#maybe one more edit for flowers later lol

[ashxketchum]

KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE PRIZE (≖ᴗ≖ ✿)

→ (or when your plan finally makes it out of the group chat, but you forget to coordinate the outfits)

[piningpercussionist]

transfem scott getting lots of support from ramona and kim in the early 2000's when shit's very taboo but they all 3 have a fire forged bond and lord if they aren't going to make sure they're all as happy as they can be because they've come this far and I dunno it just makes me happy all three of them

YES YES YES

It makes me very happy as well,,

Like I've said before. General Trans Scott enthusiast here- I love the idea of their little support network *violent coughing* I (we?) mean polycule *violent coughing* so fucking much.

Ramona I think has a bit of a more gentle hand with reassuring Scott with gender issues, but sometimes she just can't help herself from some pointed banter or teasing- how could you with someone so dense? (Said w affection)

And then Kim I think is more blunt. But like, in a good way mostly, you know? The kinda blunt that makes you snap to attention and go "Oh. Yeah that was silly of me." And if Ramona's started some sort of banter? Kim is SO piling on. Maybe sometimes she's a bit TOO blunt with it- but it's only because she's so firm in her support. She wants Scott to Get It Together- and be happier for it. So if some ribbing now and again is in order, then goddamnit she will do so! Anything to crack that shell.

And ohhh can you imagine how they would react to some transphobic bullshit?? Unholy terror would be driven into the offender before they walk off with an absurd amount of coins between them. I can feel it in my bones. Scott doesn't even have to lift a finger (if the transphobe is even noticed/processed at all, bc I honestly can see Scott just. Not realizing someone's being transphobic.) Kim giving someone a lashing with her tongue as distraction and then Ramona coming in with the hammer- BAM! Free Money! Paying literally with your life for your transphobia. A Better And Just World.

And of course (transfem Scott more specifically, here,) the way Scott would start to flourish under their support... cagey and maybe a little (perhaps a lot-) resistant to start- but Kim's blunt affirmations and no nonsense attitude for bullshit (which is what Scott insisting on "being cis" would be, c'mon now,) and Ramona's also low bullshit tolerance but less Stabby (bc I won't lie, that's probably how Kim's comments would feel,) assurances? Ough... My Heart... Be Still-

I would Kill for them, Your Honor-

(Ran out of tags so putting this in the body of the post- I am SO tired someone pls sound off if this isn't as coherent as I am hoping this is. I WAS trying to nap and get the extra sleep I desperately needed but the writing bug... it Bit Me.... only a little but enough to stop that process-)

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist. 

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily. 

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head. 

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war. 

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen. 

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house. 

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word. 

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked: 

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.” 

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms. 

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock. 

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap. 

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night. 

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting. 

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so. 

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–” 

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

 “Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed. 

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips. 

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release. 

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours, 

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop. 

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. 

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case. 

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice. 

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you. 

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours. 

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips. 

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms. 

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away. 

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter. 

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

[littlejuicebox]

Skin to skin.

Surprise surprise! A little drabble about baby Gale’s first few days of life. I love Dadstarion. This isn’t edited. Maybe I’ll edit it a bit later.

Warnings: babies, pregnancy, breeding and daddy kink if you squint really hard and hold a magnifying glass lol, mostly just fluffy feel good ridiculousness

A/N: I love Dadstarion and baby Gale OKAY

In case you’re new here’s the gist. Astarion had the Wish Spell turn him mortal, courtesy of Gale of Waterdeep (see ‘The Wish Spell Worked’ for details). Baby Gale was named to honor the Wizard. Here’s the labor and delivery story if you’re interested.

****

Baby Gale’s previously pink skin is tinged yellow when Astarion peers into the bassinet to admire the infant a few days after his birth. The sight instantly worries the elf; his stomach churns with concern.

The new father glances to where you are sleeping so soundly in bed, your first real lengthy stretch of rest in several days.

Shit.

Astarion doesn’t want to wake you and cause worry when you’ve had such a hard time sleeping these past few days. Every small whimper and coo from the newborn practically ripped his little love from precious, much-needed rest in a panic.

He thinks it might be nothing. Gale is still breathing and sleeping peacefully, and he doesn’t feel feverish. But he doesn’t know what to do, and wants to be absolutely sure, so Astarion carefully scoops the little one up, wrapping him tightly in the soft, embroidered blanket he’d made for his son one Midwinter evening.

“Come now, little prince. Let’s see what Auntie Shadowheart has to say.” The elf whispers to the bundle of blankets as he heads to the guest chambers.

After a quick examination, Shadowheart eases Astarion’s concerns with an uncharacteristically gentle tone. He thinks it’s likely because Gale is still sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“It’s just a bit of jaundice, Astarion. Quite common in newborns. It’s good you didn’t wake Tav, she would’ve had a fit if she saw Gale like this with no explanation.” The cleric murmurs, peering down at the little one, “Perhaps a bit of sunlight and fresh air for Gale, and I’ll draft some herbal teas for Tav to drink so the supplements will reach him when he feeds. I can sit with Gale in the sunroom, if you’d like to go back to Tav.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take him.” Astarion responds, and with a genuine tone that seems to be more and more common as he addresses his friends throughout the years, he whispers, “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

*

Ever since the Wish Spell granted him mortality, Astarion quite liked the sunroom. He typically took his afternoon tea here, basking in the sun’s rays and trying desperately to make up for the hundreds of years where he missed out on that wonderful aspect of nature.

But now, Gale is fussing slightly as a breeze carries through the open window, tossing his tiny silver curls about and causing a new sensation he doesn’t seem to like. His yellow-tinged face grows red in irritation, and his father is bouncing him, offering whispered coos of comfort and trying to settle the newborn. And Astarion is beginning to think the sunroom is a horrible place to be.

The baby is wailing when you appear in the doorframe, holding a tray of tea, and watching your husband as he worriedly begs Gale to settle down.

“Perhaps a bit of skin to skin, daddy.” You suggest gently as you enter the sun room and place the tray on a table nearby. You wrap Gale in your arms and gesture for Astarion to remove his shirt. He obliges with a frustrated huff and small roll of his eyes.

“You don’t need to use your flower child sensibilities as an excuse to see me shirtless, love. You really need only ask. I fail to see how this—“

You admonish Astarion with a small shh as you unwrap the still fussy newborn from his blanket before placing Gale on the elf’s chest. Then you drape the small piece of cloth over the baby.

“Now lay back.” You command, propping a pillow slightly so that Astarion can recline himself further onto the sofa. All at once, Gale seems to melt into the warmth of his father’s chest with a satisfied coo.

“What was that about my flower child sensibilities?” You ask your husband as you sit down on the couch, intent on sipping some of the tea Shadowheart brewed for you.

Astarion sighs. Bested, once again, it seems. He brings his hand up to rest it on Gale’s small back, feeling the sensation of his tiny body rising and falling with each tiny breath.

“Nothing, dear.” He murmurs before placing a gentle kiss on the newborn’s head.

You chuckle softly and then watch the duo with a content, love-sick smile, “I should tell you, Astarion. I don’t think you’ve ever looked more handsome than you do right now, shirtless and holding our jaundiced newborn in the sun.”

Your husband’s eyebrow cocks as he lifts his gaze from Gale to you, a small smirk stretching across his lips before he offers you a playful wink, “If you like this, darling, just wait until you watch me change a diaper or bathe Gale for the first time.”

You shake your head and laugh softly again as you sip your tea, “Yes, you may positively turn into a god before my eyes when I see that… and convince me to have more of your offspring, just to keep those visions coming.”

A little hum from Astarion as he considers this, “Then I shall certainly do my best to be as domestic as possible, darling. You were quite fetching, when pregnant with Gale, dear. I do hope that’s not the last time I get to witness you like that.”

“I don’t think it will be the last time I’m swollen with your seed, daddy.” You whisper with a wink in your husband’s direction, causing the flush on his ears to rise, “But for now, let’s just worry about returning this first one back to pink. Then we can discuss others.”

Astarion nods with a content smile and then closes his eyes as he holds Gale. Before long, your husband is sleeping with the newborn on his chest, unable to stay awake any longer as he’s also been positively exhausted from the past few days. The new father stirs slightly when you remove Gale from his arms, readying for the baby’s next feeding, but you soothe your partner and tell him to go back to sleep.

Astarion remains napping for a few hours, basking in the warmth of the sun and dreaming about three or four little silver-haired children running around the house, filling it with laughter.

[mozzaremi]

finally working on the ghost hunter au that i started a few months ago (?), but i did a complete rehaul on the concept

INFODUMP:

(okok, english isn't my first language and i'll probably edit out grammar mistakes when i'll find them, so please bare with me lol)

Initially, Aubrey and Kel meet as internet pen-pals, both share an interest in horror and all things creepy (tho aubrey prefers the creepy but cute stuff). While Aubrey is more of a casual fan, Kel is a full on enjoyer of anything and everything that's spooky: horror movies, creepy stories, and especially the ghost stuff.

Kel would always share to Aubrey about his fantasies of being a professional ghost hunter and maybe having a tv show all about his and Aubrey's adventures in the paranormal world.

Aubrey and Kel both live in the big city, tho Aubrey often visits Faraway as that's where her mother resides. She would often meet up a friend of her's named Basil: a shy guy who's really interested photography and everything related to plants. While hanging out with the flower boy, Aubrey would frequently do Basil's hair and makeup, later on he picks up some neat beauty tips from her that allowed him to explore his style. The visits to Faraway wouldn't last long, only being there for the weekends and holidays before she'd have to go back to her dad in the city.

Eventually Kel and Aubrey make a blog for Ghost hunting. Their content on there is amateur at best, but they gain a loyal following of other ghost enthusiasts, and non enthusiast, mostly just people who really enjoy kel and aubrey's friendship dynamic and their banter.

In their endevours, they would earn a loyal hater, who goes by "The Maverick" who would nickpick any and all instances of paranormal activity. Although sounding pompous and theatrical, he always finds reasonable proof to debunk all their findings.

Skip a few years, Back in faraway basil has to deal with the grief of his grandmother's passing, he would often stay at the graveyard just to mourn. The graveyard in faraway was infamous for having an unknown being living there, no one knowing if it's human and harmless or something paranormal and dangerous. No one has ever been able to get photo evidence of the entity, so they are more often percieved as an urban legend.

One foggy evening, Basil was back at the graveyard, doing his usual mourning session, when something sat besides him on a bench. Eyes full of tears, he didn't dare to face the person, so he continued with what he was doing. Eventually the person(?) starts asking questions to get Basil to vent to him and maybe calm him down and it works. Felling a little bit better Basil faces the person to see a guy his age in a very strange outfit. Once he got a better look at him, he jumped off the bench realising it's the fabled ghost boy of the graveyard. He runs away, but notes the fact that guy he talked to was very nice...

After that, he starts believing in a life after death, and his grief lessens knowing that possibly his grandmother is in a better place

Basil finds out about Aubrey and Kel making a ghost blog, there the two would film themselves searching through abandoned areas to find ghosts... or something, anything really. While they never found anything scary, they had a very good duo dynamic and Basil became somewhat of a fan of theirs. Basil noticed the poor video quality due to it being recorded on a crappy phone (android lol) and it inspired him to purchase a video camera.

When Aubrey visits Faraway again, he offers his cameraman services to her and she agrees. She introduces Basil to Kel and they all hit it off.

One day, when Aubrey and Kel are feeling hopeless of their Ghost Hunting adventure, Basil tells them the time he met a ghost in the graveyard back in faraway. They both take his word for it.

