#please request ;w;

[sun-snatcher]

If you're writing for dp3 then Hiraeth from your prompt list would work SO well since they're all stuck in the void! 🤲🏽😭 We need Gambit fics its a DROUGHT HELP

♧ ⎯ LUCK O’ THE DRAW !

summ. You find the Devil himself at the end of the world. Surprisingly, it isn’t the first time you have. It is, however, the first time it hurts. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader (established relationship. Kinda. Multiverse be funky like 'dat.) w.count. 1.8k a/n. Because Channing deserved that Gambit all those years ago, and I've come to (attempt to) deliver what the the people have asked. Masterlist here.

MOST PEOPLE MEET THE DEVIL at a crossroads, but you meet yours in— quite literally— the back end of fuckin’ nowhere.

It hurt more than it should.

Your heart practically stutters. 

“Remy.”  

Then he turns, and you wait for the flash of recognition in his eyes.

Nothing comes.

And then. And then.

Realisation— logic. The cold, hard truth: This isn’t your Remy LeBeau. Your Remy had died long before, in a Universe that was pruned and erased into nothingness by the TVA. Your Universe. The joke? That the Gambit before you is merely a variant amongst a million. The punchline? He looks exactly the same as the day you’d lost your own. 

“Well, this is awkward. You know off-shoot Hawkeye here?” Wade says, astonished, before his eyes widened. “Ah. Tragic exposition time for the readers, I see.”

Your mind is still reeling. It feels like someone’s just jammed a chisel straight into your gut. “I— Knew a version. Variant, I guess,” you manage to correct yourself, distracted by the skirting trenchcoat and the all too familiar sound of shuffling cards. 

Christ, it’s like he’d stepped right out of your memories.

Remy’s eyebrows shoot up as he studies you. Something in your chest pulls taut, threatening to snap as he speaks. “Apologies, mon ami. But as far as I remember, I ain’t never seen you before.”

“Ouch,” Wade winces, looking between you both. “What a classic trope! This is like, me talking to my past Mom in The Adam Project. Funnily enough, my Mom was you!” He snorts, pointing to Elektra. 

You ignore Wade and offer Remy a wan smile. “I figured. It’s okay.”

…It is obviously, in fact, not okay. 

You avoid him like a plague shortly after the entire commotion; it’s almost comical. Wade had managed to come up with a plan with the rest of the group, albeit a ramshackle, flimsy one, but you’ve hardly been able to pay attention through the bloodrush of shock rocketing in your head, anyway. 

Being around this Remy is stunningly stifling. 

The lilt of his accent, the sharpness in his smile; the flourishing of cards and the faint hum-drum of kinetic charge against his fingertips. 

You’ve seen it all before, once upon a time. You never thought any of it could ever bring you to this bad of a heel. 

It hadn’t taken long before you’d tried drowning yourself at the end of a bottle of brandy Logan had handed you that night. (The whiskey tames his mordance and makes him uncharacteristically civil. He’d said something along the lines of: Y’need this more than I do, bub; look like you’ve just seen a fuckin’ ghost. Shit, I guess you did, huh? )

“Mais la,” comes a huff. “Ain’t that mine?”

A frisson runs through your heart. 

“Sorry,” you say, barely glancing up from the barrel fire tucked outside the team’s hideout. You’re not quite sure you can handle meeting his gaze. “I know I should’ve asked.”

A playful hum. Remy settles on the log adjacent to yours. “S’alright. No harm done, chèr.”

It takes everything in you not to flinch at the endearment. If he’d noticed, well— he’s smart enough not to mention it. He’s curious and it stands to reason; afterall, he’s never quite seen someone look at him as weathered as the way you do. It’s as if the effort itself to do so would be unbearable.

“Y’kno’, I been told I’m easy on the eyes. Not for you, tho’, eh?” Remy shoots you an amicable smile. It’s charming, if a little compelling. “Guessin’ I made bad on you where y’from? You done been boudéin’ since y’first got here.” 

You let out a laugh. It’s the most brittle sound he’s ever heard come from someone. 

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s… You just make me a lil’ homesick, is all.”

Remy bristles with his deck of cards. A Charlier cut; a One-handed shuffle. It’s a mindless tic; your variant used to do the exact same with the exact same ease.

