Tumpik
#tumblr exclusive
petetoms · 2 days ago
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I think it very quickly became something slightly different, but my vague initial idea for this character was that he was basically The Judge from Blood Meridian inside of one of those popular posi-vibes slice of life Instagram comics. 
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pralinesims · a month ago
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PALE SECRET ULTIMATE MASTER COLLECTION
For this years Simblreen, I made one project a top priority which has been on my mind for quite a few years: the master collection-fication of all my old Pale Secret items, like I did for all of my other CC. For some few long days I cleaned up all items, put better file names, updated correct tags, made makeup color slider compatible, created new shiny thumbnails, added some items lost from the void and just updated everything all-over.
Included are over 140 pieces from several categories like makeup, clothing and accessory recolors, which all contain a ton of different variations inside each item. All 11 sets are categorized neatly in folders, and have an item overview included within the download.
Also included are 2... risqué community lots, made by my beloved sister @cross-design.
WARNING if the pics weren’t enough: most of the here included items are very explicitly picturing blood, gore, horror, some NSFW leaning, so please only download at your own risk & if you are comfortable with such content.
Enjoy 🔪
DOWNLOAD: SFS | MEGA
Find all my other Simblreen CC here
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flanaganfilm · 16 days ago
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Hi Mike! Any news about a renewal of the midnight club?
No news yet... hoping to know something very soon. BUT, I'll tell you what... if for some reason Netflix does NOT elect to renew the show, I'll post a long blog that details all of the stuff we were going to do in season 2, and answers the outstanding mysteries of season 1. I'll put it up exclusively on Tumblr.
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solmeister13 · 2 months ago
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Για να ζαχαρώσω το χάπι των κλειστών asks είπα να δώσω αυτό για τα νυχτοπούλια μου. Tumblr Exclusive μετά από καιρό. Το έγραψα ένα βράδυ γυρνώντας από μεγάλο περπάτημα στο Γέρακα.
Κουβαλάει λίγο απ' το πνεύμα όσων έρχονται στο νέο δίσκο σε θέμα αισθητικής, αν και ήταν ακόμα πολύ πρώιμο σα σκέψη όταν το ηχογραφούσα.
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invioletswithyou · a year ago
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As I near 200,000 followers here at fishingboatproceeds, I just wanted to to say…
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theresthesnitch · a month ago
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What we do to get by, Part 11
TW: teenaged patient with a bad prognosis.
Read the rest here. 
(recap: Remus came into Sirius's bedroom, and they had sex. The next morning, Remus told Sirius he thought it was the "arrangement" for Remus to stay there, Sirius confessed he loved Remus, and then immediately apparated to Godric's Hollow...)
***
Sirius followed James upstairs and straight into the bedroom, where the two of them collapsed on the bed. Sirius laid on his back, looking at the ceiling, and tried to just tell James. He wanted to, but every time he opened his mouth, it was like the words got caught in his throat, and he just couldn’t. 
James–bless him–didn’t push it. Instead, he said, “I’ve been trying to convince Lily to let me put a mirror on the ceiling.” 
Sirius snorted. “Why do you want a mirror on the ceiling?”
“For sex, obviously.” James waived at the ceiling. “Big mirror up there, and you’d be able to see everything.” 
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never gotten it. I mean, what are you actually going to be able to see? Or is she just going to be looking at herself over your shoulder? I bet she just ends up spotting pimples on your back that way.” 
James gasped dramatically. “I do not have pimples on my back!” 
“Sure, because Lily spells them all away for you.” 
James shuffled a bit, but didn’t deny it. “Mirror up there would be pretty great when she’s on top.” 
“So you can see the top of her head?” Sirius turned to look at James. “Everything you want to see is in front of you, isn’t it?” 
The corners of James’s lips turned down considering. “Well, okay, maybe. But what about getting a blow job? I can look up and watch that.” 
Sirius pushed up onto his elbows, looking around the room. “Her head blocks the action, and you’d get a much better view of her if you put a mirror over there.” He pointed to the wall across from the foot of their bed. “Much better visuals.” 
James laid back. “Maybe you’re right. I still think it would be nice, though.” 