They get Hero to drive them to faraway, Hero who is a Uni dropout, he really doesn't have anything better to do besides taking up odd jobs to pay rent. He has saved a lot of money throughout the years of being uni-free and working at basically every retail job in the city, so the though of having a road-trip didn't bother him.

Once they are at the town of faraway, Hero hands them a packed lunch, and the gang is off to find a ghost! Being in the graveyard, things felt fruitless, not a lot of things were happening besides the fog that started to form. Kel got tired and started reaching for his bag to get the sandwich that Hero packed him. But there was a problem... there were no sandwiches to be found in his bag... Suddently his eyes meet the figure of the faraway ghost boy who was snacking on a BLT...

Kel alerts his friends to come grab some footage of the ghoul right in front of him, but an issue arose... the video camera wasn't working and couldn't get Sunny in the shot without the device glitching out.

The ghoulish boy named Sunny sees how restless, but persistent the ghost hunter crew was, he found their antics humorous at best, but once the big brother Hero comes to check up on them is when Sunny is on full guard

He summons chains from under the ground, binding the 4 visitors in place. Aproching them again he threatens to suck all the life out of them. They start pleading for their life and a idea accured...

Sunny gave them an offer to help him find his long lost sister...He is unsure if she's still alive or not, but he still feels the presence on her in the living world through the Something chained to his foot. In return he would spare their life and let them film him for their ghost blog. The gang agrees to his offer and just so they don't double cross sunny, he lays a curse on them that if they leave him behind on purpose, they would have their souls taken away from their bodies, turning them into lifeless husks.

AND SO THAT'S HOW THEIR ADVENTURE STARTS! they have this sorta mystery gang adventure going on, traveling across the US to find Mari while also having wacky high-jinxs and sunny allerting the others of ghostly presences in the area for Aubrey, Kel and Basil's ghost hunting blog content, just so they would get enough blog donations to keep traveling!

[snowfallenapocalypse]

Howdy Slay the Princess friends! I wanted to show off my Voices designs, they’re still very likely to change cause I’m still not quite happy with all of them, but I hope you enjoy them! :3c

Explanations and a few extras below the cut! :) (This ended up being a kinda long post so be warned!)

For the most part I try to use the same body shape for all of them, with the only differences being their accessories and some beak variation. None of them have wings either- I don't like drawing them that much so they're reserved for TLQ

Alright here we go- explanation time!

Hero - Knight's helmet based on the default warrior class helmet from Miitopia, no clue if the feather, ponytail, thing... is his actual feathers or part of the hat and I probably never will. I love how he looks even if the helmet sucks to draw

Broken - Shackle and chain around his neck, not much to say about this guy, I was a bit worried it was too similar to the Prisoner's shtick at first but it's grown on me

Contrarian - Jester's cap, the most common defining accessory I saw for him in fanart and thought it fit. Probably gonna change him cause the current iteration doesn't feel quite right. (Either hat redesign or something new)

Opportunist - A tie and ripped dress shirt, I wanted a smarmy business-ey feel for him but didn't think a nice shirt would fit in with the aesthetic of the game, so I gave him a ripped one (he probably found it on the ground somewhere)

Paranoid - Perfume pendant, I adore this concept but have had a hard time conveying it properly. The pendant is filled with smelling salts in case he needs to wake someone up. I want to keep this concept so much but I know it has to go through a few more designs cause I don't really know what it's supposed to look like. Planning on adding another necklace and maybe a clock?

Smitten - A shawl with heart shaped embroidery and a flower broach, I... Don't know how to feel with this one? It doesn't quite fit Smitten's exuberance but I don't know what I would give him instead. Will probably change later if I do come up with something better

Hunted - Hooded cloak, for camouflage :0 (it's a very short cloak though basically only covers his shoulders.) I drew him twice so you could see both versions, realistically he'd always have the hood up but I find it hard to draw and doesn't look as good so I don't bother, (it probably looks weird because the hooded version is missing the feather tufts, I added a quick sketch of the hood with them below)

Cold - A hole in his chest (shamelessly based on Mad Rat Dead,) Cold didn't seem like the type to have any worldly possessions so this was the most literal way I could convey his 'heartless' personality, it is kinda bending my rule of giving all these guys unique accessories but it fits him quite well so I don't mind

Skeptic - Detective hat, this is another one that I think looks a bit weird due to the lack of tufts (version with them below) and I don't know how well this fits his personality, but Skeptic is probably the voice I'm least familiar with so I'm kinda just ignoring redesigning him until I get a better grip on his character (I also don't really know how to draw this hat- I tried my best lol)

Cheated - Cut off tuft and scars, I had a really hard time coming up with this one and I'm still not quite sure how I feel about it. It's another one that bends my rule of having accessories but I couldn't think of anything to put on him that fit the vibe of 'Being salty from repeatedly losing to someone using hacks in a game.' (Yes, that's how I summarize Cheated's personality lol)

Stubborn - ...Isn't here, Oops? Yeah, you probably noticed but I don't actually have a design for him yet. I might give him a cape? idk. He's another voice I don't really have a good grasp on, I have to play through his chapters again :')

Anyways! I had put my sort of 'design rules' for these guys in an older version of this post but I ended up not vibing with it so I edited it out- I like the post a lot better without all the excess stuff

And finally as the send-off to the post (and a thanks for reading all) here's the extra bits! My one Long Quiet full body, the Hunted and Skeptic sketch with their tufts, and a bonus Opportunist cause I realized you can't really tell what the shirt looks like lol

[builtbybrokenbells]

Catch-22 | ii

Nothing good ever happens after 2am.

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: angst, old heartbreak and some new heartbreak, mentions of hookups, crying, breakups, arguing, high school talk, mentions of insecurities, swearing, drinking, some fluff, sorry if i miss any!

hi everyone, was going to wait to post this later tonight but i am miserably tired and will probably go right to bed after work lol, so here you go. lots of backstory in this one! like I said, i plan on this story being a bit of a slowburn so please have some patience with me while we set the scene. i hope you’re liking this so far because i know i am :) as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻 (lightly edited my apologies)

The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the earth while green grass was tickling your feet as you tumbled through it. Your parents had given up on the battle of putting your shoes on, because you kicked them off every time they thought they had won. They were sat on a porch, looking out at you every now and again to check in, but we’re mostly caught up in chatter with the other set of parents sitting beside them. Life was simple; all you had to care about was toys and sleep, and maybe scoring well on a spelling test every now and again. In truth, as a six year old, there was no need to worry about anything more than that. Your whole life revolved around Disney movies and chocolate milk, shared most often with your best friend in the entire world.

Sam Kiszka was undoubtedly that person, from the very day you were born up until long after you moved away. Long before you were ever a thought in your parents heads, they had been good friends with Sam’s parents. Your older sister had the same relationship with Sam’s older twin brothers, and you had always been destined for the same fate. Between barbecues and beach days, school sports and sleepovers, your lives had been inevitably intertwined with the Kiszka’s since your very first day on earth. You never thought to complain, mostly because you never knew the difference. They were like an extension of your own family, and in truth, you saw them more often than you saw your actual aunts and uncles.

“Y/n!” Sam exclaimed, catching your attention. Your head turned in his direction, now uncaring for the doll clasped between your hands. A smile was on your lips, excited that he wanted your attention, but it was nothing new. You loved having his attention, and you loved when he was asking for yours. He was always your biggest priority, even back when you were that young. He was running towards you, something held tightly in his hands that you couldn’t see very well from the distance. You took off in a run, forever happy to meet him halfway. When you were within arms reach, he extended his hand out to you, showcasing what he was holding with pride.

“For me?” You asked, struggling with the pronunciation of the ‘r’ at the end of your word. The touch of the speech impediment was blatantly obvious, but he loved you too much to care about it.

“Yeah.” He nodded with a smile on his lips, too. It was nothing special, but it was incredibly important to you, just because it had come from him. He placed the cluster of dandelions he had picked for you in your hand, enthusiastic about his work.

“Thank you, Sammy.” You giggled, bringing them closer to your face to get a closer look.

“You’re welcome.” He beamed. “They’re pretty, just like you.” The childhood innocence was astounding; just two babies speaking from their heart, thrilled by each others company and hoping that your parents would never make you go home. You sat on the ground, crossing your legs and placing the flowers beside you. He wasted no time, sitting down with you, always wanting to do the same thing that you were doing. “We’re gonna be best friends forever, you know.”

“I hope so.” You agreed, amused easily by picking strands of grass from the ground.

“And when we grow up, we’ll get married, just like my parents, ‘cause that’s what best friends do.” He continued, falling back on the ground and looking up to the sky. You laid down next to him, gazing longingly at the clouds. At that age, everything seemed so much more wondrous, so much more beautiful. Colours were brighter, and the world was not yet tainted by the darkness of adulthood. Happiness was the most you knew, diminished only occasionally with sadness that stemmed from a broken toy or a scraped knee. The biggest struggle back then was when your mother made something you disliked for dinner and that bedtime was at eight. It was so much simpler, so much better. The kids in your class were not old enough to be mean, and even if they were, it never mattered because Sam was always by your side.

“M-married?” You struggled with the word, but once again, he didn’t care. He was too busy planning a life full of toy trucks and Barbie dolls, knowing that he loved you enough then to make space for your toys in his life, too, even if he didn’t necessarily like them.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over to you “we wouldn’t have to worry about our parents making us go home. We could stay up all night and play games together forever.” He theorized. Your six-year old brain thought it was the best idea in the whole world, even at that age knowing that a lifetime with Sam was a dream come true. Even if you didn’t fully know what it meant, you couldn’t think of any downsides of his plan.

“That would be awesome.” You giggled, closing your eyes.

“It would be the best.” He corrected, reaching across the grass and slipping his hand into your own.

You woke with a start, heart pounding in your chest and your forehead glistening with sweat. Your stomach was churning with unease, haunted by the innocent memories of your childhood. You sat up, head still spinning with intoxication as you looked around your room. Moonlight was pouring in the window, letting you know that it was nowhere near time for you to wake up. You found your phone tangled in the blankets, pulling it out to check the time. “Four in the morning?” You grumbled, feeling wide awake after your brain’s incessant recollection of your younger years. You did your best to stand, feeling yourself in a constant state of dizziness. You figured if you got some water into you, you could speed up your body’s process in returning to sobriety.

You creeped into the hallway, careful not to disturb any of your sleeping family members. You made it to the kitchen, feeling yourself relax as you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. You gulped as much of it down as you could, ignoring the nausea that came along with it. Before finishing the bottle, you grabbed some Advil and swallowed those down, too. Instead of returning to your bedroom, you took a seat at the kitchen table to let the water settle in your stomach. You felt a great deal better already, your eyes more focused and your heart resuming its normal rhythm, but your mind was still racing with memories similar to the one in your dream. You reached out to the fruit bowl sitting on the table, grabbing an apple in hopes that some good nutrients might aid your shaking hands and weak muscles. As you bit into it, you knew that the ailments were not because of a nasty hangover from alcohol; they were solely due to your body’s withdrawal from Sam.

He was the worst addiction you ever had, his effect on you similar to a fever that you just couldn’t kick. You were sweaty, shaky and delirious as you tried to bring your temperature down, but it only ever seemed to spike higher. You went through bouts of missing Sam, feeling the sickness creep in the longer you thought about him, but being face to face with him always seemed to debilitate you. Just when you thought you could rid yourself of the disease for good, he showed up out of nowhere, killing off any healthy cells and engulfing them with his existence. All of your progress gone in an instant, and he didn’t even care to see how badly he was hurting you. Sam was the only thing your body knew, and it craved him so desperately that it was excruciating to go without him, but it was so toxic that as soon as you felt his presence again, you thought you might die from the illness.

