#please do not repost (use without prior permission)

[idontknowwhatthatmeans]

Deleted Infinity Stone/Steggy Endgame Comic

How did Steve return the stones and what did that first moment between Steve and Peggy look like? A 9-page *mostly dialogue free* comic.

(*Although I like to imagine elderly Peggy’s dementia dialogue in Winter Soldier “you came back…” would fit really well)

*please do not repost

[lunaroserites]

It's a Pirate's Life For Me (Bucky x Reader)

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader (Fem)

Characters: Bucky, Steve, various other characters

Summery: Bucky is infatuated with a mermaid he seen years prior.

Not sure how long this will be it's for Mermay.

No use of YN

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Implied/referenced SA, Pirates, vulgarity, swearing, fighting, death, violence, blood.

Word Court: 6134

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! ❤️

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, without my express permission, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

The sea was calm, the full moon casting an ethereal light across the water. The North Star high in the sky, a guiding point for the young boy waiting for his father to come home, because no matter how far apart they might be, they could always see the North Star. 

Mother had always said that a calm sea meant trouble was afoot, but he couldn’t bring himself to  believe her, how could something so calm and vast be troublesome. The depths unknown as he peered down at it from the safety of the dock. Then he saw it, a fin, colourful but gone as soon as he saw it. He blinked rapidly and quickly ran to look for whatever fish he saw swimming around the dock but he couldn’t find it again. 

The sound of a horn caught his attention as his fathers ship sailed into the alcove from the vast open sea. He jumped excitedly as his fathers ship steered in and docked a short while later. The sea was no longer calm as waves and ripples spread across the once still surface. 

His father descended the plank that was placed down quickly, the boy jumped and danced around his father who looked like he was thousands leagues away. 

“Hush boy, go to your mother. I’ll be in later,” his father dismissed him quickly, taking a sharp right to the beach and to the other side of the ship. The boy, curious, quietly followed and hid in the shadows. He saw a body hit the water with a splash, and then it was dragged ashore, wrapped in a trap and was dragged to the forest that surrounded the cove they called home. He quickly followed behind the group of men, staying  hidden and out of the way. 

“What do we do with her Captain?” He peered out from a bush and saw what was wrapped in the trap. A large colourful fin laid in a small pool of water, with the torso of a woman draped over a rock as moon light filtered through an opening and cast an eerie glow around her. She was breathing heavily, and silvery blood glowed in the moon light from a fatal looking wound on her side, the flesh hanging from her. 

“Kill her, but take the scales. They’re worth more than gold,” the boy heard his father say and he gasped loudly at the harshness of his fathers words. Heads whipped toward him but he darted back toward the beach and home. He wasn’t caught, but his heart was pounding as he climbed into bed. 

~Two Days Later~

Curiosity got the better of him, as he found himself back in the clearing he had witnessed his father condemn the creature to death. He wanted to see if the corpse was there, maybe find one of the scales. But what he found instead was the creature barely clinging onto life with more than half her scales missing and she gasped and croaked under the moonlight. 

He approached cautiously and crept around her body, and observed her. She had a green blue tail, with smaller fins coming off it, she almost looked like a jellyfish with all her little tendrils. He was enraptured by her very existence, her hair was blonde, bone dry and caked with mud, she was facing away from him but he couldn’t help but picture what her face would look like. The sound of a snapping twig that he accidentally stepped on gave him away and her head instantly snapped in his direction. 

He yelped in surprise as her large eyes glared at him, he took a tentative step toward to get a closer look at her, that’s when she snarled and her once human looking hand morphed to claws and she swiped at him harshly, dragging the claws down his arm and ripping the flesh easily. He screamed in agony and she dropped back onto the rock and cried, silvery tears leaked from her eyes onto the rock, the sound of a gun shot rang through the night and she was gone. 

He unconsciously traced along the scars from her claws and shivered at the thought of the creature. That night he found out his father was a pirate, not a privateer with the navy like he had been told. He learned from him over the next decade, learned how to be a pirate, run a ship, get gold and riches. But he could never get the look on that creature's face out of his mind. She was terrified, alone and scared, his father killed her for what she did to his arm. 

He was home now, a short stop in the alcove he loved more than anything, visiting his mother after spending months at sea with his father learning the ropes. 

The sea was calm tonight, calm sea means trouble's afoot he never forgot his mothers words after all these years later. After spending nights at sea, it was rarely calm and it put him on a slight edge. The water surface broke suddenly but whatever did it was nowhere to be seen, he squinted as he tried to track how the water moved and where the ripples were freshly coming from. 

He took off running toward a small lagoon that was attached to the open ocean that he would explore when he was young. Once he broke through the clearing he was greeted with a sight he couldn’t ever forget. Long hair cascading down her back and beautifully long tail and fins that glistened under the moonlight. 

The scars on his arm tingled as he watched her. He took a few steps toward the water's edge and it lapped at his leather boots softly. Her head turned suddenly and she gasped, jumping back into the water out of view. 

“Wait,” his voice died in his throat as he searched for her. Then he saw her eyes, peering at him over the rock she had been previously sitting in. She looked terrified of him. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching his arms out in a show of affection, he wanted to be unthreatening and make her come out from hiding. 

He watched her squint, scrutinising him from behind the rock. Her eyes shining under the moon, almost glowing. He should hate these creatures, he had seen what happened when they got their claws into the minds of men, dragging his fellows to their watery graves to devour their hearts. But here he was trying to coax one out of hiding. 

He wasn’t surprised by her wariness, man and merfolk have never gotten along. So she probably just assumed he wanted to coax her into the shallows and then drag her on land and kill her once he had stripped her of her scales. 

He watched her hand move as she skirted around the rock she hid behind, he could see her own curiosity swirling in her eyes. She skimmed around and barely lifted her body from the water, just her eyes and forehead showing as she came around the rock. 

“Men,” their words felt odd on your tongue, “men lie,” you stuttered out. You watched his eyes widen at your broken English, humans knew little of your people. They were excellent linguists, and navigators, with beauty beyond comparison. You moved slowly, closer to him, not going as far as the sandy shallow, but close enough you would be able to fully scrutinise his form. He was tall, broad and strong, his hair chin length and his eyes were a piercing blue that cut through the night like a dagger. 

You flicked your tail, the water splashed and rained down in the moonlight, you watched him curiously. He watched you back, bewildered or bewitched. Which you couldn’t really tell. Your mind screamed to either start the siren song and drag this man to the depths and devour his heart or get the hell out of there. But you wanted to stay and learn about this man. 

“We do,” he said softly, his white shirt shifting in the soft breeze, the ties loose showing up tanned skin and defined muscle. He was definitely a pirate, no privateer looked like that. “I assure you though, I mean no harm,” he finished. 

You squinted again, unsure. Not daring to come closer, you  lifted out of the water further, your neck becoming exposed, the small frilly gills there shifted and closed so you could breathe air through your mouth. He watched in complete awe as your gills disappeared. “Why?” You asked, your throat felt dry, like you had sand trapped in it. 

“Because, you’re beautiful,” he said simply. He reached again and you shy back, pressing to the rock again. He would be easy to get to do as you pleased, with how careless he was being. There was a reason men despised your species, all you had to do was sing and his blood would sing the siren's song for the rest of his life if you choose not to kill him. He would never be able to be satisfied, his life would be ruined for any other pleasures. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. There was something innocent about the young pirate, he was not yet hardened by the burdens of life at sea. 

You slowly approached closer, ready to swim back to the safety of the deeper waters. Once further in the sandy banks, about five feet in front of the man you locked eyes again. 

You lifted your torso up from the water and watched as his eyes studied your form, he seemed eager to see more of you. In a bold move you lifted your shiny tail from the water and moved it. The fins glistened in the moonlight, the colours dancing across his eyes. He was completely enraptured by it. He noted your tail looked different from one a decade ago, you also wore coverings on your heavy chest, you had jewelled bangles on your arms and a few shelled necklaces around your neck, your fingers had some rings. Your ears had a slight point to them and your face was stunning. 

“What is your name?” He asked softly, as he took a few more steps into the shallows, closing the distance more, instinctively you backed up from him. You didn’t know how to say your name in his native tongue, so you shrugged and watched him. 

“I’m James, people call me Bucky,” he said, stopping so you would stop moving away. 

“Bucky,” you rolled the word around your mouth for a moment. Then you heard the distant sound of another approaching. You immediately pushed back, but not before pulling a small scale from your tail and wedging it between the rocks, it would gleam under the moonlight. And just like that you were gone. 

“Wait,” his voice died as he heard the tell-tale sign of someone approaching. 

“There you are, your father is losing his mind looking for you,” Steve’s voice echoed around the now empty lagoon. As Bucky turned to leave the thigh high water and retreat back to shore he noticed the faint glint in the water. Reaching down he snagged the scale and admired it a moment before tucking it in his pocket and joining his friend and heading back to the beach where his father waited. 

The scale felt heavy in his pocket, he felt its weight all the time. He has worn a small divot in the scale from rubbing it all the time when he was worried, or there was a lull in work on the ship. He kept it hidden though, how could he explain he found such a pretty thing without giving it away, he broke one of the cardinal rules of piracy, when he found her he should have trapped her, stripped her scales and killed her. But instead he kept her secret and held onto the scale. On nights of full moons he would admire it in the moonlight, it would shimmer differently in the moon than it did in the sun.

The sea was calm tonight while he watched the deck, watching over the crew as they finished nightly duties, the moon high in the sky and full. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked over the still water as the moon reflected off it. Something felt wrong and he couldn’t quite place it. Then he heard it, it was faint at first, soft like a cotton quilt as it whispered through the night like a soft breeze and it slowly grew louder. The men on deck heard it and rushed to the sides of the ship trying to catch a glimpse of those responsible for the song. 

“Cover your ears you fools!” He shouted loudly, trying to project his voice louder than the siren song. He quickly shoved the cotton he kept on hand into his ear canals to block the song out. It was too late for some of them, the sirens had crawled up the side of the ship, they had dug their claws into the minds of these men and dragged them over the side of the boat without any protest. 

