#we have a blorbo to put back together

[darabeatha]

/ I've noticed that at this point I'm not even writing on any blog anymore, I just come and yell about some blorbo and leave. Rinse and repeat my lieges

[invinciblerodent]

if you guys start actually shipping Lucanis and Emmrich and calling it some fuckshit like necrocrow, i am going to strategically consume handfuls of colorful glow-in-the-dark aquarium gravel, and regurgitate it violently to pelt all of you with it like they're melon seeds in a loony tunes cartoon

[destinyandcoins]

bruh idk what's the damage on all those spiteful writers who have to have a twist ending and change shit at the last minute when people guess what's going on. when someone speculates about an upcoming twist or catches on to what I've been doing I light up like the fucking vegas strip at dusk

[luigra]

!! what headcanons do you have for team hillscrafted? :0

the first and most major headcanon is that it's a team that exists at all

[whumptober]

Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt

We get a lot of questions about prompts, so I thought this might be a helpful post for how to break down a Whumptober prompt and get ideas.

Each day of Whumptober has 4 prompts: a theme trope, then three ideas. You can use any one, two, three, or all four in your work. Each day’s prompts loosely relate to each other but could also be taken individually. They can be interpreted as literally or figuratively as you want.

Let’s look at an example. I’m a writer, so I’m going to talk in terms of storywriting, but just remember that this challenge is open to all sorts of creative works, including art, gifsets, headcannons, crafts, or whatever else you can think of.

ICARUS

cage | “You'll say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high” | crash landing

(Fiona Apple, Never is a Promise)

So the theme is Icarus, with additional prompts of a place, a song lyric, and a situation. Taken together, you could write a story of Icarus, who was caged with his father Daedelus, flew too close to the sun on the hope of freedom, and crashed fatally to earth. But you could also look at each prompt in isolation for ideas.

Icarus:

themes of hubris

themes of freedom from captivity

winged characters

a child trying to prove themselves to a parent figure and failing

Cage:

being literally caged

feeling figuratively caged

breaking free of something (literal or figurative)

themes of imprisonment and freedom or false freedom

“You'll say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high”:

regret

promises made or broken

an accident and its aftermath

bitterness after betrayal

guilt after betrayal or accident

Crash landing:

literally falling from a height

being high (drugs, mania, medications, love, sugar) and crashing

plane/helicopter/airship/dragon/spaceship/winged creature crash

an angel falling to earth or hell

comet or meteor impact

This isn’t an exhaustive list, but just some brainstorming ideas I could come up with quickly. In a few of my fandoms, I could write about Bucky’s fall from the train and Steve’s guilt (MCU), Basch fon Ronsenburg’s fall from grace or languishing in a cage for treason (FFXII), Sephiroth summoning Meteor (FFVII), Chell being dragged back into Aperture after thinking she’s free (Portal), a dragonrider battle (ASOIAF/HoD), crashing into the Chionthar after victory (BG3), Geralt coming down after battle when the potions wear off (The Witcher). Any of these scenarios could be inspired by one or more of the four prompts for that day – my problem is always deciding which one I want to use!

“But Yenn,” you say, “what if I can’t think of anything for any parts of the prompt, or I don’t like the prompts, or they’re too much for me in some way?” No problem! We also have a list of 15 alternatives that can be substituted for any day (once per prompt). If you’re still stuck, you can always come on Discord and ask for brainstorming help. Everyone is super nice there, especially for a community of people that live to put blorbos in discomfort.

I hope this post helps give people ideas. We’re working hard to get everything together and should release the prompts in a couple of weeks! In the meantime, our 2024 playlist will be loading soon...

[muddyorbsblr]

a proper fit

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: married era; a week after 'come on, england'

Summary: You return to the Soccer Aid training grounds to prep for this year's game and promotional events, having to spend a day away from your husband.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Brynne (blech this bitch is back); language; steamy married blorbos moments [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: yearning married babeys in the first scene; shifting POVs

The briefing room was already filled with the sounds of reunions and multiple conversations of catching up when you walked through the doors. Before you walked in further in to the commotion, you whipped out your phone, shooting off a text to Tom.

I'm at the training grounds. Looks a bit fancier than last year.

Before you could even make it two steps into the room, your phone sounded with a new message.

I know you've only been away two hours tops, but I already miss you terribly.

You had to take a breath, doing your best to not let your shoulders slump. Was it crazy that after nearly a decade together, you two still behaved like this whenever you had to be apart? To most people, definitely. But you and Tom weren't most people, and reading that text had you instinctively running your thumb along the rings on your left hand.

I miss you, too, sweetie. I know we'll see each other tomorrow but sleeping alone tonight is gonna fucking suck.

Right as you were about to put your phone away, one more message came through from your husband, making you pause again and take a moment to compose yourself before you started acting like a giddy teenage girl. Already counting the hours, goddess. Though I suspect we won't be getting much sleep tomorrow night, either. With a goddamn smirking emoji at the end.

"Ohh my god, Y/N!" A smile pulled at your face catching sight of the owner of the voice. Lilly, waving frantically next to Simone, your roommates for a day last year. They pulled you into a hug the second you made your way over to them, already asking questions on what life had been like for the last year.

"I was looking for your name in the credits for the second season of Loki but I couldn't find it, what happened? You didn't come back for--"

"Ohh no I'm there," you answered Simone. "It's just my name doesn't display on there as Y/N Y/L/N anymore, but Y/N H."

"Hang on a bloody second there, sweetie are you saying--"

"Wait no, why did you print a player name on a staff badge?" you heard Johanna question one of the other staff members at the registration table. "Find a blank one we'll just have to write hers down by hand."

You had a feeling you knew which name she was pertaining to. Yours. But before you could make your way over to the table and clear it up yourself, another voice called for your attention. Bitched for it, actually.

"Well well, Y/L/N, shoulda known you were going to be here again this year. We all know by now that you're so paranoid you have to tail your boyfriend everywhere he bloody goes. Tell me, do you follow him to the loo as well?"

Ohh this is gonna be particularly delicious, you thought to yourself as you turned around to face Brynne with the widest most plastic looking smile you could muster up. "And hello to you, too, Brynne."

"What do you mean which player name, it's glaringly obvious which one. That one. The one with 'Hiddleston' printed on it. He's a player, not staff, dearie."

Lilly and Simone audibly gasped hearing Johanna's words before you kept answering back to Brynne. "Let me correct you right now, so you don't get it confused for the rest of the week. First, it's not boyfriend, it's husband." Her snarky smile dropped at the word. "And second, you may call me Mrs Hiddleston." Right as her jaw dropped, you turned around to call out to Johanna, "That's not a mistake! That's mine."

A wide grin spread across the older woman's face at the new information. "So Tom finally put a ring on you, huh?" She gave you a brief hug when you made your way to the table. "Congratulations, dear."

"Multiple rings, actually," you clarified, Lilly and Simone joining in to look over the pieces of jewelry on your hands that were definitely not there last year. You pointed at the heart-shaped amethyst on your right middle finger. "He gave me this one two years ago, but…the reason I wasn't wearing it last time y'all saw me is a long winded story for another day." They all pouted from your cutting the story short before it even began. "Or maybe later tonight when we're all done for the day."

"I'll have to remember to stop by your room later because this is not something I'd want to miss," Johanna said with a giggle, pointing over at your left hand. "Hang on, dear. Is that that ring I've been seeing people getting into tiffs over in the forums?"

