#uncured asks

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which paige’s food impresses the team and so does her girlfriend

Paige didn’t think moving to Dallas would feel this good.

It was strange. New city, new team, new everything — but when she walked into the apartment she was slowly turning into a home, she never felt lonely. Not when she had you.

Especially not today.

She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, glancing around the living room. The candles were lit. The playlist she spent way too long making was humming low from the speakers. And, most importantly, the trays of food were lined up perfectly across the kitchen island — thanks to you.

“You good?” came a voice behind her.

Paige turned to see Dijonai Carrington strolling in through the open door, arms full of drinks and a mischievous smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Paige grinned, moving to help. “You’re early.”

“You said four,” Dijonai teased, dropping the drinks onto the counter. “I’m punctual. Unlike Arike’s ass.”

“Hey, I’m coming!” Arike Ogunbowale’s voice floated in from the hallway, laughing.

Paige shook her head, heart light. This was good.

This was easy.

Within minutes, Nalyssa Smith joined too, all of them scattering through the apartment, tossing off shoes, dropping bags, and peppering Paige with questions about her new place.

“Okay, wait a minute.” Dijonai suddenly froze mid-step. She had a chicken skewer halfway to her mouth.

Paige blinked. “What?”

“This food,” Dijonai said dramatically. “This food is insane. Where’d you get it?!”

Arike was already double-fisting sliders. “Bruh, these are stupid good. Paige, what is this?”

Nalyssa was nodding too, mouth full of pasta salad. “You gotta put us on.”

Paige fought a smirk, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed casually.

She waited a beat.

Then said, “My girl made it.”

The reaction was immediate and chaotic.

“You’re lying!” Dijonai yelped.

“Nuh-uh, since when you got a girl?!” Arike demanded, half-choking on her slider.

“Hold up, hold up—” Nalyssa set down her plate, hands up. “Paige Bueckers has a girlfriend?!”

Paige couldn’t help it — she burst out laughing. “Y’all act like it’s breaking news,” she said, teasing. “It’s not that deep.”

Dijonai squinted at her, suspicious. “Wait. So, like, serious serious? Or just ‘she cooks good and she cute’ serious?”

Paige snorted. “Serious serious.” She tried to say it casually, but her cheeks gave her away, pinking up instantly.

Arike leaned across the counter, whispering dramatically to Nalyssa, “She’s blushing.”

“Bueckers is in love!” Nalyssa sang under her breath, drumming her hands on the counter like it was breaking news.

“I am not blushing,” Paige groaned, covering her face.

That’s when the front door clicked open.

“Babe?” your voice floated in, warm and casual.

“Back here!” Paige called out, already smiling without thinking.

The room quieted down immediately, like everyone was collectively holding their breath.

You walked in, still wearing your apron from the catering job you just finished, keys dangling from your fingers, a little tired but glowing. You stopped short when you saw the crowd.

“Oh,” you said, blinking. “You guys are here.”

Paige stepped forward and kissed your temple quickly. “They’re obsessed with the food.”

You laughed. “Good. Means I did my job.”

For a second, nobody said anything.

Then Dijonai, predictably, broke the silence.

“You’re the chef?!”

“Damn, Paige, you pulled a whole chef??” Arike added, laughing.

“Girl, you cook and you’re fine?” Nalyssa whistled low, grinning. “Paige, you won!”

You smiled politely, cheeks heating up a little, shooting Paige a look like what did I walk into?

Paige only shrugged, trying not to look too smug.

You wiped your hands on your apron, stepping forward.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, offering a hand. “It’s nice to meet you guys finally.”

Dijonai grabbed your hand and shook it dramatically. “I love you already.”

Arike gave you a fist bump. “We’re keeping you.”

Nalyssa just gave you a side hug like you’d been friends forever.

It was pure chaos after that.

Someone pulled out a deck of cards. Someone else dug through Paige’s cabinets looking for shot glasses.

You ended up sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, sandwiched between Paige and Dijonai, telling them about how you and Paige met, “At a private event — she kept stealing cookies off the dessert table and I finally had to call her out.”

They ate it up, laughing like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

Paige leaned back against the couch, watching you, heart full. She barely said anything for a while — just listened, soaking it all in.

At one point, Dijonai turned and pointed at her.“Yo, Paige’s whole vibe changes around you.”

“Fr,” Arike agreed. “She’s, like... soft.”

Nalyssa fake wiped a tear. “Our little grump is in love.”

You glanced at Paige teasingly. “Grump?”

Paige groaned, throwing a throw pillow at Nalyssa.

“Do not listen to them,” she warned you.

