#sap target

[canisalbus]

To me, Machete kind of has the energy of a secondary villain/coldhearted side character in someone else's story that a lot of fans latch onto, moreso than the protagonist. Question is, would he be the villain in anyone's story?

Why, thank you! I'm actually glad to hear he gives off that vibe. I don't think he set out to become a villain but a lot of people certainly view him as one.

[doctor-vertigo]

Simping for this guy again [bangs my fist against the desk and starts sobbing uncontrollably]

The second image is a reference to this iconic image, I’m sure people have already drawn this with him and better but yk

[rxttenfish]

actually just generally thinking about the habit that miranda picks up, which is, staying at aaravi's apartment more and more of the time to the point where she's all but in words moved in.

[allpromarlo]

sometimes i think about the teams i used to fight boss enemies with and i just get this feeling of astonishment because how in the world did i not die during any of those fights

[dxsole]

What if they kissed? (Sloan)

🎯 WIN THAT SHIT! WIN THAT SHIT! | Not Accepting.

The hollering starts the very second Gordy's dart makes contact with the board. There's no need for every single mechanic at the Shark Tank to be this loud or excited about a single dart, but that was just how they were.

Sloan included, who's hands were waving above his head and hollering like they all just won the World Series.

Gordy, who is just a brightly colored parrot amidst a flock of chattering magpies, is hoisted up by the wait by Sloan, who also spins him around. When Gordy's placed on solid ground, Sloan grabs him by the face and plants a smooch directly on his lips.

"That's my guy! THAT'S MY GUY!" The chant develops a mind of its own as the rest of them just start hollering my guy.

[pukicho]

I'm glad you're a normal person and not one of these morons you see on here who can't see past their own noses and spend all their time stirring up weird discourse.

Maybe that's why you're so popular.

Discourse isn't fun. So much shit online has devolved into anger-tainment: content that only seeks to frustrate its viewer. They pick an easy target, and simply play to their frustrations, making them emotionally invested through proxy of certain events (rarely does the event actually matter to them). Once invested, this allows the player to cheaply virtue-signal the played - whatever sentiment echoes theirs on whatever matter. This cyclically activates the lil' part in our brains that releases dopamine during moments of agreement between like-minded people, but it's artificial - faux-communal moral-upstanding, coupled often with a release of frustration through battery of the shamed. But this digital injection subtracts the human-element of a second party. It often lacks a true means of vocalization. It's a one-way mirror; the viewer can only see themselves in its reflection. They feel praised for their own views and are reaffirmed by invisible threads, all whilst playing into the hands of creators who rile people up for a living, creators who prey on your anger and conscience, sapping it from your unwilled body, leaving it a mere husk.

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Pacing Our Fight Scenes.

For Fast-Paced Parts:

Short words with single syllables. Immediately > at once/ endeavour > try/ indicate > point at/ investigate > check out.

Short sentences, the shorter the better.

Partial sentences to blaze through multiple senses and actions within a few lines.

Short paragraphs

Lots of verbs.

Few adjectives and adverbs.

Cut down on -ing form of verbs, as it can make words longer

Use simple past tense

Avoid conjunctions and link words.

Avoid internal thought - your characters are irrational, ruthless and in the flow of pure action.

For Slow-Paced Parts:

Use medium/long sentences

the paragraphs are longer: three lines minimum

Include longer words with more syllables

Use adjectives and maybe a couple of adverbs.

Insert the thoughts of the PoV character.