(Such a miracle, you remember thinking once, that there could be symmetries in the Multiverse. Now you learn, perhaps, it’s far more a curse. Either way, you can hear Remy’s doting voice in a distant memory, dimpling coyly at you: “S’just the luck o’ your draw, chèr.” )

You tamp down the memory before it could sink its jowls any deeper in you. 

“You’re curious,” you say.

He makes a noise of assent. Revolution cut; One-handed shuffle. Repeat.

“I ain’t gon’ axe if y’ain’t wanna answer.” 

It’s kind of him. 

You forgot he was like this.

Witty, yet gentlemanly. The way Remy always has been.

Underneath the blanket of the night, the crackle of the flames limn the planes of his face in flickering, hazy saffron. The look in his eyes is sincere as they meet your red-rimmed gaze. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him, and in this light no less: tall, cutting, strong.

Lively.

The last you’d seen Remy, he’d been drawn out and battered by the war. Not that he’d ever admit it; he always insisted on keeping up his sunny disposition despite the constant losing battles happening. (Sometimes you think you resent him for doing that; it’d felt like he’d taken the light of the world with him when—)

You thank your lucky stars the variant Remy doesn’t make a comment on how you must be staring so openly. It’s a feeble attempt to committing every detail to memory, you suppose, in case you don’t get the chance again.

“In my Universe, a war was waging against mutants.” Your nails tinker against the empty bottleneck of the flat whiskey you’d nursed, thinking of how to cut a bloodshed of a story short; to get your point across before you falter and lose your footing.

“There was a mission sanctioned, and during it— a decision had to be made at that moment. So… you chose. Easily.” Your brows pinch tight against your will. The molten burn returns to the back of your eyes. “You saved so many lives the day you died.” 

Something catches in your throat when you realise your mistake, find yourself amending instantly, “He. He died.”

(It had been swift. A small mercy, all things considered. There wasn’t even a need to check for a pulse when you finally managed to reach for him.)

You’re fidgeting, too, with something in your other hand. Remy catches sight of it only now: a card, sitting pinched between your ringed fingers. Nine of Hearts. Its edges are torn and creased across the face, singed an ashen black. 

A proverbial piece of Remy’s heart, carried to the end with you.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a cold rush over his body at the sight. 

“…I’m sorry, chèr,” he offers quietly, inadequate as it is. He hadn’t expected that. 

He can’t imagine how haunting it must be to look at someone you’d shared a lifetime with and be met with a complete stranger instead. 

A living, breathing, ghost.

That unbiddable feeling of longing had always seemed to accompany the sight of him; but now it’s different. Now, there’s a blistering, brutal pain to come with; All-encompassing grief, thick as molasses in your lungs, overturning itself like a phantom from wherever you thought you’d buried it a long time ago. 

The only way to smother it would be to reach out, to hold him like you had once before, and isn’t that an ironic inconvenience? 

“No, no. I’m sorry,” you tell him, sigh coming out as an awkward laugh. A breeze passes and you inhale deep to ground yourself. Press your eyes shut momentarily to will away useless tears. “It must be so weird to hear all of this from me about— well, you, technically.”

“Mais, can’t ‘ave all been a bad memory, tho’, right?”

Right. No. It hadn’t been. There’s something else too. An undercurrent. Beyond the grief, the deep ache in your marrows— you think it’s nostalgia. Hiraeth. More bittersweet than it is painful.

It’s… It’s watching mutant schoolkids teaching him UNO for the first time. It’s the bickering over the beignets for breakfast, or your feet on his lap at the couch in the lounge after dinners with the rest of the X-Men. Lazy banter. Conversations that go everywhere and nowhere.

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling something bloom in your chest you thought long lost. “You taught me everything about your home, too. Down South. Told me about the bayou, the cypress trees. Your Cajun, your ways. We used to play Bourré.”

Talk of home has him ducking into a laugh. Remy had been in the Void far longer than the rest (he figures, at least)— he’s very nearly lost most of his fragmented memories to time by now. “Did I? Oughta’ play a game or two wit’ you.”

You buckle at that. “Ah. You were always the better player.”

Then:

He makes the leap before he runs out of steam. “Was we…?”

His finger darts between the space you two share.