Sirius laughed and shook his head. “Whatever you say, Prongs.” 
James hummed, but said nothing else. Sirius took a deep breath. “I’m in love with him.” 
“I know.” 
Sirius turned to face him, surprised. “You know?”
James looked at him, hazel eyes sincere. “Of course I do, Padfoot. You’ve loved him since, what, fourth year or so?” He looked back to the ceiling. “He loved you too. Loves, I think.” 
Sirius settled back again. “Nah, I don’t think so.” 
“He did, at least.” James paused. “I always felt like the two of you were kind of dancing around each other before fifth year ended. I thought you’d both figure it out, but then…” 
“We did.” Sirius waited, feeling James’s eyes on him after he turned to face Sirius. “I mean, we almost did. I kissed him.” 
James laid back. “Merlin. I didn’t know.” 
“I know.” Sirius began toying with his fingers. “I felt so stupid about it after everything, and I didn’t want you to know. I thought you’d hate me for it.” 
James rolled to face him. "I could never hate you." 
"Maybe you should." Sirius didn't turn to James, but stayed looking at the ceiling. "You should hate me for it. I hate me for it." 
"Well, I don't. I don't think Remus does either." James made a noise deep in his throat. "Is that why you said Remus asked if you did it in retaliation?" 
Sirius nodded. "He thought I blamed him for the kiss and did it for payback." 
"Merlin." James rolled back into his back. "At least you're not that guy." 
"Always finding a silver lining, aren't you, Prongs?" Sirius let his eyes slide closed. 
"Why don't you tell me what happened?" 
Sirius told him, starting with the careful negotiating to get Remus to stay and all the way until he called it an arrangement. When he stopped talking, James was quiet. 
"No words of comfort for me this time, Prongs?" 
James shrugged. “Do you want words of comfort?”
Sirius snorted. “Yeah, of course.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe not. I don’t know that there is comfort here.” 
“I’m not surprised he did it, honestly.” 
“You–what?” Sirius turned toward James now. “You think I wanted sex from him in exchange for giving him a place to live?”
“No, Padfoot. I know you don’t” James sat up, then moved to lean against the headboard. “He offered me sex, too. Did you know?”
“No, I–” Sirius’s stomach dropped, something like jealousy and sadness pooling inside of him. “I didn’t know.” 
“Not like that, I don’t think. He doesn’t have feelings for me.” James adjusted the pillows behind him. “Remember the conversation we had at the sleepover? About blow jobs and Lily agreeing to watch.” 
“Yeah, of course.” 
James licked his lips. “Well, Remus offered. Said he felt guilty for taking so much money from me after my stag party, and said that he’d let me fuck him and let Lily watch to make up for it.” 
“Merlin, that’s–” Sirius shook his head. 
“Yeah. It is.” James shrugged. “I told him that I was much more interested in him being my friend than in hooking up with him, and he certainly didn’t need to have sex with me out of some sort of misplaced obligation.” 
“So you do want to sleep with him?” Sirius wasn’t sure why he asked, especially when the question made the pooling sadness in him turn sour. 
James looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “No more than I want to fuck you.” 
“So a lot, then.” 
The quip felt flat, even as he said it, like something he was supposed to say rather than something he meant. James didn’t point it out, but gave his side a nudge with his foot. “Needy prick. No, what I mean is… he’s handsome, but I think my best friend is in love with him.” 
Sirius rolled forward, burying his face in the bed. When he spoke again, it was muffled. “Merlin, James. What do I do now?” He pushed up on his elbows. “Have I fucked everything?”
“I thought you just fucked Remus. I didn’t know it was everything.” James laughed; Sirius groaned and buried his head again. “Well, I guess my first question is whether you told Remus to stay when you left? I’m assuming you didn’t calmly walk out without a shirt on.”
Sirius sat up, heart pounding in his chest. “James, I–I didn’t think. He can’t leave, not now.” 
James smiled. “Alright, it’s okay. We’ll handle it. Lils?”
Lily peaked her head around the corner. “Yes?”
“How much of that were you listening to?” James asked. 