But you just laughed and leaned your head on her shoulder like you’d known her forever. And maybe you had. In all the ways that mattered.

Later, when the sun dipped and the trays were open and someone put on an NBA game in the background, Paige caught your hand under the blanket. You looked over, soft and sleepy, and squeezed her fingers.

Paige smiled.

Dallas felt like home. Because you were here.

The apartment looked like a war zone.

Plates stacked high on the counter. Cups littered across the coffee table. A trail of abandoned sneakers leading to the door.

But all Paige could focus on was you, barefoot, laughing as you tried to balance an armful of empty plates without dropping them.

“You're gonna drop that,” Paige warned, grinning from where she was lazily sprawled on the couch.

“I will not,” you said stubbornly, nose scrunching up in concentration. “I’m a professional.”

Sure enough, one plate slid dangerously. Paige shot up, lunging to grab it. You both fumbled, the plate clattering harmlessly onto the couch. You burst out laughing.

Paige grabbed it and gave you a look.

“Professional, huh?" she teased.

You grinned and bumped your hip into hers.“Professional chef, not professional plate juggler."

Paige chuckled and shook her head, standing to help.

For a while, you worked quietly side by side — tossing cups, stacking trays, wiping down counters.

Soft music still played from the speakers, something slow and a little sleepy.

Paige caught you humming along, twirling a stray fork between your fingers like it was a mic. She leaned her hip against the counter, just watching you.

“You know you're amazing, right?” Paige said suddenly.

You looked up, blinking. “Huh?”

Paige shrugged, cheeks pink. “Just... You are. You killed it with the food. You handled my crazy teammates. You made tonight feel... real.”

You softened immediately, drying your hands on a towel and stepping closer. “It was your night, Paige,” you said gently. “I just wanted it to feel special.”

Paige looked down at you, heart thudding. “It was special," she said. "You’re special.”

You tilted your head, smiling up at her. “Getting sappy on me, Bueckers?”

“Maybe,” Paige mumbled, suddenly shy.

“You better,” you teased, stepping even closer, until your chests brushed.

Paige's hands found your waist automatically, tugging you against her. “You make it easy,” she admitted, forehead dropping to yours.

You wrapped your arms around her neck, swaying a little to the music only you two could hear.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” Paige said, so sure, so soft.

You kissed her then — a sweet, slow kiss that tasted like home.

When you pulled back, Paige kept you close, tucking her face into your neck like she never wanted to let go.

“You’re stuck with me, you know that, right?” she mumbled against your skin.

You laughed quietly, running your fingers through her hair. “I’m not exactly complaining.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

The dishes were half-done. The apartment was still a mess. But none of it mattered.

Finally, you yawned against her shoulder, mumbling, “Bed?”

Paige smiled against your neck. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Bed.”

You barely made it.

Somehow you ended up tangled together on the couch instead, the blanket thrown haphazardly over your bodies, your face tucked into her chest.

You smiled against her hoodie, already half-asleep. “I love you, Bueckers.”

Paige closed her eyes, feeling her heart trip over itself. “I love you, Y/N.”

And she meant it with everything she had.

[gorelesbian]

new jobs be like do not worry queen we will train you thoroughly until you're confident and calm at the job. btw you're working alone tomorrow and there is no one available for you to call if you need help and i also refuse to check whether you even have access to the system. good luck :3

[montussy-slayer]

Sonic temple part one

[elitehoe]

From Matt and I:

Happy Thursday!!! One of the eps they taped the day after bfg is tonight so I'll be having flashbacks XD

The sound I let out when the gif loaded, not normal I am getting weird looks..

He's so pretty tho why is he so pretty?? I'm going to throw up he's everything to me 😭😭

Happy Thursday I hope you enjoy Impact!!!

[desiderareing]

Blue tag drop.

[theskywithin]

🌙 Your Solar Return Moon in The Houses

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 1st House

This year, the shape of your face becomes a confession. Every glance, every tremble, every hesitation, it’s all written across you before you can explain it away. Your body becomes a diary you never meant to open in public. You are learning that true strength is not hiding the bruise, it’s standing there anyway, unmasked, uncurated. Your emotions will demand a seat at the front table this year. Will you let them in or keep translating yourself into what you think the world can handle?