“Oh, no,” you override, sheepishly. “No, we, we were good friends and stayed good friends. I was—” Your breath scurries; a reconsideration. “I was glad with that. You had a Southern belle named Anna Marie. A powerful mutant called Rogue. You two were good for each other.”

You must have given yourself away somewhere, though, the way Remy is reading you with a pinned gaze. It’s the same, levelled look you’ve seen before— the kind he gets in a game of cards. 

Something discerning eclipses in his eyes.

He’d gotten the measure of you in an instant. 

“Gambit musta’ been blind blind not t’see you.”

Ah.

You smile. It’s windswept. Resigned. “Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? My Gambit’s gone. No matter how much I wish I can see him again.”

Remy’s eyes dart to your hands.

“Y’kno’, chèr,” he begins, something spirited in his tone. “In the world of cards, each a’ these and they suits hold a meanin’.”

He flourishes his deck, hypnotisingly smooth with every elegant cut, fan and spring. Every shuffle cascades as smooth as liquid in the sleight of his hands.

“Some of my folks back in New Orleans I remember, they learned me to read ‘em. Now, outta the whole deck? What you got there; the Nine of Hearts is also called the Wish card.”

The small laugh that punches out of you is bell-like. “Really?” 

It’s warm. Bright. Musical to his ears. It washes over him, and he can’t help but hang on to the peal. He wanted to hear it again. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Remy clicks his tongue as he shoots you a sunny look. “Would never lie t’you, chèr.”

The cracks in your soul don’t disappear, but they surely lighten as you look gently at him. “Huh. Well, I guess I got my wish, didn’t I?” 

He chuckles. 

“Mais, I ain’t your Gambit but—” 

He leans. Reaches out behind your ear with an empty palm, playfully revealing a gilded card from seemingly thin air with a sharp flick of his wrist:

Another Nine of Hearts. His. He hands it over to you, by way of meaning—  I’m here, now.

New beginnings.

You take the card with a smile.

[serialgirlposter]

Some pose/colour practice with testament!

[dailyhogz]

109. quick silver for the road

[sukunasbow]

avoiding reality, daryl dixon.

summary: in which you avoid your boyfriend when you find out you’re pregnant, unsure of what to do with a baby in the middle of the apocalypse!

warnings: pregnant!reader, fem!reader, and not yet proof read because it’s late atm sorry!

notes: once again i wanna give fair warning that i am not the best at the pregnancy or children trope so please be patient!

Two days ago, you went on a run with your boyfriend to get food supplies from a rundown store, secretly stealing a cheap box of tests after you noticed you were late on your period. You’ve been good at keeping track of it so far, so you knew something was off. Your suspicions were obviously right, as you took the test later that night and it came back positive. Unsure of what to do and how Daryl would react, you chose the path of avoiding him, skipping out on the last few supply runs, as well as even keeping more distance between you and the man. He’s obviously taken notice to it, trying to start conversation with you and asking around if anyone knows what’s up with you. You couldn’t tell him, you were scared.

Now, you’re sitting up in the guard tower, staring out into the distance, ignoring the sound of Judith’s cries from inside the prison. It’s just another reminder of your predicament, causing you to close your eyes, your stomach squirming nervously.

“Ay!” The voice causes you to open your eyes, scaring you senseless. It’s Daryl. You shuffle closer to the fencing on the platform of the tower, looking down to see Glenn and your boyfriend standing together, weapons in hand. “We’re going on a run, come with us!” Daryl calls out again, moving his hand to shield his face from the sun and get a better look at you, hoping you’ll finally join him and get out of the prison for a bit.

“I’m gonna stay here and keep watch.” You yell back, instantly feeling bad when you notice his expression fall, clearly feeling upset.

“Maggie can take over.” Glenn adds. You let out an annoyed sigh. Obviously Glenn doesn’t know why you’re skipping the runs, but seriously, you wish he had stayed quiet. “Ya!” Daryl nods, confirming that Glenn’s wife would be willing to take over for the day.

“I don’t really feel like going.” You stay firm on your decision, despite the weird looks between Glenn and your boyfriend.

“Hold up.” Daryl says to Glenn, putting down his crossbow and walking towards the tower, opening the door and making his way up the stairs to talk to you.