Words for Action Scenes

act, alter, attack, avert, back, block, bang, bash, battle, beat, beg, belt, bend, best, bite, blacken, bleed, blind, blister, blow, blunt, boil, bolt, boot, bore, bow, box, brace, brag, brash, brawl, break, breathe, brush, buck, bulgde, burn, burst, cackle, call, can, carry, cart, carve, catch, check, chop, chuck, clack, clank, clap, clash, claw, clear, cleave, click, cliff, cling, clip, close, club, cock, coil, cold, collar, come, con, connect, corner, cost, count, counter, cover, cower, crack, crackle, cram, crash, crawl, creep, crinkle, cross, crouch, rush, cry, cuff, cull, cup, curl, curse, curve, cusp, cut, dart, dash, deepen, dig, deep, dip, ditch, drive, drop, duck, dump, ede, effect, erect, escape, exert, expect, feint, fight, fire fist, fit, flag, flare, flash, flick, fling, flip, flock, force, gash, gasp, get, gore, grab, grasp, grip, grope, group, hack, harden, heat, help, hit, hop, hurl, hurry, impale, jab, jar, jerk, join, jolt, jump, keep, kick, kill, knee, knock, knot, knuckle, leak, leap, let, lever, lick, lift, lock, loop, lop, plunge, mask, nick, nip, open, oppose, pace, pack, pain, pair, pale, palm, pan, pant, parry, part, pass, paste, pat, peak, peck, pelt, pick, pierce, pile, ping, piss, pit, pivot, plot, pluck, plug, plunge, ply, point, pool, pop, pose, pot, pound, pour, powder, pray, preen, prepare, prey, prick, prickle, print, probe, pry, pull, pulp, pulse, pump, punch, pursue, push, quarry, quarter, quest, race, raise, rake, ram, rap, rasp, rear, retreat, rip, riposte, rivert, roar, rock, roll, rope, round, rouse, run, rush, sap, scale, scalp, scan, score,scream, seek, seep, shake, shape, sharpen, shock, shoot, shop, slap, slap, slash, slice, slick, slip, slit, smash, snap, snare, snatch, snipe, sock, space, spar, spark, speed, spike, spill, spin, spit, splash, spoil, spring, spur, spurt, spy, squirm, stand, steert, step, stick, strap, strike, stuff, suck, support, swat, sweat, sweep, swingm tack, tag, take, target, taste, team, tear, tent, test, thrash, throw, thrust, thud, tick, tide, tilt, time, tire, top, toss, tower, toy, trap, trick, trigger, trip, triumph, trouble, trump, try, tuck, tug, twril, twitch, weaken, wet, whip, whirl, whirr, whoop, whoosh, whop, work, zap, zip.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[kabsey]

so lucanis is canonically mid-thirties, right? so at the end of the fifth blight, he was most likely a young teenager

can you imagine small romantic bean lucanis hearing about the crow from house arainai who fell in love with the hero of ferelden? of course the talons are furious. and even the older crows are annoyed (because now their targets are going to try to seduce them and they'll probably be terrible at it and it will just be embarrassing for everyone). illario calls aranai a sucker and a sap and possibly tells lucanis about the rumors that house arainai buys children from whorehouses for next to nothing and "you get what you pay for"

but while lying in bed late at night after a brutal day of training (i.e., abuse), maybe lucanis finds himself thinking about the stories and songs. arainai fell in love with a hero. he helped saved the world. he had friends. maybe he even saw a wyvern. it doesn't sound so bad to lucanis

but of course, he would never abandon a contract. he would never leave the crows. he would never turn his back on his house and leave caterina and illario behind

so imagine his surprise two decades later when he gets his chance. he falls in love with a hero. he helps save the world. he has friends. (and after the veil is guarded, rook absolutely took him out wyvern watching)

and he didn't even have to leave his old life behind. he doesn't have to live in exile away from treviso. he doesn't have to turn his back on caterina and illario and teia and viago. for once there is no price to pay or sacrifice to be made

for once he can just be happy

(all he has to do is share his body with a demon. but the demon is not so bad really. most of the time, lucanis thinks he's not any worse than illario)

[ume17]

Back to school- Kuroo x fem! reader

genre; pure fluff

words- 0.6k

these lovely dividers are by @thecutestgrotto

warning: none. grammar mistakes, I'll edit once I've slept enough :(

Your husband has been acting a bit weird this past week. Notes everywhere, cheeks heating up, quiet mumbles. something is up. wait what- he has a crush on you?

You knew your husband was a dork. All those years of high school, teenage years, when you were dating—when you weren’t—just proved how big of a sap he is.