"Ohh the Darry ring? Yeah, we got matching sets for our engagement and our wedding rings. Signed off each of our one and only transaction with them." Your smile grew wider looking at the stacked rings on your left ring finger. "They're not gonna hear any complaints from us about not being able to make another purchase down the line, we're sure. We've had more than half a decade to be sure."

"Well then, shall I hand you over your husband's room key, then?" She rifled through a booklet containing the key cards to the players' rooms, taking two out and handing them over to you. "I had an extra made for you already when you agreed to come back this year and help out."

There was a spring in Tom's step the closer he got to the entryway for the training grounds, the weight sitting heavy in his heart since you left the house last night already lifting knowing that just behind those massive double doors, you were somewhere inside. And you would be back in his arms in a few short minutes. Even if it was just for a short while until you two properly reunited later tonight.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but his anticipation of seeing you again had him a touch out of focus with the initial arrival interview for the players that he opted to instead tag along with one of the other players on the England team so he could bounce his answers off of them. He wasn't even sure if he spoke a full coherent sentence in that interview.

All he knew for sure was that as soon as the interviewer thanked them for their time he was off to walk through the main entrance. With the singular objective of finding you.

It wasn't long until he crossed paths with the woman in charge of the committee last year, and from the looks of it, this year as well. "Tom! You're here early we all expected the players to be spending some time out in the field, getting a lay of the land, just leaving their luggage here to be brought to their rooms later. Getting your uniforms?"

"Right right…" he mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish now that he was getting a firm grasp on how disoriented he truly had been for the past day. "I was hoping to see Y/N though before I got started on all that--"

"Oh, say no more, dearie. She's in the main ballroom, I believe. Been lending a hand to most anyone that needs it so they can all collectively finish with the day's tasks sooner. She's been blazing through her assignments since she got here. Seems she's motivated to have every bit of free time she can manage." The elder woman gave him a knowing smile, pointing at the hallway leading to the ballroom in question. "I also took the liberty of giving your wife the keycards to your room. Oh, and before I forget, congratulations. You two make an impeccable pair."

Tom couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face. He never could whenever anyone at all referred to you as his wife. Even more so when he or anyone else would refer to himself as your husband. Much as it had been a long and winding road to finally get to where you two were now, he wouldn't change a single day.

He made sure to utter a 'thank you' toward Johanna before taking off down the hall, walking much faster than he usually did, his heart already beating faster when he could already pick up your voice in the flurry of the conversation going on inside. You were all talking about the complimentary Theraguns being given to the players. He couldn't prevent the chuckle that escaped him when he heard you talking about how you two had already driven one to the ground and were well on your way to bringing that count up to two with how often either of you had needed it over the years. And how it was good that now you already had a third one on standby.

The young man standing guard outside the ballroom straightened his stance immediately once he clocked Tom approaching. "Oh…I'm really sorry, Mr. Hiddleston, but players generally aren't allowed in this area."

"That's quite alright, I actually just stopped by to see if I could steal Y/N away? I was told she's here assisting."

"Oh…certainly, Sir. I'll go ahead and call for her now."

"God these smell so good!" Simone sighed, taking a sniff of the luxury bath products that you two were placing into the self-care packages that the players would receive later tonight. "I hope we end up having a bit of surplus."

"Well if we do, just ask Johanna nicely I'm sure she'll be happy to give away whatever's left," you told her, taking a sniff for yourself and couldn't help but break out into a grin when the scent that hit you resembled Tom's cologne.

Before she could ask you what had you in such lighter spirits, another one of the staff members, Allen, called out into the room. "Hiddleston!"

It took you a second before you processed that he was calling for you. Still haven't gotten used to that, you silently tsk'd yourself. "Oop, that's me. What's up?"

"God rub it in a little more, why don't you? I don't think the rats in the walls know yet," you heard Brynne grumble from her corner of the ballroom.

You tried to fight the urge to sass her back. But you weren't that evolved. Not yet. And for people like her, maybe not ever. "What was that? There's rats in the walls?" you said loudly, visibly startling the redhead. She glared at you, pursing her lips before returning to her task, and you turned back to address Allen. "So…what's up?"

"There's someone here for you." You had to fight back a squeal when he opened the door wider and revealed your husband on the other side, an ear to ear grin on his face when your eyes met. The urge to run across the room and straight into his arms, however, was a fight that you lost all too quickly. He dropped his duffle bag when you got close so he could wrap his arms around you and lift you into the air once you closed the distance.

"You're here early," you said, giggling when he pressed his lips to yours. "We weren't expecting the players inside until later tonight."

"I couldn't wait that long to see you again, sweetheart." He gave you a kiss on the cheek before setting you back down on your feet, raising a hand to wave at your friends who were now swooning from watching you two reunite. "When the other guys mentioned someone else's name at the desk for claiming our uniforms I set off to find you."

"Ohh…right. They didn't assign me for that this year since I'm not the new girl anymore. Gave the girl assigned there my little hand fan though. Hopefully it helped."

"Yeah there's nothing new about you, old boring bitch," Brynne grumbled again. You could feel Tom tense up as he held you, no doubt seeing how your entire mood shifted once you heard her words.

You took a deep breath, letting your voice settle into its natural timbre that you seldom used anymore. Outside your home, that is. "Sorry Brynne, but you're gonna have to speak up a bit." She flinched in her spot, eyes widened as she looked up at you, so obviously indignant that you called her out for the second time in the last few minutes. "You know, since my old boring ears can't really hear you all that well."

"Fuck dammit you heard--It's-it's nothing, Y/N, I wasn't saying anything--"

"You don't get to call me that," you cut her off, making her neck twitch more erratically the more your voice settled into its natural state. "You don't get to disrespect me at every turn since the day you met me a whole ass year ago and get away with calling me by the same name my friends and family get to call me. Now…you seem to be confused again, Brynne. Would you like me to remind you what you may call me?"

Her nostrils flared as she shook, the embarrassment and the indignation of having to address you 'properly' rolling off her in waves. "No. No you don't. It won't happen again--" She sucked her teeth audibly, making it increasingly obvious she had such a visceral reaction to even uttering her next words. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hiddleston."

You slowly looked her over, a tiny sadistic part of you struggling not to smirk seeing her fidget in place while waiting for your response. After a few seconds you gave a bored shrug. "Your fake sincerity needs work, Saunderson. But I'll let it slide. For the last time."

All the other staff members in the ballroom had their jaws on the ground at what they just witnessed, most of them looking silently satisfied that the audacious woman was finally put in her place and finally chose to face off against someone that returned the energy that she was putting out tenfold. Lilly and Simone broke the silence clapping and whooping for you, the rest joining in slowly.

You gave them all a little salute before turning back to face Tom, lacing your fingers through his. The two of you walked toward the claiming room for the uniforms but barely made it halfway down the hall before he led you into a narrow corridor off to the side, pressing you against the wall and slanting his mouth over yours.

He threaded his fingers through your hair, groaning into your mouth as your tongues met.

"You know what that voice does to me, goddess," he groaned the second he pulled away and his lips latched on to the crook of your neck. "I've missed you." He rested his forehead against yours, trying to steady his breathing, his hand firmly grasping your thigh as your leg wrapped around his. "Do you have any other tasks before the training proper starts?"

"I don't," you breathed out, crossing your hands behind his neck to pull him into another kiss. "I finished everything Johanna sent my way from this morning."

"Then I very much want you to come with me to claim my uniforms."

"Say less, sweetie." You let out a giggle as he stole another kiss before setting your leg down and threading your fingers together so you could lead him to the claiming area for the players' uniforms.

