gave him the same little kisses as before, this time they had a little more emotion to them.

"How about I take the lead this time Mr. Yashiro, relax, that's why you're here anyways right? Let me handle everything~."

You stood up and helped him off the beach near the peer back into the house. Now when he walked inside the house, the lights were dimmed. The bartender was gone, and hardly anyone was there. You guided him down the hall into an empty room, it had simple ocean-like wallpaper, a fluffy futon, blankets, and also a sliding closet from what Ayato gathered. No matter what or where he was, he would take in his surroundings first, but now, his surroundings didn't matter.

You helped him down onto the futon, despite him being a slight bit taller than most men, Ayato curled up close to you when you leaned down beside him and pressed kisses against his neck and chin. His hands gripped the sleeve of your plain yukata. Noticing his anxious behavior you kissed his temple and whispered.

"Why don't I just help you relax fully? I won't ask for anything in return, but just for me, for tonight...relax a little, my dear Commissioner. Okay? So relax for me, love."

Ayato hearing the small endearment of "love" made his heart pang but in a good way. He had never had anyone care for him so gently, even being pampered all his life he never had someone take the time to make him feel as loved as possible. No less a stranger he met like an hour ago. The small details of reality settled and crept into his mind as the situation developed more. But he didn't want to think of that. He wasn't the Yashiro Commissioner right now, he wasn't the charming, but unavailable man right now that every woman wanted for herself. Right now he was your sweet precious thing you were helping relax. yes, he was in your care, that's all.

Your hands slowly crept down, giving encouraging circles against his hips, then to the meat of his thighs. You glanced back at Ayato to make sure he was fully aware of what was going on and that he was okay with it. He nodded and bit down on his lower lip. 'Cute' you thought and you gave another kiss against the corner of his lips. The smile you had, he could feel as your mouth traveled down his chest. Your wet kisses against his neck, the open mouth kisses against his chest. Your thumbs press against his nipples and give them slight stimulation.

The soft moans and coos Ayato let out as he melted under your touch were so melodic to your ears. His dreamy eyes glanced down at you, begging for a little more stimulation, his hands helping support him while he leaned back, he was even trying to keep his head up too. He wanted you to see him, and make eye contact, seeing you give him pleasure was such a rich spike of pleasure to him. You kissed down his stomach until you were between his thighs.

Completely laying back, Ayato let you rest his legs against your strong chest. From this point of view, Ayato could see your chest poking out of the small window in your yukata. Your cock was slightly outlined, in the cloth. Ayato felt his eyes continuously drift back to it, he could feel you slightly pressing into him, messing with him. But as you reminded him and teased him.

"Right now isn't about me remember Mr. Yashiro? I just want to help you relax." You gave a small bite to his thigh, that was going to bruise a little later. You missed the small mark, kissing down his thigh you reached the center. Pushing his silk-like cloth away from his mid-section, you kissed the outline of his cock, he was already hard. It was so entertaining to see him jerk at the simple movements. How his voice was wavering from trying to maintain his voice to trying to beg you to do more, please touch him a little more.

Frankly, you were surprised he didn't cum already, he was dripping in precum. Evenly soaking the cloth trapping his cock, you slipped him out of it. His cock slapped against his abdomen with a small "smack" sound. The exposed air to his cock head sends chills down Ayato's spine.

You kissed his tip, pressing it flat on your tongue. Ayato moaned and gripped the bedding so hard, that his knuckles were turning white from the tension, and his flustered expression had changed to pure lust and need. He needed you to touch him, please just let him experience this. He had been waiting so long and patiently. Just please.

Kamisato Ayato was taught never to beg from anyone or for anything. He should demand what he wants or ask in a polite but firm tone. However with how much control over the situation you had over him, over his body. "Please...[Name]...please just please more...please just...touch me more...let me..please..." His soft whimpers and pleas were so quiet it was almost as if a ghost said them. But you heard them, you smiled against his thigh.

"The cute commissioner begging for his release? I guess as his lover for tonight I can't go against his will can I?" You kissed along his shaft pressing your tongue against his tips, rolling your tongue around his tip while you slowly pump the rest of his cock.

Ayato bucked into your mouth a little, moving his hand to hold your head, not gripping your hair, but just gently holding the side of your head. It was so cute how he didn't want to make you choke or make you uncomfortable. Such a gentleman you thought.

But even gentleman crumble, you sped up your pace a little, bobbing your head and pumping his shaft and a little faster. You pulled back a little, moving your hands to his thighs and just taking him fully in your mouth and throat. The warmth and tightness of your throat made Ayato cry out in pleasure., he pressed his hand against your head, trying to gently as he remembered to push it down to push his cock deeper in your throat.

"WhA~! Wait! S-Slow down a little [name]! Please!" You swirled your tongue around his tip again, taking his cock fully into your mouth while slowly rubbing circles on his thighs. Ayato fully forgot himself and how much pride he had in himself. He was so close, so fucking close that you could see how badly he wanted this. Normally you'd tease someone when they were at this point, but cute Yashiro Commissioneer needed his relaxation so you let it happen this one time.

Pushing him deeper into your throat, your throat contracting and fighting around his size, which wasn't just above average to say. You started caressing his balls a little to help the climax come a little closer, Ayato was at this point fucking your throat, chasing his high. It felt so good, so mind-numbing it was unbelievable.

Finally, he let out a loud cry and leaned forward, pressing you against his abdomen and cumming down your throat. You gagged against his sudden movement but held onto his thighs to ground yourself. You exhaled through your nose as you swallowed all his cum, groaning against him as how much of him flooded into your senses. Ayato feeling the vibrations of your throat from your voice sent his aftershocks into overstimulations. His body jerked when you pulled off of him and gave his tip a small kiss. Ayato fell back into the bedding, his chest heaving. You rubbed his thigh, kissing his temple.

"You did so well, do you feel much more relaxed now Mr. Yashiro? Hmm, tell me, sweetheart?" Ayato leaned into your touch, he could still hear the waves crash against the shore outside the window.

"Yes....I feel...much more relaxed..."

Tags: @kiiyoooo , @cassidycampfire , @avatsufaust

Sorry for the late update! I had college work and moving things! Thanks for reading this chapter!

[shadowqueenjude]

So I think we can all agree that the Archerons were so weird because they didn’t bicker like real siblings, so here’s a snippet of a fic I’m writing where all the sisters are arguing. This takes place during a dress fitting for Elain’s wedding. Warning: lots of inner circle slander

Nesta scowled at her reflection as faeries fussed over her, adjusting the gown she was wearing.

“You look lovely, Nesta,” Feyre said from the seat beside her. “Easy for you to say,” Nesta muttered. Feyre looked magnificent in an electric blue halter top paired with black slacks and boots. A circlet of small crescent moons lay upon her forehead. “I look ridiculous.” Nesta glared at the gold dress she had been shoved into again. “God, it’s the same as my hair. Can’t you get a red dress, at least? This makes my skin fade out.” At last, the dressers obeyed, pulling the ill-fitting monstrosity away from her body. 

“You looked pretty in that dress, Nesta,” Elain said gently, her hair up in a jumbo bun at the top of her head, wildflowers surrounding the band holding it up. She wasn’t getting fitted today, but she had come to see what dresses Nesta and Feyre would be wearing. Not like Elain would have any difficulty with her dress. She looked perfect in everything she wore, except perhaps that black dress she’d once worn in the Hewn City. It was annoying.

“Quit lying Elain, I looked like wallpaper,” Nesta snapped. Then she sighed. “Red is truly my color, but that blonde bitch everyone thinks is sooo beautiful is always wearing it, so I usually opt for black.”

“Don’t speak that way about Mor,” Feyre said sharply.

“I’ll speak of her however I like, little sis. She’s not my friend, and frankly, she isn’t really even yours.”

Feyre glowered at her. “She saved me from Tamlin.”

“Did she do that for you, or for little Rhys-rhys? Has she ever stood up for you in front of Rhysand? She certainly despises me; thought me fit to throw into the court of nightmares. I highly doubt you’re much different.”