His father rushed from the cabin, shoving cotton in his ears and tossing a pistol at his first mate. They went to war against the sirens whose hands shifted to claws and swiped toward anyone that pointed a gun at them. This was a whole pod of them, at least 15 circling the ship, ready to drag it to the briny depths. He looked over the edge, aiming a shot at the purplish tail he saw swim through silvery water as their spilled blood glistened in the moonlight. Their song was getting louder and louder, the cotton almost not enough to protect his ears. 

There was a sickening crack that echoed through the silent night. The ship shifted and he felt it sinking as it took water on quickly. “Dad!” He shouted as he grabbed his fathers arm and tried to drag him to a life raft so they could try and escape the sinking ship. 

“No boy, a captain goes down with his ship,” his father roared. He shoved a sack in his son's arms, he was pulled backwards and thrown overboard next to the life raft, his best friend following behind, cutting a rope for the raft that fell next to them.  

The shock of the cold water as he hit it made him jolt and thrash as the weight of the bag dragged him down in the icy depths. His eyes burned as he tried to see into the dark sea, the salt stinging them further. He felt the current change rapidly, something was circling him and fast, he wiped around trying to find whatever it was. His eyes were useless in the briny darkness. This thrashing and turning were quickly draining his energy and he was losing his oxygen fast. 

He felt something grip his ankle and pull him, he thrashed and kicked out, he felt something connect and the hand gripping his ankle was gone, he tried to swim up but the bag was pulling him further down. He refused to leave it behind. As he looked up through the dark sea he saw the moon shining down over him, then a set of striking eyes and a body covered the moonlight. Hands gripped his shoulders and hauled him upwards. 

He gasped loudly and coughed himself awake. He was face down in the sand, the bag his father gave him next to him and no one around him. The grainy sand made his skin itch, he tried to move but his body felt weak, he was exhausted and parched. 

“Holy shit!” He heard a voice yell, the sound of splashing water and then he felt hands grip his shoulders and haul him upright, the arms wrapped around him tightly and he felt cool tears on his cheek. 

“You’re alive, I thought we lost you, you were being dragged down to the depths, how?” Steve was rambling, he hugged him tighter. “God I’m so glad you’re alive.” 

“My dad,” Bucky croaked, “my dad, is he..?” His voice trailed off. Steve gave him a solemn look and nodded. 

“Him and most of the crew. The Morning Star is gone too. They’re in Davy Jones' locker now, god rest their souls,” Steve said softly. “The sirens took her down.” Bucky nodded and groaned. His head was pounding and his throat was dry as desert. 

Eight Years Later 

You watched from your hiding spot as they off loaded, medicine, on to the port. You had been curious about this crew since they made port yesterday, most of the things they were off loading were for the benefit of the people and they were not charging handsomely for the supplies. That part baffled you even more, most men were greedy, pirates more so. 

The Daybreak as the ship was named, looked to be a modified frigate. That allowed it to be agile and quick while still housing powerful weapons. Nothing like the Queen Anne’s Revenge or other large pirate ships that usually docked here. The people of the port seem to respect the crew of this ship a lot though, maybe they come here often. 

You had yet to spy the captain of this vessel though, the reason you were so close, too close, to the port was because you were curious if the man you saved 8 years ago would show his face on one of the many boats. He was the boy you met 12 years ago. You had saved him from an early watery grave when your sisters attacked his ship, you were supposed to drag him down, eat his heart but as you swam around him and he kicked your sister in the face you had wanted to look in his eyes before you killed him. But you couldn’t, the moment you saw those stormy blues you knew it was him from the lagoon. He let you live once and didn’t harm you, and you owed him a debt. The sea did not take kindly to owed debts. So you saved him, a life for a life. A debt repaid. 

You had tried finding him again at the lagoon but he rarely made port there and from what you could tell the alcove was abandoned shortly after his fathers ship was sunk by your sisters. So you visited the busier ports hoping to catch a glimpse of him again. 

That’s where you messed up, you were too close to the port so you could try and spy on the pirates. You were not hidden enough and the moonlight glinted off your tail just right and caught the eye of a pirate that just so happened to be walking past. You didn’t notice him, but he was quick to make note and let some of the other crew know. 

Curiosity got the better of you since this ship had been docked for 3 days there was no sign of the captain at all. What captain doesn’t leave their ship while at port. Against your better judgement and if your sisters had seen you they would have lost their minds, you swam up to the ship once the night was in full swing. Most of the crew would either be sleeping or on shore enjoying the comforts of women and booze. 

There was a full moon tonight that slowly dropped down so the sun could rise, and the sea was calm. You should have heeded the warning signs but foolishly you crept around the ship far too close to the surface trying to spy the captain of the magnificent beast. 

Bucky held the scale in his hand as the full moon light glimmered through the open window. It shimmered brilliantly under the moon. It felt heavier than usual tonight, it was almost humming. The scale was a curious trinket and very few knew he had it. His first mate and best friend Steve being one of them, and the swamp witch. He had lost it once, and his heart and chest felt like it was going to explode. The swamp witch said that his connection with the scale with other worldly and the siren that had left it with him probably bewitched it. Or he was somehow connected to the siren herself. But tonight it almost felt like the scale was singing to him. 

“Captain,” Steve said in a hushed tone as he entered the quarters, “something is amiss with the crew. I fear they’re planning something.” Bucky nodded and waved his hand to dismiss him, Bucky was too focused on the scale he held in the fading moonlight. Steve shook his head and left the cabin. 

You gave up soon and decided to cut your losses and get away from the ship and retreat to a secluded cave not far from the docks for the rest of the night. You didn’t notice the crewmen following your glistening scales. Once inside the cave, the water is much shallower than the ocean. You laid your head down and stretched your tail out and relaxed. 

Something heavy was thrown on top of you and woke you immediately. You thrashed and flailed around trying to get free as an inhuman screech left your mouth. It was a net, “dose her,” someone shouted as you thrashed. Something sharp struck your hip area and you nearly passed out all fight and drive stolen from you. You felt yourself fold as the net was gathered and hauled through the water as they pulled you to god knows where. 

“Easy does it men,” someone said, your head was pounding and you felt incredibly groggy and weak. You were thrown to the ground and slid across the deck and hit the wall of the ship, you were pulled back to the centre quickly and they pulled the net off you. You looked around frantically, you tried to move your tail but it felt like it weighed 1000 lbs. 

You quickly tried to pull yourself across the deck and fall overboard but a scream left your throat suddenly as a sword was jammed into your fin and into the floorboard keeping you in place. You looked around at the group of men that surrounded you with greedy eyes. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Someone barked as they pushed through the crowd. He was blonde and the moment your eyes connected he gawked at you for a moment before shouldering out of the way and heading toward the captains quarters. 

“Those scales will fetch a mighty fine amount of gold,” some of the crewmen said, licking his lips as his eyes roved over your body. 

“What is going on?” A new voice boomed and all the crewmen immediately stood at attention. He came into view and your breath hitched. It was him, it was the man from before. You couldn’t believe your eyes. He looked at you and immediately recognized you, there was something dark in his eyes as he stared at you, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. 

“Bloody hell,” his eyes were wide as you looked you over, you felt incredibly exposed and turned to cover yourself. He pulled the sword from your fin, and you pulled your tail close to you. You felt a burn in your tail as the sun of the morning beat down on it, the scales dropping and disappearing the longer you sat there. 

“Captain!” Someone shouted, your tail was disappearing as everyone gawked and human legs started to form. He stared at you wide eyed as legs appeared like magic before him. 

In an attempt to get away you scrambled your feet and tried to get away. Never having used feet or legs before you didn’t make it far and fell down. The crew laughed, but quickly stopped at the captain's fierce gaze. He was taking his coat off as he took a few cautious steps toward you, he threw it on top of you and stepped back quickly as you bared your teeth to him.

“Who’s idea was this?” The captain growled as he looked around at his crew. Everyone was silent. “I asked a question.” 

“It was I sir,” someone stepped forward. “I saw her snooping around the ship and followed her. We caught her and brought her here,” he finished. 

“What did I say about chasing merfolk?” The captain's voice was tense. “I told you not to. We can’t let her back in the water now. She’ll call her sisters and we’re as good as dead,” the captain pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“We drugged her, she can’t grow her tail back. We got it from the swamp witch,” a crewman said. Which you missed because as the captain addressed his crew you as quietly as possible pulled yourself across the deck to the edge and threw yourself off. The captain's head whipped to the side as he looked toward where he heard the splash. He immediately dove over the side of the ship and into the water. You were sinking and flailing, unable to use your human legs effectively for anything. The captain wrapped his arms around your middle and hauled you to the surface of the water, you trashed against his arms and screamed, water filled your throat as your gills didn’t grow back either. 

The crew pulled the captain back on board with you grasped in his arm, he threw you to the ground and you weren’t breathing. 

“Fuck,” the captain dropped to his knees and started to force to the water from your lungs, you coughed violently a moment later sending sea water flying all over him. You gasped for air and felt panic set in as you looked into his bright blue eyes, why didn’t your fin grow back, what was happening. Why couldn’t you call your sisters when you hit the water. Your siren song is gone completely. 

“Whoa. Whoa. You were drugged. The cure is a couple month journey, we’ll get it for you,” the crew erupted in protest. 

“What!? Why?” Some shouted. “I say we cut it throat and bleed the bitch,” one person yelled over the rest. Fear gripped your heart as you looked into the captain's eyes, frantically searching for something that would save you from that fate. 

“No,” it was a simple answer as the captain effortlessly hauled you up into his arms and marched toward his quarters, throwing the door open and slamming it shut. He dropped you in his bed and backed away and started to pace as you stared at him fearfully. You pushed back against the wall and pulled your legs to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. You felt tears leak out of your eyes and your throat was dry and scratchy. 

“I know you,” the captain finally said as he stopped and looked at you, you shrunk further under his intense gaze. “You were the one who saved me, the one I saw at the lagoon,” you nodded at him. “Why,” he asked sternly. 