As much as you wished he would disappear, you knew that even after all this time, he was the beacon of light in your darkened universe. The only thing that would guide you home when you lost your way, yet also the very thing that you wished to run away from. Back then, he made home feel more like home, but now that he was gone, the lack of his presence made the loneliness scream even louder. The love never disappeared, but it seemed as though resentment grew around it, locking it up and throwing away the key. Even while knowing you held him in such contempt, you knew it was not the end of your story. It rarely ever was, and you believed that after years of manifesting that you would be intertwined forever, you cemented it so well that there was no escape from it, now.

It was the way you and Sam had always worked; you would be inseparable to the point where you started to believe that it truly was forever, and then something would cause a drift. It was either a huge blowout, or a silent goodbye. Neither were favourable because you both wanted to make it work so badly. You would stay away for a while, swear that it was the end and you would never double back on your word, then you would cross paths in a twisted way of fate, inevitably landing right back at the beginning. There was no better way to describe it than your conversation just a few hours before; one of you displeased with seeing the other, yet both of you knowing it was bound to happen despite your efforts at avoidance. Sooner or later, you and Sam always ended up back in each others arms, and eventually, you would be hurt again from the very thing you previously wished to have just once more.

The issue did not lie within a lack of love; the two of you loved each other beyond any measure of human comprehension, but you had absolutely no idea how to love each other properly. Destined to love and programmed to hurt. It was an exhausting process, and even after a lifetime of learning it so well, you hadn’t yet managed to discover the secret to breaking it.

Loving Sam would be the death of you, but the thought of anything at his hand was so comforting that you forgot about the fear of dying itself.

“I think I love you, Rapunzel.” The nickname was endearing, yet already overused in the short time since he had come up with it. He thought he was a genius when he rattled it off for the first time, the inspiration striking him while he sat below your window waiting for you to open it and allow him inside. Living just down the street from you made it so much easier to sneak out and visit, and it had become almost a nightly routine.

“I love you too, Sammy.” You laughed, keeping your voice quiet so your parents wouldn’t hear you. The last think you wanted was to get caught. You could deal with the consequences for yourself, but you’d be miserable if they stopped allowing Sam over.

He was your anchor in your house full of constant chaos; your oldest sister was constantly terrorizing you for taking too long in the bathroom (or for anything else she could think to be angry about), your youngest sister was still in elementary school and was always amidst temper tantrum, and your parents had become experts at fighting without saying a word. Peace and quiet was a foreign concept, and the nighttime routine that you and Sam found yourselves in was the best part of your day. He would sneak over just after dark when his parents believed him to be tucked into his room getting ready for bed. He’d throw a pebble at your window to let you know he was there, and you’d let him inside. You’d spend the rest of the evening together laying in bed, talking about your fears and your hopes and dreams, then he would begrudgingly make his way back home after a prolonged goodbye. It was predictable, but it was comforting, and it was the only constant in your life when everything else seemed so chaotic.

Eighth grade had taken an incredible toll on you. With puberty, your family��s new found tension, and your struggle with not fitting in with the rest of the girls was wearing you down, yet Sam still seemed to look at you the exact same as he always did; with love in his eyes and a smile on his face. Nothing in the world could change it, and he would still love you the same no matter what you looked like, because in his eyes, you were the most beautiful girl in the world. You looked over at him, focused enough to notice that his adolescence was slowly fleeing him. His jawline was sharper and every now again his voice would crack. He sounded different and looked different, but he was the same as he always was. It seemed like time could not even begin to touch his character, nor the bond you had formed, and you were incredibly grateful for it.

“No,” he shook his head, looking down to meet your face “in love, y/n.” His voice was quiet, but it was no longer because of the fear of being caught. He was fearful of rejection and of ruining what you two had worked so hard at creating. You couldn’t explain the feeling that washed over you; it was not anxiety or any type of nervousness, nor excitement. It was comfortability, like what he said to you was less of a shock and more of a rite of passage.

“Yeah, me too.” You whispered. It did not matter that neither of you really knew what being in love meant, because you loved each other in every way you knew how, and that was the only thing that held any importance. Thirteen year olds had no true sense of reality or anything pertaining to growing up, but you knew that you wanted to be with each other and love each other in every way possible. He didn’t care about your bulky glasses or your weight, or any other differences you had from the other girls in your grade. He cared about you, and he cared so much that no other thirteen year old boy could even begin to understand it.

“Really?” He couldn’t hide the relief in his voice, and you thought it was quite endearing.

“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding your head.

“Oh, cool.” He sighed, relaxing back into the mattress. His head was rested atop a pillow that constantly smelled of his shampoo, and it was the same one you always held closest to you while you slept. Sam was your entire world, and always had been. The proclamation of love changed nothing except for giving you another way to express the way you felt for each other. “So, what now?” He asked. You looked down at your hands, fingers already intertwined with each others. You already had your head resting on his arm, leaning against him to steal the warmth straight from his body. “Does it change anything?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I think this is it.”

The memory was gut wrenching, shooting daggers straight into your heart. You weren’t sure if it was your drunken stupor or your broken heart, but you felt another round of tears begging to be shed. You craved so badly to be those innocent kids again, to go back and do it right without breaking each others hearts, but it was impossible. You craved to love Sam without any pain, but you knew that the pain shared between you both was too large to ever let go of. You were afraid that love, especially when it came to Sam, was nothing but violence. Even if the good moments were fantastic, you could not hold on to hope for a lifetime full of hurt.

The creep of footsteps could be heard down the hallway, but you were too drunk to clean yourself up before you were thrown into confrontation. Whoever dared to impose could suffer the consequences of your sadness. When the body presented itself at the other end of the kitchen table, you looked up to meet the concerned eyes of your youngest sister. “Hey, bug.” You quickly wiped away your tears. “What are you doing awake?”

Correction: you were willing to impose your sadness on anyone as long as it wasn’t her.

“You were upset when you came home tonight,” she said, referring to the state you were in after the bar. “I was worried, I couldn’t sleep.”

“You don’t have to worry, Ellie.” You assured her, sniffling back another sob. Your relationship with her was strange. When she was born, you hated her so badly that you asked your parents to bring her back to the hospital. When she started to get a little older and you realized that she was there for good, you began to warm up to her. By the time she was in school, your parents were working a lot and you took care of her more often than not. Your oldest sister, Brooke, helped as much as she could until she went off to college, but she was a lot busier with her personal life than you were, so you were most often the babysitter. You watched her grow up as you did, too, and she was your whole world.

“I do, though.” She replied, dismissing your own dismissal. “You cried yourself to sleep, and now you don’t want to be in your bed. The only time you don’t like sleeping in your bed is when Sam’s done something wrong. I know it reminds you of him.” For a fifteen year old, she was incredibly observant. “I thought you guys stopped talking?”

“We did, and we aren’t going to start again. Just ran into him at the bar. I’ll be okay, though. I’m always okay.” You assured her, closing your eyes to stop any more tears from falling.

“You always take care of me, y/n. Let me take care of you for once.” She said, unwilling to give up. Without permission, she took a seat next to you at the table after grabbing you another bottle of water. “Just because it’s happened a long time ago doesn’t mean it you have to be over it.”

“He’s like the plague.” You sighed, soothing your irritated eyes with the cold skin on the back of your hands. “He just… takes over, and I don’t know how to get rid of him. I try to forget about him, and then something else makes me fall in love all over again.”

“He was your whole world.” She shrugged, wishing there was some magic answer to ease all of the hurt you were feeling. “I mean… I remember Sam being here all of the time. He was around just as much as you were. You were best friends. He was your first love and your first heartbreak. It only makes sense for it to still hurt.” You nodded, knowing that she was right but still feeling as if you should be over him. “Do you still love him?”

You laughed at the thought, an empty smile on your lips as you pondered the best way to describe the feeling.

“I… I don’t know what else to tell you, y/n. I just think that we’ve been doing this for so long… you’re all I know.” He explained, avoiding your eyes at all costs. Your heart was breaking more with each word, your sixteen year old self never having faced such a massive loss before.

“And that’s a bad thing?” You asked, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I mean, we always talked about forever, Sam. You’ve always been my forever; I don’t need to know anything else.”

“You’ll always be my forever, Rapunzel.” He finally looked up, also unable to bear the thought of not living a life alongside you. “Just… right now, I need some space.” After sixteen years of being inseparable, you were trying your best to digest the thought of not spending every day with him. It killed you, but you were not willing to sacrifice your dignity for something that was not worth it. If he wanted to leave, you would hold the door just to make sure it wouldn’t hit him on the way out.

“Okay.” You took a long gulp of air, holding your breath and holding in the sobs begging to be heard. You walked to your bedroom door, twisting the handle and pulling it open. You stood by, waiting for him to take the hint.

“Okay?” He asked, hurt by your lack of fight. “That’s it?”

“That’s it, Sam. If you want to go, then go.” You said, lip quivering at the thought of him walking out. “If you want to break up with me, do it, but you don’t get to be upset when I let you. Why would I fight for you when you don’t want to fight for me?” He watched your face, agony striking him at the thought of being the cause of your pain. After a moment of shared silence, he gave a slow nod.

“Friends?” He asked, taking a step towards you. You watched in disbelief, unsure if he really thought you could remain friends after such a conversation.

“Yeah, sure.” You lied, knowing that once he walked outside, you had no intent of ever letting him back in. He gave you a sad smile, wishing he could hug you but knowing that it was best to leave you alone. He wasn’t even fully into the hallway before you were rushing to close the door, tears pouring down your cheeks at the idea of being without him.

“Do you remember the first time we broke up?” You asked, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “I know you were young, but-“

“I remember.” She said, cutting you off. “It’s hard to forget. I don’t think I ever saw you like that before.”

“When he left, I swore that would be the end of it, but I knew I was still in love with him.” You explained. “Just like every time after that. He left, I promised I was done, and then I’d let him come back. I let him hurt me so many times until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I had to go. You’d think after all of this time I would have learned my lesson, but I saw him last night and all I wanted to do was let him come back… let him come home.” You chuckled, shaking your head at your own stupidity. “The only thing I know how to do is love him, and the only thing he knows how to do is hurt me.”

“Do you think he changed?” She asked, listening intently to your words.

“I was hoping he did. He looks different, he acts different… god, he even sounds different, but when I look at him, something in his eyes always reminds me that it’s the same old Sam. I know that he hasn’t changed, which is good in a way, but that also means he’s still the exactly same person I fell in love with all those years ago, which is horrible.”

“Again, Sam?” You were angry, that much was clear. He cowered under the weight of your emotions, barely prepared for the blowout waiting to happen. “You let me fall in love with you just so you could break up with me again?”

“I’m sorry, y/n.” He muttered, running a a hand through his hair. “I didn’t… I missed you so much as a friend. When we got back together, I was so happy to have you around again that I didn’t realize I’m still not ready for a relationship.”

“Senior prom is in two months, Sam! What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“I still want to go with you, Rapunzel. That was never a question.” He said, desperate to ease your worry. He reached a hand out to you, hoping that touch might calm your hurt, but you brushed him off without second thought.