But lately, something was off.

Not in a bad way—if anything, it was sweet—but it was... odd. The sudden blushes when you kissed his cheek. The meek little "thank you" when you handed him his lunch. The way his face lit up whenever you called him your husband. And the notes—so many notes—stuck on your fridge, your nightstand, even your laptop.

Kuroo had always been a loving husband—the kind to bring you breakfast in bed on his day off, surprise you with flowers, and wrap you in his arms like a human koala whenever he got the chance. But this? This past week? It’s like you’re back in high school.

In fact, he wasn’t even this shy back then. The playful banter to make you think he didn’t like you, the teasing—it was all normal. So, this? This surely left you wondering. You would have thought he lost a bet had it not been those lovesick eyes of his. But that doesn't mean you'll leave this as is. Something is definitely up.

instance 1:

"Hey, can you open this?"

"Sure."

Smooch.

"Thanks." A kiss lands on your target's right cheek, which immediately turns abnormally red as he mumbles, "No problem!" he squeaks, speed walking out of the room.

This again?

instance 2:

The time you caught him staring at you in the morning before work.

"Take a picture; it lasts longer."

His eyes widen like you just caught him committing a crime. "I wasn’t staring."

You raise a brow. "Oh? So you just happened to be awake before me, watching me sleep, and then turning beet red when I open my eyes?"

Kuroo groans and buries his face in the pillow. "Let me have this."

You grin.

Oh, you were definitely going to make this worth while.

You considered letting it slide for a while, just to see how far it would go. Turns out? a whole long week more.

One lazy Wednesday afternoon, with nothing better to do, you’re curled up on the couch together, Kuroo’s face buried in the crook of your neck. The aircon is on- his warm body on you when he sighs against your skin and mumbles,

"I think I’ve got a crush on you."

Your heart skips.

You blink. "What?"

His head tilts up slightly, lips brushing your collarbone. A barely audible heavy sigh later . "I’ve got a crush on you."

You pull back to look at him properly. "You." A chuckle escapes you. "You? You have a crush on me? Your wife of three years?"

"Uh-huh." His expression is painfully sincere. "Have you seen yourself lately? The way you take down those fuzzy crawlers—"

"Spiders?"

"Yeah, those demons. And the way you haul all the groceries in one trip? And how you completely shut down Mamiya-san when he was being an ass to Yukito-kun?"

You squint. "And that made you fall in love with me again?"

"How does that not play into it? You’re unfairly attractive, and I am but a weak, foolish old man caught in your spell."

Chuckling, you pull him in a hug as a not so small smile spreads on your face.

"So that’s what the notes and flowers were for." You pause, grinning. "So what will you do now, Mr. Infatuated Rooster?"

He puffs out his chest. "Woo you back, obviously. Can’t let someone snatch you away from this old man."

His bravado should be ridiculous, but then he adds, softer this time—"You’re going to be with me till my last breath… and the life after."

Your breath catches.

Heat rises to your cheeks, your heartbeat stuttering in your chest as you only nod.

Maybe you’ll be the one with a crush next.

Forgot to tag: thank you @dira333 for the spider and grocery idea 😭

[what-even-is-thiss]

Finally found some affordable gum I can use! Not sponsored and all that but I can’t have artificial sweeteners or any zero calorie sweeteners really as some of you know and today at target I saw a brand called Simply Gum and they just use sugar and tree sap and peppermint oil to flavor the gum.

And it tastes like gum! I’m chewing gum and not getting a migraine! It was less than three bucks! I’ve got chewing gum!

[lindira]

I'm mentally chewing on the idea that maybe Caterina favored Lucanis, but would have given the title of First Talon to Illario if not for his evil-mustache-twirling machinations. We know she's astute, perceptive, and ruthless. I don't think for a second that she didn't know Lucanis was soft-hearted, no matter how good an assassin he was. What he did in the Wigmaker Job had to have gotten back to her - that's how Lucanis got the name of "Demon of Vyrantium" after all. He freed the slaves. He administered a punishment to Ambrose Forfex, not just a cold assassination like he was supposed to.