You pointed at your throat and gasped. He raised an eyebrow at you, you sighed and rolled your eyes. You pointed at his hip flask and then at your throat again. 

“You’re thirsty?” He asked, you nodded vigorously. He moved quickly and you jumped, pushing father away from him. “Sorry,” he said as he extended his arm out with a small cup of water. You snatched it and drank it back quickly, feeling immediate relief. 

“Debt repaid,” you croaked out. His eyebrow raised quizzically again. You sighed heavily, “you saved me,” another long drink of water, “I saved you. Life for life.” Your voice was evening out and crackling less. Your English was still choppy and words sounded difficult for you to say. 

“You felt you owed me a blood debt?” He asked, you rolled your eyes, humans. You nodded again. 

“The sea does not take kindly to owed debts. She believes in balance,” the words came out rushed and choppy. 

“So if you killed me 8 years ago, you, what, would be punished for not repaying the debt?” He asked, confused. 

“Yes, the ocean, she would punish my sisters and I,” your breath hitched suddenly at the mention of your sisters. They would eventually come looking for you once they realised they couldn’t hear your song. “I need to get back to them, they’ll kill you and your crew,” you said frantically. 

“Whoa,” he held his hands up at you, “easy there girl, I can’t just let you go back to them. Who’s to say you won’t lead them right to us?” He said, your chest tightened and your heart was pounding, you stared at him fearfully. 

“You’re holding me hostage?” Your voice cracked as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes now. 

“They’ll want me to gut you before I let you leave,” he said, and rubbed his beard clad chin. “Hell they'll only agree to bring you to the swamp witch so you can get your scales back so they can take them.” He said it so casually, your eyes widened at him. 

“I’ll bring you to the cure, but you’ll own me, you’ll be in my debt again,” you gulped. “And I can think of a few ways you can repay it,” you made a disgusted expression and gawked at him, a sour note leaving your throat. He looked at you and his eyes widened suddenly, “god no, not that,” he said quickly. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

“So what will you do with me? Throw me in the cell in the brig. Let your crew have their way with me,” you spat at him venomously. His eyes darkened suddenly, something sinister hiding in those ocean blues. He glared at you and you shrunk under his gaze. 

“No one will lay a hand on you,” he all but growled at you. There was possessiveness to his words, his gaze hard and there was a storm brewing in his eyes. “You will stay here. With me.” He said with a sense of finality, you looked at him disgusted again. 

“I’m not going to be your personal whore,” you snapped. His face snapped to face yours instantly and he was standing very close to you, his face right in yours and he glared into your eyes, you could smell the remnants of rum on his breath, your breath hitched. 

“You will be what I want you to be. If you want protection from them out there,” his tone was hard, stern. It scared you beyond belief. His hand reached out and he cupped your chin in his large calloused fingers making you look into his eyes. “Do I make myself clear?” You gulped and nodded, he immediately dropped his hand from your chin and walked away like he was disgusted by being that close to you. You watched him take a few deep breaths and shake his shoulders out. 

“I will not harm you or expect anything of you that you are not comfortable with. The debt you owe me can be repaid once you get your fins back,” he said evenly before leaving the cabin, leaving you completely alone. 

You took some deep shuddering breaths before you tried to move from the bed. The moment you stood you wobbled and fell back into the bed. You groaned loudly and fisted the sheets in frustration. The ship was still docked, if you could get these god forsaken legs to work with you, you could possibly escape back onto port before the ship got too far away. But based on the fact you couldn’t even stand upright without falling that would not be happening. And not to mention you were naked from the chest down, and the only thing covering your breasts was your handmade bra. You loved it, it was adorned in gems, and shells. You used things you found from wrecks to make it, the jewellery you wore was also from the many shipwrecks on the ocean floor. 

Resigned to your fate you tucked yourself into the corner of the bunk and covered your legs with the blanket. It was scratchy and rough against the skin of your barre legs. This is a feeling you didn’t think you would get used to any time soon. You tried to get your body and brain to work in sync by practising wiggling your toes and rolling your ankles around. Then bending your knees and twisting your leg at the hip. You would have to figure these legs out sooner rather than later or it would be a boring 2 months before you made it ‘swamp witch’ as they called the mother.  

It was while before you heard movement outside the cabin door, it slammed open, “Bucky, man you’re crazy. The crew, they'll never agree to keeping her here,” the blonde from earlier shouted at his captain. You scrambled back into the corner of the bed and tucked yourself into a small ball as his gaze snapped over to you. 

“It’s her isn’t it? The one who gave you scale 12 years ago. I recognized it the second I saw her tail,” he spat at his captain. 

Bucky threw his hand over the blonde mouth and glared into his eyes, “shush you fool,” Bucky snapped. “Yes it’s her,” he whispered, releasing the blonde's face.

“We’re so fucked,” the blonde threw his hands up in the air. He immediately whipped around and stalked up toward you, you pressed back further as he pointed his finger directly at you. “I don’t know how you bewitched him, or what your plan is,” he grabs your wrist and slit it with a knife, you yelped and stared back at him in fear as he slid the blade across his palm. Before he could connect the cuts together the captain grabbed the blonde's wrist. 

“Fool,” Bucky spat at his first mate. “That’s a siren. You can’t make a blood bond with her. Their song runs in their blood. You foolish idiot.” He threw his friend away from you. You cursed yourself for a moment, earlier when you fell into the sea, you should have sliced your palm and let the blood trickle into the water. Your sisters would have heard it. The song of the blood was different, more desperate than your usual song and would have called your sisters to your side immediately. But that only worked in water. He grabbed the blade and slid the blade across his palm and grabbed your cut wrist. 

Your blood mingled and you felt it singing, it was powerful, primal almost. As the blood mingled and combined you felt pinpricks through your body, his eyes were glowing a little as your siren blood mixed with his human blood. You were shocked a mere mortal would foolishly bond himself in blood to a siren. “If you harm anyone on or off this ship or this ship itself. You will parish,” he ground out as he felt your blood seep into his veins. You glared at him and growled, you put your other hand on his and kept them connected. 

“If you or any of your crew harms me, they will parish,” you spat at him, eyes ablaze. He ripped his hand from your wrist and glared down at you. 

“You witch,” the blonde spat. 

“Enough Steve,” Bucky said, breathing heavily. “You got what you wanted. A protection pact. Bound in blood,” he finished. The wounds healing quickly, the magic of the sea seeping into the ships boards. 

“You let her damn us. Now we can’t kill her afterwards,” Steve spat, he glared at you. You glared back. 

“Blood pacts can be broken. The swamp witch can do it,” your lip twitches. 

“To break a blood pact will cost you gravely,” your voice was an eerie tone, darker than before, more far away. His head whipped toward you and you smirked at him, “are you sure you’ll want to pay the price.” The price of breaking a blood pact usually favoured neither party. The sea would always get the last laugh in these circumstances. 

“The worst it could be is death,” the captain spat toward you. “And fortune favours the bold.” 

“There are fates worse than death, captain,” you snarled back. He whipped around and placed the tip of his sword under your chin and made you look into his eyes. 

“Of which you’ll learn,” he retorted. 

“You can’t harm me. Any harm and the punishment is grave,” you challenged, not cowering from him. He growled and a shiver went down your spine. 

Feel free to send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list!

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Nineteen

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Alludes to sex, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have your chance to complete the Qualifying Course for the Blood Rite.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Fourteen - Fifteen - Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen

The next day you traveled to Windhaven with Rhys and Feyre. He wanted to show her the camp and then take her into the mountains to help with her powers. You didn’t want to interrupt with their time, so you chose to join the males in training. 

After last night with Azriel, you were a bit tired. You hadn’t truly gone to bed until the clock struck three, staying up and talking with him. And making love. All over your room. You honestly hoped the night would never end. But here you were, sparring with an Illyrian male who had a mixture of hate and disgust in his eyes that he was chosen to spar with you today. Just next week you would have your try at the qualifying course. And just in time too, as the Blood Rite would start within the next month as Spring came. 

You weren’t too happy having to leave Azriel this morning, but you had to get in your morning training since you would miss it here. And you came back with an official Siphon atop your hand. You couldn’t act weak. 

That being said, Azriel joined your morning flight training. The night prior did nothing to stop him from going just as hard on you as before. You were grateful for it. While you and Azriel agreed that there would be no one else, that you would be a couple from now on, you didn’t want him to treat you differently. At least, not in the training ring. 

You let out a wince as the male across from you hit your arm, which you returned with hitting his leg and sweeping his feet from under him. You held the training sword to his throat, waiting for him to yield. 

When he didn’t, you pressed the dull tip of the sword further towards his artery. “Don’t make this any more pathetic. Yield.” You ground out. 

You had this problem with many males. They would lay there for minutes on end, not being able to disarm you but not wanting to admit defeat from a female. The level you were at now was the level that would take the course with you next week. And you were pretty sure if you qualified and made the Blood Rite, these males above all else would be the ones to make you pay for it there. But you wouldn’t give them the chance. 

He gave up after a minute of shifting, trying to grab your ankle or wait until you got tired. You could wait like this for days on end and not let up. You would never let another male disarm you and make you yield or beg again. Not without fighting. 

“Shadowsinger,” you heard from the other side of the ring. Your new trainer, Leron, was watching the entire encounter. You did nothing wrong, so if you got a verbal lashing from it you would not be happy. “You’re doing the course tomorrow. By yourself. No other male wants to compete with you.” He said. 

Your neutral face turned into a scowl. The qualifying course was meant to be completed as a unit. While you didn’t think any of the males would help you, they needed to qualify just as much as you did. So they would do it for their own progress. 

That didn’t matter, though. You’d run the course by yourself before. Sure, you only finished in 15 minutes and not the needed 10, and it was significantly smaller than the actual course, but you could do it. “Fine,” you said. “Tomorrow? I was supposed to have another week of training.” 

“You’ll get another go at it next week.” He said and shrugged. You rolled your eyes.