Your eyes widen when he opens the second door, making his way out onto the balcony you’re sitting on. “Daryl, it’s fine, I’m just tired.” You insist. “Ya, bullshit, girl. I know ya, ya never miss runs, something’s up.” He scoffs, his southern tone harsh. He sits down next to you, waiting for your explanation. “I’m not lying.” You whisper. “Did I do something?” He questions you. “Daryl, I already told you, nothing’s wrong.” You shake your head. The stubborn man starts ranting about how he knows you, again. You let out a sigh, before opening your mouth.

“You really wanna know why I’m skipping all the runs and avoiding you?!” You huff, interrupting him, deciding you’ve had enough.

Your boyfriend nods.

“I’m pregnant, okay?!” You snap. Obviously, you were loud, as you hear Glenn audibly gasp, then the sound of gravel getting kicked around as he walks away and decides to wait in the truck.

You turn your attention back to Daryl, biting your lip, anxiously waiting for a response. His eyes are slightly wide, but the rest of his face remains serious.

Suddenly, he reaches his arms out and holds your hands. “Your really pregnant? You took a test?” He smiles. The smile is instantly relieving, causing you to nod, a small smile appearing on your face as well. “We’re gonna be good parents, hm?” Daryl pulls you in for a hug. “You’re going to be the best dad.” You reassure him. “And you’ll be a great mom, ya know that?” He pulls away from the hug and looks into your eyes. You hold back your tears, nodding repeatedly, letting yourself and him that it’s going to be alright.

Moments later, when reality sets in for the two of you, Glenn breaks the silence. “Should I ask Maggie to go on the run?!” He yells. “It’s fine, I’ll go now!” You reply. Daryl shakes his head, “Wait, you should stop going on runs now.” He says. “I can go on runs for a bit longer, besides, I wanna get out of here, I’ve been skipping runs for way too long.” You roll your eyes. “Okay, but I’m still coming with you.” Your boyfriend stands up, offering you a hand to help you up.

[skitskatdacat63]

Hello guys!!!!! Aforementioned project is finally finished 🫠 It was meant to be just a simple weekend project, and ended up being 30+ hours over the period of like four days. I don't think I'm an actual normal human anymore. This is the project that caused everyone in my life to question my mental and physical wellbeing and health. But I'm super excited to share this all of you!!!! Please enjoy!!!! Even if you don't like vettonso, I hope this is still interesting????

If you make any, please reblog this or tag me in it! I'm excited to see what other people, other than just me suffering alone in my bedroom, make out of this!!! <3

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

📖🚬🩹 I absolutely adore your writing and was super excited to see you opened requests back up!

Cas <3

Here We Go Again - Johnson/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, canon violence but just a little.

Wordcount: 2172

Summary: When the Phoenixes enter your bar right on the edge of Ghoul Territory it usually meant they were looking for a brawl and to prove themselves. But when a single Phoenix walks in alone with no desire to do anything but fight without talking, it makes you almost concerned for him even though he's supposed to be the enemy.

Notes: A shorter one this time, but I can seriously see myself writing more for this one thanks to the ending 😏 Thank you so much for requesting my favourite man, you already know how much I adore your writing so I was very happy to see this one as the start of my new batch ;w; 💗💗💗

To say that you didn't expect him to show up again would be a lie, his presence slowly becoming a familiar one in your bar. He shouldn't be here, you both knew it, and Gary knew it too as he turned to the door and sighed; he'd warned him before to stay away, this was Ghoul Territory and he'd already had to kick his ass when he and the other Phoenixes didn't take it to heart, but this was now becoming a recurring problem, almost like clockwork at this point, and it was starting to concern you even though he was the enemy. 

‘Back again, Johnson?’ Gary sighed as he stared at his beer, the other Ghouls gathered around the bar around him also becoming aware of his return, a couple of them already starting to stretch for the upcoming fight; you stayed out of it like you always did, the Ghouls provided you with a steady income since your bar was within their turf, this kind of thing just came with the paycheck.

Johnson didn't speak, he never did, especially when he was alone, the scrappy blonde one usually did all the talking for the both of them, but there was something about him tonight as he rolled his neck and stretched out his arms. He wanted that fight this time, he was impatient for it, and it would only be his death wish as Gary downed the rest of his drink and stood. You made sure to collect everyone's glasses and bottles before stepping back, the last time you'd been too close and a bar stool leg had nearly clipped you, and Johnson shot you a quick glance that you almost missed as he made sure you were safe as a bystander. You let the fight proceed, and even though he was always able to hold his own, five on one was never very much of a fair fight, and it wasn't long before Gary had him on the ropes while two of his buddies advanced to hold him down. This wasn't fair, it never was when he came alone, at least with the other two around he stood more of a chance, and you wanted to call it off when he was held down against the pool table and punched relentlessly by the other three.