“Yeah, I am. Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch all the time, people would treat you differently.”

Nesta laughed sarcastically. “Because 500 year old uber powerful Fae warriors can’t handle a 23 year old formerly human woman handing their asses to them, can they?”

“You’re really going to start this now, with my wedding just around the corner?” Elain complained. Nesta whipped her head around to her. “Oh, sure! I absolutely care about this sham of a wedding! Feyre’s mate is a jackass, my mate is a jackass, but perhaps third time’s the charm with you, huh, Elain?” 

“Lucien is ten times the man Rhysand will ever be,” Elain said coldly, her temper causing her voice to raise volume. Nesta opened her mouth to say that this doesn’t mean much considering Rhysand is a small boy stuck in a man’s form when Feyre interrupted. “Wait a damn minute. You both despise my husband?” she demanded.

“What gave it away, Feyre?” Nesta drawled. “Me constantly insulting Rhysand, resisting his orders, and declaring him not my high lord? Me not wishing to live with the rest of you? Elain literally leaving Night to get away from him?”

“I thought Elain left Night because of Azriel!”

“Azriel?!” Elain let out a snort which turned into such mirth that Nesta stared. “That broody, brainless bat not man enough to speak about his feelings in any capacity? You think I’d leave because of him? As if! I left because I got tired of your fake family’s fake welcome and decided Lucien was better than the lot of them.” 

“Lucien let me get hurt in Spring!”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Feyre!” Elain shrieked, and Nesta gasped. Elain cussing was something Nesta frankly thought she’d never hear. “Lucien told me his side of the story, and it seems as if your head was too far up Rhysand’s ass to realize everything Lucien has done for you!” 

“Just like Feyre never acknowledged the work we did around the house when we were in the cottage,” Nesta muttered. Elain nodded. Feyre stalked up to Nesta and slapped her face so hard her neck tilted. “Oh no you didn’t,” Nesta snarled, and she shoved Feyre into a coat rack, taking her and the rack to the ground. The two of them began wrestling, Elain crying, “Stop, you idiots, stop!” in the background. “Help, there’s a fight going on in here!”

[atamascolily]

Someone on Reddit pointed out another example of mandalas in Rebellion that I hadn't noticed before! This one is very much "blink and you'll miss it"; it's only on screen for a second or two at most.

This is the same mandala that appears around Homulilly later in the film. Notably, it is not identical to Walpurgisnacht's mandala, which has the same outer ring as Homulilly's, but also contains an inner ring of tomoe as well.

If, however, the mandala symbolizes world-creation (or destruction), it makes sense that Homura would manifest one at the moment she consciously invokes her powers as a witch to attack Kyubey. Up until now, she's always been a witch but hasn't realized it; this scene marks the shift as her impact on "reality" (i.e., the world insider her soul gem) moves from unconscious to deliberate.

I also like the image of the circular void inside (everything in this series keeps coming back to circles) as a black hole, a mouth, a maw, and a placeholder for the witch yet to come all in one.

Immediately before this shot, we get a closer look at the psychedelic wallpaper in Homura's dollhouse (a reference to Nutcracker and the Mouse King), which features the same iconography and patterns that will appear in Devil!Homura's mandalas at the end of the film. Not also the profusion of sewing pins in silhouette around her a welll.

Then we get a close-up of a close-up, focusing on the image of the Clara Doll heads (in spite of their varied appearances, all of the dolls' faces are identical and their hair and clothes can be swapped out) that is another recurring visual motif:

What's most interesting to me is the fact that the Clara Doll heads are slowly transforming into tomoe here--the same symbol that is present in Walpurgisnacht's mandala and Homura's shield. We also see two round shapes that could be records, tears, or shields, and what remind me of Homura's braids, but which are made up of the same "peacock's tail" symbol that appears in the mandalas.

[the-takosader]

MyHouse.WAD rambling time

Okay, so I've been kinda smitten with the newest topic the internet has latched onto, mainly because it's a mix of narrative twisting, liminal spaces and DOOM.

I haven't been so fortunate as to play MyHouse.WAD myself, but BOY HOWDY DO I KNOW A LOT ABOUT IT ANYWAY.

Probably the saddest part of my knowledge about this shit is that I went full House of Leaves on a copy of the automap (which you shouldn't really have, but WADs need to have map geometry somewhere.

Big spoilers for MyHouse.WAD ahead! Read on at your own peril!

...

Still here? It appears you're quite brave. Well, let us delve into the map of the House.

Among the map of the House, you might notice where, and what I've written. I won't spoil it. Delve into the file for yourself, see my 3AM ramblings.

You can see the main thing I latched onto, clear as day:

"Happiness has to be fought for."

And why shouldn't I? It's arguably the most profound message this map gives you. At the top, there's a small summary I gave about MyHouse, and its inner workings. Quote:

The house. All orientations are displayed in the grid, and are highlighted by orange. Utilises silent teleports and UDMF features to slowly but surely drive you insane trying to track down everything within the confines of its walls. It leads everywhere, and nowhere.

I know, chilling. right? Looking at the writings, you'd think I was only half there when I wrote them.

Probably the only other massively chilling thing is the message for disabling IDDQD (god mode for those uninitiated into the circles of Ye Olde Doom):

There is no good outcome from a house fire.

AND BOY, DOES IT SURE LIKE TO REMIND YOU OF THAT FACT IF YOU GO AHEAD WITH IT ANYWAY!

Ending 1 is the creepiest bit of the house's machinations. You trip the breaker, the lights go dark, and suddenly, you hear screaming from above you. Children, adults, who knows, all you know is that the air is thick with smoke, and they just keep screaming. You can't find them upstairs, so you check back downstairs, only to notice...

The walls have changed. The house is no longer wallpaper and carpet. The only thing remaining on the house's walls is the windows, and they show that even the garden has changed. Where there was plant life, there is now only stalagmites. Going to the boiler room shows you the garage door has returned... but it doesn't lead to the garage.

I'm leaving that there. If you want to play MyHouse.WAD for yourself, please, as a reminder, use GZDoom, not DOOM II: Hell On Earth. As much as the original was good, the WAD is just a bit too chunky for it to run in the original game. DOS software is only so powerful, after all.

[clericofshadows]

my great friend @kaidanalenkosprmanager made some beautiful poses and she shared her blends with me so I could make a custom wallpaper of my own inspired by the art generator but better because it has regis, kaidan, and zaeed on top

details under the cut!

Pictured at the top are Kaidan Alenko, Regis Shepard, and Zaeed Massani, as my masshenko triad very much in love and matching with their scarves. The scarf wearing started as Regis's thing that I quickly started adding to more companions as a "cleric watermark" and because the MEA scarf from the scav set looks cool as hell.

The second line is the "inner circle" so to speak of Regis's closest friends and companions.

EDI, Wren Clarkson (my N7 Fury OC and Shadowbroker instead of Liara), Tali, Samara, Ashley, and Miranda.

EDI and Wren do eventually end up together in my canon post war, while Ashley and Miranda tentatively get together during the Reaper War. So, the girlfriends are next to each other ;)

Most (but not all) of the armors in the render are mods publicly available on Nexus by me :) EDI's Hunter Armory, Ashley Williams's Armory, Miranda Lawson's Armory (for hair and a Cerberus Kai leng armor), Justicar Samara's Titan Armory.

Tali's face appearance is from Children of Rannoch, but her armor is mine from her Hunter Armory mod.