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 2nd House

This year, your heart will cling hardest to what feels stable, even if it’s crumbling underneath. You will measure love by what stays. You will mistake absence for betrayal, and presence for safety. But the real earthquake will be discovering that your security was never outside you. It was never the hands that held you, the job that paid you, the voice that praised you. It was the quiet agreement you make with yourself to stay, even when everything else leaves.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 3rd House

This year, your emotions will move faster than your words can catch. You will reach for language like a life raft, trying to organize, explain, rationalize every flicker of hurt. But not everything aching inside you will want to be named. Some wounds will need silence, not stories. Some longings will pulse too wildly to fit into clean sentences. Your real work this year is not to speak what you feel, it’s to sit inside it until it teaches you its real name.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 4th House

This year, the architecture inside you will shake. Foundations you swore were permanent will shift beneath you like sand. The heart you built walls around will start tapping on them from the inside. You are not being asked to rebuild the house. You are being asked to stay inside it, even while it falls apart, and trust that not everything collapsing is meant to be mourned. Some things crumble because they were never truly yours to begin with.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 5th House

This year, your heart will rebel against its own walls. Long-forgotten songs, abandoned dreams, half-buried joys will hammer against your ribs, asking to live again. You will be asked to create, not for survival, not for success, but because creation itself is how your soul breathes. Love will feel dangerous in its wildness. But this danger is not your enemy. It is the threshold you must cross to find yourself again.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 6th House

This year, healing will not arrive with trumpets or fanfare. It will slip in quietly, in how you feed yourself when no one is watching, in how you forgive yourself when you fail again. You will be asked to make rituals out of repair. You will be asked to meet your body not as a machine to be punished into worth, but as a garden still learning where the sunlight is. Tenderness will save you long before discipline ever does.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 7th House

This year, your heart will be measured by how bravely it can stand alone. Every closeness will sharpen your edges. Every silence will stretch your longing. You are not being asked to merge. You are being asked to sit across from yourself, across from them, and whisper: “I will not disappear for your comfort.” The real work is not finding someone who chooses you, it’s learning to choose yourself without needing a witness.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 8th House

This year, grief will have your address even when you didn’t send an invitation. You will grieve futures that never happened, versions of yourself you quietly abandoned. But mourning is not a detour. It is the soil from which something unimaginable will grow. Your emotions will drag you underground, but only to teach you how to rise through your own ruins. You are not losing yourself, you are molting. And what comes next will not apologize for its power.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 9th House

This year, your heart will become a pilgrim. Longing will stitch itself into your chest like a compass, pulling you toward things you cannot explain. Familiar comfort will start to itch like an old skin. You are not lost. You are outgrowing maps that were too small for the real horizon inside you. Trust the ache to move, to wonder, to wander. You are not betraying your roots by reaching beyond them, you are honoring the parts of you that were born to run toward the light.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 10th House

This year, the world will see your heart before it sees your work. Every ambition will be braided with emotion. Every goal will taste different once you realize that success without soul is just another kind of emptiness. You are not being asked to climb faster. You are being asked to climb truer, even if it means leaving behind ladders built by someone else’s expectations. Let your life be built from longing, not just labor.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 11th House

This year, your heart will recognize strangers before your mind catches up. You will find pieces of yourself scattered across new communities, friends who feel like old prayers being answered. But you will also grieve the spaces where you stayed too small just to belong. Hope will hurt before it heals. This is the year you stop editing your dreams to be more digestible and start living so loudly that the right ones find you.

🌙 Solar Return Moon in the 12th House

This year, the tides inside you will rise before the world even knows a storm is coming. You will be called inward, back into the corridors of your own undoing and becoming. Healing will happen behind closed doors. Grief will turn into gardens long before anyone else smells the flowers. You are not invisible. You are incubating. Trust the darkness you are passing through. It is not the end of you, it is where the next version of you is being quietly written.

[gnomewithalaptop]

@chatxkilluaxnoir I just remembered! There's also twelve wrong questions and superhero shitposts by N_Is_For_Knowledge -- they're both from a superhero arc where Mizar becomes a teen superhero and Alcor poses as her funky little sidekick

So I came to know u from the Transcendence-AU blog and ur fics (mainly ur TAU ones) on AO3. & I just gotta say,1st. "I loved the Transcendence AU Dash Simulator GO!!!" post u did (I thought I saw another one by u &/or someone else on the TAU blog, or maybe it was just that post I linked. Did u do another post like that 1, or was it just that one?) was super funny and detailed; I loved it, would read other post(s) like that 1. Will say the rest in other Ask(s). 1/?.

Hi! I think tumblr might've eaten the second half of your ask, but I'm so glad you liked the TAU dash sim post! I had a ton of fun making it :-) To answer your question, I only ever did the one -- you might be thinking of the @baelhunters tumblr account? I know that whole blog was basically a huge meta roleplay where they went deep into the Mizar the Magnificent analysis, though I don't think they've posted in a while

Other than that, if you're looking for social-media style fics, the ones I can name off the top of my head are Digital Demon by Gauvain, the Transcendence Chatroom series by Haberdasher, Oregon Nostalgia by Zillieannie, and Highlights from SGCC 3015 by MaryPSue (this last one's only partially epistolary, though I did reference some of the usernames in there in my dash sim post!)