“What if I don’t want to go with you? Did you think of that?” You snapped, not really meaning it, but even if you wanted to go with him, you knew it wasn’t good for you. Every time you let Sam come back around, he just seemed to hurt you more. The happiness of your childhood was long forgotten and replaced by all of the pain he’d caused you. Sometimes, it was hard to even imagine the simplicity the two of you once felt together. “You know what? Just go. I don’t have time for this.” You shook your head, realizing you were fighting a losing battle.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” He whispered, making a move to stand.

“I’m so sick of hearing that you’re sorry. Please go, and don’t try and come back. Im done, Sam.” You refused to look at him, completely missing the pain-stricken features of his face. He hated hurting you, yet it seemed like there was no way to resolve the issues without it. In hopes of avoiding any further trouble for you, he gave a small nod and turned to walk out of the room. Once again, you watched him walk away while deep down, you hoped that he would find his way back to you eventually. You were stuck, wishing so badly to escape the cycle, but more so than ever, it seemed like it was never ending.

You wished you could say that you stuck to your word, but when June of your senior year rolled around and nobody else peeked your interest as a prom date, you were left wondering why it would be so bad to go with Sam. You had always planned to do so, and you already had a dress that matched his tie. You wanted your last high school memory to be with your most important person, and it felt almost foolish to go with anyone else. So, with a shred of hope and a lot of courage, you asked Sam if he would still be willing to be your date to prom. He was ecstatic to accompany you and in truth, he was hoping you would change your mind after denouncing him from your life.

As friends, the two of you dressed to the nines and smiled through a night full of photographs. The awkwardness wore off almost immediately and you were back to your old selves, laughing over old memories and crying over your own stupidity. By the end of the night, you were both tipsy and reminiscing on the better times and confessing how miserable life was without each other. As if the stars had aligned perfectly to guide you into the darkest breakup of your life, a messy hookup cemented yours and Sam’s relationship as lovers once again. You graduated from high school and spent the entire summer immersed in each other. The air seemed different, more clear than it had been the last time you two had found your way back to each other. You had small fears about leaving for university, worried that your relationship was not strong enough to make it through the pressure of long distance, but it appeared that Sam was a changed man.

You spent your first year of university taking turns driving to see each other, spending every holiday glued together at the hip, and called whenever you had a spare minute. You survived your gruelling work with sweet messages from him and nights shared in your tiny dorm bed, and you were more in love with him than you ever thought to be possible. It was different than your younger years because back then, love didn’t mean all that much. You really didn’t know what it meant to love someone else so completely, and it all seemed a little silly in comparison to what you felt for him as you got older. He was your whole world, but even better than it was before. It seemed like the pain was obsolete, long forgotten and left in the past to die there. You both grew up, got out of your hometown and away from the same group of people who you saw every single day. It was a fresh start, something that you both desperately needed, and it served you well.

But, all good things must come to an end, and that time, the end was nothing short of catastrophic.

“Maybe you’re just too invested in the Sam you knew when you were kids.” She offered. “It’s been two years, y/n. If you still feel that way for him, maybe it’s worth a shot to try and get to know the new version of him.”

“I’d love to, but there’s something telling me that it’s just going to end the same way. It never seems like I can love him enough to make him want to stay.” Your voice cracked at the thought, the emotion too profound to hide. You loved Sam with every ounce of your heart and soul, but it never seemed like it was good enough for him, and it never mattered in the end, because he was bound to break you every time you let him get close.

“It’s up to you whether you want to talk to him or not. You know your heart the best, and you know him the best. If you don’t think it’s worth it, then please don’t give in to him. If you think he deserves another chance, then do it. Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back, and whatever you do, just don’t let him make you think that you’re not good enough, because it’s not true.”

“Thank you, bug.” You reached out for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You should get some sleep and stop worrying about me.”

“I always worry about you, and you always worry about me. It what we do.” She shrugged. “Are you going to bed, too?” You nodded, looking at the time displayed in green numbers on the stove.

“Yeah, probably should.” You said, but you were in no rush to get up and go. Your bed was haunting you with Sam’s memory, making it impossible to forget about him even in a slumber. His name was plastered on the walls and his face had seeped into the foundation, making it impossible to get away. He was the whole world, and you were just living in it. Everywhere you turned led you straight to another reminder of him, and it was sickening. But, even in the sickness, there was an odd comfort that came along with it. Being heartbroken over Sam had become the most consistent thing in your life, and being thrown so violently into it again, the familiarity made the stay more comfortable.

“If you can’t sleep, you can stay in my room.” She offered, a tired smile on her face. “Do you remember when we used to do that as kids?”

“Of course I do.” You chuckled. How could you forget? When your parents would fight, usually keeping everyone awake at night, she would sneak to your room to stay in bed with you. Usually, Sam was there, too. The three of you would always sleep soundly together in bed, no care about the lack of space or the uncomfortable positions because your company allowed for her to get some rest. When you and Sam would fight, you would find solace in her room because your own was too hard to be in. Back then, she didn’t know why you so often stayed the night in her room, and your tears would not fall until she was long asleep. When she started to get older, she understood better without you ever having to tell her.

“I’ll leave my door open just in case.” She promised, making a move to stand. “I love you.”

“I love you, El.” You gave a weak smile, watching as she disappeared up the stairs. It took you a while to find the courage to follow, but after a few moments, you made your way to your own bedroom. It felt like there was weights around ankles, dragging you down in hopes of delaying your return. Your bedroom was the last place you wanted to be, but you knew that after all you had overcome, you could conquer the last obstacle in your way of removing Sam from your life. Once you convinced yourself that his aura no longer lived inside your bedsheets, you would be better for it.

You closed your door softly behind you, letting out a long sigh to rid yourself of the looming torment of the night. You crawled into bed, checking the time once more to see that it was close to sunrise, now. You looked out at the sky, noticing the darkness slowly turning into purple and pinks. You let your head fall back on the pillow as you stared at the ceiling, noticing the pathetic illumination from the glow in the dark stickers you’d placed on it years ago. You let your eyes close, but your mind did not quiet even in the darkness.

Then, it came like a premonition of imminent disaster.

A weak thud sounded on the glass of your window, echoing through the entire room as if it was a noise so powerful it shook the foundation. But, it was not loud, nor was it anything that was truly attention grabbing. Perhaps the only reason you heard it so clearly was because you were listening for it, hoping it would happen. In truth, you could have ignored it and realized that it was likely due to nothing more than the wind blowing something against the glass, but your brain would not allow you to believe it was a coincidence.

It’s almost funny how the simplicity of a moment can appear so extravagant in our minds.

You slowly stood, cautiously approaching the sill with disbelief written all over you. With hope in your heart, you looked out into the night, first noticing the gentle sway of the tree line in the breeze. Your gaze drifted down towards the ground, eventually settling on an outline of a body. You blinked twice, just to be sure that the figure was still there after you refocused your eyes. You leaned closer to the glass, finding the features on his face break through the darkness with the utmost clarity. You flipped the lock, slowly sliding the window open as your heart swelled with affection. Even if you hated him, you could never seem to be mad when he showed up at your house with love in his eyes and hope in his heart.

“I didn’t know if you would answer, but I had to try.” He confessed, his voice a little raspy and his words ending with a slight slur.

“You’re drunk, Sam.” You whispered, but you couldn’t seem to turn him away.

“I know, I’m hammered.” He said, nodding his head. “Everyone told me I should go home, but I’m drunk, and I miss you, and this is the only home I know. You’re home, Rapunzel, and I’m so stupid for thinking otherwise.”

“Sam,” you sighed, almost wishing he never came. As much as you wanted to invite him inside, you knew it was a terrible idea.

“Please,” he pleaded, taking a step closer. He was so tall he could almost reach the windowsill himself without your help. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you, y/n, but I just want to talk.” You were frozen in place, unsure of how to handle the situation. You wanted to let him in, but you so badly wanted to tell him to leave and never come back. Every option was painful, and every decision was hard. You wished for once it could be easy with Sam, no matter which way it went. You just wanted it to be simple, for one decision not to be laced with regret or remorse. “Let your hair down? For old times sake?” He asked, looking up at you with nothing but love in his eyes.

You watched him, wondering if it was really him standing down there or if it was a figment of your drunken and delusional imagination. After a few seconds, you gave a small nod, popping the screen out of the window. You placed it on the floor and leaned down, holding your hands out for him to grab. He wasted no time responding, allowing you to pull him up just enough to grab the ledge. From there, he navigated the rest of the way himself. You took a step back, allowing him to move without worry of bumping into you. Once he was steady on his feet in front of you, you could see the emotion in his face. His eyes looked bloodshot, puffy just the same as yours were. He was exhausted, clearly going through just as much turmoil as you had that night.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, unsure why you even let him inside in the first place.

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I know that you don’t want to see me, and I know why, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t just let you walk away again. I had to try, and even if you tell me to leave and that you never want to see me again, at least I know for sure.”

“Sam, we’re not… We’re not the same people, anymore. You can’t just show up at my window and expect me to let you inside. You can’t just say sorry and expect things to go back to normal.”

“But you did let me in. That counts for something, right?” You couldn’t argue with his logic, because you did allow him inside. As much as you would have liked to blame him for the ridiculous situation you had found yourself in, your own stupidity played a large part in the outcome. “Jake told me this was a terrible idea, and maybe he was right, but I got further than anyone thought I would.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Sam.” You mumbled. “You know I’ll always let you in.” You look to the floor, almost ashamed at the confession.

“And I appreciate that, even if I know I don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t,” you agreed “but you made the effort, so I have to give you that, at least.”

“I’m sorry, princess. For everything.”

“We’re long past that, honey.” You chuckled, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as you pulled a blanket over your shoulders. “Why are you here?” You asked again, waiting for a real answer. So far, you had only grown more confused by his drunken rambling.

“I don’t know, to apologize?” He said, taking a seat in your computer chair. He had enough sense to know that his presence was not welcome on the bed with you. “When you told me we could go for drinks some other time, I knew you didn’t mean it. You planned to ignore every text and call until you went back to university, and then we’d never see each other again. I couldn’t risk that, because these last two years without you have been miserable.”

“You could have apologized two years ago.” You offered, feeling more awake than before. The anger rising in your heart was a great adrenaline boost, and you were ready to face him with all of the hurt you’d been feeling since the last time you saw him.

“I tried, you didn’t want to hear it.” He argued.

“I wonder why.” You rolled your eyes, astonished at his inability to own up to the truth. He was not the victim nor was he a saint; your lack of communication stemmed directly from his inability to grow up and be in a relationship, and he had no right to be upset about it.

“I don’t. I know why, y/n, but it doesn’t mean I liked it. I fucked up that night, and I have been living with that every day since. I’m trying to make it right, but it seems like you don’t want me to.”

“That night?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, you put the nail in the coffin, but you fucked up plenty more times than just that night. You’ve been breaking my heart since we were old enough to understand what that meant. Maybe I don’t want to let you back in because I’m fucking terrified you’ll do it again.”

“I know.” He sighed, closing his eyes to regain his confidence. He could not express the guilt he felt for all he put you through, but he was trying his best to explain it. He did not want to argue, and he did not want to portray himself as angry, because he wasn’t. He deserved every harsh word that you were throwing his way. “I can’t take that back even if I wish I could, but I can tell you that I am so sorry I did that to you. You are the most wonderful person in the whole world; you’re my best friend, my soulmate, and I know that you’re the love of my life, even if I’m not yours anymore. I hate that I hurt you, and I hate that I don’t know how to fix it, but I still love you, y/n. My life has been empty, even if I’m travelling the world and doing what I love. At first, I wasn’t sure why, but now I know it’s because you’re not there with me. I miss you so much that it’s hard to think about anything else.” You watched him, curious about his profoundly disturbing confession. It was sweet, but it was not the Sam you knew. All those years ago, he was just a boy who had no idea how to express himself. Words were always difficult, and he never knew how to say I love you without lacing it into a joke.