(Scarf armors are not available, and Wren's warlock set is only available for Male Shepard and some companions)

[heartkaji]

[ ★ ⸻ @xocielito ]

★ OVERVIEW

hihi ! your perception of atsumu is so in sync with mine omg 🤞🤞 anyway, i can imagine you and atsumu having a sort of princess x knight trope. it’s a relationship dynamic where atsumu showers you with princess treatment, going out of his way to make sure you’re always comfortable and get what you want. you’re extremely precious to him and he makes sure to show it through his actions 🙂‍↕️

Q1 — WHO FELL FIRST & WHO FELL HARDER

you fell first ! i can imagine you always silently admiring him from afar, watching him laugh with his teammates & interacting with friends. you’d always wanted to be a part of his inner circle but you were too shy 💔 i can imagine you attending every single game of his, and at some point he notices you and from then on shoots you an acknowledging wave whenever he sees you. you two don’t become fiends until a mutual friend steps in though : one of your close girl friends happens to be friends with the twins and after you tell her about your growing crush on the blond she makes it her mission to help you out. she introduces you two after a match and although you’re shy at first atsumu is everything bright; he shakes your hand with vigor and a sweet grin on his lips, telling you he’s noticed you before and he’s greatful for your support. that kind of made you feel like more of a fan than friend, but you soon get to spend more time with atsumu through your mutual friend and eventually you two become friends on your own 💘

atsumu fell harder. i can imagine him not even realizing it till samu and suna point out that he’s becoming a ‘simp’. apparently, according to his twin and teammate, atsumu has a habit of staring at you across the classroom, unlocking his phone simply to see your face in his wallpaper and switch it back off, bringing up your name for no reason in conversations…yeah he’s got it bad. at first he’s quick to deny it, but eventually he accepts his fate. he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t think about you more often than not or that he doesn’t get all that excited when he sees you after a long day. he has no idea what you did to bewitch him honestly, especially since he didn’t even care about you that much at first, but he definitely can’t say he hates it 🤞

Q2 — TOXIC THINGS THEY DO ?

refusing to take responsibility for his actions. i can very clearly imagine atsumu lying or straight up gaslighting you when you accuse him of something he 100% did. i feel like he hates confrontation and he’ll do anything to avoid taking blame or being the ‘bad guy’ in the situation. if he lies to you he’ll also keep up the lie until you catch him, if at all.

he also lies over the smallest things. i think he can get pretty anxious about you thinking he’s cheating so he’ll lie about small things like where he’s at. if he’s out with let’s say a female childhood friend, he might say he’s with sakusa instead 😭 it’s not like he had bad intentions, usually he’d tell you before going out but this time he forgot and he kinda just lied on the spot 😬 he’d rather tell a quick lie than have to go on explaining what he’s doing, why he’s there, etc. atsumu thinks that as long as he really isn’t cheating and his conscience is clear it’s no big deal. someone tell him it IS a big deal though cuz regardless of the context lying ain’t right ❌

Q3 — WHAT’S HAVING A FAMILY WITH THEM LIKE ?

ATSUMU IS DEFINITELY A GIRL DAD. 100% !! okay so at first he was going on about how he wants a little boy who he’ll teach how to play volleyball but at your gender reveal you sliced the cake to reveal color pink. he was excited to be a father nonetheless and though he wanted a boy at first you can’t even tell ?? he loves his baby girl SO MUCH. you definitely ban candy after 6pm while atsumu sneaks her some and tells her not tell her mommy 💘 i can 100% see him dressing up in tiaras and tutus to play tea time with her as well ☹️ it’s the cutest thing ever

at some point he gets you guys a family dog. it’s a labrador named snickerdoodle (named by your daughter who couldn’t stop giggling and repeating the word when she discovered it). when atsumu’s not working he spends his days at the park with your daughter and dog, tossing frisbees to them both and playing tag. whenever they come home they’re ALWAYS covered in sweat and mud, you have no idea how they always manage to get so dirty but oh well 😭. though who handles the cooking is irregular and more or less shared between you both, on weekend nights atsumu handles all the cooking. your daughter loves watching kids cooking shows and she often makes her dad watch along. on weekend nights the two insist on recreating some of the dishes they’ve seen together 💘 it’s so cute but the food is always a hit or miss; either tasting good or horrendously bad 💔 you always have to keep some takeout in the fridge just in case; you will NOT be getting a stomach ache for the sake of their antics 🤦‍♀️

>> 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 <<

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[pisspope]

okay this is actually the first time ive written filth literally ever so please go easy on me

it's y/n and connie getting freaky in a pizzeria bathroom. like that's it that's the fic

((and big thank u to @quiveringdeer for looking this over for me beforehand!! it means a lot to me 😊))

Manners

connie x reader

cw: afab reader, sort-of dom connie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, praise kink a little? and of course mdni

when you first start dating connie, it's innocent. it's walks by the lake, it's watching him do tricks at the skate park, it's holding hands at the movies. you feel like you're 17 again, laughing together while you play guitar hero and memorizing each others drink orders at the local coffee shop. it's innocent. it's refreshing.

but one day you're walking downtown and the sun is setting, and his hazel eyes are shining, and something just. changes. it's primal, it's downright sinful. you can't keep your hands off him for another second.

Not an hour has passed and you're in the unisex bathroom of your local pizza parlor. It's way in the back, far away from the hustle and bustle of the dining area, where the only prying eyes are the pair right in front of you. Connie's lips are slack and shining with spit, and what little hair is on his head is pushed up in every direction.

Hes got you pushed up against the flaky 1990s style wallpaper, and the whole place reeks of red pepper flakes and bread. But all you can really smell is the heady scent of Him, as he grips your wrist with one hand and pushes it above your head with a thump.

"Fuckkkk," he whines, "when's the last time I told you how sexy you are?" he's pressing you into the wall with the full weight of his body, baggy t-shirt hiding the rigidity of his muscles as they pin you in place.

You laugh, intoxicated by the feel of him. "About 30 seconds ago baby."

He nuzzles into your neck, groans so loud you can feel the purr of his voice box against your shoulder. "Damnnnnnn that long? I gotta pick up the slack."

He moves a hand down to your hips, grips you even tighter. Before you can even register what he's doing, he's biting down onto your neck, licking and sucking like his life depends on it. You try to choke back your moans to no avail. Especially when he works his way up to your ear, making the most lewd sounds you've ever heard, right where he knows you can hear it.

"God you're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, but it's loud and clear by the shell of your ear. "I'm gonna fuck you so good. Gonna make you forget we're in a goddamn pizza parlor."

And Connie is dependable. The type of guy who keeps his promises. So when he slips off your pants dangerously slowly and gets on his knees along with them, you know he's not bluffing. Two fingers, freshly trimmed you notice, reach out to touch the bottom of your underwear, reverently testing the areas closest to your heat. "Look at that," he whispers, almost to himself. "Already so wet. That for me?"

You nod, a little embarrassed. You're no unplucked flower, but this has all been preamble up to this point. The farthest you've gone with Connie is an impromptu makeout session while out on a hike, nothing like this.

"Yeah?" He says, acknowledging your sheepish response. "Who am I kidding. Of course it's for me."

In one swift motion, he takes your panties between his teeth, right where he had pressed so delicately earlier, and pulls them down to your ankles. Before you even have time to register the chill of the bathroom his mouth is on your cunt, tongue pressing open your folds as those same fingers rub circles on your inner thighs.

"Connie..." you breathe out, unable to stop yourself. Your head hits the back of the gritty wallpaper as he works at pleasuring you, the sloppy noise of tongue against slick echoing in the empty bathroom. "Fuck you're good at this."

Connie hums in response, looks up at you with those big hazel eyes, now looking closer to brown from the darkness of his arousal. He's absolutely tongue fucking you, the speed and pressure only continuing to increase in intensity. You're fine to keep going and finish like this, just a quickie in the bathroom before dinner, but then he starts kissing around your thigh instead, and you know hes got something else in mind.

You look down at him, annoyed and missing the feeling of tongue. But as you drink in the site of him, head buried in between your legs while the other hand palms at his jeans, all is forgiven. Ugh, you can't not fuck him.

"Sorry, baby," he says, pulling away from you as he starts to undo his belt. "Can't just let you have all the fun."

In a blink his bottoms are off, and he's standing over you again, cock upright and glistening with precum. He's stroking himself slowly, and you watch enraptured as he takes his other hand and slides two fingers in your mouth. "Get 'em wet for me, wouldja baby?" He smirks as you do as you're told, sucking and licking like its his dick in your mouth and not this shallow approximation. "Wanna make sure I do this right for you."