When you walked through the door, the girl assigned to your task last year, Penny, looked visibly flustered once she caught sight of Tom. "O-Ohh…Mr and Mrs Hiddleston--" She started scrambling at the packages, not clocking the way you and your husband looked at each other, giving each other a tiny smirk at how you two were addressed now.

You indulged yourself in reminiscing on how you and Tom were around this time last year, keeping things so private that his fellow players and your fellow staff members knew nothing about your relationship. And your husband making a whole show of trying on the uniforms that you registered one size too small, with him giving you a damn near striptease almost exactly where the two of you stood right now.

"Here we are…" Penny trailed off, fishing a parcel out of the pile of uniforms with a "6" drawn on with a wide marker. "We got some changing areas outside if you want to make sure your training jerseys fit alright."

"Oh wow they actually have proper changing rooms this year," you chuckled, pointing over to the corner of the room. "Last year they just had a curtain in the corner over there."

Tom approached the table, ready to sign. "There's no need to try them on, I trust my wife inputted the right size this year." He gave you a playful pointed look, which in turn had you giving him a small pout.

"I put medium this year, sweetie, I promise."

"Hold on…last year's--?"

"I put Small on his registration form last year," you answered Penny, her jaw dropping to the ground as she made her way around the table to shake your hand vigorously.

"Thank you for your service," she said with a hushed tone. "The group chat went wild last year over those pictures."

"I'll do it again in a heartbeat when I get the chance," you whispered back conspiratorially, giving the young girl a little wink.

"I can hear you, sweetheart."

"Next time I'm not gonna bother pretending it was a mistake, though." You scrunched your nose at your husband when he turned around to face you again. He took your hand in his and led you out the room, both of you shooting a 'thank you' Penny's way before exiting the room.

What you didn't expect for him to do next was lead you into one of the designated changing areas, his expression full of more than transparent intent. Especially when he locked the door and started untucking his shirt from his pants at a deliberately slow pace. He kept his gaze locked on you as he approached you, making you so weak in the knees that you had to prop yourself against the wall just to stay upright.

"Sweetie…what're you doing?"

Once he closed the distance, he crowded you, working his thigh between your legs and capturing your lips in a tender but heated kiss that stole your breath away. "I need to change and get ready for training, sweetheart," he said softly, murmuring against your lips as he guided your hand to the buttons of his shirt. "And even though we'll see each other again for much longer later tonight, I've very much missed my wife's touch."

You took in a shaky breath, letting out a whimper when he slid his free hand underneath your shirt. "I missed you, too," you whispered, both of you smiling into the kiss when you began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Later that night, you left the dining hall long before dinner was finished, readying your room for when Tom would get there. You barely had enough time to transfer the welcome package from the bed to the table and change into a sleeveless nightgown before you heard the door unlock. He scanned the room, a lustful knowing grin on his face when he caught sight of you, eyes darkening as they hungrily roamed your body covered by the luxe satin fabric.

"Hi. I'm Y/N I'll be your roommate for the week," you told him, letting out a stream of giggles when he made his way to you and lifted you by the backs of your thighs.

"I didn't realize the players were to be assigned a roommate," he said playfully, wasting no time and kissing along the neckline of your nightgown.

"Some budget cuts had to be made," you joked, squealing when your back hit the bed with a soft thud and your husband now hovered over you, giving you a little smirk before proceeding to kiss his way down your neck.

He worked his hands underneath your nightgown, groaning into your skin as he grasped at your legs for a moment before working the fabric up and off your body. "You should know by now, goddess, that there are rules you must adhere to if you're going to room with me." He let out a contented sigh once he completely removed the garment off of you, baring your body to him. "No clothing," he rasped, his eyes not leaving yours as he whipped his own jersey up and over his head before sliding his arm under you and lifting you off the mattress, pressing your chests together. "I don't want any barriers between us."

Your joint moans filled the room as you kissed each other in a desperate, starved tangle of lips and tongues. Like you were separated for months. He shuffled his shorts down his legs until he could kick them off of him and wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the shower.

And you both knew that as much as it sucked being apart even for the shortest, fleeting amount of time, oh how delicious it was when you both were finally home with each other again.

A/N: There's a whole bunch of stories that are banging the walls for my attention but I honestly can't help it, OLTK blorbos keep getting a hold of me 😂 I'm gonna try and cool it with these two though and work on some other projects…starting with…

OOP-- 😳👀

Also I had to fade to black their steamy moments here because honestly if I didn't it'd have taken longer to get this done 🥴🫡

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[hardly-an-escape]

Stormy Weather, or: Outside, the Wind (Inside, the Light) | Dream/Hob | 1600 words | Rated T

tags: I recently spent an evening without power therefore I must put the blorbos in a Situation, love confessions, first kiss, getting together, power outages, Hob Gadling throughout history, gratuitious use of mildly accurate Middle English

The wind tears around London like a living thing, a wild animal, a predator, intent on the hunt. It chases birds into their nests and people into their homes, moans around corners and rattles shutters, sending piles of leaves whirling into miniature hurricanes and whipping branches into a frenzy, sharpening its claws on roof tiles and telephone poles.

Except in Hob Gadling’s flat.

The New Inn, and the cozy home above it, is in one of those old buildings that’s actually been loved and maintained – thanks in no small part to Hob’s own care and attention. The walls are thick and strong, the roof is solid. The shutters may rattle, but the windows are double-pane; the curtains and carpets are warm and soft, and no drafts encroach on the sanctity of his living room, where Hob and Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams, are having a movie night.

It’s part of Hob’s concerted effort to introduce the Prince of Stories to the stories he’d missed during his imprisonment. Tonight it’s Blade Runner – the final cut, of course – which isn’t necessarily one of Hob’s personal favorites, but seemed to fit the stormy, rainy vibes of the weather. They’re installed on the couch, with hot chocolate and wine and snacks, which Dream has deigned to pick at. Harrison Ford is eating noodles and wandering through wet, moodily-lit streets. The wind is howling outside, but they’re safe and warm and surrounded by soft things and life is about as good, Hob thinks, as it ever gets these days.

And then his lights flicker. Once, twice; there is the impression of a sort of electrical last gasp, and the room is plunged into darkness.

The wind whips and the shutters rattle. A volley of rain spits itself against the windows.

“Bugger,” says Hob.

Dream says nothing, merely brings his wineglass – which had already been cradled in one elegant hand – to his lips.

“Hang on,” says Hob. “I’ve got some candles around here somewhere.”

He gropes his way to the kitchen. In one drawer he unearths some beeswax tapers and several tea lights, which he arranges on a plate. He rummages in one of the deeper cabinets and makes a triumphant noise as he discovers his prize behind disused mugs and a fondue set from the 1980s: a pair of old-fashioned brass candlesticks equipped with round reflectors, highly polished to catch the light and bounce it back out into the darkness.

“You are remarkably well-prepared for an event such as this,” says Dream, as Hob lights his various prizes and returns to the living room with his hands full of flickering flames.

“Well, you know,” Hob demurs. “When it comes down to it, I’ve lived a lot more of my life without electricity than with it.” He arranges the tea lights on the coffee table and sets the brass candlesticks on a nearby bookshelf. “You never really get out of the habit of preparing for the worst. Although I will say, these beeswax ones beat the hell out of the old tallow jobbies we had when I was young. Got ‘em from a local bloke who keeps bees not half a mile away, isn’t that cool? A beekeeper in the middle of London. There, now,” he says, and having arranged the lights to his satisfaction he plops himself back down on the sofa.

Outside, the wind wails. The lack of lamps on the empty street below and the gentle candlelight within make the night seem even darker, and turn Hob’s living room into something even softer and cozier than it already is.