Maybe, in some violent twist of fate, he really had grown up.

“How long have you been working on that one?” You asked, pulling the blanket tighter against your body.

“Two years.” He replied without hesitation.

“Two years and that’s all you’ve got?” You gave a small laugh, but this one was genuine. You looked up to meet his eye, the snide comment striking him odd until he saw the playful gleam in your face. “I expected more from you.”

“You know I’ve never been good at this stuff.” He found himself smiling, too. “So you’ve been thinking about me, too?”

“Stupid question.” You snipped. “You already know the answer.”

“Yeah, me too. Obviously.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I thought that you forgot about me. When I look at your Instagram, it just seems like you’re a whole different person. I’m happy you got out of here and you look like you’re doing okay. Your new friends seem cool, too, but I miss you and I wish I could be a part of that life, too.”

“You could have, Sam.” You reminded, not wanting to talk too much about the incident in which severed the ties between you. “But you do, too. I listened to some of your music off the new album. It’s fantastic, and I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, touched that you cared enough to listen to it despite your ill feelings towards him. “You’re almost finished school, now. Where are you going next?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, hating the small talk you had fallen into. You knew Sam too well for such simple formalities. “Away from here, but that’s all I really know.”

“You always wanted to get out of here,” he chuckled, recalling the endless conversations about your desire to leave the town behind. “Times finally come.” He couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness at the idea, knowing that once you packed your bags, you would never come back. There would be no late night sneaking around, no conversations about the future under the stars in your backyard. He was ecstatic for you to move on and start living, but he was also sad for the kids who used to dream about doing it together.

“It’s scary, but I’m ready.”

“You’ve been ready since you learned how to walk.” He corrected. “Do you want to leave me behind, too?” Your heart broke at the sight of the pain in his eyes, knowing that once you were gone, it could be the end of a lifetimes worth of love.

“Come on, Sam. We both know you left first, and a long time ago at that.” You muttered, nervously playing with the hem of the blanket. “Besides, knowing us, we’re bound to run into each other again somewhere. Just the way it works for us.”

“We don’t have to wait to run into each other again.” He said, begging to meet your gaze again. “We ran into each other tonight, and it has to be for a reason.” Your eyes flickered to his face, also in search of the familiarity, yet scared to see the foreignness.

“I think after all this time, we should know the reason is no good.” You tried to stand your ground, even if you wanted nothing more than to invite him in. It was wrong, and it would end so badly that you would never be able to pick up the broken pieces again. Loving Sam was painful, and your brain was begging you to remember that. Even when it was good, it seemed to hurt somewhere.

“I changed, y/n, and I really want to show you that. I still love you the same, but I’ll do it better this time, if you give me the chance.”

“We can’t just pretend that the past didn’t happen.” You shook your head, appalled that he was even suggesting it. “It’s too much Sam, and after everything, we should know that it’s never going to work.”

“I want to make it work, Princess. For you, I’d do anything. I know that I haven’t been the best, but I want to be the best, now. You deserve it, and I’m not saying I deserve another chance, but I would like to prove to you that you are my whole world.”

“I can’t… you can’t just come in here and expect me to forgive you and come crawling back again. It’s too much, and I’m better than that, now. I love you, but I can’t let you hurt me, again.”

“Just come out for dinner with me. Or drinks, or whatever you want. One night, just to hear what I have to say. No strings attached, just fun, like we used to do.” You watched him, unbelieving of his determination despite the pain he had caused. You loved him, that was certain, but after so long of loving someone and only being burned in response, you could not find that hope in your heart that you once had. The whole notion was ridiculous, and the fact that he’d shown up drunk at five in the morning to profess it was even worse. Sam had no ability to speak his truth when he was sober, and you feared that his courage would wear off when the morning came. Even worse than that, you feared that his drunken confession stemmed from the melancholic familiarity of seeing you, and not because he was genuine in his desire to try again.

You loved him, but it was not worth the risk. It hardly ever was, and you should have learned that years ago.

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“Oh.” He breathed, the rejection staggering and cutting him like a knife.

“You should probably go home, Sam. It’s late and we’re drunk. We shouldn’t be doing this.” You said, trying to hide the sadness in your voice.

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, standing without another word. “C-can I hug you? Just one last time?” You looked up, attempting to ignore the tears that were forming in his tired eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed, standing, too. You let the blanket fall from your shoulders, practically falling into his arms. Just because you knew he should leave did not mean you didn’t miss his touch. It was home, and you hadn’t felt it in a long time. Perhaps once you felt it again, you could finally come to your senses and realize it was no longer your hiding place, or a safe haven from the harshness of the world. Once his arms were around you and you were enveloped in the warmth and the familiar scent, you knew that you would never love anything more, and that’s exactly why you needed to stay away. You loved Sam so much that it was dangerous, because he did not know how to love you enough. No matter how many chances you gave him, that fact would never change.

Before he pulled away, he placed a kiss on the top of your head. He was aching all over knowing he might be leaving you behind forever, anguished at the fact that it might be the last hug he would ever have from you. “If you ever change your mind, Princess, you have my number.”

“I do.” You nodded, biting back your own tears. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be different.”

“I hope so, y/n.” He said, staring out the window and hating the sun that was rising in the sky. The day should never continue as normal when two people were hurting so badly. It seemed like a stab to an already open wound, and there was no sign of ever being able to stitch it back up.

“Bye, Sammy.” You whispered.

“See you later, Princess.” He said, taking one last breath of courage before climbing through the window. You watched as he descended to the ground, his feet firmly planting to the grass before he began his journey home. You waited until he was completely out of view before popping the screen back in place and locking the window shut, keeping out any more visitors and locking in all of your sorrow.

You climbed back into bed, the memory of him still latched onto your mattress and buried in the pillows. You knew that not even time could rid him from the place, because after so many years, it was more his than it was your own. You wiped the tears away from your cheeks, feeling no sympathy for yourself despite the overwhelming ache that settled in your chest. Your hurt was solely because of your own inability to control yourself around Sam; after all, he could not cause any pain if you did not allow him to, and allowing him to hurt you had become your favourite pastime. Opening that window for him was nothing but an excuse to worsen your suffering. The temporary fix for your loneliness was barely enough to take away from the lasting damage his company always seemed cause. Nothing had changed except for the maturity of your faces, and even if you hated to admit it, it never would.

You tossed and turned, begging for a second of sleep, but you were haunted by the interaction that appeared to be completely innocent. Then again, innocence is a thing that neither of you had when it came to each other, and just like your mother used to tell you, nothing good ever happens after 2am. You knew it to be painfully true, but it was even more so when it came to Sam Kiszka. You had opened the door to a whole other world of trouble, and now you couldn’t seem to latch it shut. Even when you managed to drift into sleep, your mind was still plagued with memories of the boy you were begging to forget.

TAGLIST: @itsafullmoon @freefallthoughts @lightsofthe-living-gvf @heckingfrick @sagekiszka

[monstersandmaw]

I am unreasonably excited for this stardew fic im hearing about 👀 (also seb, my love- i always end up romancing him)

Thank you! In all my playthroughs (maybe five before this one, lol) I've never romanced anyone. This one (which inspired this story) I decided to romance and marry Seb :).

The story is gonna feature a lot of the game and setting as inspiration, but I'm going to edit the mechanics a bit so it's less contrived, and there are gonna be more supernatural elements and folks at play... :). And an affectionate, fwb situation with Elliott before the end-game Sebastian romance, just a heads up.

Since you were kind enough to reach out about it, here's a 1400 word WIP sneak peek of Rowan, my gruff, buff werewoof farmer:

(CW: standoffish, loner character with scars on his neck from a werewolf bite, passing mention of a werewolf attack at night that nearly killed him)

This run-down, wild farm, with its endless tangle of fairytale brambles arcing around the roots of maple and oak trees, and its overgrown ponds full of frogs and flowering water weeds, was beyond perfect.

Of course, Rowan knew next to nothing about organic vegetable farming, but that was a problem for another day.

Mayor Lewis dithered on the top step a moment longer before taking his leave with Robin and heading back up the rutted path towards the town. Apparently Rowan had been taciturn enough to drive the chatty old man away, and something about him had evidently unnerved Robin a little. Maybe it was the mess of scars on his throat. He didn’t much care. If it meant they left him alone, so much the better. He wasn’t sure that anyone but Robin in her off-road pickup could make it comfortably along the winding drive to the farm anyway, and it was a miracle that the old man hadn’t toppled into a pothole or a ditch on his way over.

Rowan watched them leave together, deliberately ignoring their nattering gossip about him, which carried easily enough on the spring air to his sharp ears, and he felt something new prickle down his spine. It wasn’t even close to the full moon — he’d made damned sure of that before booking his one-way ticket to the sleepy little valley — but something about this place set the wolf in him prowling. He realised with a jolt that his wolf liked this new territory, with its fresh air and cacophonous birdsong. Where he’d been fractious and aggressive in the city, prone to lashing out when he felt the least bit cornered or trapped, now his wolf was practically bounding on the spot to explore his new territory and claim it as his own, and Rowan recoiled from the idea.

“I am not an animal,” he snarled at himself.

He thought that after bearing the curse for a year, he should have been far more accustomed to the feeling of there being a whole new part of himself inside his own head, or in his heart. And yet, noticing that the way he was feeling was largely because of the wolf, and not his human side, still freaked him the fuck out.

He turned back to the front door of the tumbledown cabin where his grandfather had lived until he’d had to go into care five years earlier, and immediately put his boot through the rotten boards of the veranda with a curse and another snarl. A small family of mice skittered away beneath the house, their pungent smell rising through the new hole to his sensitive nose, and he sighed. “Still not alone, even out here.”

Although the moon was only halfway to full, and against his better judgement, Rowan did let the shift sweep over him a few nights later, and as he sloughed off the complex trappings of his human life and sank his claws delightfully into the velvet-soft dirt, he patrolled the perimeter of the farm where his human self had spent his first week in Stardew Valley clearing weeds and setting up his first organic vegetable beds.

His wolf didn’t think about the uppity shopkeeper in the general store or the awkward blacksmith who’d smelled of a nauseous cocktail of discomfort, anxiety and axle grease, or the harried-looking man in a tweed jacket who’d smelled of coffee and antiseptic. His wolf lowered its head to the ground and inhaled the scents of rabbit and squirrel. It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or saddened to find no trace of wolves — shifter or otherwise — in the area, but seemed to settle for relieved as he slunk like a deeper shred of shadow from the porch of the farmhouse and bounded off into the dark to explore the place with the new, golden eyes of a wolf in place of the slightly blurry, hazel eyes of a human.

A rockfall in the cliffs behind the wreckage of the greenhouse had exposed a damp cave some years ago, though it smelled of bat guano and little else to interest a wolf. He let it be. Trotting eagerly on, the wolf relished the decadent flex and stretch of its powerful muscles, and the bliss of being able to shift whenever the fancy took him was enough to make him tilt his head to the sky and howl his ecstasy at the silent stars.

Rowan knew that being bitten and turned, and dumped unknowingly into the secret world of the supernatural, had taken its toll on him.