Fingers properly lubricated, he pulls them slowly out of your mouth and brings them to the front of your hole, pausing a moment to run his wet digits over your aching clit. "Damn you're pretty like this. You're gonna have to suck me off next time or else I'm gonna get jealous of my own fingers."

He slides his fingers in achingly slow, both at a time so you can feel the stretch on each knuckle. He spreads you apart experimentally, feeling the give of your folds and relishing in the little noises you make. You're like putty in his hands, ready to be sculpted into any shape he wants. And fuck does he know the shape he wants.

"Y/N, fuck," he mutters, more to himself than you. "You didn't even need my fingers, did you?"

"Yeah, no, I didn't," you breathe out, trying to muster up any coherent thought left in your lust-addled brain. "I just, fuck, can I have your dick please?"

Connie stops what he's doing, pulls his fingers out just as slowly as he put them in. "What?" He whispers, obviously bewildered.

You huff, running low on brain power and not in the mood to deal with whatever this is. "Connie, can I have your dick please?"

"God, Fuck," he bites out, each syllable sharp as he starts lining himself up under you. "Of course you can."

He tries his best to suppress a groan as he slips inside of you, the stretch driving both of you deeper into your shared pleasure. He grinds his hips a few times, testing the waters. His cock is fairly average, a little girthier than you expected, but he obviously knows how to use it. "Baby, you're so cute," he pants, rolling his hips. "Asking me to fuck you like that....so fucking polite."

"Polite?" you ask, feeling a blush creeping up your face. Which is ridiculous, he's got his cock buried deep in your pussy and you're getting flustered over a little compliment like that. "You think me begging you to fuck me was.... polite?"

Connie stops his grinding to look up at you, blush now spreading across his cheeks. "Yeah, not the begging but like...." he trails off. "I think it's sexy that you mind your manners. Even, ynow, in the heat of it."

You laugh out loud. You can't fucking help it. Constance "Connie" Springer, thinks it's sexy when you say please and thank you? When you mind your p's and q's? "Okay, okay," you chuckle, faking wiping tears from your eyes. "If that's the case then please, Connie, please start moving. And I'll try my best to be a good girl and not be too loud."

"Oh, Y/N," Connie says, bringing you in for a kiss. "I would never tell you to be quiet."

And as you requested, he starts moving, setting a pace that sends flakes of drywall fluttering off the ceiling. He's voracious, holding you to his chest as he pounds you into the wall. You're going to have fingerprint shaped bruises underneath your shoulderblades for weeks. He takes the side of your neck in his mouth, leaves no bit of skin unbruised by his teeth and tongue.

You try to hold back your moans as you come undone, but Connie is relentless. He tips your head to the ceiling as he hears you swallow yet another whine. "Don't hide how good I make you feel," he growls, eyes so dark they're practically black. "You mind your manners and thank me for how good I fuck you."

His demands tip you over the edge, and you're cumming messily over his cock, screaming his name and babbling thank yous over and over until you come down. You watch in the haze of your orgasm as he reaches his high, pulling out at the last possible second, tugging himself just once or twice before spilling ropes of his seed on the bathroom wall. And fuck it's nearly hypnotizing to watch him pump himself to fruition, his eyes closed tight and his mouth open as he reaches his climax.

Connie sighs out loud, runs a sweaty hand through his buzzed hair. "Damn, that was something else!" He walks back over to where you stand, practically glued to the wall, legs shaky, and brings your lips to his. He pulls back, and his eyes soften. "Thank you."

You smile at him, slowly coming back to reality. "You're welcome. And thank you, too, Constance."

He rolls his eyes at the use of his full name, but soon returns to that familiar shit-eating grin. "Sooooooo," he says, pointing a thumb to the bathroom door. "Pizza?"

[restaurantweak]

"Bear Soup of Guerneville"

Whew.

This took longer than I'd like (water is challenging), but I am happy with the result and I learned a lot.

If you'd like to learn about this render, keep on reading:

Composition Check

Like my last couple renders, I'm using classical composition techniques common in Renaissance art...with something new!  Going left-to-right:

Rabatment of the rectangle to create dynamic symmetry and balance to a complex scene.  Characters and objects are restrained to this armature to reinforce the implied lines.

The fibonacci spiral and golden ratio lead your eyes through the scene. I'm showing four major spirals, which start and end at each other to pull you into the composition...but within each "group" of men are smaller permutations of the golden ratio.

NEW: Circular composition.  This technique was very popular in Renaissance art.  The centers of the circles are dictated by the rabatment of the rectangle, then I reinforced the shape with the outline of the pool, negative space of the water (top), and the inner tube (bottom). The circular composition helps focus your attention in a busy scene.

Great example of circular composition informed by the rabatment of the rectangle in "The Queen’s Government" by Peter Paul Rubens (a circular composition superfan). Note how it brings your attention to two opposites.

Although the composition centers around the thick boi, gestures and blocking lead you to a sneaky self portrait of the artist. (Hey, da vinci did it, so its cool right?)

Environment Design

This render is inspired by the popular pool party "Lazy Bear" held in Guerneville. It's a popular gay destination for the San Francisco gays, and I thought it would be fitting for the guys from my past renders.

See? I've squished the depth of the pool by using an exaggerated focal length and perspective.

Lighting

Caustics (or, how light behaves when passing through volumes) is a really tricky thing for my 3D software. Here's (roughly) what lighting the water involved:

Simulate the water

Create proxy meshes for everything and submerge those to create the ripples

The ripples were too fine, so sculpt larger, more exaggerated water

The index of refraction for water is actually too high to see through the water, so we change this to almost zero

Add volumetric randomwalk to disperse inbound light in a pretty way

Arrange pool lights in a way that they cast nice caustics on the subjects

Phew!  And, to be honest, the caustics are not super sharp.  I need to practice more...I'm just happy I got it working at all.

After caustics, I generated steam and comped it in later with the depth pass (right image).

Hair

Finally, some bodyhair.  The hair grooming workflow is not great and my computer is very laggy, so I rendered it separately and comped it in post.  The results are...not bad, but not realistic either.  I need to research this more for better results next time.

Phew!  That was a lot.  If you enjoy it, please check out my patreon, my store, or get some free phone wallpapers.

[floodl8]

Get to Know the Blogger

tagged by: @kiwiplaetzchen

Share your wallpaper: My Marvolo-Fanart I made. What did you expect 🤷‍♀️

Last song you listened to: Inner Circle - Sweat (lol)

Currently reading:

Three books at the same time I can’t decide 😩 Harry Potter and the goblet of fire, good life good vibes and Lucinda Riley - The Moon sister

Last movie: Capernaum

Last show: The Last of us but just the first episode than I stopped. I don’t like it 😅

Craving: Coffee please! 🙈

What are you wearing right now: pyjama 👍

How tall are you: 175 cm or 5,7 ft

Piercings: None

Tattoos: A cupcake on the ankle

Glasses? Contacts?: None

Last drink: Paulaner Spezi (it’s like mezzo mix)

Last thing you ate: Salat

Favorite color: Olive green 😍

Current obsession: Nothing but Hogwarts Legacy at the moment 🤣

Any pets: None

I’d like to but I don’t have the time. I’ve had two cute little rats in the past. 🥰

Favorite fictional character: Gellert Grindelwald, Sebastian Sallow and OF COURSE Marvolo Gaunt 😏

💚💚💚

The last place you traveled: Amsterdam a few month ago

Tagging @legacyshenanigans @ask-deek @pugsnotdrugs92 @auxiliare

If you’ve already been tagged just ignore it🙈

(And if you see this and want to do it tag me if you like. I really would like to know you. :) And if you don't want to do it, that's perfectly fine too.

Have a nice day everyone 🙌🥰

[carewyncromwell]

Moody 🤝 Carewyn

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody was a man who trusted just about no one. He'd seen his fair share of betrayal, deception, and self-absorption in his long career at the Auror Department, and it made him incredibly suspicious of others and paranoid about their intentions. And perhaps because of Moody's own iron-clad loyalty -- demonstrated most obviously in his service to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix -- he was quick to presume that most people wouldn't share his world view and would be more inclined to look after themselves and their own goals, rather than the pursuit of justice.