“Sirius makes some really good points about the mirror. Though I think we could do one on the ceiling and another wall mirror too.” 
Sirius snorted. “Of course you were listening the whole time.” Lily only shrugged. Perhaps he should be mad, but he knew that James would tell her eventually. They didn’t actually keep secrets from each other, which both baffled and amazed Sirius. 
“Would you go check on Remus? Make sure he stays?” James asked. 
“Sure. Anything else you want me to tell him, Sirius?” Lily leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know that there is anything to say now.” Lily nodded, and turned to leave. “Lily? He–he doesn’t know how to cook. I don’t know if he’s eaten today, and I didn’t make anything he can just heat up.” 
Lily nodded. “I’ll set him up for a few days. Do you want me to grab you some clothes too?” 
Sirius looked between the two of them. “Is that okay? Can I stay?”
James scooted closer to him, wrapping his arms around Sirius. “Of course you can, Padfoot. You can always stay.” 
Lily turned again. “I’ll be back later. Sooner if he’s not there, and we’ll go find him.” 
They listened to Lily walk down the stairs and out the door, and it was a crack through the morning air that let them know she left. Sirius settled against James’s chest, letting the thump of his heart in his chest settle his nerves. James reached up and pulled out the hair band in Sirius’s hair, then ran his fingers down the long strands of hair. 
Perhaps it was part of the dog in him, but Sirius always calmed when someone pet his hair like this, something that James exploited more often than not. Not that Sirius particularly minded. 
“Do you want to keep talking?” James asked as Sirius lay boneless against him. 
Sirius sighed. “I don’t know what to do now, James. I don’t know how to stop loving him.” 
“Do you need to stop?”
Sirius buried his face against James’s chest, and James’s arms wrapped tighter around him. “It hurts to love him. Knowing he doesn’t love me makes it so much worse.” 
James continued to run his fingers through Sirius’s hair, and after a moment, he relaxed again. “Are you sure he doesn’t?”
“He called it an arrangement.” Sirius shook his head. “I couldn’t make that sort of arrangement, not with him. Could you do that with Lily?”
James went silent for a minute, humming. “If I thought that’s all I thought I could ever have? Then yeah, I’d take every second of an arrangement and never let her go.” 
“I can’t think that way, James.” Sirius turned his head so he could see James’s face. “I can’t hope that he feels that way. If he doesn’t, if he just thought of this as a transaction, I think that would break me.” 
“So, what? You’re going to pretend you don’t love him?”
Sirius settled against him again. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying for years to stop loving him. I don’t know that I know how to.”
“Maybe you’re not meant to stop loving him. Maybe you’re meant to keep loving him, even if he doesn't love you back.” 
“James.” Sirius felt like he was close to tears, and he didn’t cry. Blacks don’t cry. Perhaps that was the leftover voice of his mother in his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it now. “How do I survive that?”
“I don’t know, love.” James twisted a strand of Sirius’s hair around his finger. “I think you just take it one day at a time, one interaction at a time, and maybe start trying to find someone else.” 
Sirius sighed again. “I don’t see that happening.”
“Well, maybe not immediately.” James kissed the top of his head, and Sirius let himself just relax against James. “You will find someone, though. I’m sure of it. You’ve got too much love to give, and so many reasons for someone to love you.” 
Sirius snorted, not really believing it. He didn’t argue, but James didn’t need him to vocalize it to fight him on the point. “I’m not joking, Padfoot. You’re a catch. If I didn’t have Lily, I’d have to snatch you up myself.” 
Sirius smiled against his chest. “You’d be lucky to have someone as great as me.” 
“I would.” He kissed Sirius’s head again. “I am.” 
Sirius felt a tightening in his chest and a stinging in his eyes, and he willed himself not to give in to his emotions again. James didn’t say anything further, letting Sirius sit in the silence as he played with his hair. 
That lasted… maybe five minutes. “So. How was it?”
Sirius was floating somewhere between awake and asleep, lulled by James’s steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body, and the question didn’t quite register at first. “How was what?”
“Sex with Moony.” James was still twirling his hair. “I bet he’s good.” 