His sanity had been right on the ragged edge when he’d come across that forgotten letter from his grandfather in a desk drawer. After a year of trying to hold the remnants of his miserable life in the city together, of slinking down into an old storm drain on the edge of an abandoned industrial estate every full moon, to cage and contain his frustrated, furious wolf, Rowan had known he had to get out of the city. Permanently. It was messing with his wolf and he was losing more of his awareness to it with each passing full moon. He’d also started zoning out at his desk at work and coming-to with claws out and the wolf prowling right beneath his yellow-eyed facade of calm, even halfway through the cycle. The constant clacking of keyboards, the shrill, metallic ringing of office telephones, and the stink of leftover lunches from the cubicle next door to his was going to make him snap. Violently.

Part problem and part gift, his wolf existed purely in the ‘now’. There was no painful past; no human lying abandoned and bleeding and irrevocably changed on the rain-soaked tarmac of a grotty bus station; no human who’d drifted out of touch with his one surviving family member; no bills overdue and no landlord to keep happy. There was only the scent of moss and emerging spring grass and last year’s fallen pine cones, and the echo of a fox’s passing trail across the land which was now his territory.

Rowan’s wolf followed its nose down to the lower pond and lapped luxuriantly at the rich, cool water. His ears drew back and another thrill of delight ran down the length of his body as the sweet, wholesome taste of the water exploded across his tongue; he could detect none of the pollution and chemicals of the city water, just fresh spring that bubbled up from the depths of the earth, carrying with it the minerals and magic of the place.

Yes, this place had magic in abundance.

His grandfather had married a witch, so magic had been in Rowan’s blood already before he’d been mutilated by a lone werewolf at three in the morning in a filthy, city bus station. Perhaps that had been why a bite that messy had taken when it would have killed most people. He prayed he never met his monstrous sire, because he knew he’d rip his fucking head off for ruining his life and turning him into a slathering, near-mindless monster once a month. It was probably only by sheer, dumb luck that he hadn’t been killed by hunters, or killed someone himself by accident, and it had only been by the grace and patience of a blue-haired witch named Mercury that he’d even known what was happening to him in the first place. He shuddered to think where he’d have been without her.

A figure moved in the darkness at the edge of the trees on the southern-most reaches of his property and his lips drew back into a snarl.

“Easy, Rowan,” came a resonant, bass voice, and he froze, tilting his head, ears pricked. He recognised that voice, but couldn’t place it. For answer, he just growled a warning. “Easy,” came the voice a second time. “Rowan MacTavish, I am not here to hurt you. It is I, Rasmodius.”

At the sound of his full name on the still night air, Rowan’s whole body shivered, but the wolf let go of his mind a little. Thought came to him just a little easier. Rasmodius. That was the name of the wizard in the tower. Rowan blinked his golden eyes and sat back on his haunches.

“May I approach?”

He whined and ended the sound in a soft sneeze. Close enough to a petulant ‘fine’, he supposed.

___

(more soon, hopefully, if there's interest :3)

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

*leans casually on wall* hey,

i will take ANY excuse to design an outfit, especially wedding outfits, idk why— I just think they're fun.

there were originally two tuxedos involved in this (on the hair timeline drawing), with Flash's white and Peter's blue, but as I was editing my notes I ended up moving some stuff around and shunted Flash's transition forward by about a year and a half because it made more sense to happen around the time they get married instead of nearly 2 years later...

So like any reasonable person, I thought to myself, "oh boy! time to spend four days on a wedding dress!" (the drawing didn't take four days, i just spent a lot of time looking stuff up)

💐

closeups and thoughts under the cut:

in my head the top part of the dress is at least partially some kind of soft, flexible fabric, like a stretch satinet or whatever, or one of those really soft matte stretchy fabrics, but i honestly wasn't sure how exactly to handle that considering I'm not a tailor myself... like there should probably be a waist seam where the top meets the skirt, though probably hidden by the embroidery at least a little bit... though i guess it could also be that there is a layer of already-embroidered georgette over the top of a slip...

i did not hand draw this embroidery by the way. i almost tried. and then after .5 seconds i said, "oh this doesn't look good and i don't know what i'm doing." so then i used some brushes in clip studio paint and colored in colors i liked and added some beads that are basically not visible at 100% zoom (lmao)

they're there, i swear. i just think it would be cute if there were some very small beads adding a bit of sparkle...

Anyway, I just thought the flowers and colors would be nice. And I know you're probably thinking "huh, where'd they get sheer fabric that's only embroidered on part of it?" considering all those pre-made fabrics w/ the flowers all over... or "where did they get that dress custom-made? did one of their friends pay for it?" to which normally I would say "yeah lol they know at least a half a dozen rich people" but in this case... Well, this is a wedding that involves Peter. and Peter is nothing if not extra, impulsive, romantic, and a masochist—

Peter hand-sewed the entire dress, including the embroidery.

I figure, if he can embroider spider webs onto his suit then surely he can handle this ,as long as he has something to go off of. the dress itself isn't exactly the most complex, except maybe the skirt part falling in a specific way, so this is just another idk how many hours for him to spend futzing around with a needle and thread and insisting he can finish it in time. point in favor, because he does, but only because they have to postpone the wedding from March to May for other, unrelated reasons LMAO

also i just think it's romantic... and i like the idea of him making things with his hands all the time... he takes up woodworking a year or two before this iirc lol (the reasons for that are more morbid though... 😅)

anyway, i wanted the skirt to look nice in a wheelchair without getting in the way of things like the brake grips or the push-rims, so Flash can still move herself around (esp since she doesn't have handles on the back of her wheelchair lol) so that was another thing i was looking at pictures of. I really like georgette so I think it's probably layers of georgette, but drawing that is... hard.

probably looks a little more like this?

but plain ivory obviously, not plaid. drapey with a soft hand, not too fluffy or stiff. probably a satin slip or something underneath.

elegant... backless... I mean if Peter is the one designing it (though presumably Flash has SOME input, I mean, she's the one wearing it) how could he possibly resist the opportunity? (i just think backless dresses look nice) (also it shows off her back muscles, probably)

lmao

as it says in the pic, i figured this should be designed so it's comfortable to sit in and doesn't get tugged around a bunch but I will be honest. i did not have a lot of luck trying to research that so I gave up. I'm sure there's a way to do it but I have no idea how to draw it so I'm handwaving it along with the mysterious missing waist seam LOL

but also it's a wedding dress and most wedding dresses are wildly inconvenient even if you have absolutely no disabilities whatsoever.

at least she doesn't have to go commando...

though i'm sure going to the bathroom is a real nightmare lol

the bouquet and the veil are both on the back of the wheelchair—this was already true even before I decided Flash was gonna use this as an opportunity to be way more girly than usual, but it's still true here too. Though I did end up changing the flowers cause I realized I didn't like what I had, so the final bouquet is a mix of peonies, flowering dogwood, and some kind of wildflower that would be in season in May. Plus the red ribbon to match Peter's accessories.

oh and there's Flash's makeup too. Simple, not too dramatic. I don't imagine her ever being a red lipstick and dramatic eyeshadow kind of person, whether at a wedding with colorful dress or not, but some lip gloss and a little bit of shimmery eyeshadow that you can barely see sounds nice... maybe copper mascara or whatever but nothing dark.

her hair is also not super complicated or fancy, and she has no jewelry or anything like that, aside from the engagement ring... just a nice low bun with some pretty wisps 💞 Courtesy of MJ almost definitely!!

And the yarmulke is for a multitude of reasons. "Technically" Flash is not "legally" a woman at this point, isn't even out to her family yet (lol. lmao.) and hasn't legally changed her name yet either (she's going to after they get married), and I don't even know what the rabbi would think (i mean, i'm sure they've discussed by the time the wedding happens lol) but women wear yarmulkes these days too (these days is... 2014... btw), and Flash will have converted like 4 years before the wedding already (for reasons unrelated to Peter) so it's important to her... so, ultimately, regardless of requirements or level of reformness, I think she just wants to wear one.

Peter gets one too.

isn't he handsome?

lbr he probably wouldn't have even thought about it if Flash didn't bring it up. too busy thinking about what color of tiny beads to sew onto her dress XD

I DID loosely base some elements of Peter's tuxedo on the one from the iconic PeterMJ wedding cover—

—but mostly in ways I probably would have done anyway (dark blue tux... red cummerbund... etc.) (actually now that i think about it, the comic tux is probably meant to be black, huh) and I didn't want to make it actually the same so I gave him a pleated shirt and I didn't use a carnation for his boutonniere. Instead, dogwood (to match the bouquet obviously)—all the flowers I picked I'm PRETTY sure are in-season in May in NYC. as if they couldn't just go to any random garden and get some damn roses but I wanted to be more specific.

Peter doesn't make his tuxedo XD He also doesn't buy or rent it—Johnny Storm is the one in charge here because he insists, Peter. It's a special occasion!! He'd never let his best friend who he's totally not a little bit in love with wear a rental tuxedo to his own wedding! God Forbid. Peter eventually allows him to do so under the stipulation that Johnny keeps it tasteful and classy and "not too expensive."

Which to Johnny means "expensive silks and wools."

he's probably wearing suspenders. i didn't bother drawing that.

also these fucking shoes

NO idea if Peter keeps these. I only came up with them today. He was just gonna wear normal shoes before... but again, this is tasteful a la Johnny Storm. But Peter doesn't usually have occasions to dress fancy so having weird pseudo-spat dress boots is like. "What do I even do with these?" ("Wear them!!!")

I almost made the top part white (thus, pseudo-spats) but I think that kind of requires more of a white tie look... it looks nicer black. and hides his spidey-tighties (except he's not wearing his costume under this). Snaps, too! easy on, easy off!

(vaguely based on (these shoes) btw but not 100%)

wedding rings 💍

i already drew the rings a while ago (though i did slightly modify the coloring) so that's still the same. the engagement ring is essentially Flash's very first step into admitting who she wants to be... Peter doesn't even have a proposal planned, he just asks one day over breakfast lmfao but Flash has to think about it a lot so by the time Peter gets a yes (after a serious conversation with Flash about it) Flash is also like... can I have a ring??? and Peter is like OF COURSE (and actually he did have some money saved for this but he didn't know what to do...)

he'd probably make the ring himself if she asked—he doesn't though, they get it from a jeweler. it's... not cheap but it's less than $1000 at least? benefits of being very small and discreet.

Peter probably also offers to get himself one so they're equals here esp since power dynamics is part of the serious conversation and why Flash has to think about his proposal, but it's just not practical for Science Teacher Spider-Man to have an engagement ring and also they do not have money for that many rings.

in my notes Peter is wearing his uncle's wedding ring btw 🥹 i don't think they have Richard and Mary's rings so that's probably not an option. so, resizing Uncle Ben's ring instead.

anyway...

that's everything

here's Flash again, look how pretty she is

normally she just wears comfy athletic clothes and no makeup lol

[kanmom51]

Run BTS Mini field day - Part 2

Part 2 of part 2...

Cr./to the creators of media used in this post.

So, where were we?

Oh, yes, slippery soccer.

Let the games begin.

On the right we have the blue team - JM, RM, Hobi and Suga.

On the left we have the red team - Tae, Jin and JK.

Now let's just have at it, cause hectic is too calm of a word to call what went on there, lol.

There's no way I can describe everything that went on there, and I don't intend to. I will also not share who won this round.

Like I said GO WATCH IT. It's definitely worth it.

What I will do is share some moments with you all. Cute moments. Funny moments. Lovely moments.

So, let's get it.

I guess there will be no forgetting that name for JM in the near future, lol.

I think, although this isn't by order of things happening in the episode, that I will start with Jin and his cahoonas.

Cause why not?

If only for the comic effect...

JK's reaction. 🤣 🤣

After all, this is serious business we're talking about.