[barrenclan]

"Moth-Soft Murmurings"

Many people have asked me if I consider Egrettail and Blacknose to be a couple (along with a polycule with Mallowstar). The answer I give is frustratingly vague - I do, kind of, but I also am still very strong in Egrettail being aromantic and asexual. An important point to me in her relationship with Blacknose is finding the relationship that works for you, and being able to use the labels that fit you best while still engaging in the love that you want. It's something between romantic and platonic for Egrettail, and that is perfectly okay.

If I'd had more time, I would have liked to go a little more into Blacknose's progressing dementia, but I'm okay with how I ended up portraying it. The extremely sad thing about degenerative diseases like dementia is that while you can try and mitigate them, they are ultimately uncurable. Blacknose had early-onset dementia, so in terms of this comic, she likely spent the rest of her life in the more severe stages of it. However, the strong support of those around a person with dementia will always be a crucial part of helping them live their best life. And Blacknose was lucky enough to have just that.

The title is taken from Harlan Ellison's story "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream": “He smiled softly at the pit that dropped into the center of my brain and the faint, moth-soft murmurings of all the things far down there that gibbered without meaning, without pause.”

Previous < > Next

[imastoryteller]

Beautiful Contradictions: 10 Tragic Trait Pairs for Unforgettable Characters

As a writer, I’m endlessly fascinated by the contradictions in people—especially the tragic ones. These paradoxes reveal a deeper truth, where strength masks sorrow and beauty hides pain.

Here’s a list of 10 eccentric yet tragic trait pairs, combining contrasting qualities that give each character a poignant, melancholic edge. These characters could be deeply moving, tragic, and thought-provoking:

Boundlessly Creative & Emotionally Numb Character Idea: They can craft breathtaking works of art that touch others’ hearts, yet they feel empty inside, unable to connect with their own creations. Their art speaks to everyone but themselves.

Empathic Healer & Chronically Ill Character Idea: They can take others’ pain away but suffer from an uncurable illness that no one else can heal. Their gift is both their strength and their curse, draining them even as they save others.

Unwaveringly Brave & Afraid of Love Character Idea: This character can face any monster or enemy without flinching, yet the idea of close relationships terrifies them. They would die for others but find it impossible to let anyone close.

Endlessly Forgiving & Self-Hating Character Idea: They forgive everyone’s faults and see the good in others, yet they can’t forgive themselves. While they bring peace to those around them, they’re haunted by self-loathing that won’t ease.

Prophetic & Forgotten Character Idea: They have visions of events to come but are cursed to be ignored and forgotten by everyone they meet. They watch disasters unfold knowing they could have helped, if only someone would remember them.

Sees the Beauty in Everything & Sees No Beauty in Themselves Character Idea: They find awe and wonder in every person and place, yet feel completely unworthy and unsightly themselves. Their admiration of the world is genuine, but they’re tragically disconnected from their own worth.

Master of Memory & Haunted by Every Loss Character Idea: They remember every detail of their life with perfect clarity, including the faces and voices of everyone they’ve lost. While they’re a living archive of the past, they’re crushed under the weight of their own memories.

Compelled to Help & Constantly Exploited Character Idea: This character has an unshakable need to help others, even those who repeatedly betray or hurt them. They sacrifice everything to save others, often at their own expense, never learning when to walk away.

Radiantly Beautiful & Mortally Lonely Character Idea: Their beauty inspires awe and admiration, but it also keeps people at a distance, assuming they’re untouchable. They’re surrounded by admiration but utterly alone, unable to find genuine connection.

Grants Wishes & Has None of Their Own Fulfilled Character Idea: This character can grant any wish for others, yet no one has ever thought to ask what they want. They live to make others’ dreams come true, with a deep sadness at never receiving the same kindness.

[uncuredturkeybacon]

i just want to say that i have been reading your most recent stories, and, i am blown away. the way you write is so addicting, and i am so grateful that you have decided to share your talent with us!

this is so sweet omg 🥹 thank you so much for your kind words and thank you for reading! i appreciate you so much

[durgewyll]

blade of frontiers: a wyll-themed playlist (vol. 1)

i done been through a whole lot trial, tribulation, but i know god the devil wanna put me in a bow tie pray that the holy water don't go dry

[LISTEN to vol. 1]

wyll ravengard: a wyll-themed playlist (vol. 2)

there's a deal you can make on a midnight walk alone look around, listen close, hear it fall from above it will ask what you'd give and what you'd take for it in return

[LISTEN to vol. 2]

[bonus uncurated version]

[joostsblog]

Omg hi your writing is so so good!! So I just saw the new photos of Joost (with his broken phone etc) and I thought of a new story… can you maybe write something where Joost trips and has some small injuries like a scraped knee and elbow etc, and reader takes care of him??