Sirius let out a huff of laughter, happy for the lighter moment, and entirely unsurprised and yet somewhat shocked that James actually asked. “It was fucking fantastic. Probably the best sex of my life.” 
“Knew it.” James said it under his breath, and for some reason, that left them both laughing until their sides hurt. 
***
At some point, after the conversation took many twists and turns into a dozen unrelated things, Sirius fell asleep, still wrapped up in James. James must have eventually fallen asleep as well, because Sirius woke up with his arms around James’s chest, and James’s face pressed against his head. He wasn’t sure what woke him, though, until he realized that the smaller body behind him was not James. 
Sirius turned in James’s arms as Lily’s came around his middle as well. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he settled back against James. “Still there, then?”
“He was. He was packed up to leave, though.” Lily’s fingers started to draw soft, soothing circles on Sirius’s arms. 
“Does he hate me?”
“Not even a little bit.” She pressed a kiss into his shoulder. “He’s scared and confused. He’s worried you hate him now.” 
Sirius took a deep breath. “Did you tell him that’s not true?”
“Of course, I did. I don’t think he believed me, but he probably won’t until you go home and tell him yourself.” 
There was a flutter in his chest. Hope, maybe, or he’d think it was if he had anything to hope for. “He’ll wait for me to come back?”
“I think so.” Sirius turned to look at her, and she could only shrug. “I had to convince him that he needed to talk to you, and you needed time. He said he would stay, but I wouldn’t make him wait too long.” 
“I won’t.” Sirius held both of them close. “I can’t go back tonight. I need… I need some time.” 
“Take a day or two.” James’s voice was still thick with sleep. “I’ll go check on him tomorrow and make sure he stays.” 
“Thank you.” He squeezed a hand around both of their arms. “Both of you.” 
***
Sirius stayed with James and Lily for the rest of the day, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Neither of them mentioned Remus or what had happened. They also didn’t let Sirius wallow in his feelings about it, which he appreciated. Instead, they filled the silence with small meaningless discussions, like whether they should replace the entire set of plates they received for their wedding since three had already chipped, or whether the new paint in the second bathroom made it smell less. They didn’t mind when Sirius chimed in, and they didn’t push him when he stayed silent, and it was precisely what he needed. 
When he went to sleep later that night, with a pillow wedged between the two of them in their bed, Sirius was endlessly grateful that James had married a woman who was willing to accept him, too. 
The next day, James slipped out to see Remus while Lily had him distracted making breakfast, and Sirius almost didn’t notice. 
Almost. 
When he watched James softly shut the front door behind him, Lily ran an understanding hand down his arm, and distracted him once again. He was, again, endlessly grateful for her. 
James returned a few hours later, and Sirius stayed busy. He didn’t notice when Lily quietly walked out of the room, and he didn’t notice that they were whispering in the next room, and he didn’t overhear them trying to figure out the best strategy to fix this. He didn’t notice. He didn’t. He. Did. Not. 
Sirius finally let himself ask James what happened sometime in the middle of the afternoon, after James brought him a mug of tea and they sat on the couch with their feet tangled up under a blanket. “So?”
James, bless him, didn’t miss a beat. “He’s still there. I think he’ll stay until you get home, but I also don’t think he’s unpacked. I think he expects you to kick him out. Despite–” James added quickly as Sirius made to interrupt “–the fact that I told him you wouldn’t.”
Sirius settled back against the armrest, sipping his tea. “Thank you.” 
“Of course.” 
Sirius chewed on his lip. “Does he hate me?”
“No, he doesn’t.” James spoke so fast that Sirius looked at him in disbelief. “No, really. He’s feeling a lot of things, but none of them are hatred or anger toward you.” 
“What is he feeling?”
James pursed his lips, considering Sirius for a moment. “I don’t know that it’s really my place to share. He opened up to me about a lot of things, and I won’t betray that confidence.” 
Sirius nodded once, a firm downward strike of his head. He hoped it indicated confidence and decision rather than the way that he felt like the ground underneath him was shaken. “Right. Yeah, that makes sense. Okay.” 