“Alright, see you tomorrow then.” You said and turned to go back to sparring. 

“No more training today, either. You should rest.” He sneered. You clenched your fists, seeing your power flicker in your Siphon. You took a deep breath and turned back towards him. “Okay.” You simply said and walked past him through the training ring gates. You didn’t need to train with those males anyway. 

You had been out there for four hours and you were starving, so after a quick bath, you made your way to the mess hall. You paused when you heard shuffling in one of the smaller stables. You leaned forward, instructing your shadows to cover you as you made your way inside. You saw Ragna and a male you recognized but did not know the name of. Sucking face. You pursed your lips and turned around quickly, knowing that she could handle herself. And that from the looks of it, she was enjoying herself. You were shocked a male in this camp wasn’t intimidated by her. Next to you, she was one of the best female warriors here. She had advanced further than the other three, but wasn’t close to your level yet. 

You continued on your way to the mess hall, deciding that after a quick meal, you would go to the smaller practice course Azriel set up and run it until sundown. And maybe after as well. 

The qualifying course was no joke. You could’ve sworn they put all the most difficult pieces together just for you. Because every course you saw only had one of each piece. The climbing wall, the steps, the giant piece of wood that swung around. When you practiced last night, you had done each of the smaller ones in record time. But this was a bigger version. 

You asked that the Inner Circle not watch, even Azriel. He wanted to, but you knew Rhys sent him to watch the queens and you didn’t want to interrupt that. And if you had that humiliation of failing in front of them… you weren’t sure you could recover. Granted, a group of males stood around the course, some exchanging coppers and marks, probably betting at which point you would fail. But your fellow females were there too. They were standing together, not talking to any male and not bothering to reply to their retorts. You would finish this course in record time. For yourself. But for them, too. To prove that they could do it one day too. 

You took a deep breath, glancing at Devlon and the other commanders. They were doing this to wear you down. To show that a female couldn’t do it. 

They were wrong. 

The total course had a time limit of 1 hour. They were being generous and said you had an extra 15 minutes since you were alone and not in a unit. You didn’t need it. 

While you ran the course, the noise around you was filled with yells and jeers as you did each obstacle, climbing the wall, running the steps, jumping over fallen trees. Your wings were bound for this too, but you learned how to work without them. After all the practicing and training, this course was easy. And the females watching only drove you to complete it quicker. And perfectly. You didn’t take any shortcuts, didn’t use your shadows. You instructed them to stay all the way at the beginning of the course. And you certainly didn’t use your Siphon. Even a flare of it would disqualify you. So you did everything with the pure strength of your body and mind. 

After 15 minutes, you didn’t even hear the males anymore. You only heard the winds, your steps against the dirt, the constant thrum of the wooden pole swinging in front of you. You got through each obstacle with ease. And you finished with a time of 45:02. Faster than any unit within the past year. 

When you finished, you were panting, catching your breath. And then you saw Azriel. He was standing there with nothing but pride on his normally unreadable face. You told him not to come, but of course he wouldn’t miss it. Cassian would’ve been there as well if there wasn’t a problem at Ironcrest he had to deal with. But Azriel, the male you spent an incredible night with, and the male that trained you to do exactly what you just did. He was there for you. When the rest of the Inner Circle obeyed your request, he stood and watched the whole thing. You didn’t even care about the other males as you launched yourself in his arms, laughing to yourself. “I did it.” You whispered. 

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered, holding back from kissing you. “You were amazing. I wish I could show you.” He said and pulled away from the embrace. 

You stepped back, knowing that if you stayed any closer you would probably mount him right there. You took a deep breath and turned towards Devlon. “So?” You asked. 

“You’ve officially qualified to enter the Blood Rite this spring…” he said, the males around him yelling out in protest. As if you didn’t just run a perfect course on your first try. “Will you accept the challenge?” He asked. 

You nodded, a small smirk coming to your lips. “Yes, I’ll compete in the Blood Rite.” You said. 

He nodded and turned towards the other commanders. 

“I’ll have to stay here until it starts.” You said to Azriel, watching his features turn from pride to worry. He was so happy that you completed the course. But there was the other side of the coin: you were going to compete in the Blood Rite. And that terrified him. Losing you terrified him. “Hey,” you said and stepped towards him, your shadows swirling around you. You lifted your hand, cupping his cheek. “Remember, my first priority is to survive. I’m not looking to be a hero. I just want to prove myself.” You said. 

“You have… you did the course.” He said. “I- (Y/N)… I don’t know if I can sit by for a week while you’re out there fending for your life..”

“You’re going to have to.” You said. “I’m not just doing this for me, but I’m doing it for them.” You said and turned towards the females, smiling as you saw them elated at your victory. You could see the shift in him. “If I complete the Blood Rite, they can too… and we can have a female unit.” 

Azriel stared at you with unspoken words in his eyes. He wanted to tell you to be careful. To reconsider. But he had doubted you once before and he was proven wrong. He would not doubt you again. He couldn’t afford it. Couldn’t afford what doubting you meant. “I’ll be waiting for you, right there, when you get back.” He said and nodded towards the cabin. 

“And I’ll meet you, crowned just as you are.” You said and nudged his arm. “The first female Carynthian.” You said, walking towards the cabin. When he didn’t follow, you turned around. “You have to go back to spying?” You asked. Rhys and Feyre went off into the Mountains this morning, and you hoped you could get some time alone with Azriel while they were away. Now that you had to stay here until the Rite. 

“I do… but I’ll be back… I don’t want you alone on the night the Rite starts.” He said and you smiled a bit. 

You glanced around, noticing that most of the Illyrians had gone away. “I’ll see you soon, Spymaster.” You said and kissed his cheek. 

Rhys and Feyre came back from the mountains a few days later, Rhys’s wings were bleeding and he could barely stand up. Feyre was visibly upset about something and before you could even approach them, Mor winnowed Feyre away. To where, you would find that out later. 

You stepped forward and helped Cassian and Azriel get Rhys inside. “What happened?” You asked as you set him down on the couch, telling Az to go get Madja. “Rhys..” 

He stumbled over his words, telling you about how they were attacked and Feyre had to catch the Suriel to find out how to help him. In doing so, she found out that Rhys was her mate. And she wasn’t too happy that you all, him above everyone else, lied to her about it. 

You all stayed in the cabin at Windhaven that night. Mor wouldn’t tell you where she took Feyre, she wanted to be alone. So, you waited around while Madja healed Rhys as much as she could. You opted to train with Cassian and Azriel the next day. You were worried about Rhys and Feyre enough that it was a little distracting being around the other Illyrians. 

When you came back that night, you fell asleep in your leathers, sprawled on the couch. You had a layer under your leathers since the day was particularly cold and you didn’t bother taking anything off. The cloak you threw on to walk from the training ring to the cabin was still tied around your neck, your hands buried inside the fur. 

That night something changed within the cabin. The fire went out and you shot up, feeling someone cover your mouth with a cloth. There was a scent of something on it that you couldn’t quite place while you tried to get out of their grasp. You saw Azriel appear in front of you, staggering back at whatever site he saw. And in that moment, your shadows separated from you, your magic drained, and your vision began to dim. But just as the last drop of power slid out from under you, a coil in your abdomen snapped, causing you to let out an audible gasp. In the process, you breathed in the last of the scented cloth and passed out into the arms of your captor. 

When you woke up in the morning, there were two things you knew to be true. 

Azriel was your mate.

You had entered the Blood Rite.

A/N: Annnd a Cliffhanger for you all... luckily next part is a 2 parter :)

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[bad268]

Pretend (Brad Simpson X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Musicians

Requested: Day 29 of Writing Inktober prompts instead of drawing!

Warnings: Breakup/makeup, based on Just Pretend by Bad Omens

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 594

As always, my requests are OPEN

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Writing Inktober 2024 Materlist

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“I can stay away if you want me to,” You tried to salvage your crumbling relationship as you frantically attempted to grasp the pieces. The pieces being Brad’s hands as he pulled away from you. “Please, I can’t lose you. I’ll wait for years if I have to. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.”

“Please understand where I’m coming from here,” He sighed, tilting his head at you. He put up a strong front, but behind those walls, he was cracking. He hated causing you pain, especially when it was seemingly out of nowhere, but he knew this was needed for both of you. “We have been together since we were teenagers. We don’t know how to live without each other. We both need this.”

“Will you just wait me out, please,” You cried, looking at him through your tears, “Don’t drown me out, Brad. Please.”

“I have to let you go,” He whispered, squeezing your hands tightly. Those six words broke your heart beyond repair.

“We’ll try again when we’re not so different,” You offered with a watery smile as you briefly made eye contact with him. You squeezed his hands one last time before letting go, taking a step back and breathing in deeply. “We’ll make amends. Till then, I’ll just pretend.”

That was years ago. You went home and took Brad’s reason to heart. You reflected on it, and he was right. You didn’t know who you were without him. You had lost your personality, and you needed the time apart to find yourself again.

You dove back into your hobbies, and you focused on yourself, your career, and your interests. You got a promotion and a new car, and you traveled the world a fair bit. Brad, on the other hand, just went on tour. He poured himself into his work and didn’t let up until their break. You both had very different approaches to the separation, but you both came out stronger nonetheless.

You walked through the streets of London as you did on most of your days off, but this time, you did not expect to see Brad walking out of a music store.

“Brad, hey,” You shouted as you ran over to him. Immediately, he met you halfway and wrapped you up in an embrace. “Long time no see.”

“It has been a while,” He commented as he pulled back slightly, keeping you in his arms. “Four years, right?”

“Yeah,” You chuckled lightly, analyzing his face. He was in awe of you. You looked just like you did four years prior but also completely different. You thought the same of him as you briefly used your fingers to twirl one of his curls. “I see you still don’t know how to care for your curls. Some things never change, huh?”

“Come with me today?” He asked out of the blue. You felt his hands tighten around your arms. Not in a painful way, but more of a secure, ‘I need you’ kind of way. “Weigh down on me, stay til morning? Please. Would you say I’m worthy of your love now?”