It would be foolish to claim that Carewyn Cromwell was an exception to Moody's world view. Moody knew full well that Carewyn had her own goals that lived outside the realm of pursuing justice, even though she did pursue a career as a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Carewyn was incredibly protective of her inner circle, to the point that she would put her work, duty, or just about anything else aside, if it meant she could protect them. She also had an overly nurturing, pacifistic temperament that made her greatly dislike the idea of fighting or causing others pain: even those who in Moody's view didn't need any such coddling. This, coupled with her pride and tendency to hold grudges, resulted in Carewyn refusing to join the Order of the Phoenix, instead only offering conditional assistance, which the steadfast Moody deeply disapproved of.

And yet on those few occasions when Moody and Carewyn collided during the Second Wizarding War, their conversations always seemed to end up oddly friendly, through all the cynicism and dryness.

"Well, well -- actually decided to show your face here, have you?" Moody said gruffly, upon seeing Carewyn sitting next to her brother Jacob at one of the Order's meetings.

Carewyn cocked her eyebrows. "I'm surprised you're not double-checking to make sure it's really me, Mad-Eye. Tonks told me to make sure I had multiple questions ready, just in case you asked..."

"No need to," Moody growled. "If you weren't you, then Jacob would've slammed you into the wall, Transfigured the wallpaper to bind you, and started violently interrogating you in an millisecond."

"Damn right," said Jacob, grinning mischievously at Carewyn as he lightly bumped his shoulder against hers.

Carewyn smiled a bit in response to Jacob's bump, only for her expression to become more wry as she again turned to Moody.

"And fortunately I don't need to ask you anything either, because your thoughts are just like they always are," she said. "As hyper-alert as a screech owl."

Moody gave a huff. "Don't let that fancy Legilimency talent of yours make you cocky, missie. Complacency is the last thing any of us needs..."

He settled himself down into a seat across the table from the two Cromwells, right between Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin.

"Now then," said Moody brusquely, "may I take it that you were just as involved with this new 'Educational Decree' Fudge put out as you were with the others, Miss Cromwell?"

Carewyn pursed her scarlet lips slightly as she crossed her arms.

"Educational Decree Number Twenty Six was proposed by Dolores Umbridge alone," she said coolly. "But yes, Fudge did ask for my legal input on its wording."

Arthur looked incredibly dismayed. "Carewyn...the decree states that professors can't give their students information about anything other than their assigned subject! Such a rule effectively prevents Minerva, Filius, or the others from talking to Harry or any of our children about the War -- about the Order at all -- "

"I know, Mr. Weasley -- but there was nothing on the books I could use to deter Fudge," Carewyn said grimly. "Expression of one's beliefs is considered a privilege by Wizarding law, not a right...and although libel or slander against an individual person can be taken to court very easily, censorship of ideas overall is not so easily opposed."

Sirius scoffed as he crossed the room to take a seat next to Lupin. "Seems to me that Fudge has been doing both quite well, as of late. Or would you argue his attacks against Harry and Dumbledore through the Prophet don't warrant libel charges?"

"If you can find a qualified lawyer brave and foolhardy enough to challenge the most prominent newspaper in the Wizarding World in open court -- all while knowing that the Wizengamot would never convict them and that they and possibly even their family and associates would likely be the victims of retaliation, by the Minister or otherwise...then please, tap him for the position," Carewyn said darkly.

"Not to mention we'd have to have tangible proof Fudge orchestrated those attacks from the press in order to charge him with anything, rather than just our suspicions," Lupin said quietly.

"Well-founded suspicions," Jacob added coldly. "But they're right, Black -- the Ministry's got a choke-hold over Hogwarts, the Daily Prophet...the British Wizarding World itself. Fudge and Umbridge know it, so they're taking advantage of it."

"And they're taking advantage of it because they know that hold they have is really not that strong," said Carewyn. "The only reason Fudge and Umbridge have been able to do any of this is because most of the Wizarding World is so uninformed and there isn't anything currently on the books that would allow those few informed people to stop them. The only reason any of these Decrees and actions are going into effect is because they're not being questioned or challenged -- because the public at large is not paying attention, or just doesn't see any need for alarm."

Jacob, clued into Carewyn's thought process through their shared Legilimency, quickly agreed with her.

"So the Minister and his lackeys only have power so long as they keep the Wizarding World in the dark about what's going on -- just like how old Charles only had power over us, so long as we didn't know who R was or what their intentions were..."

Carewyn nodded. "Or had power over Mum, so long as she didn't think there was any way out. Remember, in her stories, she said she didn't see things clearly, back at the Cromwell estate. She said Grandfather curated everything there -- only let her learn what he wanted her to learn...what wouldn't contradict his beliefs or his way of doing things. Fudge, and Umbridge by extension, is clamping down so hard right now not because he's strong, but because he's afraid -- afraid of losing what little control he really has."

Arthur inclined his head to both Jacob and Carewyn.

"Yes, Fudge does seem to really have followed your grandfather's example there," he said. "The Wizarding World is supposed to have faith in their Minister -- to trust their vision and leadership, to follow their direction in difficult times. Unfortunately the key word in that sentiment is 'supposed' to."

"Right," Moody interjected gruffly. "And sadly most people are too stupid to question whether they should. Still, however trusting and complacent most people are, that doesn't mean Fudge isn't still terrified of losing their favor. If Fudge wants to maintain his position, he has to make it seem like he's in control. Like he's got it all figured out, and no one has to question him or his motives. But if the truth were to come out -- if the public were to know just how much he's been covering up this last year, about Voldemort's return -- "

Arthur and Carewyn both flinched at the name, but no one else at the table did.

" -- well, how much respect or authority would anyone give him, after that? Who would follow any of those people who chose to grovel under him?"

"Hence why that old toad Umbridge was so determined to shove that Decree out, right after the Azkaban breakout," said Sirius, his gray eyes dark with dislike, but his lips curled up with a slight, vindicated smirk.

"And why old Corny Fudge has been so desperate to push that dumb theory that you're behind it, and not the Lord of Moldy Shorts," Jacob added with a grin toward Sirius. "Honestly, reading all his blustering in the Prophet about those Death Eater losers 'rallying around you' -- I know your little gang had a lot of idiots fawning after you at school, Black, but come on, you lot always had some standards..."

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh. Lupin's lips had curled up in a slight wry smile too.

"However much of an obstacle Umbridge's new Decree might be," said the ex-professor, "I can't see the students of Hogwarts taking it lying down -- and our members certainly won't."

Carewyn nodded. "I knew that they'd be able to find some loopholes in the text of the Decree."

"For one, it only applies to paid professors," said Jacob with a mischievous grin. "The students still have access to Hogsmeade -- and Umbridge is only the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, not the village."

"True," said Sirius, smirking as well. "I have to wonder if Umbridge didn't consider the portraits are still very willing and able to talk."

"The creatures in and around the school, as well," added Lupin. "I would hazard a guess that the house elves don't have much desire to help Umbridge enforce such a policy. Nor would the centaurs or merfolk, but I confess, they're less likely to help our cause..."

"What can be considered 'strictly related' to one's subject could also vary," said Carewyn. "For instance, the Disarming Charm, or the Shield Charm, or the Patronus Charm. They might be most often taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but all of them still fall under charmwork -- so there'd be nothing wrong with Professor Flitwick teaching them in his class, since Umbridge won't."

"Teaching such a spell in a formal lesson would also justify some context," Arthur pointed out, "especially the real-world variety..."

"I also noticed the wording talks explicitly about teachers giving the students the information," said Moody. "Leaving open the door for students to perhaps 'overhear' professors' private conversations with each other, or 'accidentally intercept' something written."

Despite his dry tone, his grizzled face betrayed the smallest flicker of a wry smile as he inclined his head to Carewyn, his blue eye swiveling up toward the ceiling on its own accord.