I loooooove this! I also noticed that there's a red spot on his knee so I wondered if he actually fell down or something

kiss it better ~ joost klein one shot

My masterlist here ✨���

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader

Description: A bloody scratch on your crush Joost's knee turns into an interesting opportunity for you.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: You already know, it's another friends to lovers one shot, i'm a sucker for those. I hope you like it, if you do pls show your support by reblogging ❣️❣️ send in requests i'm having fun with this! 💌

Warnings: blood, not proofread

Joost had always been clumsy. His drink accidentally slipping out of his fingers when grabbing it. Bumping into a corner when he just told a funny anecdote to his friends. You could even say that the way Joost stumbled into your heart was clumsy. Because he definitely didn't mean to do it, after all, you were just one of his friends. But there he was, definitely not leaving anytime soon - that you were sure of.

Your strategy for dealing with your uncurable crush on your friend was definitely unique. You and Joost were known within your friend group for being ultra-affectionate and flirty to one another. Always alternating between bickering and jokingly complimenting each other. Always making a joke out of every hug and touch you shared.

"Go get a room already," Apson would occasionally say with a roll of the eye and you both would laugh along but secretly you would wish that you could tell Joost about your crush earnestly. Instead, you hid it away under layers of jokes.

Right now you were watching Joost as you and your friends wandered through the streets of Vancouver. You were laughing as Joost walked backwards in front of you, his arms gesturing around wildly as he talked about an idea he had for a music video. You watched his steps intently as you already noticed this to be a risky situation for the clumsy man. You breathed a sigh of relief as Joost dropped the antics and decided to turn around to walk normally again. But as he did, you could only watch as he tripped over the seam of his long pants and fell on the concrete.

"Oh shit," your friends around you exclaimed. "Jooooost," they started to laugh as they realised that he must be not seriously hurt.

Joost sat down on the pavement, his legs bent at an angle and his hands behind him to prop himself up. You kneeled down between his legs to check on him.

"Are you alright?" you asked concerned.

"Yeah," Joost tried to press out a convincing laugh but you could see in his eyes that he must be either hurt or embarrassed by his fall - or maybe a mix of both. When you looked Joost in the eyes you saw him evading your gaze and for a second you were scared that he might start crying. You were glad that your friends didn't seem to pay much attention to the both of you since it was no news to see you lost in your own little world.

"Are you hurt? Let me see," you said and tried your best to be comforting for Joost.

Joost looked down at his hands to inspect them and you noticed a few scratches on one of his fingers. The phone he was holding in his hand was also shattered since Joost didn't use any protective phone cases.

"It's fine," Joost said unconvincingly.

"No, that sucks," you reaffirmed his feelings and softly touched his knee. Joost winced with a smile and you looked down to where your hand just touched. A small spot of red was bleeding through Joost's jeans where he must have scratched his knee during the fall. "Oh, I'm sorry," you said, instead caressing the side of his knee now. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" you said cheekily, right back with your flirty banter you two were so well accustomed to.

"Are you taking the piss out of me?" Joost asked with a pout.

"No, never," you tried to reassure him. "I'm serious," you said and reached into your bag to pull out a pack of tissues. You grabbed the bottom seam of Joost's jeans and looked at him for confirmation before he nodded. Your friends were still not paying much attention to you down on the floor as they instead talked and joked among themselves. You pulled Joost's jeans up until his bleeding knee was exposed. Using one of the tissues you carefully dabbed at the wound to remove the blood. Joost winced at the contact again. "I'm sorry," you said as you were finished.

After one moment of hesitation, you leaned down and pressed a light kiss on the skin of Joost's knee just above the scratch. You looked at Joost and saw a shy smile creeping up on his face so you decided to leave three other kisses on his knee for good measure.

"Better?" you asked.

"Yes, so much better," he said grinning.

"Is there anywhere else you're hurting?" you asked, feeling courageous.

"Here," Joost said and showed you the scratch on his hand which you had inspected earlier.

You carefully took his hand into yours and also cleaned off the blood using the tissue. Joost's hand wrapped around yours as you pulled it towards you until you also pressed a few gentle kisses around the fresh wound.