Everyone is also familiar with Illario's style of assassination. The Crows joke about how he shirks his work and how incompetent he is, but it reads more like one of those family jokes that persists forever, despite how hurtful it's become. But even though Illario will never be as good an assassin overall as Lucanis, Illario does have a type of job he excels at that Lucanis can't do. Caterina would have been aware of Illario's skill at charming people, and also that he can be just as ruthless as she is.

There is the assumption amongst all the Crows that Caterina would have chosen Lucanis to succeed her as First Talon, and it's based almost solely because she favors him. And while that may be true, the favoritism seems more affectionate than professional. We don't see Caterina and Illario interact much, so it's hard to definitively say what their relationship is or isn't like. But when we see Caterina speak of Lucanis, she says "grandson" with fondness and calls him "my poor boy". Unfortunately for Illario, I do think it's true that she loved Lucanis more, but I think that also suggests that she probably knew he didn't want the role of First Talon and moreover that he wouldn't have been well-suited for it.

Meanwhile, we know from how she brought up her grandsons that she was focused almost entirely on their survival. Her cruelty to them throughout their childhood was to prepare them for the cruelties they would inevitably have to face as master assassins and - ultimately - her successors. She had to have survived as leader of the Crows by being merciless - especially with such a small House after the murder of almost her entire family - so a future First Talon would have to be equally so.

Lucanis has proven himself to be merciful. The Venatori picked up on it, and Caterina undoubtedly did too. Mercy and compassion are wonderful things, but in a leader who tries to right wrongs and punish evildoers, they are also things that would make that leader a LOT of enemies. Enemies who would - without hesitation - strike at the First Talon and anyone they care about. On the other hand, a First Talon for whom contracts are strictly business, who has no reservations in doing the "wrong" thing, who doesn't keep track of whether the targets "deserve" to be killed or not, is a First Talon who would maintain cordial relationships with clients no matter their morality. Illario would have been that Talon. His contracts are transactional, and despite charming targets and feigning affection for them, has no trouble killing them and barely thinks of them afterward. In "The Wigmaker Job", Lucanis expresses condolences when the lead guard Illario flirted with had died. But Illario didn't even remember her name and didn't care what happened to her.

Given what we know about Caterina, it's reasonable and logical that she - as someone who understood her grandsons and what being a First Talon entails - would have chosen Illario for the position, no matter what her personal feelings about the two were. Illario would have made a ruthless and business-like First Talon, and Lucanis - being the loyal sap that he is - would have been a stalwart protector who could have kept both Illario and himself safe. But after Illario's plotting, and after he lost openly in combat against Lucanis, Caterina couldn't give the position to Illario. He had lost too much face with the Crows, both by striking against someone in his own House and losing the battle in front of literally everyone. So she had to give Lucanis the First Talon title in the end.

I don't blame Illario for coming to the conclusion that he would never be First Talon, because he had been conditioned to believe Caterina thought nothing of him. But the tragedy of most family conflicts is that so much pain and suffering could have been avoided if all of them had just, y'know, sat the fuck down and talked about what all their intentions were before making huge announcements or plotting their brother-cousin's downfall. But no, they all had to be drama queens about it, which I guess is very Antivan of them.

[novaursa]

hi hi!! i love your writing so much!!

could i request a robb stark x targaryen!reader where the reader is a ward of the starks after robert's rebellion?

Silver in the Snow

- Summary: Short story about your life as a ward of Winterfell and how you came to love a wolf.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Robb Stark

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: Due to lack of information provided, this short story has only around 950 words.

The snows of the North were merciless, but you learned to love them. It began with your first breath of frigid air upon stepping out of the carriage that had brought you to Winterfell—a castle of grey stone and colder silences. You were barely six when Ser Willem Darry’s last trusted man placed you in the care of Lord Eddard Stark, murmuring half-truths about a noble girl in need of protection after her family’s misfortunes. They never told the truth, not fully. That you were the blood of the dragon, that you were Daenerys's twin, born with the same pale hair and violet eyes—traits too dangerous in a realm still pulsing with Robert’s wrath. But Lord Stark looked into your eyes, and you saw the flicker of recognition—he had known your mother, once. He didn’t speak of it. He never did. Only accepted you with quiet honor, as he did all burdens.