James looked down at his mug, and Sirius could feel the weight of the words he hadn’t yet spoken. He waited, and eventually James looked up again. “If I had to guess, I think the overriding feeling he’s experiencing is actually fear.”
That hit Sirius’s stomach like a rock, a weight that weighed him down. “Why is he afraid?”
“I think–” James sighed, rubbing his forehead before he continued. “I think that we’ve only scratched the surface on some of the things that happened to him during the missing years. I think he’s trained himself to expect the worst, and that’s what he’s expecting from you.” 
“Prongs, I would never–” 
“I know, Sirius.” The use of his first name grounded him. “I know, and I think he knows that too, he just doesn’t believe it.” 
“Then I’ll just have to make him believe it.” 
***
Sirius stayed another night with James and Lily, leaving early in the morning for work. It was one of those long and grueling shifts, the kind that dragged him down and made him feel like he’d worked a full shift when he was only a few hours in. After his lunch break, a familiar face checked in. 
“Colin!” Sirius hopped up on the edge of his bed as he was wheeled down the hallway by an orderly. “It’s not my birthday yet. You didn’t have to come see me.” 
Colin smiled, the kind of smile that only comes after hours of sitting in a hospital room and tossing jokes around with the young healers. The kind of smile that comes when a kid spends too much time on the ward. “I thought you might be getting lonely without me here. Do you even know how to take a break if I’m not here for you to annoy?”
Sirius gasped dramatically, falling back on the bed across Colin’s feet. “I am not annoying. Take it back!” 
Colin laughed, pulling his feet out from behind Sirius and digging them into his side. “I won’t; it’s the truth.” 
Sirius scoffed. “You and your dirty lies.” He hopped off the bed as the orderly pushed the bed into the room that would be Colin’s for the length of his stay. “So, buddy, what brings you in here today?”
Colin pulled back the edge of his shirt, revealing the green tendrils of the curse spiraling out from the middle of his chest. “Cool new tattoos, dude.” 
The sight of it, of the spreading curse marks, made Sirius’s breath catch in his chest. It had never been this bad before. “You’ve let that go this time, haven’t you? You know, if you want cool tattoos like mine, you don’t have to let your curse spread.” Sirius pulled back his collar to reveal the runes he and James had gotten tattooed on their chests just before James’s wedding. 
“Woah, cool!” Colin reached a hand out, and Sirius let him run his fingers over the dark lines. “What does it mean?”
“My best friend, James, and I got them together. It’s supposed to create an eternal bond between us, closer than brothers.” Sirius ran his fingers over the rune. “If he’s ever in trouble, it will let me know, and he will know if I’m in trouble.” 
Colin’s eyes were wide. “That’s so cool.” 
“Mhm.” Sirius took a step closer, holding his hand out to Colin. “Can I take a look at yours?”
Sirius had Colin take his shirt off so he could get a closer look at the marks on his chest. Sirius could nearly feel the pulse of the magic under his fingers as he traced the mark. It seemed alive, separate from Colin, like a festering wound that was attached to him. Sirius kept his composure, but it worried him. “Well, we’re going to have to take care of that, now aren’t we? Is your mum here today?”
Colin settled back into his bed again. “She is. She was doing some paperwork down at the front desk. You going to go tell her how you’re going to fix me this time?”
“You got it kid.” Sirius turned for the door. “Anything I can get for you right now?”
“I want you to come back with the best stories in the hospital. All the juicy gossip.” Colin beamed at him. “Also, the mediwitch downstairs told me that you’ve got a house guest, and I want to hear all about him.” 
Sirius snorted. “Aren’t you too young for that kind of gossip?”
“I knew it would be juicy.” Sirius laughed, but Colin only smiled. “Plus, I’m about to turn 17. I’m not that young.” 
“Uh-huh. We’ll see what your mum says about that.” Sirius walked out the door, and closed it behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the fear that welled up inside of him as soon as he saw Colin’s mark. When he opened his eyes again, Sylvie Creevey was walking toward him in the hallway. 
“Oh, Healer Black. I’m so glad you’re on today. It always cheers him up when he sees you.” 