"Anywhere else?" you asked as you looked at Joost.

"Here," he said quietly and pointed to his lips. Your heart started racing.

"I don't see any scratches there," you teased. You wished you were alone in this moment and nobody would be here to see or interrupt.

"But I'm hurting," Joost said with a pout and you smiled.

Fuck it, you thought.

You leaned forward and cupped his cheek with one of your hands. Joost rested one hand on your waist. You made sure to plant the most gentle, sweetest and loving kiss on Joost's lips. As you leaned back again you both looked at each other and you wondered if this was one of those times when you would show each other affection or say something sickly sweet about the other person under the guise of it just being a joke. Something in Joost's eyes gave you the feeling that this might be different actually, that the both of you were earnest this time. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you decided to go in for another kiss, a second kiss you definitely couldn't play up for laughs anymore. It was longer and deeper and you could feel Joost leaning into you.

"Hey, look at Joost and (Y/N)!" Apson shouted in delight as your friends finally noticed what the two of you were up to.

You pulled away from Joost who looked at you biting down on his lips to hide a grin. You offer your hand to Joost as you get up and help him get up as well. The both of you just ignored the bickering around you as your friends tried to pry into what just happened. Instead, you just continued your path down to wherever you were going anyway. As you walk beside each other you take notice that Joost never let go of your hand, still firmly fitting around yours.

[ranticore]

Do you have any tips on how to draw harpies? I've been wanting to make my own harpy character and I'm struggling drawing him a little bit!

thats for u <3 but it doesn't really show the head a lot so i will draw a little thing now

i figure the kings are the hardest to get right as the cobs and pens are just feathery humans with beak noses. imo the most important bit is the strong brow ridge/line, it forms the face into a wedge shape. i actually took a lot of inspiration from the Glen Keane eagle concept drawings which you can see here for simplifying the construction of the face by using the brows as a guide

eagle harpies obviously have different beak shapes compared to other bird types but i think once you get the idea you can extrapolate it out to different species. anyway feather groups are shown in the pic, i draw them with varying amounts of bare skin on the face but it's very mix and match, degree of feathering vs bare skin vs exposed jaw beak on the face varies by individual and genetics

their upper lip is actually mobile and muscular, it can pull back to show how the nose beak is actually continuous with the maxillary beak (hidden behind the upper lip). there is no lower lip. the tongue is barbed. the upper lip also covers the hook of the mandibular (lower jaw) beak.

the corners of the mouth usually extend much further than the feathers show and they can open their mouths very wide. feathers shouldn't be treated the same as fur in a drawing, they are extremely mobile and can change the silhouette by poofing up or lying down. kings have the long streamer/mane feathers which cobs and pens lack, these function similar to a lion's mane - they look impressive but they also prevent an enemy from reaching the bare skin of the neck in a fight. in older kings the mane feathers will grow all around the neck while immature kings (like cuinn in the top pic yes that's him) require a few shed cycles to grow a full mane so there are still contour feathers on the front of the neck. feathers grow in tracts rather than randomly distributed so if you lift the contour feathers you can easily find bare skin.

they do not easily emote using facial expressions so here's some examples of expressions a harpy can make in other ways

[cece693]

EVEN MONSTERS HAVE A SOFT SPOT

pairing: hannibal lecter x gender neutral reader synopsis: When one thinks of Hannibal Lecter—sophisticated, has a refined taste, intelligent—are merely some words that come to mind, so it surprises even him when he becomes bespoken by an individual who's the complete opposite.

The relationship begins, as so many of Hannibal’s fascinations do, with an aroma: fresh-cut thyme carried in on a January draft as you push through the frosted doors of the Johns Hopkins atrium. You are there to drop off hand-bound sketchbooks for a pediatric art-therapy fundraiser; he has been asked to consult on a delicate cranial reconstruction.

Hannibal hears the shuffle of paper, the careful thank-yous whispered to each nurse you pass, and turns on an instinct older than speech. The halls smell of antiseptic and fear, yet the sprig of thyme tucked behind your ear—careless, uncurated—rises above it all. Mischa once wound the same herb into her braids to disguise the smell of campfire smoke. It stops him mid-stride.

You notice the tall man in the immaculate three-piece suit studying you like a still life, and instead of shrinking away you smile—open, guileless, inviting him to share the moment rather than conquer it. “Does it look ridiculous?” you ask, touching the herb.

"It looks honest,” he says, and means it.

That is the first crack in the marble.