You slept in a tower room overlooking the godswood, and in time you learned the rhythm of Winterfell. The way the wind howled like wolves. The way the direwolves stirred when you passed. Ghost followed you often, red eyes locked on yours as though he knew what blood ran in your veins. You were schooled alongside the Stark children, your accent too soft and your manners too courtly at first, but Sansa took to you kindly, and Arya—brash and wild—taught you to climb trees and stain your hems with grass. You grew into yourself in Winterfell, the fire in your blood tempered by Northern snow, your laughter sometimes echoing down those somber halls.

It was Robb who changed everything. You knew him as a boy, all proud shoulders and a mop of auburn curls, trying to be a man too fast. At first, he regarded you as another sister—gentle but distant, formal in the way of boys taught to guard their hearts behind swords and honor. But you were never quite a Stark, and he was never able to look at you like a sister for long. Not after you started to grow tall and graceful like your mother had been, or when your pale hair, braided with blue ribbons, gleamed in the sun. Not after the day you bested Jon in archery—your arrow slicing the air and sinking deep into the hay target, and your triumphant grin turning Robb’s breath shallow.

One afternoon, you stood in the godswood alone, your cloak pulled tight around you as you traced your fingers over the bark of the weirwood. The red sap stained your fingertips like blood. Robb found you there, quiet and strange, the way you always were when the air turned heavy with memory.

“You always come here when it snows,” he said, stepping closer.

“It almost always snows,” you replied with a faint smile.

He tilted his head, watching you. “Is it that you miss somewhere warmer? Or is it something else?”

You looked up at the carved face of the old god. “I don’t remember warmer. I only remember stories of fire and death.”

His expression softened. “You never speak of where you came from.”

“And you never ask.”

“I do now.”

You looked at him then, really looked—into those blue eyes that held the weight of the North and something gentler beneath it. “I came from fire,” you whispered. “From smoke and shadow and screaming. But I live now in snow and stone and silence. I’m not sure which is better.”

“I think you were meant to be here,” Robb said quietly. “The North suits you.”

“And you,” you replied, voice low, “do not fear what I am?”

He stepped closer, and when his gloved hand brushed yours, it was not the weirwood that made your heart race. “I never have.”

From that day, something changed. He began to seek you out in little ways—in the training yard, where he’d pause his sparring to smile at you; in the solar, where he’d sit beside you as you stitched poorly and cursed under your breath, earning his soft laughter. You rode together often, his direwolf Gray Wind trotting beside your white mare, and sometimes you’d sneak away to the lake that froze over in cold. You showed him how to dance—an art foreign to Northern boys—and he showed you how to fish beneath the ice, his hands steady on yours as you held the line.

“I never thought I’d fall for a girl with dragon blood,” he murmured one night by the hearth, the fire casting gold across your silver hair.

“And I never thought I’d fall for a wolf,” you answered, not meeting his gaze. “Yet here we are.”

He leaned closer, the scent of pine and snow clinging to him. “Tell me you feel it too.”

You turned your head slowly, until your lips brushed his. “I do.”

It wasn’t a kiss of wildfire—it was something slower, deeper, like embers banked beneath furs, something you could bury yourself in and never feel cold again. His hands framed your face with reverence, and your fingers tangled in his curls, pulling him closer, never wanting to let go.

Your love grew in secret, a thing of shared glances and whispered goodnights, stolen touches beneath the stars. Only Jon seemed to suspect, his eyes flicking between you with quiet knowing, but he never said a word. Even Lady Catelyn, sharp-eyed as she was, never looked twice—perhaps because you had always been the quiet ward, the girl of "unknown" origin who kept to the shadows and smiled when spoken to. But in the quiet corners of Winterfell, in the hush of snowfall and the hush of your joined hands, you were no longer a stranger.