Dream’s face, in the flickering candles, seems even more otherworldly than usual; and Hob, for his part, truly looks as though he belongs in another century. The very shape of his face has changed, somehow, into something older; taking on a new appearance in the candlelight the way a man’s tongue might curl differently around the syllables of another language.

“I miss it, sometimes,” he says lowly. “This kind of world. Before the wires and the phones and the cars. It was… quieter.”

“You speak often of your delight in change and progress. Do you truly long for your past lives?” asks Dream.

“Yes and no,” answers Hob. “Some things are better now, no question. Antibiotics, wouldn’t want to live without those again. Vaccines and X-rays and chemotherapy and antidepressants – almost all the medical stuff. Mass transportation. Cars and planes have never been safer. Honestly, I’ve never understood the people who moan about the olden days and oh, life was simpler back then. Don’t they know how many people died? How many kids? Because they caught a cold or fell out of a tree or had a case of the runs that lasted a little too long?”

He leans forward to adjust one of the candles, which is dripping unevenly, and when he sags back into the couch there is just the hint of a frown between his strong brows.

“And yet…” he says, staring into the flames, voice quiet. “Nights like this. I do sometimes think…”

Hob trails off for a long moment.

“There was a rhythm to life, back then,” he says finally. “You counted hours by the church bells and days by the tasks that needed done. And there was so much that needed to be done… cows milked and fields planted and clothes knitted or mended. And it was all so important, so… necessary. Regimented. But in the in between time – Christ! your time wast thine.” As he speaks, his voice has slipped into an older register: his Rs grown rounder, his vowels longer, curling from his mouth to mingle with the candlesmoke hovering over his coffee table. “I remember fair hours as a lad, even into my manhood, of which I spent lyende in th’ fields, watching ants in th’ grass. And later, too, we’d hie us to bed with the sonne, the fire banked in the hearth. An’ it happen that if we awakened before dawn, ’twas a simple thing to pass the time in simple ways, be it in prayer or in pleasure…”

The innuendo in his words is clear, but Hob is not looking at Dream; his eyes are unfocused as he stares into the middle distance, revisiting the past via candlelight. Until one of the wicks lets out a small pop, and flares, and he shakes himself, coming back to the present.

“God, sorry,” he says, voice back in the 21st century. “Woolgathering. I’ll go on for an age, me. More wine?”

But Dream’s eyes have also gone unfocused, his lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling with unnecessary breaths as he stares – no, gazes – at Hob. He, too, must shake himself into the present moment at Hob’s offer of more wine. He silently holds out his glass.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Dream says.

“Anything. You know that.”

Dream pauses. Sips. Outside, the sound of the wind has not abated; has grown, if anything, even more dramatic. There is the muffled sound of branches scraping against the side of the building.

“Why,” asks Dream finally, “do you pretend to yourself that you do not want me?”

Hob chokes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why do you pretend thus to me?” Dream pursues. “Who has known you longer than any being on this planet or any other; who can know your innermost dreams?”

“What do you mean, other planets?” Hob demands. And then: “Have you been peeking at my dreams?”

“I need not peek, as you put it, to see the truth of the matter. It is writ plain on your face and in your every word and deed. I merely wonder why this truth has hovered before us for over six hundred years and you have yet to press your suit. Do you doubt, after all this time, my affection for you? Do you find me – unworthy?”

Dream sounds, impossibly, almost uncertain. Even vulnerable. Hob sighs heavily and leans forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

“I – God. Dream,” he stammers. “Yes, Christ, I am full of doubts. You stormed away from me when I implied you might be lonely, I… I have never, once, thought I had a suit to press at all. What on earth has brought this on? Now, of all times?”

“I do not know,” Dream murmurs. “Perhaps… this darkness is working on me, as well. Perhaps I am as susceptible to candlelight and nostalgia as the next anthropomorphic personification.”

He smiles, a little quirk of the mouth that contains worlds, and Hob leans over, listing helplessly into Dream’s space as the tapers flicker.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pressing their foreheads together, turning his head to butt his cheekbone against the sharp line of Dream’s nose. “Art thou rēal? Speak you treue?”

“Aye, my Hob,” answers Dream. “Min herte is treue and bilongeth to you.”

A sob catches in the back of Hob’s throat at the words. “Fuck,” he whispers again, “Dream, I’m yours. I am. I always have been. My Dream, min sweven, my leof. Alwei, allesweis…”

Their mouths find each other, then, finally, lip against lip and breath against breath. They kiss for a long, long moment, desperate and hungry and soft all at once, as outside the wind howls coldly around the corners of the New Inn, and inside the light cast by Hob’s candles bathes their whole little world in a cozy glow.

“Take me to bed,” murmurs Dream against Hob’s mouth. “Make me your lover. Show me how you pass the time by candlelight, and in darkness.”

“Oh, darling. Dearheart,” Hob answers. “Nothing in this world or any world past could make me happier.”

And he suits his actions to his words.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 4

Gwen

She stands in the way of Merthur, by far the most popular ship in the fandom. I haven’t seen it as much in recent years, but back in the days of fanfiction.net she got slut shamed so badly for having been romantically interested in three of the male characters over the course of the show, which is just... normal straight woman behavior, meanwhile Merlin crushed on pretty much every woman who even looked at him in the early seasons of the show and got no hate for that whatsoever. I barely even read Merthur fics (not because it’s m/m, just because certain aspects of their relationship don’t appeal to me) but the “Gwen is a slut” attitude was so pervasive across the fandom, even fics that weren’t explicitly anti-Gwen would “jokingly” call her a slut. I even saw a few fics demonizing her for having an affair with Lancelot despite the fact that SHE WAS ENCHANTED when that happened, and surprise surprise, Lancelot (who was also under the influence of magic) got none of that hate, and neither did Arthur, who got enchanted to fall in love with multiple women over the course of the show.

Canonically Arthur Pendragon's love interest and an important and interesting character in the show who's completely shoved aside and ignored in favour of the medieval bbc yaoi ship. At best they put her and Morgana in Lesbian Timeout (ie make them get together and then reduce them to wingwomen at best because god forbid we focus on the medieval bbc yuri). Justice for Gwen right now!

She is prince Arthur's love interest (eventually wife). Arthur is MADLY in love with her. He tells his tyrannical father he would give up his crown to be with her (she's a servant in the series). He forgives her cheating on him with Lancelot (!), which in the show is caused by an evil enchantment, but the characters never find out about it. He chooses her time and time again. His love for Gwen is literally never put into question. Many fans insist to this day that there was no chemistry between Gwen and Arthur compared to Arthur and Merlin. Arthur isn’t even particularly nice to Merlin most of the time! The funny thing is that Merlin himself ships these two so hard and does everything he can to help them get together!! Gwen & Arthur are adorable and too many fans were drunk on the yaoi fumes to see it. ARTHUR WAS A SIMP FOR GWEN

Every Supernatural Woman

Supernatural is so mean to women and committed to queerbaiting but it still gives Sam and Dean lovers to kill. The writers kill and villainize them and the fans get the few that remain

wincest and destiel shippers cannot handle the idea of their blorbos having a Woman THREATENING their SHIPS god FORBID

It literally used to be a running joke that if a female character got introduced you knew she was going to die soon because fans would react so negatively to her "stealing" one of the boys away from the big ship, whether it be destiel or wincest

[fangirleaconmigo]

Lambert and the Tribute

Ok. Hear me out. You know how there is the porny/smutty trope of the witcher who saves a family/town from a dangerous beast? And the towns folk are like, well, we don't have (or want to spend) money, so, here is our young sexy innocent but eager son/daughter as a tribute? *cue porn music*

So as usual last night, I was thinking about blorbos and shit instead of sleeping, and was like...how about we turn that trope around a bit? (not that there is anything wrong with it, I just like fiddling with tropes)

I present to you my concept, and I'm using Lambert for this because as I thought of it, I could hear his voice in my head.