JM was finding it hard to stay up on his feet, lol.

And there's more.

I did tell you we had butt slapping, didn't I?

Well I also gave you the first installment of it in my post a couple of days ago.

But there was more butt.

Hey, no complaining. I didn't say it was all tuppy tuppy handsy handsy.

Ok ok, if you insist, here's some handsy stuff too.

We got the hug.

JM wanted that hug so bad.

For scoring a goal that is.

Now, this was hilarious.

Jin, being hit in the balls, got a penalty kick, which Hobi kind of stopped, only to hit JM right in the head and wham, straight into the goal.

But yeah, he finally got to get his hug. With a member of the opponent team...

And we got it from a different angle than in the promo.

Just look at that smile.

Found it kind of funny that none of them had a word to say about JM hugging a member of the opposite team. All RM had to comment was to the legitimacy of him even getting a hug. 🤣

JM and JK are still relatively kinda clean at this point (well, JM has some soapy pants, but yet to be soaked).

And then the chaos begins.

The game is surprisingly close. And the red team have a tactic they try to put in place which involves JK holding on to JM and RM so Jin can score the goal,

a tactic to be utilized by JM a little later and it somehow ends up like this:

That growl JK...

(Disclosure: The JM climbing on JK bit, was in the promos, but not in the actual episode (we knew as much, didn't we?) and it was inserted into this edit by the clip's creator.)

And Tae, is that him enjoying them rolling in the soap, adding more lubrication or him trying to cool them down? Just one more life mystery. Lmao.

But also, there was clearly editing going on there. We have been fooled once again folks. BH editors depriving us of some evidently (I mean look at what's going on there) good Jikook content.

One thing I ask myself about whatever it was that was going on there, and that is: what the hell did it have to do, if at all, with playing soccer? 🤣 

Game ended, and one hug, evidently, was clearly not enough.

And breaking it down.

After the games ended, the winners were announced, Jin got a gold medal as well announcing he got 1st place with Astronaut at M countdown,

and the hectic couple, a.k.a. Jikook, took over the final MCing.

Bonus: A little bit of cutie Koo.

and a little bit of cutie Jiminie.

This is what they had to say at the end:

I can't help but wonder how the flowers ended up with JM.

Bridal bouquet?

And just for fun, I love ending my posts with a little reminder from this episode, something to carry us for a little while longer, you know, till 2025. 😭 😭

[ashxketchum]

SWEET, SUMMER DAY ~ (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾

[pandoa]

Howdy do! Congrats on your 100 followers!👍 For the event, I'd like red roses and anemones with Leona Kingscholar x fem! reader, please! In a romantic fairytale setting, too! Please and thank you!😊

Red roses ~ “i’m afraid your existence in my life has tremendously done wonders to my racing heart. i may have to ask for yours in return”

Anemones ~ “just take my hand. don’t you dare second guess yourself”

~leona kingscholar x gender neutral reader~ ~royalty!au but leona is still a prince lol~

warnings: one curse word because this is leona and i'm sure he'd drop f-bombs on a daily basis

tysm!! this was so fun to write and i hope you don't mind it being a royalty au! it's just that when someone says "fairytale" i think of the classic princes and fairies and all of that lmao- hope you like it! edit: sorry! i forgot to add that i only write gender neutral readers, my apologies-

♡the lions run at night♡

Despite being a prince in his brother’s precious kingdom, Leona was more of a phantom in the shadows with the way he appeared and disappeared throughout the day, avoiding the incessant duties the royal family was expected to complete as leaders of the kingdom. If Leona wasn’t king, then what was the point in working in a position he did not wish to have? He’d much rather doze off in the palace’s serene gardens or order around his gentleman-in-waiting, Ruggie Bucchi, rather than waste his days in a drab, old meeting room with nobles who were only there to suck up to the king’s power through Leona. It sickened him and sent a bile taste to the back of his throat. Being around those leeching nobles, he means. Each one wanted the same as the last: money, control, the king’s place at the throne—you know, the usual needy desires a noble can have. 

Although, the young prince of Sunset Savanna had come to realize that you had been drastically different. As the heir to a dukedom in a far off land, you were a common visitor at the Kingscholar’s palace, with you attending each and every meeting, ball, and social gathering his brother’s kingdom had to offer. You were kind, so intelligent, an overachiever in every way possible, took part in royal gatherings, and—

It pissed him off. Every smile on your face was fake, every word you spoke was hollow, and each thing you did felt so… manipulated. Like you were a marionette while your dukedom was the puppeteer. The picture perfect heir to a controlling duchy. Leona could see right past your goody-goody facade and he hated it. He despised the way you two had been chained to the orders of your families, despised the way you barely showed any authentic emotions, and despised the fact that you both had been drowning in your own misery. 

Leona wanted to change that.

And so, lazily pulling you along the long, barren halls of the grandiose palace, the prince of Sunset Savanna guided you away from royal grounds and into a mystical forest adjacent to the Kingscholar’s castle. The forest was filled with enchanting creatures and flowers alike, with pixies, magical butterflies, mysterious mushrooms, and plentiful groups of fairies adorning the forest trees with golden dust that looked like heaven. It was like a dream you wished would never end. 

“I’m leaving this godforsaken place, and you’re coming with me,” Leona declared, interrupting your entranced state. 

“Wait, what? Why me all of a sudden?”

Leona immediately stopped in his tracks at your words. There was no way you could be so clueless, right? I mean, you were the only other person he spoke to in the palace and the only noble he genuinely enjoyed speaking to! Were you also so blind to his obvious stares and glances back at every ball you both would attend?

The young prince sighed and thought to himself. Wow, all of these brains, but you can’t tell when a guy likes you? Pfft— The whole ordeal was laughable, really, but he realized that now was not the time to tease you about it. Maybe later, he supposed. After he dealt with your airheaded self.

“Ugh, fuck it! I can’t take it anymore,” Leona said as he gently grasped your shoulders to make you face him, while gradually inching closer to your figure intimately. His actions were so tense that even the fae flying around you two halted in the jittery energy the prince had exposed. This was completely unlike him, and he knew it. But since when did falling in love ever make sense, hm?

Leona held your body close to his as his emerald eyes bore into your own colored ones. “I’m afraid your existence in my life has tremendously done wonders to my racing heart. It’s not fair. It was never fair. I may have to ask for yours in return.”

“Leona, I—”

 "Just take my hand, herbivor. Don't you dare second guess yourself and come with me. I know you hate this place just as much as I do.”

Perhaps a knight in shining armor isn’t all a tale needs to be saved. Perhaps what it truly needs is two suffocating souls, lost and bleary, finding each other in the masses and pulling one another out of the shadows they had found themselves in. There was no sole “savior” because the two souls would save each other. 

A happily ever after only you and Leona could create for yourselves. 

a/n: why is leona so fun to write for he just has that perfect "i hate you but i love you" energy, i personally don't even like him all that much but his fics are always so mMMMMM-

[ugh-yoongi]

favorite kpop group(s): tag game edition

tysm for tagging me @highvern, @cordiallyfuturedwight, & @hvseoks!

who is your favorite k-pop group?

bts, ateez, seventeen, the boyz

which member sparked your interest first?

bts: i'm pretty sure it was taegi? my best friend texted me this thesis-length primer and all i could remember later on were the ones named suga and v, lol.

ateez: mingi

seventeen: jeonghan

the boyz: kevin

who was your first bias?

bts: seokjin

ateez: mingi

seventeen: jeonghan

the boyz: kevin

who is your current bias?

bts: seokjin

ateez: seonghwa

seventeen: jeonghan

the boyz: younghoon

what makes them your current bias?

seokjin: just my number one boy. my comfort human. someone who is kind and takes care of others, who always tries his best and perseveres, who will be the first one to make a fool of himself to lighten the mood and make others more comfortable.

seonghwa: a lot??? like seokjin??? just a sweetheart. makes his little animal crossing sounds. isn't afraid to be himself. takes care of his members. insane duality.

jeonghan: chaotic. a schemer. makes his own rules and follows those instead. but also very sweet and subdued. takes care of his members.

younghoon: i honestly do not know how this happened. i went into watching content a staunch kevin bias and now i'm not. idk. maybe when i re-watched kingdom and he got in the water tank with sunwoo because he was scared. bee will say it's bc he's a leo.

who is your bias wrecker?

bts: yoongi; namjoon & hobi

ateez: hongjoong & mingi

seventeen: seungcheol, jun, & seungkwan

the boyz: kevin, chanhee, changmin, juhak

which members are you currently obsessing over that aren't your bias/bias wrecker?

bts: jungkook

ateez: yeosang

seventeen: mingyu

the boyz: sangyeon

when did you first discover this group?

bts: 2017. my best friend was into them first and sent me the mic drop mv. texted me the aforementioned primer. i kept up with them since then but didn't know kpop was... like this? like, the entire culture. was very unaware and thought it was just kinda like western groups.

ateez: 2019

seventeen: 2021

the boyz: 2021. it was either getting into them or seventeen and i went down the seventeen route first.

have you ever been to one of their concerts?

bts: twice as a group and d-day tour twice

ateez: three times

seventeen: twice

the boyz: no

what are some of your favorite songs by the group?

bts: best of me, blood sweat & tears, save me, ugh!, heartbeat, spine breaker, intro: never mind, intro: what am i to you, all of the cyphers, all of jin's solos, mikrokosmos, black swan, 2nd grade, the stars, spring day, autumn leaves, love maze, louder than bombs, 21st century girl, war of hormone. idk they have a massive discography how do you choose????

ateez: still here, twilight, say my name, hala hala, utopia, wave, wonderland, mist, answer, thanxx, fever, the leaders, take me home, dreamers, deja vu, turbulence, the real, don't stop, the king, cyberpunk, guerrilla, halazia, duna, matz, django

seventeen: fear, lie again, light a flame, super, i don't understand but i luv u, monster, lilili yabbay, trauma, highlight, march, ash, cheers, fallin' flower, don't wanna cry, my i, our dawn is hotter than day, good to me, getting closer, anyone, gam3 bo1, to you, run to you, 24h, a-teen

the boyz: ego, crying&laughter, no air, whiplash, b.o.y, bump & love, roar, breaking dawn, lip sync, eyes on me, d.d.d, drink it, echo, scar, 4ever, russian roulette, shine shine, tattoo, c.o.d.e, kiss me if you can, closer, levitating

no pressure tags: @the-boy-meets-evil @hot-soop @effortandmore @moni-logues @tbzhub & anyone else who wants to! do it and say i tagged ya :)

[cinamun]

Hey fren! I have a ton of questions. Lmk if I’m being too intrusive or nosey lol.

I love your story, I always have to give you your flowers when I write you!! All hail the Queen 🙌🏾🙌🏾💐💐💐

Ok my questions:

For starting out posting and editing, do you keep a schedule for yourself to stay organized? Rn I’m finally posting on my simblr after 3 years but I find myself just constantly taking screenies instead of posting and organizing the story. It feels chaotic lol the only organizing I’ve done just for game play in general is shopping for CC every other day (it’s an addiction)

A question I wanted to ask for a while is, if you are commissioning someone for poses what are the average prices you pay (or better yet, what do you think a good price is to pay for pose commission)? Sometimes I have these perfect poses in my head and when I’ve searched for hours I normally just end up giving up.

Lastly, I noticed your post from yesterday said you had 25 photos loaded in photoshop. Do you have all the art board (or images) side by side to edit them consistently and simultaneously?

Thank you if you answer!!

Good morning bestie!! Let me just go on ahead and adjust this crown right quick lol THANK YOU and I got you!