"You've definitely ingratiated yourself to Fudge well, Miss Cromwell, to not tip Fudge off to your true allegiance," Moody said brusquely, "but be aware -- you're playing with fire, working in this kind of espionage. Although I know your loyalty is ultimately with your brother, as it always is..." his blue eye swiveled between Jacob and Carewyn in a figure eight, "...it isn't easy for people to trust someone, after you find out just how well they can lie."

Carewyn frowned slightly, but still nodded.

"...I know," she said softly. She paused, before continuing, "...I won't ask for your trust, nor anyone else's, really. I know it's not easy to give -- it's never easy. But you know I love my brother, and you know there are other people I love whose lives would be under threat, if You-Know-Who returned. If their safety's at risk, I will lie as much as I have to. If people hate me for it, then so be it."

Moody reclined back in his chair slightly. Jacob took hold of Carewyn's shoulder and gave it a squeeze as his eyes narrowed upon Moody.

"You got a problem with that, you old codger?" he challenged him. "Go on -- if you don't trust my Pip, then say so!"

"I don't trust anyone, Cromwell," Moody said brusquely. "Your sister's no exception. But I'm not challenging her loyalties -- I already said flat-out that it's to you. I just want your sister to be very well-aware that her path won't make her many friends. Fortunately...she's more than responsible enough to accept the consequences of that."

He looked at Carewyn very seriously, with both of his eyes for once.

"It would behoove her, though, to have vigilance, while walking that path. Constant vigilance. Someone in your position could lie so much that they forget how to tell the truth."

He cocked his eyebrows a bit more sardonically.

"Especially when they're a stinking lawyer."

Carewyn couldn't quite bite back a laugh.

"Lawyers don't lie, Mad-Eye," she said coolly. "We just use facts that play to our advantage -- such as the fact that Aurors don't face consequences for lying to the people they've deemed suspects, the way we do -- "

"Convict the Dark wizards we arrest for their crimes, and then I'll listen to your grievances about my Department," Moody shot back as he got to his feet.

"Advise your old coworkers to give us actual evidence of their crimes rather than just shoddy intuition and forceful interrogations, and perhaps I'll get a bit more sleep at night, not having to do it for them," Carewyn returned in kind through a cool smirk.

Moody turned to go. "Feh! Who the hell needs sleep anyhow?"

Even as he said this, though, his lips were curled up in a small smirk of his own as he plodded out of the room, his wooden leg landing on the floor with thunks the whole way.

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

[artficlly]

face the music (chapter 10)

Music College Marvel AU - Chapter 10

!frat!musician!bucky x !frat!musician!steve x !musician!femreader

Warnings: FLUFF, sinful thoughts, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: omg a short and sweet one for you guys!! not proof read - sorry for typos!

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

If you had known this was the way the night would end, would you have done it all again?

Would you have been selfish enough to get Sharon punched again? Just for the chance of the feeling of Bucky’s fingers stroke through your hair? Probably. Most likely. 

After a couple glasses of water and some deep breaths you had calmed down. Bucky and Steve had been patient with you, talking and joking around while you slowly sobered up. 

Scott had shut down the party after a collective decision that it was getting late and things were beginning to spiral into hostile territory. Natasha had been escorted home, still fuming and muttering about how she wanted to beat Sharon’s face in. Sam had disappeared into his room with Wanda and they hadn’t been seen since. 

Sharon, ever the soldier, had been completely fine. Her nose wasn’t broken - despite some soreness and maybe bruising - she had escaped with barely a scratch and the respect of many. Not many people came out at the end of a fight with Natasha conscious let alone with all their bones intact. Clint had apparently walked her home. An unusual dynamic, you’d have to ask her about that later. Clint usually kept to his inner circle and had barely warmed up to you. Hearing that he had volunteered to walk Sharon back? That had been a conversation topic between you, Bucky and Steve. 

“Well, this dress is ruined.” You had told Bucky, glancing down at the stained fabric. The brunette had just shaken his head with a lop-sided grin. He had stood in the doorway to the upstairs bathroom, watching as you cleaned the blood from your hands and arms in the sink. You had been happy to watch the pink-tinged soap suds wash down the drain in silence, but something about his gaze had made you want his attention on you solely. Drunken antics, you presumed.

“You could reuse it as a Halloween costume.” He had offered jokingly, you had just scoffed with a quiet ‘ew’.  You hadn’t wanted him to joke. You had wanted him to offer to peel it off you, along with other items of clothing. More drunken thoughts, you presumed. Ones that toed a line you were getting closer and closer to crossing. 

The three of you had agreed to watch a movie in Bucky’s bedroom. You were still a bit shaken, tipsy and reluctant to head home. The boys seemed to share your sentiment - Steve offering to microwave some popcorn while you had washed up. 

The bathroom had been littered with droplets of blood, aftermath of Scott and Clint trying to stop Sharon’s bleeding nose. Blood was smeared into the hallway carpet, along with streaks across the wallpaper. Bucky had tutted something about a deposit while you grumbled about your ruined eyeliner. You had tried to clear your head, step away from the sinful thoughts.

“Cold water and soap.” You had offered, when you had finally looked over. Bucky had screwed up his face at you. 

“How do you know that? Get into fist fights often?” He had joked. 

“No. I’m a woman, Barnes. Use your brain.” Was your response, chuckling at Bucky’s brief mortified expression before he laughed himself. God. That laugh. 

When you returned to his room, Bucky had offered you one of his shirts to change into. It was much to your relief, you didn’t feel like wearing the ruined dress for much longer. Though, the fantasy of him pulling it off you in some heated exchange was very far off the table. You had placed it on the dresser, turning so your back faced Bucky as you pulled your hair over your shoulder. 

“Unzip me, please?” You had murmured to him. You had known you could zip and unzip the dress yourself easily, but something mischievous had trickled into your mind. The sound of clothes ruffling had been your only indication that he had agreed, until you felt his fingers ghost over your skin. You had tried to hide the way your breath hitched, goosebumps coming up over your skin. Bucky had pulled the zip down slowly - too slowly - almost like he was also relishing the moment. 

When you finally turned around, he had just stared at you. You fiddled with the neckline of the dress, tilting your head at him. You would have stayed in that position forever, letting his eyes rake over your body. 

“Trying to look at my tits, Barnes?” You had joked, breaking the trance. You knew it was too good to be true. Bucky had flushed a little pink, taking a step back as he turned around. You had wished he had done something, that he would’ve reached out for you. Said something to confirm the tension between you. You had known he wouldn’t, not while you were still bordering on tipsy. 

With Bucky’s back turned, you had slipped out of the dress and pulled his shirt on as a replacement. It was large on you, just like his hoodie. Smelt like him. The hem reached mid-thigh, the short sleeves at your elbows. 

When Steve returned with the popcorn, the three of you had made yourself comfortable on Bucky’s bed. Bucky to your right, Steve to your left. You had slipped your bare legs under the covers, relaxing back against the headboard. 

Your interest in the movie and popcorn had been short lived, especially with the two men pressed up against you. Your eyes drooping, you had slouched further under the covers, head lolling as sleep tried to overtake you. Eventually you had given up, slipping under the covers further. Bucky hadn’t tried to stop you as you rolled onto your stomach, arms folded near your head. You had tilted your face so you could still half-watch the movie with heavy-lidded eyes. 

And that’s how you lay, wondering if you would do it all again. Just to experience Bucky’s fingers through your hair, slowly lulling you to sleep. You knew you shouldn’t fall asleep, that Loki would be waiting up for you. He would freak out if you didn’t come home. You also needed to text Sharon, make sure she got home okay. 

But you didn’t. 

You just let yourself drift away. 

*

From the light coming through the crack in the curtains, you figured it was early. You never woke up this early willingly. It was probably the urgency to pee, those sobering glasses of water were coming back for revenge. You were definitely hungover, maybe not as terrible as you could’ve been though. Your mouth dry, a headache already pounding behind your skull. At least you weren’t puking. 

Your head was laid on Bucky’s chest, slowly rising and falling with his breath. Behind you, Steve had wrapped his arms around your waist. You were firmly sandwiched between the two, which made getting up a problem. If your bladder wasn’t seconds away from bursting, you could’ve laid there forever. It felt so peaceful, so right, snuggled between them, skin against skin. 