“I waited for you for years because I had to,” You replied after you saw the tears collecting in his eyes, and right there, you knew he felt the same after all this time. You moved a hand to the side of his face and wiped the fallen tears, smiling as you said, “Heaven knew I wasn’t getting over you. We can try again now that we’re not so different. I’m tired of just pretending.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[sister-lucifer]

In which Lucian, a humble baker, meets two very interesting customers who seem to be more than meets the eye. 

Content/Warnings: Original characters, slow burn, Medieval/Fantasy, charmingly mundane slices of life stuff, just fluff and character set up in this chapter, but if you like MLM Poly relationships you should stick around! 

You can find the masterlist for this series (among others) in my pinned post! 

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU.

Not fully proofread! Please let me know if you catch any errors!

Lucian stretches out in his bed, groaning as his joints pop and his limbs wake up, readying themselves for the day. Begrudgingly he sits up, dirty blond hair tousled by his pillows in the night. He smooths it down as best he can with his fingers, but there’s not much he can do without the unforgiving bristles of a brush. 

With a yawn he throws his legs over the side of his bed and slides his feet into his tattered slippers. He cracks his back for good measure, sighing and blowing a curly lock of hair from between his eyes. As the outside world slowly leaks into his sleep-addled brain, he recognizes the familiar sound of the jays chirping endlessly outside his window; a sure sign that it is, in fact, time to get up.

When he pushes himself out of bed and parts the old curtains hiding his chambers from the rest of the world, the sun is eager to cover his freckled face in its warm light. He blinks a few times to adjust, the blinding brightness of the morning slowly melting into a pleasant glow.

His shapeless pajama gown flows about his round body as he trudges to the bathroom, another yawn crawling up his throat as he comes into view in the mirror. His hair is flicked up in every which way, hazel eyes tired but not unhappy as he walks up to the sink, pudgy tummy bumping against it when he leans over to splash a bit of water on his face. 

He feels much more awake than before once he’s dried his rosy cheeks and rubbed his eyes. He plucks his hairbrush from its holder and runs it briefly under the faucet before running it through his fawn tresses, only until the thatch of curls becomes presentable enough. No one’s going to be looking that hard, anyways. 

The hairbrush clatters back into its holder and the toothbrush comes out instead. It too is run briefly under the water before being put to work, another step in the morning routine Lucian often finds himself repeating ad infinitum. Minutes later he’s back in his bedroom, rummaging through drawers for something that resembles a put together outfit. It doesn’t have to be perfect when it’s going to be covered with an apron all day. 

He decides on brown trousers that are loose around the bottom and a comfortable, worn tunic that won’t get in the way with its flowing sleeves or make his binding garment too obvious. He slips his feet from his house slippers and instead into his trusted woolen-soled shoes, long since shaped to the arch of his  feet after so many years. 

He pauses to glance in the mirror, turning halfway just to make sure nothing has an obvious rip or tear in it. He adjusts his pants and the bottom of his shirt around the chub of his belly before ultimately deciding it’ll do. 

He turns back to grab his mossy green, woolen sweater from the chair he draped it over the night before. The edges are fraying again, he notices, he’ll have to fix that when he has the time. He doesn’t mind it so much now, though, as his arms fit comfortably into the warm sleeves of the garment, thumbs skillfully avoiding getting caught on any of its unnoticed holes or the hasty stitching of its owner from decades prior. Lucian does take note, though, that the split in one side pocket is growing. He’ll have to fix that later, too.

When Lucian pushes open the door connecting his home with his bakery, the comforting, lingering smell of strawberry and buttercream greets him with vigor. It seems to permeate everything in his bakery, though he certainly doesn’t mind. This early the only ones out on the streets are stray dogs retreating to their hiding spots and children headed to the school building up the road. 

He pulls the door open and props it with the stop, then flips the sign set up in the window: 

Hensley’s is Open! Come on in! 

“We’re open, everyone!” Lucian calls, not to anyone in particular. 

The first preparations of the day are always the easiest. 

First, he pulls his trusty apron from its rack and ties it behind his back, double knotting it just to make sure it’ll hold. Then he pulls the still-good loaves and pastries from yesterday that weren’t sold from their covered baskets, arranging them in his display in the particular way he can’t explain but can’t do without. When he’s satisfied with the results he moves on, giving a quick glance to the door before turning to his oven. 

He grips the fire striker with less confidence than he should, his other hand tossing a few logs into the oven before grabbing his flint. As he strikes the stone and the spark sets the wood alight he resist the urge to scramble backwards despite the familiar heat on his knuckles. His back aches as he rises to his full height once more, setting the flint and striker back on their shelf. 

He turns his attention to the plants in his windows next. He fills the can with the spout around the side of the bakery (it’s too bulky to fit into the little sink at his station, after all), dropping a bit of water on the wildflowers that bloom outside the building on his way back inside. 

Slowly, the watering can’s spout moves over each pot, moved by a practiced hand that has done this countless mornings before. Only when the soil is thoroughly wet does he move on, cycling through one by one until all of his green children have had their fill and the can can be tucked neatly back into place in the cabinet.

Lucian pauses as he takes a look around his bakery. He stops and leans against the counter, taking a moment to admire the scene. 

The morning sun comes in rays through the windows, sunning his plants and warming the wood floors. The spring breeze meanders through the open door and just barely rustles his hair about his round cheeks. The distant sound of horseshoes on the path and the other businesses opening their doors signals the awakening of a bustling town. The— 

“Mr. Hensley! Mr. Hensley!” 

Lucian turns quickly to the sound of clattering and a call of his name outside his bakery, followed shortly by a bleat of surprise. He has only a moment to process before his first arrival in standing in the doorway, his dark hair bouncing in sweet curls around his flushed face and little tail flicking quickly to and fro as he recovers from his crash, bike now laying against the side of the building. 

“Oh, Callum,” Lucian sighs, rushing to the boy to brush the dirt from his sleeves, “You have to be careful! Your mother spent a lot of money on this uniform, there’s no telling how much that school will make her pay for another…”

The young faun only blinks up at him with wide blue eyes. He shakes some leaves from his unkempt hair and the fur of his ears before holding out the hot mug he’s brought with him, wrapped in a cloth to keep it from burning his hands.

“Here, Mr. Hensley. Your coffee.” 

Lucian’s eyes soften as he takes the mug, removing the covering from the top and watching the steam rise. 

“Thank you, Callum.” 

The mug is set aside to cool for now, and Lucian quickly returns his attention to the faun boy who’s just collided with his bakery. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, plucking a stubborn twig from Callum’s nest of hair and rubbing over a scratch on the fresh nubs of his horns. 

“No, I’m okay,” Callum replies quickly, brushing off his uniform jacket, “Just in a rush. I woke up late, that’s all. I grabbed my books and I was out the door, I didn’t even have to eat breakfast…” 

“…Is that why you’ve left home without shoes?” 

Callum pauses and looks down, groaning at the sight of his bare hooves on the wood floors.

“Aw, man! I’m gonna get an earful from the headmaster…” 

Lucian feels a bit bad for giggling at the boy’s plight, but he can’t help it. He misses when his problems were that simple. 

“You don’t have to bring me coffee every day, you know. I appreciate it, but I’ll survive without it,” Lucian assures him.

“Yeah, I know,” Callum replies with a shrug, absentmindedly toying with the leaves of one of Lucian’s plants, “But Ma says it’s a nice thing to do, especially since you don’t have magic.”

“Oh, well—“

“She says that making coffee ‘n’ stuff without magic takes a lot of time that you don’t have, since you have to work so hard and stuff. Is that true?”

“Er, y-yes, but—“ 

“She wonders how you do anything without magic, yanno. She says it’s really impressive that this place has stayed open so long when you—“ 

“Callum!��I mean…I understand, Callum. Thank you. Here…”

Lucian takes a loaf of bread from his display, handing it to the boy with haste. 

“Can’t have you going on an empty stomach. Run along, and quickly, you’re already running late.” 

Callum takes the bread without hesitation, immediately digging in and thanking Lucian through a mouthful of it. In an instant he’s out the door and back on his bike, disappearing down the path. Lucian watches him go only until he’s sure he won’t crash once more. 

Lucian sighs as the ache in his back starts to return. The day waits for no one, though, and he’s got work to do. 

Throughout the day people pass through his bakery with leisure. Most are familiar, others are new but not unusual. The town of Lydell is a small one, after all. Not rich, but not too poor either, with a good part of its inhabitants planning bigger and better things for themselves and their families beyond the town limits. Every now and then he toys with that idea, that maybe one day he’ll pack himself up and move into one of the big, bustling cities he reads out in the books, with magic pouring from every brick in every wall on every street… 

…Foolish imaginings, that’s all. He’s got far too much to do here.

He watches from behind his counter as the sun lazily rolls into place in the center of the sky. The cool breeze of the March morning melts into something warmer, though not suffocatingly hot. Every now and then Lucian must wipe the sweat from his brow after standing in front of his oven for too long, but ‘tis the price one pays for a fresh batch of strawberry turnovers. 

Lucian looks up from the hot tray now cooling on the counter at the sound of a crackly meow. 

There, in his doorway, a slim figure of a cat with milky white fur splotched with inky stains of black around the feet and tail. It rubs up against the door, mewing softly just to make sure its presence is known. It sits with a regal confidence, not at all perturbed by the people who pass through the door beside it.

“Well, look who decided to stop in today,” Lucian says with a chuckle. The cat meows in reply before lazily sauntering over to the counter. 

“Give me just a moment, my dear. When I’ve gotten these customers taken care of I’ll get you your treat.”

The cat seems to understand. This is an exchange they have quite often, after all. With no collar to speak of and an insatiable desire to wander, the little animal is nearly an enigma to Lucian, but he’ll never complain about the company. For now he has to turn his attention to the lanky elf that is patiently awaiting his turn to speak. 