Sirius opened his arms and let Sylvie give him a hug. He wouldn’t do it for every patient, but he’d spent a lot of time with the two of them, and it felt right. “I’m glad I’m here too. How are you doing?”
She gave him a shaky smile, one that he recognized as a parent who was trying their best not to be too worried. “I’m here. Did you get a look at him?”
Sirius pursed his lips. “I did. How long has it been like that?”
“It hasn’t, I swear.” She tucked a loose strand of hair back. “Last night, he went to bed, and it was the same as it always is. This morning, he woke up and it was like this. It was so quick.” 
“Hm, it must be spreading across the same paths it’s taken before, making it easier to reach farther.” Sirius chewed on his lip as he considered the implications that he didn’t spell out for her. In all likelihood, he didn’t need to. She’d been around far too long to miss it. 
“So, what do we do?” He could hear the plea in her voice, the desperate hope that he had a plan. 
He didn’t want to rip out her hope. “Well, we start by doing what we’ve always done.” Sirius tucked his hands into the pockets of his healing robes. “We’ll start the treatment to prevent spreading and reduce the current progress of the spell, and we’ll try a few new courses of healing that we’re hopeful may work to remove the curse entirely.” Sirius wasn’t sure they really had any new courses. They hadn’t in a while, and they were running out of directions to turn. 
Sylvie wasn’t confused. “What we’ve done before? It barely worked last time. What if it doesn’t work this time?”
“Then we keep trying.” Sirius placed an arm on her shoulder. “I know it’s a lot, Sylvie, but we will keep trying until we figure this out.” Or until it’s too late. Had they already reached that point?
She nodded, and let out a long sigh. “I hope we find the answer.” 
***
By the time he got back to his flat, he nearly wished he had decided to spend another night with James and Lily. He probably still could. They probably wouldn’t even say anything if he showed up on their doorstep tonight. 
Only, Sirius had told them that he was going to be going home, and he didn’t want to back down. It was time to go home and face…whatever he could expect from Remus. 
Only, as soon as the door opened, all of the fight in Sirius fled. He stepped inside the threshold and immediately spotted Remus sitting on the couch. His legs were crossed, one over the other, and his arms were crossed over his chest. He had a book in his lap, and he chewed on the thumbnail of one hand while he watched Sirius intently. Sirius's eyes were drawn to the nervous shaking of his foot in the air. 
Sirius turned and put his coat on the hook. Slipping his shoes off and leaving them on the mat. "'Lo, Remus." Was that the wrong thing to say? Should he have called him Moony? He'd been so skittish about whether the nickname was okay, but maybe it would have made him feel more–
"Hi, Sirius." Remus wet his lips, and Sirius pretended he didn't notice. "Did you, uh, have a good time with James and Lily?" 
Sirius struggled to hide his reaction. So this was how they were going to play this out? "Staying with them is always interesting. One minute, you'd think they were going to bicker themselves into a fight, and the next they're snogging like they haven't seen each other in years." 
Remus chuckled darkly, looking down, and Sirius immediately regretted his choice of wording. "Oh, shit, I didn't mean–" 
Remus cut him off. "You said you loved me."
Blunt. To the point. Classic Remus. 
"I did." 
"Did you mean it?" 
Sirius took three breaths, letting the silence hang in the room before he found an answer. “Yes.” 
Remus chewed on his nail again, and Sirius wanted to stop him. It wasn’t Sirius’s place to stop him. Remus looked up at him again. “You shouldn’t do that.” 
Sirius’s heart might as well be beating out of his chest. Was this the moment that Remus told him that he could never love him, that he despised Sirius? It would only be fair, if he did, after what Sirius had done. “Oh? Why not?”
Remus shook his head, and Sirius registered the sadness in his eyes before he even spoke. “I’m not worth it. I’m–” 
“Do not–” Sirius put so much emphasis on the word that he wasn’t surprised when Remus jumped slightly “–put yourself down to me.” 
Remus sat a little straighter. “Okay.” 