...

So, Lambert comes back from the hunt, exhausted, out of breath, bruised, cut up, but triumphant.

He stands in front of the penniless farmer with the gnarly severed head of a beast. He has saved all of their lives. Because of him, life continues.

But the poor farmer is clearly distraught. He is a young man, early twenties, and is like...thank you so much Mr Witcher sir, we are mighty obliged. But sadly, tragically, we have no money. The harvest was lost, and we are hungry as it is.

The poor farmer tries to explain. Sir, I would gladly offer you my sexy and eager but wide eyed and innocent daughter as tribute, but tragically, my kids are too young to be sexy tributes. Mr. Witcher, they simply aren't reproductive age yet.

And the farmer is standing there, just anxious as hell about what the witcher will demand instead, like, will it be his young bride? His beautiful raven haired wife? They're basically newlyweds still and so very much in love. He can't abide the thought! He's racking his brain, is there anyone young and nubile and teen of aged in the next town???

And then he realizes fuck, WORST OF ALL, I hope this fucker doesn't want the law of surprise because that never ends well. Inside, this man is screaming, please do not take my kids in any capacity.

But isn't that what witchers ALWAYS want??? Children to make into MUTANTS????

So this poor (in every sense of the word) guy is stammering and angsting, but Lambert isn't paying any attention to him. He literally has not said a single word to him. He's not even looking at him. He's leaning a little to the right and looking past this guy, over his shoulder.

The farmer starts to get annoyed. Mr. Witcher, he thinks, I'm struggling here, help me out a little.

Lambert drops the nasty monster head with a thunk and turns back to the guy. Lamb is not particularly put out. He knew this family was poor. But still. This doesn't have to be for nothing.

He wipes the bloody sweat off his forehead with his arm and nods behind the man.

"What about him? He game?"

The farmer looks like his brain has just blanked out. He stares in silence. He slowly turns and looks behind him. Then he turns back to Lambert, waiting for him to laugh or to clarify. Lambert just stares at him expectantly.

"Well?" Lambert asks.

The penniless farmer is like.. "You---you want...m-...m-"

The young farmer doesn't wanna say it because that can't be right and he doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But Lambert is not helping him out at all. He's just looking at him like he's an utter dumbass, just waiting for him to get his shit together. "Spit it out, man."

Farmer tries again. "Mr. Witcher, sir. Are you saying that you want...my... FATHER?"

Lambert looks back at the object of his fascination. An older man is working, hauling bales of hay, loading them up in a wagon. And this man is like, mid-fifties, barrel chest covered with gray hair, full beard, inhospitable expression, overalls, dusty boots. He's thick, muscled and hard, he's covered in sweat, he's got calluses, he looks exactly like a man that's been busting his ass in the fields for more than a few decades.

As Lambert stares at the father, his expression starts to look a little hungry. "Is that your pops?"

"Uhhh yes?' The farmer's voice kind of screeches into a higher register.

Lambert shrugs. "Ok, well yea, your pops then. Ask 'im if he's game. Go ahead. I ain't got all day."

The young farmer just swivels, his eyes still in disbelief, still thinking he's going to humiliate himself. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him. He is starting to think maybe his youngest kid would make a good witcher after all. But Lambert is waiting and doesn't look perturbed. He doesn't look like he's kidding.

"Uh, dad?" The farmer is well, well into adulthood but his voice still cracks. But his dad hears.

The big older guy drops his bale and turns around. His eyes are sharp and hard. "Yep?"

The young farmer swallows. "Yes, um, father, the witcher here saved us."

"Obliged." The older man's voice is low, gravely, and he sounds like a man who does not suffer fools.

Lambert nods, an eager twinkle starting to gleam in his eyes. "Glad to help. It's what I do."

The young farmer continues, "And well, you know, we don't have any money to pay him. What with the bad harvest and all."

The dad nods, waiting. He's quiet too, not helping the young farmer out at all. So the younger farmer soldiers ahead. "So, father, he, the witcher that is, was wondering, um, if you would, um, want to be the uh..." he takes a breath and tries to say it fast, "tribute."

The young farmer almost faints from mortification. He's waiting for his dad to laugh at his idiocy. To shout at him. To kick his ass.

But what the Dad does is slowly raise his eyebrows. Then he turns purposefully towards Lambert. He switches his weight a little to one of his hips, and just quietly begins to look Lambert up and and down, assessing him with extreme interest. He is silently just raking his eyes from the top of Lambert's head down to his toes.

Lambert's grin gets wider, like it gleams, because at this point, he knows he's in. If the man is checking whether he is his type, then well, he's good with men. And Lambert just knows he'll be this man's type. Why wouldn't he be for fuck sake?

When the older man's gaze gets to his crotch, Lambert gives his prick a cocky little squeeze and licks his lips.

The older man grunts, and if the young farmer didn't know it was an interested noise, he certainly does when his father gives Lambert a wink. "Name's Abe, young buck."

The young farmer whispers several prayers for the gods to deliver him from this moment.

"Hi Abe," says Lambert, just eager and smug sounding as shit.

Abe takes his gloves off and hands them to his son as he passes him. He only says three words. "Don't wait up."

Lambert chuckles to himself, and there is a little hop in his step as they walk off together, since he is already anticipating the cock in his ass and could not be more overjoyed. Abe slides his hand down Lambert's trousers and squeezes his ass possessively.

The younger farmer just stands there with his jaw dropped. He had no idea whatsoever that his dad has this side to him. That man silently and stoically raised a family of seven children with his dearly departed mother, rest her soul. All his father ever did was work. You think you know a person. Honestly.

Lambert and Abe are long gone, and the son is still standing there in shock, when his beautiful young bride comes out of the house with a toddler on her hip. "Where did father go?"

The young farmer always likes that about his bride, she calls his dad father. "Yes. Heeee, um, went to pay the witcher for his services."

The young bride is surprised, she didn't know that father had money after the poor harvest they'd had, what with the locusts and all that. But oh isn't that a nice surprise, she thinks. "Well how generous of him. What a kind and giving man father is."

The young farmer puts his arm around his beautiful bride and pulls her in tight. "You know what my darling," he says, "it didn't seem like he minded in the least."

---the end

(and if any of you talented writers out there wants to write the sex scene, I would pledge my eternal friendship and love to you)

[screechingfromthevoid]

@disastertourwaterdeepedition

Sorry for the weird fucking post but like tumblr straight up ate your ask?? I had to search and screenshot from my email??

Its like super fine I love big rants and big feelings (especially about the blorbo of the month).

Whoa buddy if you wanna talk about a rant. This got so long I'm putting it under a read more.