By now Lucian can navigate customer interactions with little to no friction. No, he does not have those in a different flavor. Yes, he can make them in a different flavor, but they wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow. Yes, he can go ahead and get some bagged up anyways. No, he does not offer a discount. No, he really doesn’t offer a discount. 

“Thank you, come again!”

Lucian sighs as the elf takes his leave, seemingly satisfied enough with the small bag of raspberry shortbread cookies. 

He turns to look down at the little cat still waiting patiently by his feet. It blinks slowly, then meows. Lucian laughs and mimics the sound. 

He then turns his attention to the cabinet beneath his sink. That’s where he keeps the little bowl and bag of dry food his feline companion loves so much. The cat meows excitedly, and Lucian can see it resisting the urge to hop up on the counter as he dumps the food into the bowl.

“Here, you’ve waited very patiently,” Lucian says as he sets the bowl on the floor, pushing it to the side where he can keep an eye on the cat without it being in his way when he walks around or behind the counter. 

He looks back up and out the open door, only to squint in confusion as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. 

It looks like two horses and their riders coming down the path, which wouldn’t be so odd if it weren’t for what Lucian could swear was the royal crest embroidered onto their side bags. The riders themselves are clad in varying degrees of armor, the metal clinking slowly getting louder as they approach the bakery. 

Royal guards? Here? In a little town like Lydell? 

Lucian quirks a brow as he watches them approach. He’s expecting them to simply pass by—they probably have important business to attend to, after all—but then one of them pauses. He pulls on the reigns of his horse, whistling and calling to his partner with words Lucian can’t make out from where he’s standing. 

It’s clear now that they won’t simply be passing by. Before Lucian even realizes they’ve stopped their horses outside of the bakery, and now they’re hopping down from their saddles.

Now that they’re closer, Lucian can get a better look at them. They’re definitely guards, that’s for sure, and much taller and stronger than any human Lucian has met here in Lydell. 

The first one is the shorter of the two, about 5’9, if Lucian were to guess. His skin is tan, a natural copper tone, and his curly hair is dark and thick, shaved underneath and left long on top. He’s smirking for some reason, the expression pressing dimples into his warm cheeks, though something about him makes it seem like he doesn’t need a reason. His eyes are sharp and foxy, the kind that notice little details about everything and everyone and leave others to feel uncomfortably analyzed. His armor is minimal, only a leather chest piece and gloves, and a few daggers are sheathed in his belt. He moves with a lithe swiftness as though he’s unaware of his own weight, hitting the ground without a moment’s stumble as he dismounts from his horse.

The second man isn’t nearly as graceful, but certainly isn’t to be taken lightly. He’s a hulking beast, 6’0 at least, perhaps 6’1, in a full suit of metal armor, save for the missing helmet. He’s paler than death, with long, golden blond hair that’s been lazily thrown back into a low, loose ponytail, leaving a few strands to dangle around his face. His long lashes are the same light color, hovering over icy blue eyes that give way to no emotion. Lucian can only see half his expression, as the bottom part of his face is covered with a dark neck gaiter. He comes down off his horse with a thud and a bit of metallic clinking, giving the animal a gentle pat. With a quick flick of his wrist and a skillful bit of magic he fastens the horses’ reigns to the post without touching them, and shortly after follows his companion inside.

“Woah, it smells amazing in here!” The shorter one exclaims, the pale one giving a nod of agreement in response, “I told you stopping was a good idea, I— Oh, look! They have strawberry turnovers!” 

Lucian has to bite back a chuckle as he rushes up to the counter like an excitable child, fumbling around in his pockets for money. 

“Two silvers each,” Lucian replies, “How many? And will you be staying, or should I get you a bag?” 

“Six please, three for each of us, and, eh…we’ll stay!” The man replies, shrugging at his partner, “We could use the rest. We’re headed back to Bascilium from Nora.” 

“Nora? Gods above, that’s far up north, what could possibly be so urgent the king felt the need to send his guards?” Lucian asked, not looking away from the two men as he moved to slip a few turnovers from their tray onto plates. 

“Oh, you know, just a little farm worker’s uprising. Apparently people don’t like having their gifts of agricultural magic exploited to feed corporate bigwigs. Funny how that works!”

Lucian forces a laugh, although he’s not sure what’s funny. The taller one still hasn’t said a word, instead occupying himself by looking around the bakery. 

“So, I take it you got it figured out, then?” Lucian asks, handing the plates over. 

“Mhm!” The man replies with a grin, eagerly taking the plates and handing one to his colleague, “Well, as figured out as it can be for now. Things like this happen a lot in Nora with all the industrialization. King Ambrose is working on sending a few delegates down there to smooth out some of the systems. You know there’s—“

The man is swiftly cut off by an elbow to the ribs from his partner. He turns to question what the could have possibly been for, but the taller one gives only a one handed gesture in response. Sign language of some kind, if Lucian were to guess. Whatever he said, it puts the first man at ease.

“Ah, yeah, I’m rambling. Sorry about that, mister, uh…” He pauses, squinting to read Lucian’s name tag. “…Lucian. Hey, I like that name. I’m Tobias, Tobias Silva, and the guy I rode in with is Rex Theroux. I take it you’re the ‘Hensley’ that runs this place?”

“Yessir,” Lucian replies with a suddenly confident grin, “Lucian Hensley, that’s me. Forgive me for bragging, but this little place is my pride and joy.” 

“Well then I’m glad we stopped in! Feels like this trip has us running all over Divestia.”

This earns a snort from Rex, and a few more signs that have an air of sass to them. 

“Well, okay, yeah,” Tobias concedes, “It was my idea to take the scenic route through here, but it worked out well enough, didn’t it? You could never find good food this cheap in Bascilium. Oh, shit, I almost forgot—!”

He quickly dips his free hand into his pocket, pulling out a small pouch and setting it on the counter. He pulls out twelve silver coins and hands them to Lucian, who gladly accepts them and tucks them away into his drawer. 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Silva.” 

“Just Tobias is fine, don’t worry about it. We don’t really do formalities.”

“Oh, alright then. Thank you, Tobias. Enjoy your turnovers.”

Tobias gives a quick nod before gesturing for Rex to follow him to one of the little tables pushed up against the large windows of the bakery. Lucian finds himself smiling at the talkative young man and his silent, looming shadow; a charming pair, those two are. Perhaps that’s why Lucian finds himself glancing over at them as they eat despite his occupation with his work. Tobias’s chatter never ceases except for when he’s chewing, but at the same time his attention doesn’t waver from his silent partner when he signs a response. Tobias gestures widely as he speaks, threatening to knock over a plant or two when he gets particularly excited, whereas Rex keeps his movements sharp and controlled, a skilled hand showing his familiarity with the silent language he utilizes. The pair seem to get along with no issue despite the way their natures juxtapose one another, but then again, perhaps that’s what makes them so compatible.

Tobias and Rex sit and shoot the breeze for about an hour, maybe, having finished their turnovers halfway through but not realizing, or at least not caring. The sun has just barely rolled towards the west end of the sky, shadows now slanting under the light. The foot traffic around the bakery has slowed a bit, so Lucian has taken to wiping down his counter and empty tables. That is, until he looks up at the sound of his name. 

“Hey, Lucian?” Tobias calls with a wave of his hand, “Can you come here for a sec?” 

Lucian collects his rag and approaches the table Tobias and Rex have made themselves comfortable at, giving them a polite smile. 

“Yes? Is something the matter?” 

“Oh no, not at all,” Tobias is quick to reply, “Rex just wants to know about your plants, what kinda magic you’re using to keep ‘em looking this green.” 

Lucian’s eyes turn to Rex, and he’s almost surprised to see his neck gaiter pushed down under his chin. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; how else was he supposed to eat? Or, perhaps, he’s simply surprised that his face is so unremarkable. Handsome, yes, but no scars or deformities, although Lucian doesn’t know why he expected there to be any. Maybe that’s simply the assumption one makes when another has their face covered for without obvious reason. 

Wait, what was the question? Oh, right, the plants. 

“I don’t use any magic, actually,” Lucian explains, suddenly feeling sheepish, “I, um…don’t have any.”

“Wait, what?” Tobias says, a bit louder than he meant to (a lot louder, actually; the sudden exclamation makes Rex wince a bit), “You run this whole damn place without magic? Wow, I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s really impressive! I just can’t believe someone like you would— Ow!”

He’s promptly cut off once more with a smack on the arm and a sharp look from Rex. Tobias swipes his arm away and puts his hands up defensively.

“What? What I’d say? I didn’t deserve it that time!”

Lucian laughs softly behind his hand, unable to ignore Tobias’s natural dramatics. 

“It’s alright,” He assures the two, “I get that sort of thing a lot. I admit, it is rather impressive, though I don’t like to gloat. As far as the plants go, it’s just a matter of keeping them watered and not letting the soil go dry.”

Rex considers his words, nodding and doing a brief gesture that almost resembles a salute. 

“Oh, he says thank you,” Tobias clarifies. 

“It’s no problem,” Lucian says, returning the courteous nod, “Can I take those plates from you?” 

“Huh? Oh! Yes, please, we’ve really got to get going…thanks again, those were amazing. We’ll definitely be stopping by again.”

“Well, I’m very happy to hear that,” Lucian replied, unable to stop himself from grinning as his heart swelled with pride. He’d just bagged himself two more returning customers, and royal guards no less! Perhaps they’ll spread the word of this little place. Wishful thinking, maybe, but maybe not. 

Rex and Tobias gather themselves and rise from their table as Lucian drops the plates into the sink. He returns a brief wave as they both walk out the door, Rex giving another salute before turning away; one last thank you, Lucian assumes.

He watches as the pair mount their horses once again, settling upon their saddles before heading off down the path.

“Interesting pair of characters, those two are,” Lucian mumbles to himself as he turns back to his work. The little cat, which has now moved to basking on the window sill, meows in what Lucian chooses to interpret as agreement.

The pair of guards arrive back to the castle at nightfall, the last few rays of sun allowing them to walk their horses back to the stables before they head in for the night. 

First thing’s first: The king expects a full report. 