“If you do that, I’m going to have to tell you–” the words caught in his throat, behind a lump that was formed of the words he was desperate for Remus to hear. “I’m going to have to give you a list of all the wonderful things about you, and I don’t think I could make it through that conversation in one piece today.” He ran a hand over his face, taking three long breaths again. Remus waited, quietly. “Sorry, it was just a terrible shift and a bad patient. It’s not you.”  
“Oh.” Remus slumped in his seat again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make your day worse.”
“You didn’t.” Sirius rolled his shoulders, accepting that he was going to have to address this now. “Seeing you’re still here really does make everything better. I hope you’ll stay.” 
“You want me to?” Remus’s voice was a mix of surprise and hope. 
“Remus, I never want you to leave again.” The word slipped from his mouth, and he wished he’d thought before he’d said it. “I don’t mean that–not like an arrangement. I just, I’m just happy you’re here. For no reason at all except for the fact that I’m happy you’re here. Please say you’ll stay, Remus.” 
Remus wouldn’t look at him, but he nodded. “I will. I’ll stay if you’ll have me, but only if you promise to tell me if I get to be too much. If it’s too much, I’ll leave.” 
That will never happen. He doesn’t say it. “I will.” Sirius walked out of the room and back to his bedroom. 
Remus was staying. Tonight, it hurt as much as it soothed Sirius, but Remus was staying.
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simlicious · 24 days ago
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Simblreen 2022 Gifts
Fully recolorable patterns for the Sims 3! Three designs, 9 patterns in total
Download via simfileshare
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books · a year ago
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Tumblr Exclusive: Forestborn
Do you like shapeshifters, epic quests, magic, dark forests, and obstinate princes? Well, have we got an exclusive excerpt for you!
Forestborn is an upcoming @torteen novel by debut author Elayne Audrey Becker. Becker graduated from Vassar College with a BA in classics and history. She is currently continuing her education at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland after time spent as an editor with a New York publisher. She grew up with a lake and woods as her backyard, spending long days outside and visiting national parks with her family.
Forestborn will be available at bookstores everywhere from August 31. Read the exclusive excerpt below, and thanks again to Elayne for sharing her inspiration moodboard with us!
Forestborn By Elayne Audrey Becker
One
I find her deep in the Old Forest, facedown in the dirt. 
Sharp pain needles my palms where I’ve balled my fists so tight, the nails have carved half-moon marks into the skin. Snaking across the twig-strewn ground, gnarled roots press against my boots like a warning as I roll the young woman onto her back. Best to be sure.
No, she is certainly dead. Cold, stiff, and hungry like the rest; even with forest debris masking much of her shirt, the threadbare cotton dips in unmistakable rivulets across her bony frame. I swallow my disappointment and push her eyelids shut, wanting to spare her kin the sight of those empty, pointless eyes.
“Sorry,” I murmur, sitting back on my heels. “I’m guessing you didn’t deserve this.”
Around us, the trees lean inward and down with ominous uniformity, leaves and branches straining against their holds, drawn to the dead woman as if tethered by ropes. The sway, the humans call it. I ignore the prickling in my belly. They’ll straighten out soon enough when the magic leaves her body. 
With a final nod, I push to my feet and wend my way back to the forest’s edge. It’s a close wood, with broad oaks in summer bloom crowding the grassy floor, their leafy canopy admitting shafts of sunlight that glitter like crystal chandeliers. All in all, too peaceful a setting for someone driven to madness to die alone. I breathe it in deep to savor the scent while I can, grateful that for whatever reason, these trees never seem drawn to the magic in my own blood. I’ve had enough of vengeful wilderness to last a lifetime.
“Well?” Seraline asks, her knuckles nearly white where they clutch the hem of her shirt. 
I shake my head. “Dead.”
Her shoulders sink. Though Seraline is sturdy as iron when she’s in her aunt’s tannery, shaping leather into draft horses’ yokes, standing a determined two paces behind the tree line now, she seems shakeable as snow.
“Come on,” I say, nodding to the stony town just across the open fields. “You’re going to be late.” I don’t ask if she plans to examine the body for herself. Seraline may have insisted on coming as a show of support, but our friendship has many limits, her discomfort with the dead and dying the least of them. 