You were his. And he was yours.

[gatorbites-imagines]

When normal Reader is working their minimum wage job, I don’t even wanna think about what happens to the poor sap of a villain that decides to destroy it along with the many other buildings in the city, while terrorizing the citizens. If none of the Marks stalked Reader “just in case” at his work, then they’re definitely there for Reader in seconds tops, digging him out of the rubble while the other half of Marks easily capture the poor (and admittedly stupid) villain. Honestly, they did no research on the city that hosts multiple bloodthirsty Invincibles whose only reason for not dominating/destroying the Earth is because they’re completely whipped for a normal dude? They brought whatever happens on themselves TBH.

Regardless if Reader is hurt or not, they’d all love a good while to bond over slowly torturing the villain. They all take turns, some going to assist Reader, take him to a hospital just in case (screw the other hurt, scared citizens screaming for help beneath the rubble - this is their Reader. Get your own harem), get him safe while the others have the villain hostage somewhere. All the Marks make small groups to cycle through, so they can go between checking on Reader and having a nice long ‘talk’ with the villain who’s begging for death ATP.

Reader thinks that maybe he should stop them, but fuck it. Reader has injuries and has to look for a new job now. Besides, this is the most Reader has seen the Marks get along really well and actually work good together. Reader will just take it as an overdo bonding experience for them and not question the inhuman amount of blood they’re stained with when some walk through the door. At least, Reader’s not at home where they’d likely track blood through the house. So long as they give him the juicy details of their villain-turned-prisoner, it’s fine by Reader.

All the Marks are positively buzzing with pride at Reader actually giving what they perceive to be praise/thanks. At the end of the day, if Reader was released to go home, they’re all in their huuuge bed, cuddled up to Reader, happy and purring. If Reader wasn’t released, then they’re all still a happy and purring bunch of boys, sitting and laying around Reader’s hospital bed.

And meanwhile, wherever the Marks have them kept prisoner, the villain is still wailing for death to save them.

(Bonus)

Nurse: “G-Gentleman! Are you all hurt!?”

Invincibles: (Looks at themselves, caked in blood) “Oh, don’t worry! It’s not ours.” 😁

Nurse: 😨

(Sorry, I got REALLY carried away lmao)

I feel like the reader isn't even surprised at this point, he just looks at the marks with such a flat, tired, retail worker look, and sighs loudly. He'd try to tell them to dig other people out but whatever mark is holding him just goes "huh? Babe, I can't hear what you're saying" cuz they're flying.

Rest in peace to the villain who targeted that area of the city, they won't even get a nice and quick death like the vincibles normally give. They're gonna feel pain that can't even be described in words or noises. I imagine the marks get very creative in whatever they're doing

Reader, in hospital bed: hey, honey, where's the others?

Maskless mark: :)

Reader: honey?

Maskless mark, resting a hand on the readers forehead: you should get some sleep babe.

Reader would get annoyed at them for not saving the others, especially his favorite coworker who'd share cigarettes and weed during shift. This means he rolls over in the hospital bed and won't look at them. This doesn't work obviously, and the marks are gonna be whiny and acting all cute asking for forgiveness in their own ways. Some straight up on their knees by the bed, rubbing against the readers hand. And others just apologizing and giving lethal puppy eyes.

Reader ends up giving up, sighing loudly again, and letting them nuzzle up to him or just hover in the corner all intimidating and scaring the nurses. Readers too busy scrolling his phone for a new job...

[ameliathornromance]

Your Orc tried to fool himself. You’d be back in a few weeks, there’s no point in dwelling on you. You’re not a stupid human woman by any means. And you’d been living with Orcs for the past few years, there’s no way you’re going down easily.

But that didn’t stop him from worrying. Your Orc would have gone with you, but due to it being a winter season, Orc hunts would have increased… And being caught travelling with a human woman would have put an even bigger target on his back than usual.

There was safety in numbers, so he had to stay with his camp.