Tobias doesn’t bother knocking, entering King Ambrose’s office with an incredible amount of casualness. He strides in with Rex, who at least has the decency to close the door back, following close behind him, as usual. Ambrose looks up from the papers he was studying, hard expression instantly melting  away into a familiar smile. 

“My boys,” Ambrose purrs, standing up from his chair and walking around the front of his desk, “You’ve finally returned.” 

The guards nod in unison, and Tobias can’t stop himself from taking a moment to study his beautiful king. Ambrose is quite the stunning man after all; his skin is dark, as are his eyes, and his ebony hair is done up in locs so impossibly long they nearly brush the floor when he walks, decorated with gold cuffs and never less than perfectly maintained. His slim figure is draped in gold and white, as usual, for even a king’s most casual outfit is extravagant. He’s set his crown aside for now, as he usually does when working, but he has yet to remove the rest of his jewelry, as evidenced by the gold sparking on his wrists, fingers, ears and neck. 

“So? How did it go? I assume well, seeing as you aren’t quite as disheveled as I’d expect from a failed attempt at quelling riots,” Ambrose teases as he hops up onto his desk, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable.

“It went very well, sir,” Tobias answers with a grin, “Things have been set straight, and a temporary peace agreement was reached to keep the people satisfied until your delegates arrive.” 

“Very good, both of you,” Ambrose praises. Tobias’s grin only widens, and Rex signs a humble thank you. 

“Oh, and,” Tobias eagerly adds, “On the way back we stopped in at this little bakery in Lydell, and—“

“Lydell?” Ambrose interrupts, “That’s quite a ways off the path back from Nora. What were you two doing there? Is that what took you so long?”

He’s trying to feign seriousness, but the playful quirk of his brow and hint of a chuckle in his voice gives away his humor. 

“Mm, maybe,” Tobias says with a sly shrug, “But it was worth it. They had the best strawberry turnovers.” 

‘Although T was far more interested in the man behind the counter,’ Rex signs, eyeing his colleague with a lighthearted sort of suspicion.

“I was not,” Tobias quickly protests, “And just how do you figure that, hm?”

‘You kept glancing over at him while you ate. I don’t think you realized you were doing it, but it was obvious to me. Maybe he liked it, though. He kept looking at us, too.’ 

Tobias huffs, crossing his arms and cursing his inability to pull an argument from thin air like usual. His cheeks are getting warm. 

Ambrose laughs, hopping down from his desk and giving Tobias a reassuring pat on the arm. 

“So, he was a cutie, huh?” Ambrose chortles, “What was he like?”

“Honestly, cute is an understatement,” Tobias replies, “He was this short, chubby little thing who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. He was nice, too, and I know he has to be nice to us because, you know, we’re customers, but still. And, I mean, how can you not be interested in someone who makes such heavenly strawberry turnovers?” 

“If they’re that good, I shall have to try them some time. See what all the fuss is about. Maybe I’ll have a chance to meet this little baker crush of yours as well.” 

“Oh, come on…!” 

Ambrose laughs again, unable to stop himself. For a moment Tobias swears he can even see a smile make Rex’s eyes crinkle at the edges despite being hidden by his neck gaiter. 

“Well, either way,” Ambrose coos, reaching up to gently cup his guards’ chins in his hands, “You’ve both done very well. Come here.” 

Tobias rolls his eyes, but nevertheless they both lean in, allowing their king to give them each a brief kiss on the cheek. 

“Good boys. Go on now, you need your rest after such a long trip,” Ambrose says with a wave of his hand before returning to his seat at his desk.

His guards bow briefly, all three of them exchanging well wishes and good nights before the door is shut again, leaving Ambrose alone in his study. 

“Cute little baker indeed,” The king mumbles with a laugh, “I’m sure they’ll be going back there…if Tobias has anything to say about it, at least…”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

[foolscap2122]

Singularis Prime Concept

Finally finished a long brewing idea of mine, I've seen this idea circulating a lot online but haven't been able to find anyone make anything of it. (If you have or know someone who has PLEASE tag me in it <3)

Anyways this design is my own take on Singularis Prime, specifically in the Armada universe and is for a new fanfic I have in the works called 'Make Your Choice' a what if style fic for the Armada universe that I'll be publishing it on A03 after I find a few people to Beta read and help sort out the outlines.

The design itself is themed after a Singularity. The visible Singularity in his spark a nod to what had happened to him prior and being a key part in his weapon, a form of starsaber (still a wip tbh) that represents him fighting with his spark for those he cares about.

If anyone has questions or ideas for him or this fic please send them into my asks! I would love hearing input from other fans!

Additional note, I DO NOT permit this or any of my art to be used to train AI, be run through AI, reposted here or on other sites without my permission, traced, stolen.

[soft5ku11]

My commissions are open again, now with more pricing info!

BEFORE CONTACTING ME, PLEASE READ THE TERMS BELOW AND THE PRICING INFORMATION ABOVE!!

I will be taking a maximum of 3 SLOTS! (PayPal only, non negotiable) They will be first come first serve, so If you want me to draw for you, lock it in now rather than later on.

PROCESS

Evaluations are free. don’t be afraid to ask if I will or won’t do something but please read the entire post first.

I will only start work after payment. This is to avoid being scammed. Payment will be through PayPal only.

For payment, I will ask you for your email, to which I will send an invoice for the final payment. (I will not accept a second payment during working on your commission to add extras. This will have to be done after completion as an addition. Payment for such will be negotiated separately.)

I will provide you with updates via discord or Tumblr DM.

Once completed, I’ll send you a low-res version for you to OK, and after that I will send the final .PNG file. You may ask for it via Tumblr DM, Email (if file size allows), a Google Drive link, Discord (if file size allows) or you can just have me post it on Tumblr which you can save from the post.

After this point, you cannot ask for any more changes.

—————————————————————————————————-

TERMS AND CONDITIONS (subject to change if necessary)

I have the right to post any commissioned work on any of my social media, portfolio sites, etc. - I may do as I wish with it.

The commissioner does not own the rights to the art I make. They only own the rights to any original character designs within the work.

The commissioner cannot repost the commission on other sites & claim it as their own work. They can, however freely use it as long as I have been clearly & sufficiently credited.

Any reposts must credit me by username “soft5ku11” on tumblr.

I have the right to sell any commissioned work as prints, stickers, posters, shirt designs, etc. The commissioner does not. This also applies to uploading the work to sites like Redbubble to buy items from the site using the commissioned artwork. The commissioner may, however, ask me to put the work on the site for them.

I have the right to deny a commission for any reason and I do not have to disclose that reason.

I will send invoices via PayPal which must be paid in full before I start working. Commissions are non-refundable unless I, for any reason, feel I cannot fulfil the brief given, In which case I will refund the money I received. (It won’t be a full refund since PayPal takes a small cut which they do not return upon refunding an invoice. It will be a refund of the remaining money after it's been deducted by PayPal, unfortunately.)

The commissioner does not have the right to withdraw or request reimbursement through PayPal at any stage unless for reasons listed prior in points 6 and 7.

My art is not to be modified into something else (eg: a character base) without my explicit permission. [If you want a base, commission a base.] 9.5. My art is not to be altered or used or fed into or replicated or to be used to train any or by any AI/program or dataset at all with absolutely no exception.

[mierins]

| mierin/wanyin | any prns | 24 years old | chinese > please talk to meeee the askbox is open. I am so lonely :3 > too shy to write smut but there's a lot of graphic violence and mental health issues in my work to make up for that so exercise caution ig (may rec fics with smut tho idk I'll come up with something for future reference) > currently crossposting my ao3 fics to tumblr > ask me about my writing block, and why the recent cancellation of wheel of time on prime fueled my writing again out of spite > naoya simp (sorry everyone, he's simply the roman to my gerri > plSSSSSS ask me about my stories. I love to yap.

❦ Masterlist ❦ Ao3 ❦ Recs

❦ NEW ❦

i'd lay you badly, but I'd lay you gladly // naoya x reader; chapter iii

you and naoya are on a train to tokyo, for completely different purposes regarding the same heir. whose will bends first?

what hand shelters? what hand slays? // gojo x reader; chapter v

reaching through time, and through fate. the early life of the reader at the sengoku court.

it's hot, and we rot in this oven // nanami x reader; chapter iii

teenaged terrorisms ensue as the jujutsu high freshman class of 2018 arrive on scene.

did we drink the poison, or just the placebo// geto x reader; chapter vii

in which you meet suguru's parents-- and begin your life as a soul-bonded pair.

jessamine // ino takuma x reader; oneshot

the coldest girl in the world meets a boy with sunshine in his face; or, the orbit of kyoto's resident ice princess and a scruffy tokyo sorcerer with everything to prove.

❦ UPCOMING ❦

in the summer silence // higuruma x reader; hopefully a oneshot, currently 9k words

after your second husband dies within five years, higuruma hiromi is placed on your case as a public defender, but as the lines blur between duty and attraction, his belief in your innocence also blurs.

iconoclasm // choso x reader; unknown length, planning

an iconographer under the guardianship of saint nicholas of japan, you are sought by the jujutsu society for your ability to imbue blessings into your artwork. the task? creating a set of sigils in order to seal the cursed wombs they recover from the exorcism of kamo noritoshi the elder. what will you do when one of the cursed wombs turns up missing?

savior complex // kusakabe x reader; unknown length, planning

after the exorcism of the king of curses and the conclusion of the culling games, kusakabe is one of the unwillingly appointed heads of jujutsu society. when international sorcerers arrive on-scene to help rebuild, a young architect runs afoul of the jaded older sorcerer.

it's gonna be electric! // kashimo x reader; unknown length, planning

in a no-culling games au, you're the new bartender at the underground jujutsu fight club run by hakari kinji. kashimo is a man who's never lost a fight, who lives only for the next opponent.

the fox and the tiger // sukuna x reader; unknown length, planning

crack treated seriously. reader is the chinese sorcerer from the heian era that sukuna's afraid of from that one meme.

all rights reserved, please do not translate, repost, or copy my works (not that you'd want to idk) without prior written permission. I do not give permission to any entity to use my work for AI training.