I'm not sure any of this is above board conscious thought process. When he looks to Orym, when he thinks about how he feels about Orym, I think Dorian, king of compartmentalizing, gets a rush of all three of the things in the post. He gets a little too lost in thought looking at the way Orym's hair now tries to curl against his ear or how well tailored the armor is to his body, he first gets hit with the Will guilt. Then he thinks about "ohmygodtheresawaron" and he'd shovel all of that down. Because its not time to think about Orym and him. But he knows by the way Orym watches him "sleep". He knows by the way Orym refused to be princess carried in Aeror. (Seriously dude Dorian princess carries everyone. It would have been less suspicious if you let it happen). He knows because Orym didn't see his husband when they were in Zephrah. But when he dares himself to actually think about a possible future together, he uses the big three to shove it down. And no, he has no clue that Orym thinks he doesn't return his feelings. (Wow you're right. Pronouns are hard)

Lol to finally answer your question: I'm not sure! Because the thing is! Orym has gone down twice in a battle with Dorian there! And honestly if Orym being on death's door doesn't make either of them confess, i'm not sure what will! (thats a lie I do have an idea). But like Orym went to the moon and back and almost died on the moon and all the count communicate to Dorian was "I miss you"!! Orym nearly died twice in one battle and he didn't think to give Dorian a sloppy, "If I die again I want to have kissed you once" kiss before going in for another round of getting hacked on. Dorian watched him go down and had to bring him back from death's door (one failed save scared the shit out of me) and he didn't think to give Orym a "We need you, I need you" kiss.

My unfortunate thought process, which I can't decide if I want it to come true or not, is that Dorian has to get hurt. Like when I say hurt I fucking mean it. Taken down in a round or two, two failed death saves, hurt. Because then Orym will have to face losing Dorian again. Face losing the man he loves, again. He pours a healing potion into Dorian's mouth because warlocks don't have a single healing spell. (Just checked). Orym feels so helpless in saving Dorian, because a healing potion isn't nearly enough to keep him up. He starts to cry over Dorian's (now conscious) body. He whispers between sobs "Not again, not again. Dorian you can't leave me. I love you, please, I never got to tell you, please stay alive." and Dorian, having heard all of that, reaches up to cup Orym's cheek and says. "Alright, just for you though."

Or something like that.

As much as I would love for them to be adults and just talk to each other. I know thats not going to happen. (Please, Robbie, Liam, prove me wrong.) So I think major tragedy will be the reason they confess to each other. Because they're idiots in love with a lot of weight on their shoulders.

[bellatrixnightshade]

RAFAL in Relation to Other People

Warning: I won't be woobifying Rafal here or really putting him as a victim, so this may offend or bother people who stan him and forgive all his faults. Additionally, this has some toxic stuff here so if that is a trigger then I recommend not going through with it. And if you will go as far as to AGREE with it just because "my blorbo could have possibly said it", then I'm afraid you are missing my point and would rather have you click off.

So we already know how Rafal is as a brother, but how could he act in different familial relationships, like being a lover/spouse or a father?

As a lover/spouse: I'm sorry, but whether Rafal means to or not, he would easily be that toxic person in your life. He always is right (and you are wrong), and he appears to be the type to disregard one's feelings. If he hurts someone, he hardly ever apologizes, but you have to apologize to him. The closest he'll come to is a bullshit excuse. ("It wasn't my intention.") He makes you question yourself and the validity of your opinions, because, again, he is right. You can never get through to him or call him out, because at the end of the day, you are the problem, you are inferior, you have a childish mind, you are too sensitive. He slowly picks away at your self esteem, which was already low when you met him in the first place. (People drawn to him tend to have confidence issues??)

You don't leave him maybe because he doesn't have bad intentions, because he instilled in you codependence and now you don't know what to do without him, or maybe Rafal somewhat regretted hurting you, so you accept that. And ultimately, you trusted him, you believed in him, so, stupid you has to face the consequences. Everything that happened is your fault because you should have seen Rafal wasn't a good person!

Rafal just seems wayy too sheltering and overprotective and he'd take away his lover's ability to make most of their own choices or have their own lives-- slowly but surely, and perhaps, unintentionally.

Not to mention, he is possessive af! Red flag right there.

I hope that any lover of Rafal leaves him and they see their own worth, instead of running back to him. Because to be honest, he seems like a hypocritical, arrogant, and insufferable jerk. (most of the time) Either that or Rafal gets his act together and has some self reflection. He isn't a vampire for crying out loud!

As a father: oh. The father who is very, very, VERY overprotective and sheltering. A helicopter parent, even. He makes you think sometimes, "why do I have this curse of a father??" and sometimes you wish something could happen like a virus doing its job and you are "free." (Please don't actually wish this on your difficult parents unless they are really shitty!) Rafal embarasses his kids but being rather ultrastrict and old-fashioned and they probably don't know much of the world because of him. Everything has to be "educational" (which isn't a bad thing in itself but for the love of whatever please don't overdo it and make it corny) so no video games, etc. Also if Rafal reads an article with research on how veggies can give cancer, your salads will be taken away!

Rafal will also go like, "I'm your only friend. You don't need friends because you have me," and he may break up some friendships you have. Oh also: no boys.

I feel like Rafal fits dad energy more, though even there he would be WAY too much. (Go away Rafal! Go adopt orphans and make their lives miserable instead of bothering other people.) But who knows? Maybe as the years go on he would cool down, or back off when they become adults. Unless they form a codependent relationship with him and he has to be the center of their lives, which is very possible. Let's watch Rafal slowly destroy a home because he's in the way! And of course, instead of giving his children's household space, he defends himself and puts himself in the right. His kids may call Rafal every day in a modern context and totally neglect their family. Or the family is going out? Rafal has to be there too, and his kid says nothing.

If Rafal comes home from work in a bad mood, I'm sure his kids try to run off because if they don't he will find something to criticize and they will get hour long lectures. I also feel like he'd lecture on other occasions and then get mad when his family doesn't care and they want to get back to what THEY have to do??

[hjemne]

I think a lot of the debates between fanfic writers / intra-community hostility (particularly around how 'accurately' characters are depicted in fic and how dominant explicit fics are becoming) are because the purpose and function of fanfic are fundamentally different for different people, and so fic authors play by very different rules while still using the same label of 'fanfiction' to describe it.

There's a spectrum to the purpose of writing fanfic that I think goes from 'fanfic as a form of literary character analysis' at one end, 'fanfic as smashing barbies together and putting characters in Situations' in the middle, and 'fanfic as a safe and communal space for exploring sexual fantasies' at the other end, which is an approach best summarised by this:

So fanfic writers and readers from the character analysis group might look at the fics written by that last group and go '??? WHY are they writing Mr Blorbo like this? this is so ooc what are they doing?' and the reason is that the fic has an entirely different purpose and is for an entirely different audience. We see so much in-fighting and morality policing over fanfic because people with VERY different expectations, motivations and priorities all share the same space.

A lot of the time when you come across a fic that makes you go 'what the FUCK is this, this is so ooc/fucked up', it makes a LOT more sense when you realise the author is much further towards the 'fanfic as a medium for pornography' side of the spectrum than you are. And when you see people complaining about the prevalence of x reader or explicit dead dove fics, instead of jumping into a pro vs anti 'fiction isn't reality' debate, consider whether they are a 'fanfic as character analysis' person expressing annoyance that it is (often) increasingly hard to find those types of fic.

Both of these uses of fanfic are valid, understandable and important to protect. It's no secret that the fanfic community is dominated by women and queer people, who haven't traditionally been the target audience of erotica/porn, and who absolutely deserve a space to express and explore sexual desires/fantasies. 'Fanfic as pornography' is not above criticism, but I think it's far more helpful to criticise it as you would more mainstream forms of porn.

'Thing X is getting increasingly common in fic and we as an entire community need to step back and consider the implications of X for how it fetishises Y minority group irl' -> yes

'Character A would NOT do [kink scenario]' -> you are missing the point of that fic, I fear

'I think it's frustrating how hard it can be to find fanfic about [theme in original work], everthing on AO3 is all just self-insert or ['''problematic''' ship no. 12457] fics :(' -> this statement is not a moral condemnation of these types of fic. people are allowed to not want to read 'fanfic as porn' fics. we don't need to start fights over this.