It had been easy to catalogue you— an act of clinical triage Hannibal performed on everyone he met. Most novelties dimmed under the fluorescent glare of his scrutiny; even the rare ones, the ones he kept, were arranged on mental shelves like curiosities: a pocket watch of precise conversation here, a porcelain mask of manners there. But you would not stay still. Your sweetness tasted of movement—of sap running in thaw, impossible to pin beneath glass.

The second crack came a fortnight later, when he found himself altering his schedule���voluntarily lingering in the pediatric wing to “review charts” he had already memorized, just in case you appeared again with arms full of art supplies. He would claim afterward that he needed the walk to clear his thoughts, but the truth hissed at the edge of self-deception: he wanted to hear your gentle “excuse me” as you navigated the hallway, wanted to watch nurses straighten their posture under the lift of your smile.

Crack three: the wine-red sketchbook he couriered to your door. He wrote and rewrote the invitation card four times, adjusting the slope of a y, sanding away the faintest curl of a d, until the script looked as measured and effortless as his pulse seldom felt anymore.

Your yes arrived by phone—soft static laced with gratitude—and something inside him slipped an inch toward hunger. Not the crude appetite he sated with curated flesh, but a subtler craving: to be worthy of the tone you used when speaking to friends. To be invited, one day, into the small, sunlit domesticities you seemed to create wherever you went.

The night you crossed his threshold with that Mason-jar candle, the fissures spread like roots beneath frost. You apologized for the jar’s label—hand-inked, a little smudged—and he caught himself wanting to apologize back for every silver spoon he had ever polished to razor acuity, for every dinner served immaculate yet devoid of this raw, beeswax honesty. The flame bobbed inside cloudy glass; his resolve bobbed with it.

From then on, softness became a symptom. He noticed it first in the kitchen: how his hand hovered above a cleaver, unwilling to strike until your laughter in the dining room subsided, as though the crash of steel on board might frighten you from the next breath. He noticed it at the symphony, when the woman in the fur stole behind you whispered that you were “quaint”—and the back of his throat flooded with copper and snow, the memory of rifles in pine trees. By the scherzo’s final chord he had already decided which of her organs would prove most eloquent when removed.

He told himself these protective urges were logical—defensive medicine for a fragile but necessary part of his life. Yet he knew. Every quiet kindness you extended was another brushstroke across the portrait of Mischa his mind refused to hang. You were not her, would never be; still the echo persisted: thyme woven into braids, warmth hoarded like contraband against the winter outside. It left him both soothed and flayed.

So the murders quickened, as if some internal metronome had accelerated to match the beat of your footsteps on his stairs. A barista’s sarcastic arch of eyebrow, a critic’s oily sneer, the casual cruelty of an academic who dismissed your hand-stitched notebooks—all of them sprouted in his ledger like black mold begging to be cut out. Each removal felt cleaner, swifter, almost merciful; he was pruning the world into a shape where your kindness could continue unbruised.

And with every body that fell, Hannibal’s voice with you grew gentler, his touch nearer to reverence. He learned to breathe through your hair as though inhaling penance; to accept your crookedly knitted gifts with a gratitude that shocked him into silence; to sit across from you at dawn, watching you stir honey into tea, and feel—for the length of a single heartbeat—content.

He never says the word love. He thinks it, sometimes, in Lithuanian, French, the brittle Latin of anatomy texts, but all translations seem too narrow. What he feels is not an emotion but a geology: plates grinding, landscapes upheaving, rivers rerouted to spare one emerald valley from drought.

One night, long after you have fallen asleep against his shoulder, he studies the candle stub on the mantel—glass smudged by your fingerprints, wick stooped like a priest at confession. The flame gutters once, twice, then steadies. Hannibal brushes an ember of wax from the rim, commits the gesture to memory, and understands that the marble has shattered clean through. The statue is gone; in its place stands something living, something pliant yet unbreakable, defined by the simple fact that your light is inside it.

He will feed that light. He will guard it with butcher hooks and bone saws and lullabies. And when the world asks, with trembling voice, why the Ripper’s knife swings faster these days, he will answer—in the privacy of his own mind—that every heartbeat spared from cruelty is another second you spend unspoiled.

That, to Hannibal Lecter, is the only measure of decency worth counting.