He resolved to sit and wait by the entrance of his tent every morning and evening, watching Orcs leave and re-enter the camp with game and food. Your Orc hoped that you’d be in toe, following and chatting animatedly with other Orcs.

And every time, he was disappointed.

He neglected his duties in the camp, even after some encouragement from other Orcs around him… But when your Orc Boyfriend showed no intent to move, they started to worry for him.

The whole camp never realised how much of a detriment your separation would be to the Orc.

To distract your Orc Boyfriend, some of his closer Orcs cajoled him, “come on, let’s go hunting. The longer you sit there, the worse you’re going to feel. She’ll come back quicker if you busy yourself.” Said Kass – a hunting Orc.

“Yeah,” Crux agreed – another hunting Orc, Kass and him were never parted, even for a moment – “time always go by slowly if you’re waiting on it, c’mon!”

“I have to be here for when she gets back.” Your Orc huffed, crossing his arms.

The two rolled their eyes, “you haven’t done anything but sit there for weeks. Leaving the camp will be good for you, come on.”

After being poked and prodded by his two friends, your Orc begrudgingly agreed to go on a hunt with them.

Hunting was always harder in the winter. All the animals worth eating went into hibernation or hid simply because of how cold it was.

Luckily, your Orc and his others found prey rather easily. It felt good to blow off that anxious energy. Kass and Crux thought that your Orc Boyfriend had set a new record for catching wild animals in these icy conditions.

After a long day of trudging through snow, tying up the animals they had caught, your Orc and his friends returned back to the camp.

As they neared the camp, a familiar laugh pricked at your Orc Boyfriend’s ears. He stopped in his tracks, Kass and Crux stopping too.

“Is that…” Crux asked.

The laugh came again, louder this time.

And that was when your Orc knew. Dropping the dead carcasses, he took off into a run to the camp.

His friends shouted curses at him, but he didn’t care. His heart in his ears, blood thrumming through his veins, he charged through the camp and found you.

You stood in front of the clan Elders, handing them huge dried bundles of herbs, red nosed from the cold, but smiling. Alive and safe.

As much as your Orc wanted to sweep you into his arms, he couldn’t ignore the slight irritation that you had returned in his absence.

So, as quietly as he could, he crept up behind you. The Elders tried their best to ignore him as he got closer and closer. “The one time I leave camp,” he growled, bending down to the side of your head, “and you dare to come back so I can’t greet you!?”

Before you could turn to face your Orc Boyfriend, you were swept off your feet and pulled into a rib-cracking hug. Your Orc grinned as you let out a shout of surprise.

Throwing your arms around him, you squeezed him back. “I missed you so much!” You told him.

“He was miserable without you.” Your boyfriends company had come back into the camp, looking disgruntled. “I’ve never seen him looking like such a sad sap.” Kass snorted.

You rolled your eyes at them and kissed your Orc’s forehead, “aww, did you really miss me that much?”

Your Orc shot Crux and Kass a glare as they smirked, happy in their vengeance. But he grumbled, burying his head in your neck, “yeah.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere like that again.” You reassured. “That trip was a nightmare. And I’m sure the Elders have got enough of that herb to last a few years.”

Looking at the Elders, they nodded before turning back to return to their own tent. “C’mon, let’s catch up.” You said as your Orc put you down. “I want to tell you about the dragon who nearly ate me.”

“A dragon nearly did what?”

“Just kidding, I wanted to see your reaction.”

Your Orc rolled his eyes as you laughed and went off to your shared tent. Smiling, your Orc Boyfriend followed behind you, happy that you had returned, safe and sound.

Patreon

[cannedbabs]

Rbti rewrite post :] (was gonna be more but I’ve had an eventful day.. will say later ofc)

Closeup of KCB, some more evolution of lore, and my day below cut!

((If I had the choice to redo this bug piece it would be to turn off his glowy eyes. Plot reasons. Also sorry I only ever post sketches, I fear if I do more it’ll sap my energy to get content out at ALL so))

I will say the plot has been wavering a LOT! I’ve been talking with some of my irl friends (all of them have lovely story writing or creative backgrounds which is amazing) and so it’s being patched significantly. Still not 100% finished, that’s why I haven’t made an entire lore post yet!! There’s a lot of loose ends and placement that needs to be figured out. But I feel like it’s only appropriate to state some at least :] you guys have given me amazing feedback and showed interest and I can’t thank you enough!