I'm chaotic and impulsive but I have a little bit of a routine. Follow me under the cut!

Okay, SO!! For the first question about posting and editing.... I usually have an idea for the next scene while working on the previous one. So when I go in-game for story updates, the idea is already there and I'm just setting up shots and making the scenes look good. I don't have a schedule other than my posting schedule, so when you mention last night, I was editing pics that I had taken earlier in the day or the day before. So my schedule is usually sitting in photoshop all night the day before I post.

For pose commissions, I've only done that twice. I've had real good luck over the years finding poses or animations for anything I've needed. I would say make an offer to donate to them if you know their shit is dope and move anywhere between $5 to $10 USD. For the poses I commissioned, they weren't released publically so that's extra special (tip them more!). Also keep in mind if you're asking for accessories to be used, how many sims are in the pose, etc. For pose searching, try to be as vague as you can. "ts4 cleaning poses" and then see what comes up is one example and don't shy away from animations! They work with pose player, most without WW and can make for some great screenshots.

I load up all the pictures in Photoshop plus whatever templates I'm using (like the texting one or the dust overlays), and edit in order of sequence. This is where all the dialogue happens so sometimes I edit out of order if I know the dialogue for one scene already and maybe not the others. I hope i'm making sense lol. I spend a lot of time on this part because the words might change given which picture I've decided on (some scenes I take multiple screenshots of and multiple angles and then decide later which one to use). I go pic by pic, doing editing and adding dialogue individually then saving them, closing them and moving on to the next one. Once I'm completely done then I flip through them a few times as if I were the reader to try and catch any typos, etc.

This got really long but let me know if that helps or if I can elaborate more!!

[luwritesomething]

HI OKAY SO idk u would wanna do this but if u do — could i get headcanons for dating balkan from wss??

Balkan Heacanons: Meeting and later Dating Balkan.

Warnings: Swearing lol, probably typos or bad constructed english

Edited?: Like always, no.

Reader's pronouns: Not stated, gender neautral.

Summary: Dating our lovely boy Balkan headcanons!!

Author's note: OH i don't know how long this sat on my inbox, sorry sorry sorry. also balkan <3 i really liked how these turned out !!!

balkan is a hopeless romantic

because i said so, that's why

i think he would actually be a rather cutesy boyfriend

like, very romantic

buys you chocolate every other week and flowers EVERY week

or rather steal, bc if he's past of the jets, you bet he's fucking poor

but like,,, first

i can see reader and balkan meeting at a shop or a bar or just while he's out with his friends and you're out with yours

and since he's a hopelessly romantic guy who believes in love on first sight, he falls

hard

head over heels

like literally,,,, his shoulder would slip under the counter as soon as your eyes lock with his, making him lose balance and fall.

the jets would BARK in laughter

is that a thing??

and you would laugh too, because that was funny, and so would your friends

but you wouldn't think too much about it. he was cute as hell, yeah, but that's it

until you started seeing him EVERYWHERE

it's not even intentional --- balkan just kept running into you whenever he came out of his new job at a garage

or maybe you'd be out with your parents or a relative, and you'd see him crossing the street, and he'd seen you too

it's a small street after all, why do you think the two bands are fighting so hard for it?

but it's funny, because he keeps making a mess out of himself whenever those encounters last more than a few seconds.

he never stutters, though --- his tongue is sharp and his flirting doesn't go over your head.

so you two end up growing closer, it's destiny

the first time he'd ask you out, you think he's just casually flirting so you brush it out

the second one, he gets a bouquet of red roses and asks you out in front of his friends, which is certainly something

you then say yes, ofc

the boys tease him about it for WEEKS.

he's very lovey dovey

physical too, pda is so annoying that the boys hate him

he's a very loving boyfriend --- and he's mastered the art of complimenting you

and it's always like they're not a big deal, the compliments i mean. balkan speaks so nonchalantly about your beauty that you still blush after weeks of officially dating him

bestest boyfriend

he'd quote random love poems he knows for some reason you still don't understand --- especially shakespeare's. i see him as a very shakespeare boy tbh and there's no reason for it.

his love language is a mixture of acts of service and giving gifts.

balkan says they're small things, but you love them

he's always going on about how he'd like to have money to take you to more fancy places and buy you more luxury-like things

you probably shut him up with kisses

did i say bestest boyfriend already??

very protective but in like the REAL, chill way of being protective

like, it's very very difficult for him to get jealous because you may be gorgeous, but you're also worthy of his trust and a good partner

if you cheat on him, i'll kill you myself.

he smiles a lot when he's around you. you make him that happy

you're the reason why he actually believes there's a better future waiting for him.

[gintrinsic-writing]

Whumptober 23: "Hold Them Down"

Woke up late and spontaneously decided to write something for today's whumptober prompt. Computer stopped working halfway through which was so awesome. I'll edit this a lot before posting to AO3 lol.

Has anyone seen the movie The Ruins before? 😉 CW body horror

--

Blinking did little to clear the sweat from Wind’s stinging eyes, nor did it help the way the landscape seemed slightly… off-kilter. Like he was walking at a lean or listing sideways when, in reality, he was dutifully following the others step for step for fucking step. What was this place? At least Fire Mountain had been a dry sort of heat. This was like marching through a sauna. If Wind became the first hero to ever die from heat stroke, he’d never forgive himself. 

“Fuckin’ absurd,” he muttered, stopping near a very large plant, its swooping green leaves nearly half his size. Every breath felt too thick, too humid, sticking to the back of his throat. He scratched his leg and swatted at the air with his other hand. Mosquitoes hovered around every pool of water, a constant, annoying buzz. Wind didn’t recognize any of the flora in this part of the world—Wild’s world? Hyrule’s?—but he decided, at that moment, that it was bad. Just fuckin’ terrible. The worst. 

“Wind?” Sky looked back at him, face flushed and shirt positively soaked with sweat. The others stood behind him looking hardly any better. “Why’d you stop?”

Black spots filled the corners of Wind’s periphery. He worried that might be a bad sign, but that was a problem for his future self. Possibly his five-minutes later self, but the others didn’t need to know that. “I’m tired.”

“It’s only a little further,” Hyrule told him. “Once we pass the river, it’ll only be another mile or two.”

Ah, so it was Hyrule’s world. Wind opened his mouth to say something—something scathing and witty, probably, because he wouldn’t profess to whining, when a muscle in his leg spasmed. He scratched it, which did absolutely fuck-all to help. 

“I can carry you,” Warriors suggested, hiding his amusement so well that Wind knew he was probably close to smirking. Maybe. Sometimes the Captain was just nice. Hard to say if this was one of those times. 

“Fuck off,” Wind grumbled, too tired to put any heart into it. A small cloud of gnats formed by his head, each of the little fuckers gunning for the moisture in his eyes. Swatting at them did little to dissuade them. “And quit staring at me, all of you,” he said, reaching for his waterskin as he trudged forward.  “Not my fault that…”

The world tilted, then Wind did, too. He hadn’t planned on that. 

Thankfully, one of the others was quick enough to catch him before he could embarrass himself further by hitting his head on a rock or something. It took a lot of blinking before he could make out Twilight’s face. “Nice save,” he said, and was completely ignored. Twilight slowly lowered him to the ground so the others could begin the annoying process of being worried. 

“Pulse is strong,” Time muttered, fingers held over Wind’s wrist. “But he’s burning up.”

“Heat stroke?” Legend asked, which made Wind groan loudly. Of course, then they looked even more concerned, so he regretted it immediately. 

Twilight’s ears twitched back and forth as he leaned in to sniff at Wind. “You smell funny.”

“You kiddin’ me, dog breath?” Wind sniped, ineffectively pushing at Twilight’s stupid face. His tongue felt heavy and awkward in his mouth. “S’disgusting out here. We all smell bad.”

“No, I mean…” Twilight’s nose wrinkled. “You smell sweet, almost? Like a flower. It’s strange.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m roses compared to some of you.”

Hyrule literally shouldered Wild aside to get closer. Wind would’ve laughed under any other circumstance. “A flower? What kind?”

“Uh,” Twilight began, eloquent as ever. “No idea.”

“We landed nowhere near the salt fields, but…” Hyrule licked his lips. “Wind, are you injured anywhere? Anywhere at all?”

Wind frowned as he thought about it. “I have a scrape on my leg. It’s small, barely even—” He made a sound of surprise as Hyrule started tugging off his pants. “Hey, rude! What the fuck, man!”

“Get them off,” Hyrule told Twilight. “Now. Hurry.”

Twilight hesitated only a moment before helping, and Wind gritted his teeth as the others looked on with varying levels of surprise and confusion. “Thanks for the…” He blew out his cheeks as his vision darkened briefly. “For the manhandling. Love this. Really role-model behavior.” 

Hyrule tossed Wind’s pants away like they were personally offensive, already studying the thin scab halfway between Wind’s knee and hip. The skin around it was a little red, but there wasn’t any discharge so Wind didn’t understand the fuss. Hyrule prodded at it gently. “Any tingling or itching? Numbness?”

“Itching,” Wind answered. “Damn mosquitoes probably got me through my pants. What’s all this about?”

“Maybe nothing,” Hyrule answered unhelpfully, but the intensity in his expression was nerve wracking. He pressed on Wind’s leg, waited several seconds, then pressed again. 

“Seriously,” Wind said, trying not to slur. Hells, he felt weird. “You’re beginning to freak me out.”

Instead of answering, Hyrule dug his thumbs into Wind’s hip and applied pressure down the length of the muscle. A weird prickling sensation broke out across Wind’s entire leg, painful and hot. Then, like a worm being flushed to the surface, something visibly wriggled beneath Wind’s skin.   

“Holy shit,” Wind gasped, fighting the urge to strike his own leg. The others mirrored his shock. “What is that? What is that?” 

Hyrule’s face paled. “It’s a vine,” he answered, signing a quick prayer for protection. That, more than anything, filled Wind with terror. But that wasn’t the worst of it. “Somebody, sterilize a blade. We have to act quickly. Wind, have you been itching anywhere else?”

“N-no, but what’s—”

“When did it start?” Hyrule interrupted. “When did you first notice?”

Wind blinked, taken aback. “This morning?”

“Fuck,” Hyrule snapped, and Wind wondered if he was the only one shocked by that. “It’s a Mimic Vine—an evolved strain of the Deku Babas the rest of you are used to. It’s carnivorous and if it—if it enters your bloodstream…”

Wind thought his heart might beat out of his chest. He swallowed thickly, unable to look away as the vine writhed beneath his skin. He swore he could feel it burrowing deeper. Behind him, Legend began using his firerod to heat one of Four’s knives. 

“You’re sure about this?” Warriors asked quietly, expression chillingly blank.

Hyrule nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen this before. I don’t know how it spread past the salt fields, but…” His eyes darted to the underbrush, to the canopy—wary in a way he hadn’t been before. “I need you to cut it out. It’s smart; it’ll try to move away from you. If I don’t heal him as you work, he’ll bleed out. I’ve seen it happen before.” 

“Guys,” Wind began weakly, fighting the urge to flee. As if sensing this, Twilight’s grip on his shoulders tightened. 

“I’m sorry, Wind,” Hyrule told him earnestly. “But there’s no time to make this any easier. You can bite down on my wallet. Warriors, you have to be extremely careful when you pull on it; if even a single piece is left behind, it will grow and self-replicate in a matter of hours.” Hyrule took a deep breath, grim and determined. He stared only at Wind’s leg when he finally murmured, “The rest of you… hold him down.”