[zenaquaria]

The Risen War, Episode 11: Under Moonlight Boughs

With a shadowy hellhound harrying them, the group of rag-tag survivors from Gatewatch plunged through the night-dark forest of Vaeleryn in desperation to reach the capital city.

The hound's target? Edwin Illumous. The group's young wizard. Forcing them to pack up once already, the group stood their ground to fight the hound off and protect their sheltered new friend.

Gael offered her arrow tip to a bite-injured Edwin, suggesting he cast Light upon it to drive the hound away. With a tap to the arrowhead, he looked to the Greymooran ranger and implored, "Don't miss, please..." Gaelinien replied, "I'll try. May Kharthos guide us..."

~~~

Catch up with Gael and the rest of the would-be heroes on TMiF's Friday Twitch streams at 9pm Central!

Do not repost, edit, alter, trace/copy, use/redistribute my artworks without my prior permission.

[assaiarts]

Introduction post

Hello Guys, I'm ASSAÍ

Welcome to my Blog, where I post my projects and works.

PLEASE do not use my art, repost or copy, without my prior permission

About Me

I'm an artist, without a defined style. I usually do traditional or digital drawings on my cell phone. I'm experimenting with editing and animation.

I'm very busy with my studies, so I don't promise consistency on my social networks.

I'm currently hyper-focused on Murder Drones, Chainsaw Man and Invincible.

Social Networks

[kokusfluffyhair]

welcome 🌙

Last update: July 2024

Mod is 25+, nb/agender, uses any pronouns

Disclaimer: blog may contain NSFW content

MINORS DNI WITH NSFW CONTENT

divider by @cafekitsune

I've been lazy with writing anything recently, so most of my newer posts have been either reblogs with the occasional musing or headcanon.

I originally made this blog to write about Kokushibo and Muzan, but I've become obsessed with other special-interest fandoms since then, specifically Dororo and Onmyoji

I don't have a Dororo-specific blog, but I have made an Onmyoji specific blog full of Minamoto no Hiromasa content. I've also reblogged my Onmyoji content from this account onto there.

divider by @cafekitsune

Requests are open but it may take months before I will get to them. I have a bad habit of reading messages in my inbox and then forgetting about them only to see them much later and think oh fuck. So please be patient and understanding.

Note: I will not ship underage characters with adults and I will not age up any underage characters

below are the characters I will write for:

Demon Slayer: Kokushibo, Muzan, Gyutaro, Douma, Kyojuro

Onmyoji: Hiromasa, Seimei, Atsumi

Dororo: Lord Daigo, Saburota, Tahomaru (platonic), Hyakkimaru (platonic), Dororo (platonic)

Black Butler: Any of the P4, Ciel (platonic), Druitt, Alois (platonic)

Inuyasha/Yashahime: Kirinmaru, Riku, Sesshomaru, Naraku, Kagura, Byakuya, Hakudoshi (platonic), Rion (platonic)

Fullmetal Alchemist: Roy, Envy, Dante

Death Note: L

Vanitas no Carte: Vanitas, Noe, Jean-Jacques

Mob Psycho 100: Reigen

Dr. Stone: Tsukasa, Ryusui, Kinro

Bungo Stray Dogs: Fyodor, Akutagawa

divider by @cafekitsune

It should go without said, but don't be an asshole and don't be rude. Misogynists, transphobes, homophobes, pedos, racists, xenophobes will be blocked.

Additionally -- I won't block Muzan haters, but this is a Muzan-apologist zone, so keep that in mind especially because we've gotten to the part of the anime where we all know he's going to get beat up and unalived. thx

© kokusfluffyhair 2023. Do not copy, paste, plagiarize, repost or steal my work. Do not translate my work without prior permission.

[novalore]

✎ᝰRULES

Hiya, my name’s Nova. This blog is a discourse-free and creative outlet zone— my safe haven for whenever I have a thought or dream that I just can’t escape. I will not tolerate any hateful speech and inappropriate behavior because of this, I reserve the right to close my inbox and hard block who ever I’d like to ensure this blog remains a safe zone.

Thank you for checking out my rules page prior to interacting, I appreciate it!

Thirsts vs Drabbles vs Long Fics

Thirsts are exactly what you think they’d be— thirsty ideas. Either they’re thoughts passed through my inbox or a third-party source, they’re short pieces I’ll usually write between 100-400 words depending on how much I love the idea.

Drabbles are similar to shorts— inspiration can come from anywhere and everything tbh, they’ll range between 500-900 words. They will always have a prompt or a piece of dialogue as the title that I write to.

Long Fics are any stories I have dedicated a lot of time to— ranging between 1.5k to 4k on average,.I’ll never really write anything more than that on one post because it can be a bit overwhelming for me personally but, if I really like the idea, I’ll write another part or two to make a short series. These stories may include world-building, character development, etc.

Schedule — TBD

I generally try to publish at least two drabbles or one long fic through the week.

Although this blog may contain dark content including but limited to: dub-con/cnc, pseudo/step-cest, knife play, serial killer au; there are some topics I will not write for.

a/b/o, knotting, pet play, age play, master/slave kink, eating disorders, scat, cbt, water sports, vore, zombies, cannibalism, bestiality, necrophilia, wound fucking, character x character, lolicon, m-preg, milf!reader x young!character, high school au, gun play, foot fetish, incest, detransitioning, domestic violence, male or amab reader, self-harm, etc

General depictions in my writing — (1) reader and character will always be in their twenties unless stated otherwise, I will never write anyone younger than 21; (2) I’m short (153cm 😎) so I’m going to write for a shorter, female audience— mainly because I don’t know how to write for tall people unfortunately; (3) no specific physical characteristics will be in the fic unless stated in the content description, I do this to remain as inclusive as possible; (4) all characters I write for are appropriately aged up and written with a canon time-skip in mind.

I draw my inspiration from a lot of things — smutty audio, manga panels, chatbot ideas, otome games, songs, real-life scenarios, etc. I own none of the characters or the worlds I write about. I own none of the manga panels I use in my posts. I own none of the dividers I use unless stated otherwise. I often spend hours at a time on my writing so, please do not copy and paste my writing to any media without my permission. This includes posting to TikTok, AO3/ Quotev/ Wattpad/ Commadful/ Fanfiction.net, Instagram, Facebook, etc. Do not use my writing to create chatbots or use it to make part twos through sites like ChatGPT. I reserve the right to file legal action if I find out that my writing has been reposted without my permission.

At the moment, I am not taking any requests, however any thoughts for a writing piece are appreciated. One to two sentences are acceptable— please try not to horde my inbox with more than just half a paragraph. Also, I reserve the right to simply not write out any request or idea if it makes me uncomfortable.

[pankowcrumbs]

My friend is a big fan of Tom Hardy but they can't speak English. You mind me translating your fanfic for them?

I don’t mind if you translate it and send it in a private message to them, but I do not give permission for any work to be posted publicly or shared anywhere else. All of my work is protected under copyright law, as outlined in my disclaimer below.

Please remember that any redistribution, reposting, or edits without permission is a violation of copyright

Thank you for asking first I truly appreciate your respect for my work and boundaries! 🩵

Copyright © 2025 by Pankowcrumbs on tumblr

All rights reserved. No part of these stories may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

[messyponiessi]

Realized I wanna get more serious and use this blog more. So yeah expect to see more here. I'll add commission and kofi stuff... eventually

About Me:

❧ Messy

❧ 20s

❧ Any Pronouns

❧ AroAce

❧ Agender

❧ Modeler for IvorySMP

❧ Digital Artist

❧ Tags

 ▹My Art (For, well, my art)

 ▹Models for Ivory (specifically for my IvorySMP work)

 ▹Messy Inspo (for things that inspire me/my art)

 ▹Messy References (Art Advice or References I want to save, can   sometimes cross over with Inspo)

 ▹Messys Commissions (Commissions I have done)

 ▹The many ocs of Messy (for all the art of my ocs)

 ▹Messys Refs (References for any species or ocs I have!)

 ▹Blabbermouth (For me talking about non-art related shit)

❧ Programs I use

 ▹Clip Studio Paint

 ▹Paint Tool Sai

 ▹Blockbench (for my models)

Things to Know:

❧ I am incredibly slow when it comes to art. It's just how I am. Please don't give me shit about it. I work full time, I don't have a lot of time in my day to do what I love, I struggle with executive dysfunction and depression. I will do shit at my own pace.

❧ Same goes for responding to asks, I'm slow at it, I will most likely forget I have unanswered asks, give me some time I'll eventually get to it.

❧ Reblogs are always appreciated! You are ABSOLUTELY welcome to just spam the tags with love! Hell spam my inbox with it! You're not bothering me, and stuff as small as "I love your work so much!" is just as appreciated as the multi-paragraph comments!

❧ Anon asks are off for a reason (to prevent anon harassment.) If you send an ask and don't wish to have your identity revealed, just indicate as such and your secret will be safe with me.

❧ Please, and I cannot believe I have to say this, DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT CREDIT AND PRIOR PERMISSION (seriously just shoot me a message) and DO NOT FEED MY WORK TO AI!!! EVER!!!

[hollownightblog]

No because why are people on twitter tagging incest shippers (who repost and use other people's art without credit/permission for their incest ship) in my Hollow Knight anniversary art and then calling me "weak" when they find out I already had the people they tagged blocked prior (for said art theft/curation of content I don't want to engage with or see)

On my own post...

..Where I get notifications for it (I did not have the individual who was tagging the shipper blocked)

That's like breaking into someone else's house and complaining about the food in their fridge. Why am I getting notifications for this??? Please do it in dms and not ON my art post where I have to know about it.

[a-victorian-girl]

I assume this @ddddduis is a bot, but I'll show it to remind you all:

Please, do not use my works to personalize your blog without my prior permission and do not repost them under any circumstances.

This is about respecting the artist and the time spent sharing art for the fandom.

Thank you!