‘How many times we gotta tell ya that we ain't giving this place to the Brawlers?’ Gary grunted as he hit him, each one punctuated with more and more of a sound until you finally heard his voice when a hard jab to the side made him grunt loudly. ‘We thought you learned that lesson when we threw all three a’ ya outta here!’ Another hit as the rest of the bar ignored what was happening, and you were about to turn your back on it when you saw the way dirty metal wrapped around his fingers and caught the light. ‘This is your last warning, you stay outta here or we'll kill ya, you understand?’

Johnson sat up as much as they permitted, and he looked ready to answer when instead he just spit onto the floor, blood and saliva mixed together from the beating, and he grinned up at Gary and dared him to do it with reckless abandon. You swore under your breath, he'd regret this, and all it took was Gary pulling back his arm to stick him with the spiked brass knuckles he sported before you finally cracked.

‘Alright, that's enough for tonight, you don't gotta bring it that far,’ you spoke up before he could strike, and all five Ghouls stared at you before Gary took a step back towards the bar.

‘If we don't teach this sonofabitch a lesson then he and Matty are gunna keep coming back around here, you wanna break our truce for him?’ he demanded, and you looked at Johnson all spread out and looking the worst he'd been so far before setting your rag on the counter.

‘No, but I can still keep this place in Ghoul Territory with you banned from it,’ you warned, and it was not an empty threat as Gary flexed his fingers and eventually relented. 

He approached you before slamming the brass knuckles on the old wood, the sound filling the place as he made a warning of his own. ‘Bartenders are replaceable if there's any chance you might be workin’ for the Brawlers,’ he said lowly, and you kept eye contact until he motioned for the others to let him go. ‘Let's get outta here, it stinks like Phoenix shit in here now.’

The others snickered as they grabbed some drinks for the road and followed him out, Johnson sitting up on the end of the pool table before hopping to the ground and rolling his neck again. He gave his back a quick crack and flexed his sore fingers before giving you a nod, he was done for the night, and you waited until the sound of the Ghouls’ bikes disappeared into the distance before leaving the counter to follow after him. He pushed open the door and casually strolled out just like he did every other time he'd come there, and he didn't make it to his car as you threw open the door and called out to him.

‘Hey, uh, it's not busy and they're gone now, I can serve you a drink if you want one?’ you asked as he reached for the door, and when he looked over at you you could swear that maybe he'd been waiting for that. He lit the cigarette he'd placed in his mouth and accepted your offer, the Phoenix following you back inside to the other patrons’ surprise. ‘Don't say a word and drinks are on the house tonight,’ you told them seriously, and the pact was sealed as he sat down on Gary's seat. He looked at your stock before motioning towards the bottle of Thorndrip to your left, and you went to pour it into a glass when he motioned again for you to just hand it over.

He really was quiet as he drank, and you weren't used to anyone other than a Ghoul sitting across from you as you busied yourself with work, this enemy of your employers just relaxing and drinking until the bottle was empty. He was all busted up, and while it looked like his healing nose hadn't been broken again it still bled along with his lip, cheek, forehead, as well as every single knuckle from the punches he'd managed to get in. You didn't want to know what state he was in under that thick velvet jacket, but at the same time you did as he set down his bottle and you grabbed him a second.

‘Why do you keep coming back here? You know they're never going to give this place up,’ you couldn't help but ask as he popped off the top effortlessly, and he took another long drink before shrugging.

‘Got my reasons,’ he finally spoke, and you shivered involuntarily at the sound of his voice.

‘Yeah, well next time I might not be able to stop them, this place has been in my family longer than the Ghouls have been around, y'know, I'd hate to lose it over a bar fight,’ you muttered as you cleaned the same glass for the fifth time, and he watched your hands work before staring at your face.

‘I can handle myself, ain't just Matty that can fight for what he wants,’ he said mysteriously, and you had to wonder what he meant when you noticed that he was getting dangerously close to getting blood on his jacket. 