Horny fandom please remember you are in a fandom space where people are allowed to want fandom-centric stuff. Fandom-centric people please remember you are interacting with other people, who are allowed to be horny, and that fiction is absolutely the best and safest place to explore 'extreme' kinks. Yeah, it can be annoying that everyone gets crammed into the same spaces when we all have very different ideas of what we want fanfic to be, but this is the way things are, so we need to learn to understand each others perspectives and stop jumping into fights at the slightest perceived criticism of your personal way of doing things

[crazylittlejester]

Im just gonna-

*throws this at you and runs*

~~~~

“Hey, Pup, time to get up.” Time’s voice says, with an odd mixture of concern yet amusement.

He hears Twi groan, and he blearily sits up with a yawn. The rancher is… incredibly hungover.

“You alright? What’s the matter? Can I get you anything?” Time is asking, all worry now.

Glances briefly over at him, frowning.

He frowns right back, rubbing his eyes.

A bit of a headache, his stomach is a bit queasy, but his body’s tolerance for alcohol thankfully extended to the worst parts of hangover, too.

Twi groans from the other side of the room, mumbling something about being sick.

He can feel the moment Time puts two and two together- sighing loudly.

“Boys-”

Twi groans again, and he hears the rancher rustling as he moves to grab his clothes from the floor.

“ ‘m gonna vomit.” Twi groans, stomping loudly out the door in a hurry.

Time whirls on him, anger sparking up in his eye.

He holds a hand up, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Don’t.”

“Captain-”

“Dammit, Time-”

“You said-”

“Don’t you even- you’re not my father, dammit, I’m an adult and I can do what I want! You do not have any control over us, as much as you like to think!”

Time looks a little like he’d been slapped.

Silence for a long minute while they stare at each other, then Time steps back and looks away.

“You promised me you’d stop drinking.”

“When the hell did I-”

“About twenty five years ago, though for you I imagine it was much, much less.”

His mind clicks into place right at that instant, brain finally catching up on why this person seemed so familiar, the familiar markings on his face, the way Time’s eyes constantly flickered over him, watching with familiarity he couldn’t understand.

“Sprite?” He chokes out, staring, but Time turns away coldly. Sadly.

“I’m disappointed in you, Captain.”

And then his little brother is gone.

~~~~

OH. MY GOD. ANON. ANON WHAT THE FUCK, JUST HIT ME WITH A BRICK NEXT TIME IT’LL HURT LESS!!! (/pos)

good lord those last couple lines were like a slap to the face i’m gonna bite you, spawning at your location as we speak!! i don’t have my reaction images right now because im not on my phone so these will have to do:

thank you for sharing! however unfortunately you DO have to go to jail for crimes against the blorbo(s). shaking you rn (affectionately)

[bu-blegh-ost]

How much time have passed since the beginning of Riptide? (up to ep. 115)

The blorbos have been together for ages, it seems like. And they have been, for years for us, but how long exactly has it been for them? Wanna find out?

So ages ago, @glo-katt84 suggested that it would be cool to count the exact amount of days that passed ever since the beginning of the adventure. And I agreed! So for a while now, alongside other data you may know me for counting I also have been recording a detailed log that describes each day briefly and adds it to the toll. I'm gonna very excitedly compress all this data now and put it in numbers, and have a lot of fun with it, so I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I do!

But first, few clarifications on how I was counting it all:

A single day counts to me as from one morning to another. So it must include a whole day and the long rest, unless they don't sleep, in which case the day ends when Grizzly says: "The new day/morning comes". Or something similar to that.

There are exactly three instances in which Grizzly simplified a certain period as "few days of travel,"/ "few days", both very early on. Aside from that everything else has been remarkably clear, which I'm very impressed by! For these three times however, I decided to count each period as 3 days. Not long enough to be a week, but somewhere in the middle, which is as accurate to "few days" as I can get in this case.

Since everything in the campaign has been counted from the Mana's perspective, the time they spent in Feywilde is counted this way as well. Even if for them it was like a day or two max, their own world did not stop for them. To most, the captains were gone for two weeks, and counting everything in Mana time, then switching to Feywilde time and then back to Mana time would simply create a mess and provide you with genuinely inaccurate number. So we stick by Mana rules. Also including Feywilde time is downright impossible casue they literally spent half of their day in Feywilde and then the other half of the same day in Mana, which creates a whole different clusterfuck of confusion. So Mana time only, trust me. Trying to break down this shit in any other way will make your head hurt.

Alright, so without further ado, the three Riptide captains spent together:

1 day at Zero, half of which already on Loffinlot

15 days on Loffinlot

3 (rough assumption, described as few days) in the Royal Blue Casino

2 days on Desire Island

4 days in Joaldo

3 days in Edison Kingdom

1 day at Duke's

3 days at the B.L.O.C.K

3 days in Allport (first time)

2 days at Noctis

1 day in Liquidis

14 days in the Feywilde (Mana time)

1 day in Allport (second time)

1 day at Zero (before Gillion needs to be emergency Featherbrooked)

1 day at Featherbrook

3 days at Zero (post dying fish crisis)

2 days in Onowa Country

1 day in Promised Bastion (and sea)

1 day (for now and not a full day yet) at the Hole in the Sea

63 days in total on the open sea

So there you have it! Of course, you gotta add a couple of days of Chip and Jay sailing on their own, but from the moment the main three got together, it has been, as exactly as I can feasibly estimate, about 125 days

This constitutes of 62 days spent in various differnet locations and 63 days spent on the sea alone.

This would also make about 4 months of travelling together. And hopefully, many more as the story progresses and comes back after the hiatus.

Anyway, hope you found it as fun to learn, as it was for me to count. Take care everyone <3

[pastelcheckereddreams]

"I don't want to go to the safehouse alone. Guess I'll bring a pet to keep me company."

Are you surprised? Really, are you surprised?? This won't be a full series, I just wanted to do something for the kprewatch event and set maps are what I do best 🤷‍♀️ Especially because it involves watching the same episodes again and again very, very closely and going insane, which seems appropriate for all the brainrot VegasPete have caused me. The complete design:

Silly little observations below the cut, but also have this diagram that illustrates where all the scenes take place relative to the aerial shot from episode 11:

If you'd be interested in prints, let me know! I may end up having a crack at a more substantial safehouse piece. A front elevation view would be so interesting to put together.

Reblogs are encouraged, reposts are not. This piece is now crossposted to my instagram account here. Check out my cdrama set maps and other art at the links/socials below: The Untamed (ongoing): The Jingshi | The Hanshi | Lotus Pier Word of Honor: Four Seasons Manor (in progress) instagram | kofi | inprnt

A small note on my design choices/silly little observations: 1) The room where Pete is kept appears to be smaller and squarer than it is in the aerial shot. I'm guessing it's to accommodate the mood lighting and to give the room a more claustrophobic/cage-like feel. I've attempted to depict that empty space above relative to the dimensions of the birdseye view.

2) I'm not entirely sure there actually is a bit of a bump-out for the unseen room that makes up part of the main living space, but the apparent interior corner in the far right of this shot makes me think there might be:

3) There's fresh herbs growing in a planter by the fridge and I think we should all think about Vegas planting them and watering them and cooking with them:

4) There is one single shot of the bedroom where there might (a big might) be an armchair next to the bed at one point and I ran with it for personal headcanon reasons:

5) What is in this mystery room at the back of this shot?? There seems to be a welcome mat or something put down? Is that the true entryway?? A bathroom? A utility room? I don't know nearly enough about vernacular Thai architecture to make an accurate guess:

Anddd that's it, that's about all I've got for this blorbo house! As always, thank you for your support 🙏Feel free to yell about this location in the tags, I'd love to hear your thoughts and maybe improve my design.