The “big bad” has been juggled around. I do like BEV, her motives are a little grey and need to be strung together accurately and cohesively. I also don’t want a twist villain, as much as that’s amazing I am not trying to rewrite WIR. Turbo in himself is a “big bad”, always will be, he’s the worst of the worst and completely irredeemable, that’s why the writing is so hard. “How do you put in a big bad that has to contest with one of the worst characters of all time?”

My answer is to make BEV solely target Turbo, and in turn it’s a domino effect for everyone, but then that makes this rewrite a little more Turbo centric than I wanted ((granted it IS because of my bias, but even then I realize he is NOT the main character of the previous movie))

These are out loud thoughts tho!! Def the story is gonna take a route where it’s more Ralph vs(?) Vanellope, where they realize their goals don’t really align but are trying to keep it from the other person (kinda like RBTI actually! But not as ‘drama needs to get in the way to actually make an issue’). Ralph is gonna be taking BEV’s side and Vanellope will be taking Turbo’s side, at least that’s the concept for now!

Talking about my day will be super short. Basically I showed my friend group (who doesn’t have the turbo autism I do, but Turbo has become such a referenced joke in my group. Instead of saying ‘this is my hyperfixation’ we say ‘This is my turbo’) the entire 2hr analysis video (thank you Randomalistic :]) and they loved it! Sat through it all front to back!! And I’m having a sleep over w them tomorrow and having a DnD session yippee!! But that’s the only reason why I’m posting this and not accumulating more for a bigger post.

I AM planning on working on ref sheets and even stuff like a ref sheet for their chat bubbles since they’re all different :] idk this became a super long ramble post idk have some funny WIR-related Jack box things my friend group made you earned it

[jaredwnch]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ MARRIED TO JARED PADALECKI HEADCANNONS .ᐟ

“he’s sunshine in a hoodie, a love letter written in messy pen, your forever kind of chaos”

✧ your love is loud, messy, and so real

he’s picking you up and spinning you around in the kitchen for no reason, knocking over a chair in the process. you both laugh so hard you can’t breathe. that’s what forever feels like with him.

✧ hoodie thief energy

you live in his old college hoodies. sleeves too long, but they smell like him—cedar, shampoo, and a little wild. he grins every time you wear one like it’s the first time.

✧ the softest mornings

he’s a human furnace. wakes you up with sleepy kisses, arm flung over your waist, whispering “don’t get up yet, just five more minutes” (but it’s always thirty).

✧ PDA KING, zero shame

he’s kissing your temple in line at Target, holding your hand in grocery aisles, calling you “darlin’” in front of everyone. you are his entire world and he doesn’t care who knows it.

✧ road trip soulmates

playlist blasting, your feet on the dash, Jared singing off-key while eating gas station snacks. he reaches over and squeezes your thigh every time a love song comes on. every single time.

✧ home is wherever he is

hotel rooms, movie sets, family cabins in the woods—it doesn’t matter. when Jared wraps you up in his arms, it’s home. it’s always been him.

✧ scrapbook memories

he takes the most unflattering but real pics of you: mid-laugh, messy hair, cozy cuddles. prints them all out and writes lil captions under them like “my heart in one frame.”

✧ annoyingly good at surprises

you think he forgot your anniversary? wrong. he shows up with your favorite snacks, a handwritten note, and a whole picnic setup at your favorite overlook. he’s a sap and proud of it.

✧ chaos but make it domestic

burnt toast, dogs barking, him chasing a toddler in superhero pajamas—life with Jared is a beautiful kind of wild. he makes the everyday feel like a rom-com montage.

✧ forever feels like this

you catch him looking at you when you’re doing something mundane—folding laundry, tying your hair up—and he just… smiles like he’s the luckiest guy alive. because he is.