‘Here, come to the back with me, the place will be fine without me for a second,’ you told him as you reached out with a tissue, and he actually flinched away from you when you got close after all the fights of never once backing down from the Ghouls. You recoiled in surprise, maybe he really did have a personal bubble after the fighting had stopped, but he was back to normal again as he grabbed his drink and stood. He headed for the back without you, so in charge and sure of everything that he made you forget this bar was yours, and you quickly grabbed the first aid kit and hurried after him before you allowed him full access to your office without you.

You called it your office but in reality it was more of a bedroom with a desk; after you'd inherited the business you just sort of moved in while you searched for a place nearby that wasn't your father's, but over time you ended up just staying since the Ghouls tended to drink late into the night and this was easier to do than drive back to any potential home at 3AM. He admired your things before sitting on your bed instead of at your desk, and you swallowed before grabbing your chair and rolling it over to him so you could work. He shrugged off his jacket and took another drink before allowing you to begin, and you wondered if he'd ever had anyone other than his fellow Phoenixes to do this for him as you carefully dabbed at his forehead.

‘What's it like, over at the Bang-a-Rang? I've never been in before, obviously,’ you asked just to make small talk to fill the small room, and he thought about it before switching back to the cigarette he'd snuffed out and tucked behind his ear before walking in.

‘Loud,’ he decided, and you let out a small laugh as you finished cleaning his forehead. ‘Energetic, wild, it's hard to describe, you gotta be there to take it all in.’

‘I don't think they'd let me through the door,’ you chuckled a bit sadly as you moved on to his cheek, and he blew some smoke towards your open window as a courtesy before thinking again. 

‘If you come in with me they might,’ he said casually, and your hand stilled as you soaked up a bit of watery blood. You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, his face remained serious but his tone had been easy, and you stared at him curiously before starting to wipe up the blood around his mouth.

‘Why do you keep coming back here?’ you asked again, and he waited until you were done before putting out his cigarette on his tongue and washing down the burn with the rest of his drink.

‘Because you're here,’ he said simply, and your hand froze midair as the smallest of grins tugged at the right corner of his mouth. ‘Can't seem to getcha outta my mind since we brought Ethan over.’

This was dangerous, the enemy couldn't be saying this kind of thing to you, but you still wanted him to as he took over and wiped down the rest of the blood himself; he licked his lips when he was done, his eyes on you before he gestured towards the kit in case he needed it, but you shook your head after a quick observation.

‘Better not, they'll know someone else cleaned you up,’ you pointed out, and he shrugged again before pulling his jacket back on.

‘They won't question it if you come back with me,’ he figured, and it felt terrifying but also thrilling as you looked around your small room.

‘I can't.’ This bar was your life, you didn't know anything outside of it and didn't know what to do if either side knew you'd accepted his offer and took all of this away, but you almost wanted to find out as he took your silence as your answer and stood. He didn't push it, he was happy enough seeing you when he came in for these fights, and you let him leave as you continued to sit there and stare at the space where he'd been sitting. You didn't move until you heard the front door slam shut again as he strolled through it, and in a flash you were on your feet and hurrying after him. ‘Bar's closed, please leave,’ you said quickly as you shut off the lights and grabbed your keys before anyone could even stand, and sure enough drinks were still on the house as you left the mess behind for tomorrow and ran out.

He was waiting behind the wheel as you locked up, and he looked almost smug as you climbed into the passenger seat and strapped in.

‘I can't believe I'm doing this,’ you said as he definitely didn't strap in as well, his bottle still in hand and the engine revving to life.

‘What's life without a little bangarang? he asked before pulling out of the gravel lot, and your heart pounded as you started off for the wild side with the enemy of your employers, the promise of this being your own secret recurring problem following you the entire way there.

[piningpercussionist]

Oh! Fucking. Duh. Obvious Roxie post I can make today: here's an emote I made for the sp:te server! (With variants of different degrees of completion...)

I was gonna go back and shade the comic colors Roxie but. Just ended up going w the colors picked off the screenshot. This screenshot, specifically!

[tikara]

Sometimes I miss actively participating in fandoms, but sometimes I see things that remind me how these days I find myself having a better time just keeping to myself and the small handful of people/groups I trust while still tossing some art out there publicly every so often.