[majorproblems77]

ITS LU UPDATE TIME!!!

AND IT IS ALL ABOUT SKY AND IM SO EXCITED :DDDDD

You know what that means! It means a long post by me! :D

Cant wait to be excited about my blorbo for like 30 minutes, so sit get some popcorn and like some earplugs cause i will try to contain my screaming but I've been waiting for more Sky stuff and I'm so excited!!!!

For point, and because I keep forgetting, all the panels I'll be talking about belong to JoJo and @linkeduniverse

Let's do this!

Alright lets get this out of the way first, I love some parallels right, So as per usual, if I need a panel from anything prior I'll let you know where it's from!

So what do you think he asked him.

Hey sir! Have you seen a guy with a big flag on his back going way to fast come through there?

Man is just like, oh yeah he went that way past the forge that your other weird fellows were at earlier.

He run, Then he hero stop. Power pose activated, target acquired. Then he run some more

Run my blorbo run!

Genuinely interested in what exactly this is, Is it a map? Is it a list of places? Is it a paper with time shift shenanigans in it?

I'm not versed in the postman, Is this normal, or did he do this cause he heard Sky and wanted him to think he was waiting?

This face has be dead. (/pos) I love him so much my dear blorbo its been too long since we saw you last.

Putting this together for 1 reason

Postman is a dick, Sky was so close, That can't be more than 10 or so metres at most. Poor man ran across Town out of town to catch up to you for you to go sprinting off into the woods, and my man is full on Olympic sprinting to deliver this mail geesus.

Also, the compulsory return of the king 🧍, Sky is the king of this pose and will not be beaten. Although Legend comes pretty close.

God the expressions in this update are top tier, Sky is just so expressive. Right now, Man is thinking why he does this to himself.

I'm fucking cackling, this art is amazing and Jojo's sister did an amazing job. Like I feel like I can hear this picture with that teasing tone that my siblings would use on me when we were younger. God I love it.

So even though Sky is looking towards Legend here, so I'm totally under the impression that Legend said Wahhhh, and Hyrule said I cant run. As Hyrule was with wars When they got split up initally. Poor Sky, man has become the butt of jokes. Im glad Four is giving them a look, He doesn't look impressed. Its okay Sky, you've got a friend in Four behind you. :D

War's is the real MVP of this arc in my opinion, Man has been in charge of the ragtag chain while Time has been out of action looking over Twilight. He's at the end of his tether.

Part of me wonders if this is going to impact his fighting going forward? Maybe he'll slip up because he's so stressed. He knows not all of them are knighted. These heroes he is with are NOT soldiers and he can't treat them as such.

And this sentence. Don't Interrupt! sounds like he is scolding rowdy recruits, rather than fellow heroes.

Which if you think about it, Sky is giving essentially a scouting report here, He scouted ahead and has returned to speak about his findings. War's is a captain, in his era he's a commanding officer. He's taken reports of this kind before.

Having a panel with Time, Wild and Twilight in Gives me more life than i think i give it credit for. (I am in the crowd that there's a family connection between these three.)

It's also nice to see Wild, like genuinely smiling.

Moving on

Hero pose again! :D

I love this man

These panels are very important to me so give me a moment while I explain.

Sky probably has her words engrained in his mind. You can see the questioning look, and thinking. "Is this going to work?"

That eternal dream That he's talking about, he knows her power is faded, but he's going to try anyway. I just didn't think he would use it to track what I can only assume is the postman.

It's really nice to have Sky's relationship with the master sword put on display. It means a lot to me and has brought me great Joy through this update.

He cares about her. And even if she can't talk to him anymore. He still trusts her to lead him true.

And this panel breaks my heart! Something inside of him probably really hoped Fi would speak to him or give him more of an indication. Sky looks so sad.

I just wanna hug him, and tell him it'll be alright. He's probably thinking about turning around at this point. Maybe he's thinking about how some members of the chain perceive Fi.

A soulless weapon.

(Or maybe im thinking too much into this)

The way his faith is restored!

Fi did lead him! She did! She's still there somewhere, and his shock! Oh my boy. My sweet blorbo,

And having used like super zoom on that last panel, MY BOY IS SMILING! :D

RUN BLORBO RUN I BELIEVE IN YOU!

(Also appreciation for the full body shot's we've got of Sky from this update, I love it so much I love him so much.)

Did I go hunting for the references, Yes I Did.

I think the following area is the area where they pull Twilight too, rather than the battle field and he then moved on from here to get to the battle field.

From sunset pt4

The pillar behind Sky has the only slant I can think of. It looks to be the same angle, but that could just be me.

If it is that location, it might be closer to that battlefield than we originally (Or at least I originally) assumed.

(If you've got any other places let me know!)

God i love him

Blorbo beloved! Is about as shocked as i am with the whole Mailman thing.

The confidence of this man is unreal. He's ready, he's moving he's going. He's going and ain't going to stop.

Me absolutely yelling at how this portal looks, it so ANGRY, But we know the Shadow is pissed right now. And if the shadow is making these portals and he's angry. I think the chain might be in for a surprise as they move on to the next location.

Which if I have to be honest. I think is going to be Skyloft. I think we are moving into a Sky arch, having had a Twilight Arc. (I also really want to see Skyloft in this universe, and there's an opportunity here. We've had more master sword things. We've had Sky content. who knows where Jojo will take this next, but I'm excited either way.)

Finally back to the chain! :D

The gremlins return :D

Wind's little 3:< face as he's thinking is giving the energy of an upcoming detective arch, He is thinking and he is thinking HARD okay.

Poor Sky. Man has been running around doing all the hard work while the rest of them just enjoy themselves. Hyrule especially is kinda like 'Ohhh... our bad...'

It's actually a kinda guilty look, maybe he feels a little bad about the teasing from earlier?

Now i gotta mention the potion thing, cause its just so damn funny not too. Sky my blorbo slow down you are gonna choke on the stamina potion.

But.

I want to focus on War's here.

And Wild too.

These two. These two are important.

Wild has gone from happy and chill vibes to Oh shit real quick.

After everything he put into the Shadow, while the shadow was injured and watched as the thing exploded. It just decided to come back or something. And Wild, here I imagine is thinking, "How was that not enough..."

Now Wars.

War's is Stood not looking at anything, In fact, I think he's looking past Time. The last thing he said was a two word scolding but apart from that he's been awfully quiet. Now he looks like he's thinking. He's closed off, protective.

The only time I can see where he does this is when he's in what I'm going to call, 'Captain mode.' So, When he's flicked something in his head that tells him he has to be a knight.

He dosent do it often, in fact from what I can see he does it 4 other times.

In order

Devine dark reflections pt 8 - when he's talking about knighthood with Sky and Hyrule

Sunset pt11 - When talking about Wild, and the fact that he's left

Sunset pt13 - When speaking to Twilight about pulling his own weight

Dawn pt 2 - when Twilight is talking about the team they are.

And now here in Dawn 7 - Where they are discussing the fact that an enemy they fought escaped or survived.

All conversations I would assume a captain would have to have with his men at one point or another. I wonder what He's thinking here. It's got me thinking.

Woah, So this took me longer than I thought. I am on the 4-hour mark now. Lmaoooo

Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for listening to me ramble for like 20 minutes.

And just remember

Sky is the sweet bestest blorbo beloved and I love him. :D

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.