After some trial and error, you had managed to pry and unwind yourself from the boy's grip without waking them. Steve automatically shifted, grabbing onto Bucky in his sleep the moment you departed the bed. You smiled at that a bit, tempted to reach out and stroke one of the strands of hair from across his forehead. You decided against it, not wanting to wake him. 

Quietly, you crept from Bucky’s room, bare feet silent against the carpet. Only once you had peed, washed your hands and fixed your reflection in the mirror did you silently creep back into Bucky’s room. Your phone was on the nightstand, charging. One of them must have plugged it in for you after you had fallen asleep. A warmth swelled at the sight of that, the thought that they cared enough to do that. 

A million notifications stare back at you - mostly from Loki. Any warmth left your body and was quickly replaced by annoyance, the blissful spell was broken. You sigh through your nose, quickly typing out a ‘sorry, i’m alive and will explain!’ text to him. 

With the boys still asleep, you weigh up your options. Walking home in Bucky’s shirt or the bloody dress? Either way - it’ll be an unofficial walk of shame. Even if you hadn't done anything, it certainly looked like you had. Tossing it up for a moment, you opt for the dress. Pulling the dress up to your waist under the shirt, you shift your hair out of the way and pull Bucky’s shirt over your head. 

“Siren?” Bucky calls softly, voice groggy. You turn to face him, pulling the top half of your dress over your chest. You don’t have the energy to acknowledge that he probably just saw your top half in only a bra. He doesn’t seem to either. Instead, you expertly zip up the back of the dress as you walk to his side of the bed. Bucky blinks a bit at that, as if remembering you asking him to unzip it. A silent thrill hums in your blood at the sight of that. He knew you had asked him purposefully. 

“Hm?” You hum quietly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed to pull on your socks.

“Where are you going?” Bucky murmurs, shifting so he’s in a half-sitting position. Steve is still cuddled up against his chest. You pull on one of your boots with a quiet huff. Home. Away. As much as you were tempted to crawl back into bed and be held, you knew it might be overstepping your boundaries. Drunk you had an excuse. Hungover, sober you? Not so much. But you couldn’t help but wonder why Bucky’s tone was so… disappointed. 

“Home. Loki freaked out because I didn’t text that I wasn't coming home.” You whisper to him, not wanting to disturb the sleeping Steve. Bucky swallows and nods, watching as you pull on your other boot and lace it up. He even looked disappointed. 

“Alright. You’re not too hungover?” Bucky questions, as if trying to find an excuse to keep you around. His hand has found Steve’s blond locks, stroking through them lovingly. He had done that to you last night. You don’t let your mind wonder what else you would let him do with those hands. 

“A little bit. I’ll be fine.” You breathe, getting to your feet. “I’ll text you later.” You add, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek before your brain catches up and tries to stop you. When you pull back, Bucky is smiling away to himself. You bite your tongue, forcing your legs to move before you can stew on it too long. 

Grabbing your small shoulder bag, you slip out of the room and down the stairs. The frat is silent and in disarray. The aftermath of the fight is still clear in some places, blood in the carpet and one the walls. Downstairs, cups line the floor and any available surface. One even seems to be balanced atop the ceiling fan in the lounge. 

“Y/n?” A voice calls from the kitchen, you spin around to see Wanda Maximoff. She’s barefoot, dressed in one of Sam’s shirts, nursing a cup of coffee amongst the destruction. She looks as surprised to see you as you are to see her.  

“Oh. Hey, Wanda.” You say sheepishly, pulling your bag closer to you. She observes your appearance, the crumbled bloody dress, smudged eyeliner and messy hair and smirks a little. You know how it looks to her, someone who had no idea about your strange dynamic with the boys. It totally looks like they treated you to something more than a bed to sleep in. 

“You were with…?” She starts, fingers tapping against the lip of her mug mischievously. You gulp. You remembered Natasha’s off-hand comment to you last night ‘Why are you crying, Y/N? Barnes and Rogers not giving you enough attention?’. You hadn’t thought about it until now, was Natasha jealous? Was she trying to protect Steve and Bucky from you? 

“Bucky and Steve.” You fill in the blanks reluctantly. Wanda had always been kind and lovely. The complete opposite of how Natasha could get if you were caught in her carnage. Then why was Wanda asking you about Bucky and Steve? Was she going to come to Natasha’s defense? Finish all the unspoken things from that hallway last night? 

“Huh.” Wanda mutters, feigning surprise. Wasn’t like there was anyone else it could be. Maybe Scott, as Bucky had presumed. Though, Scott seemed pretty taken with the hickey guy from the other party. 

“Yeah.” You mumble back. 

There is an awkward pause between the two of you. 

“I should get going-” You start but she cuts you off. 

“I’m sorry. About Natasha last night. She can… be a lot. Is Sharon okay?” Wanda admits. You blink in shock. Maybe Wanda wasn’t going to finish Natasha’s warpath. Though, this apology on Natasha’s behalf was definitely more characteristic of Wanda than her attempting to punch your teeth down your throat. 

“Oh. Yeah. Sharon is fine, it’s… it’s fine.” You stumble over your words. She stares at you hard for a long moment, eyes scanning over your appearance for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Did you…have a good night?” Wanda asks, the smirk returning. You suppress the groan in your throat. You know exactly where this is going. 

“I mean… other than the part where Natasha freaked out-?” You start, trying to steer the conversation away innocently. 

“I mean after that. Steve and Bucky. They uh…?” She trails off, a slight humor to her voice as she smiles smugly at you. You flush red instantly, was Wanda Maximoff really asking you about your sex life? This was mortifying, especially because nothing had happened. You could imagine how this would go, Wanda making some half-comment to the wrong person. Were the boys going to think you were some kind of freak - spreading rumors that the three of you had fucked? God, this was an unfolding nightmare.

“We didn’t. We didn’t do that. We just slept, watched a movie. Nothing interesting.” You reply a bit too quickly, trying to cover your tracks. It just makes you sound more guilty. Wanda’s smile only widens like the pit of dread in your stomach. You were too hungover for her gossip games. 

“Slept. Sure.” She giggles from behind her cup. 

“I should go.” You mutter, still pink-cheeked and metaphorical tail tucked between your legs. 

“Bye Y/N.” Wanda calls after you as you make a bee-line for the front door. 

*

“Why is Sam asking if we fucked?” Steve’s voice calls out to you from across the practice room. You choke on your coffee, nearly spraying the liquid across the piano keys. 

“What?” You choke out, hand over your mouth as you stop your coughing fit.

“Jesus Christ Steve.” You hear Bucky mutter. You turn to the two of them, trying to compose yourself when all you can feel is mortified. 

“Is this about Wanda in the kitchen?” You ask, an embarrassed flush coming over your cheeks as you look at them. Steve looks amused, oh. Oh. He is teasing you. Bucky looks annoyed, you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or Steve. 

“You did what to Wanda in the kitchen?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowed in mock-confusion. You would’ve thought he was serious if it weren’t for the smirk across his lips. You only go further into another coughing fit, too embarrassed to speak. 

“Steve, give the girl a break.” Bucky groans, folding his arms over his chest. The two of them look so perfect and effortless, while you’re a red-faced mess trying to catch your breath. 

“Oh my god! When I left Saturday morning, I ran into Wanda. She just assumed. She must’ve told Sam thinking it was funny-” You start, slight panic laced in your voice. 

“Darling, chill. I’m just joking with you. We figured it was something like that.” Steve chuckles, stepping closer to drag you into a hug while you mutter in protest. 

“I told him not to tease you like that.” Bucky continues grumbling, only to be met with Steve shushing him. You wipe the tears from your eyes, clearing your throat as you try to settle from your coughing fit. Steve has pulled away, trying to woo an annoyed looking Bucky. Bucky only seems to crack a smile when Steve lays several kisses across his face. 