[ukulele-mixtape]

woo babey shadow is going through it big time, ain't he

speaking of big (awesome segue i know), this is my piece for the @sthbigbang based off the fic Hedgehog Day by the lovely @killingthecringe!!! go read it!!!! do it!!!!!!

@kiull90 and @darksonics also did some absolutely fantastic artworks so please go support them as well!!!

[whitmore]

are we excited to approach qniki with nuance

[rollercoasterwords]

i’m sure you have such a busy life doing great lovely things but this is my formal request as someone who has read literally all of your ao3 works and is your secret #1 stan

baby i need a long form jegulus fic from you so bad please im on my hands and knees

nothing fades like the light was so delicious but i needed MORE 😭

the really good jegulus fics are LACKING we need a hero and i nominate you

if you’re feeling bored crazy silly goofy this summer……. you know what to do.

hi! i know this message is intended to be complimentary and i’m glad u enjoy my writing but please don’t send me stuff like this lol. not once have i ever indicated that i take requests nor that i want to and it is actually quite odd to ask a stranger to write you a book for free!

like. i’m trying to say this as gently as possible but these kinds of messages are just. SO out of touch. it takes hours for me to write a single ch of a fic, hundreds of hours to write long-form novel length fics—it’s a labor of love, which is why i do it, but it’s still labor. and i’m not gonna work for anyone but myself for free! i am an adult who is in school and working two jobs on top of that to make ends meet and my main concern this summer will be making sure i can pay my rent, not writing fanfiction!

like. in an ideal world i’d be getting paid at least $20/hr for my labor. let’s estimate that it takes ~5 hours for me to write one ch. if u want like a 20-30 ch book length fic, that would run u about $2-3k. and i still might be undervaluing my own work there! does that help put into perspective the amount of work this is? and not just the amount of work i’m doing, but the amount of work ANY fanfic writer is doing, and sharing for free? please realize that it is actually insane that people are ALREADY writing & sharing free books with you.

also. not really sure what u mean when u say really good jegulus fics are lacking and honestly that is a mean thing to say! i know u mean it as a compliment to me but i do not want any compliments that put other writers down. there are lots of really talented and wonderful writers pouring their time and effort into longform jegulus fics; i’m sure you can find some that u like if u spend some time looking. and this is definitely not the place to look bc ‘nothing fades like the light’ is probably the only jegulus fic i will ever write simply bc i don’t like regulus v much! lol

anyway. want to reiterate that i’m trying to say this all gently bc im assuming that u are maybe someone young who does not write fic and/or does not have to worry abt paying rent etc and that’s why maybe u didn’t understand how this message would come across. but please take this as a learning opportunity to understand why this is a very weird thing to send someone and definitely do not send me messages like this again lol

[starflungwaddledee]

been working on answering a prompt i received in an ask the other day, and so i'm back thinking about... the Thing... 💖🎀 and thought maybe prompt doodles might help me work through this a little?

so uhhh.... if by any wild chance anyone has any ship suggestions for starstruck...??? feel free to send them through!

[dailyhatchetfield]

May. May I request dragqueen pokey

day 49 - how i look w he/him in my bio [version w/ no eye makeup under the cut]

[rosykims]

love solas and will continue to be a ride or die for him no matter how insane he gets in datv but i will say if they even Imply that solas is the maker i may have to consider joining the haters. sorry

[kitnita]

whatever, i've reached a state of zen about it all actually. i don't want to blow up the team -otter with my mind anymore. they're just trying to build on the near-reverse-sweep vibes of last year's playoffs and lull all of vegas into a false sense of security by sucking as much as humanly possible

[vriskaserketdaily]

Could you do a bluey au Vriska (like, as a dog? Promise it’s not for any weird reasons). Or what do you think Vriska would wear if she was invited to the met gala?

i have no interest in drawing vriska as a rectangular dog thing sorry 😭 met gala fit would depend heavily on the theme of course so i took this as an excuse 2 draw her in a fit she would never ordinarily wear based loosely on the americana theme from a few years back

earth C met gala vaguely godtier theme and of course she could wear whatever she wanted bc shes Literally A God but . . . it is still in her godtier colors. she would get dunked on but not as hard as dirk (shows up in a plain suit not even in his godtier colors)