[cherryite]

overthrown - basic character bios

authors note. oh hiiii, i'm back! these are character bios! wanted to provide a little background as we go into the series! i hope to have the prologue out within the next few days, i'm in the thick of the semester so i have lots of work, butttt idc hehhe. this will be updated periodically as i post more of the series, almost like a character index! again, if you have any questions feel free to ask! because canon is getting BENT in this brief plot overview/world info part 1

the prophesized.

reader. 21, oldest child/heir and a twin, born to king malchor and queen shallan of ephia. ephia is known for their fishing, sea exports, and being the main trading post in the realm. non magical, but younger brother aaric is. artsy and kind, the princess is the opposite of her battle ready younger brother, though they are still close. the princess has a cat, pippin, a little orange thing she brings everywhere. possesses basic swordsmanship knowledge.

mark. 20, heir, born to high king nolan and high queen debbie of the viltrum empire. viltrum is known for their excess of magic users, many claiming its the 'land of the gods', their main export is goods; food, water, art, you name it, viltrum probably has it. mark is assisting his mother as she rules in her husbands place post suspicious death and amidst the chaos of the realm. his magic is incredibly strong, though he is still learning how to harness it to its full extent.

eve. 21, only heir, born to king adam and queen betsy of ansbonia. ansbonia is known for their craftsmanship, making the best weapons, tools and everyday items. eve is currently betrothed to rex (much to both of their dismay) but they mostly get along fine because it's a political marriage. eve's father is dead, her mother is the current ruling queen regent until eve is ready to take over. eve is a magic user.

rex. 22, only heir, born to the prince and princess of troylos. troylos is known for it's coal, precious materials, and mining. rex's parents were not yet king and queen when he was born, so currently, his mother's father is the king. he is betrothed to eve but could not care in the slightest. rex also possesses magic.

rae. 24, second heir/current heir, born to the king and queen of lanan. lanan is known for it's lumber and building materials such as stone or brick. rae's mother died in childbirth with a younger sibling and her father passed away from an uncurable illness, so her older sister is currently queen. she is unmarried making rae her heir. rae is also a magic user.

other notable people.

debbie. mark's mother, current ruling high queen after the death of her husband. non magic user, since she comes from a lesser house in the realm.

cecil. nolan's hand of the king, currently assisting debbie as her hand of the queen. comes from a house in the grand duchy of durna.

oliver. mark's half brother, a bastard who was legitimized by nolan when he was young. views debbie as his mother and debbie views him as her own. good magic user, even though he is only seven.

nolan. mark and oliver's father, debbie's husband, and the former high king of the viltrum empire before his death.

william. mark's longtime friend and gentleman in waiting, he comes from a small house in the viltrum empire and does not possess magic

the dark god's army. caused the death of high king nolan, formed of former council member's of the high kings court. they worship the dark god, unleashing dark magic into the realm. they plan to claim the realm and then the rest of the world. they currently have control of darkhold's reach after conquering the grand dutchy of durna and kaltia.

the oracle. a mystical figure that has aided house grayson for centuries, providing prophecy, visions of the future, and providing important information. will only appear to those it wishes to or when dire events are taking place.

[ivysangel]

Im fk drunk with wine, in horny too soooo

I can only imagine a night of reading with Jason and two glasses of wine finishing with him between my legs

Can I be the 🐝 anon?

wishing i was wine drunk and horny, but unfortunately, i'm completely sober and just finishing up homework which is truly the biggest turn-off ever, boo. (also, yes ofc, u can be bee anon)

book club with jason!! like wine mom book club with a little charcuterie board, and it has uncured meats, cheese, crackers, fruits, and stuff. it was a surprise for him, an attempt to relax him after such a stressful week. it was so innocent??? yeah, there were some warmly scented candles lit, and the lights were dimmed, and half of the charcuterie board was made up of aphrodisiacs, but it really was sooooooo innocent. you didn't mean to turn him on with your critical thinking skills, or with the way your lipstick left stains on the wine glass, or with the way your legs were crossed as you sat on the couch and discussed the prose. you literally meant for it all to be so…innocent!!

but somehow, you end up cockwarming him, dregs of wine collected on the sides of the glass, previously cold cheeses now unappetizingly warm. he's between your legs, stretching you out so good, asking you to keep talking about the book just like you had been before, but you can't, not when you want him so carnally, like one of those passionate scenes in your favorite novella. you want him to take you to bed and ravage you like you were his enemy, who he was undeniably attracted to but also wanted to kill.

you couldn't think with him splitting you in half like that but not moving, but you knew better than anyone that you wouldn't get what you wanted if you didn't answer his questions. he got kinda sick like that sometimes, weirdly sadistic for him, like he took some kind of twisted pleasure in holding out on you when you knew he wanted it just as badly, worst part is no amount of squirming or teasing would make him relent, you'd have to sit there and hold a conversation like normal if you wanted to cum, and god did you want to cum. so you'll entertain his questions knowing he's not listening for answers but watching your reactions as he shifts ever so slightly. he's gonna ask them all again in the morning like he always does; the first round is always just for his amusement.