All you can do is scoff. Of course Wanda had gone straight to Sam to stir shit. She probably meant it innocently, but it still annoyed you. Standing, you throw out the last of your coffee, you have suddenly lost your appetite for it. Scott bursts through the door shortly afterwards, eyeing the grinning Steve and pink-cheeked Bucky.

“What’s going on here?” He chuckled knowingly, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you huff. 

“Attempted murder. Nearly choked to death on my coffee.” You grumble, Steve claps his hand over his heart like he is personally offended. Scott brushes over it, dragging you towards one of the couches to sit. 

“Where is everyone else? Don’t we have a different murder to plan?” He asks, fingers drumming on the arm of the couch. He had definitely had too much coffee. You could practically feel the energy radiating off of him. 

“A murder? Who are we murdering?” Sharon asks as she wanders into the room, Clint by her side. You arch an eyebrow at that. Clint had walked her home… and now the two of them were hanging out? Steve and Bucky seem to share your sentiment, eyes flickering to meet yours from across the room. The three of you share a mutual ‘what the fuck’ before turning your attention back to Sharon. 

“John Walker, duh.” Scott replies, you smack him lightly on the chest. 

“Scott, what are you even doing here? This is practice for the music side of the plan. You and Clint only need to be around for the filming-” You start, only for Scott to whine loudly in your ear. 

“I wanted to watch though! Nothing else to do, it’s so boring here.” Scott laments into your ear loudly. Bucky and Steve chuckle at you as you make a face, pushing him to the other side of the couch. 

“Your boy-toy busy?” You ask with a smirk. 

“You… Maybe. But it’s fine! I can help set up, moral support and such. Like cheerleading!” He replies, looking to Clint who gives a reluctant thumbs-up. You roll your eyes at the two of them. 

“Fine. Whatever. Where is Peter and MJ? We need to go over the song and make sure everyone is happy.” You glance around the room, trying to get confirmation that anyone had seen the two. 

“I’ll text them.” Sharon offers with a smile, fishing out her phone.

“Thank you,” You breathe, turning to Clint and Scott. “If you two cheerleaders are so helpful, why don’t you set up while we wait for them to get here, huh?” You tease with a grin. Scott practically leaps off the couch, placing one of his classic sloppy kisses to your forehead. You bite your tongue, wiping your face without much protest. 

While Sharon, Clint and Scott are distracted, Steve stalks over to you. Leaning over the back of the couch, he presses his lips against your ear as he whispers. You feel your body automatically stiffen.

“I could kiss you like that, you know? I have before.” His breath tickles your neck. You shiver, hair raising up across your body. Was there a tone of jealousy in his voice? You feel the throbbing between your legs almost instantly. You clench your thighs together, hiding the movement as you shift in your seat to face Steve. 

“Not here.” You murmur quietly to him. He gives you a cocky grin, chuckle rumbling in his chest as he runs his hand through your hair. 

You’re left pink-cheeked and desperate as he walks back to Bucky’s side.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

[gifts-of-heimdall-runes]

Rune Art: 'Legacies of Bifrost' by @gifts-of-heimdall-runes

'Legacies of Bifröst - Abstract Staves II' showed a rune art project created by @gifts-of-heimdall-runes. The project was an expression of continued personal interactions with rune energy by creative expressions.

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There were two parts to this project:

1) Rune Textures

2) Rune Circles & Reflections

RUNE TEXTURES:

The second part of 'Legacies of Bifröst' showed mounted individual rune circle art cards and rune reflection cards for the twenty-four runes of the Elder Futhark. Correspondences posted with 'Reflections' designs showed condensed rune notes and journeys shared with 'Bifröst Shining' & 'Textures of Bifröst' that began in 1997 and continued to the current day. The text for each rune communicated an understanding of a larger journey of personal and trans-personal initiation throughout the 24 staves of the Elder Futhark.

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Rune names were deliberately taken from Wardruna music albums 'gap var Ginnunga', 'yggdrasil' & 'Ragnarok' rather than using more popular proto-Germanic. I'm a big fan of Wardruna music!

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RUNE CIRCLES & REFLECTIONS:

The cards were  divided according to the three Ætts (eights) of the Elder Futhark which my inner journeys have associated with:

○ First Eight: Journeys of Creation (as decribed by norse mythology).

○ Second Eight: Journeys Within: Norns and travelling Yggdrasil.

○ Third Eight: Journeys of Soul via the Norse Gods to Ragnarök.

This end design showed a reverse common card design for printed rune art cards. The designs vary slightly to what was shared on Instagram & Facebook due to personal preference changes.

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The non-commercial deck was printed by Make Playing Cards (MPC) for a personal collection of rune art cards. The photos were take on a rather cloudy day in January 2024!

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Legacies of Bifröst rune art project and any content therein was created for fun and shared to express celebrating a continued journey with the runes and Spirit inspiration and to perhaps inspire others with their own rune travels. To most of everyone else, these designs represent a load of nonsense created by an eccentric Englishman.

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'Legacies of Bifröst' was created on & off May -July 2023, then shared Autumn 2023 via Facebook & Instagram. Page wallpaper was created from originals found via Pinterest and @forndom then edited by Mirror Lab app & Serif DrawPlus software.

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Gifts of Heimdall Runes (FACEBOOK)

Gifts of Heimdall Runes (INSTAGRAM)

[pathofregeneration]

Portal of the Virgin, Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral — Paris, France

* * *

Letter to a Modern Artist, part I

“I have been meaning to write: I have circled the writing pad as the swans circled Delos; I have hovered above the white paper as the Eagles hover above the compound in the Philosophic Egg, hoping for a birth of the spirit that drives one to get things done. The trouble with me is I have always got my nose buried in heart and mind consuming stuff, and when I finallly look up whoa! It's already spring. And here's me thinking it's only 3 a.m. I have obviously lost the ability to tell late from early. Do you know where early ends and late starts?

I am aware that you consider me particularly ignorant on the subject of Art, and I really do not take offense at such an evaluation, as it is probably more right than wrong. But the works of Art I like are not ignorant and the beauty of them are not in the least affected by my ignorance, but, as I look upon them, find myself washed clean of the leprosy of false art, with which the world is filled to brimming. Perhaps it would be useful at this point to give you a list of small selection of the works I value, because, God forbid, it might be Andy Warhole for all you know, and unless you know what I value, you cannot know where my heart is. If Earth was heaven, I should live in a Gothic Cathedral with great rose windows and make a portal just like the Virgin portal at Notre-Dame. The doors would be Ghiberti's and the ceilings Michelangelo's. On the walls I'd hang Leonardo's St. John and the Annunciation, Poussin's Et in Arcadia Ego (Les Bergers d'Arcadie. Later version of the Louvre), also Poussin's Orpheus and Eurydice. Titian's Bacchus and Ariadne, and The Entombment I'd fetch from the Louvre. The same gallery would also suffer the loss of the Silver Statue of the Virgin and Child and Amiens Cathedral would be minus their Madonna. Bernini and Michelangelo would supply the centerpieces and Cellini the golden nic-nacs. The Greeks would be useful as tile layers, but hey, who would object to a few Romans lending a helping hand? I should ask God to plant me a garden but this time without Adam and Eve, those greedy fruit eaters.

All these great works are full of symbolism for those who care to read them. They are hieroglyphs from God, created in stone or on canvas by the Servants of the Lords of Light. And I truly believe that to be a true Artist is to be a Servant of the Higher Powers and of Truth; for to be otherwise is to be a creator of wallpaper—or of shelf-fillers—or of infernal cacophony.

But the pure Beauty of Great Art lifts the thoughts away from earthly cares and woes, and brings Grace to the inner minds of those who look upon them with eyes that see; clarifying the sight until there are no more boundaries and no distance. I see these Works as the materialized 'shadows' of Holy Inspiration, earthly representatives of what the great Artist sees in his enlightened Vision, and which he can only reproduce as best he can with whatever talent and sweat is his. (I can only imagine that the true Artist will never be satisfied with the reproduction of his vision, for no work of Art can ever tell us exactly what those who wrote or painted saw or heard or felt in their visions. And I speak here only of great works, not of the twaddle poured out by would-be artists.)”

— Edda Livingston