After a brief hesitation, Seraline falls into step at my side, sweeping her seeing stick across the ground in broad strokes. “Poor thing.”
I nod, my jaw clenched tight. 
This time of year, the late summer air hangs heavy even in the early morning, enough that the back of my neck is already slick with sweat. The barley fields remain mercifully empty as we pick our way through the dusty rows, but still I plow forward with my head down and shoulders bent, half from habit and half spurred by the hour. Seraline isn’t the only one who’s running behind. 
“Will you not come with us?” she asks, her head tipping to the side as we near the town. “Aren’t you due back in Roanin, anyway?”
“I can’t,” I reply, making it sound like an apology. I’m not really sure why we still play this game when we both know it’s futile. “I have a few things to take care of first.”
“Today of all days,” she snorts.
“You know how it is.” In truth, I’d give my right arm to stay away from the capital today. But there’s no help for it.
“Her husband deserves to know,” Seraline adds after a while. “The two of them were inseparable.”
“He will know. The trail wasn’t hard to follow.”
Seraline is always trying to persuade me to talk to the deceased’s families. She believes I have a softer manner than many in uniform, and once she even called me heartless for refusing. That time hurt the most. But it isn’t my job to report any deaths I uncover to next of kin. Only to the king. And it’s not like she’s stepping up to volunteer, anyway.
Briarwend is a humble farming town that stretches all of three streets, a collection of squared off stone shops that deal in necessity rather than charm. Its weather-worn residents are the same. When I began seeking intel here four years ago, long days tending the surrounding fields made the people lazy and open over a couple of pints. Lately, they’re just hungry, poor soil and rising taxes leaving gaping holes that only tempers seem to fill. 
Each night under dwindling lamplight and over stained, sticky tables, the pub dwellers deal out anger and judgment like tossing seeds across the earth. The battered forest walker I helped home last night is not the only magical person I’ve found bleeding on cobbled streets. The humans’ anger is growing fists.
Seraline’s family is fixing their horse’s harness to an old wooden cart when we reach their cottage home. Most others have long since departed.
“Where have you been?” her mother demands, tightening the leather straps. The roan mare stamps a hoof, ears flicking nervously in my presence. “We should have left hours ago!”
“Lela needed my help. And you’re not ready, anyway.” Seraline shrugs.
“Nor are you. Breakfast is gone, so you’ll just have to wait. Go get changed.” She studiously avoids my eye, as if I’m not even there. 
Seraline bids me farewell with a light touch on the shoulder, which causes her little sister to quickly interlace two pairs of twisted fingers and pull them apart. The sign to ward off bad fortune.  
“You shouldn’t indulge my sister,” the dreadful Arden says once she’s gone, stomping over and swiping a greasy hand across his forehead. By far the weakest sibling in this family of four. “Seraline is delicate. She can’t be tramping about the kingdom with the likes of you.”
Which is ironic, really, since he was eager enough to sidle close last year, when he thought empty flattery might earn him a kiss. That was before a too-often empty belly soured his tongue, before he learned who and what I was. And though I truly could not care less what this boy thinks, I’m dismayed to find my stomach still burns with anger and something close to shame. My gaze drops to his pant leg, which bears splotches of dried blood from the night before. 
“Problem?” Arden sneers, white skin burned red from long days in the sun. 
A slow tingling feeling bubbles up from my core, threads of numbness that tiptoe across my arms and legs. I force myself to breathe deeply, to beat the threads back. “I know it was you,” I mutter. 
He traces his chapped lips with two fingers, beady eyes darting to his mother before he leans forward, his smile stiffening. “You know nothing,” he hisses.
“You forget I have certain resources at my disposal.” I raise a hand in front of his flaking face, where my nails have sharpened into claws. “And that I know where you live.”
I stare until a satisfying trace of fear tinges Arden’s expression before stomping away toward the town’s single inn, which is little more than a guesthouse with four creaking rooms. If Helos were here, he would tell me to not take the bait, that I’m better than that. What he never seems to understand is that I’m not better than anything at all.
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johnnylawrence84 · 5 months ago
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Some soft, cuddly 80s LawRusso ☺️ (possibly the prequel to this 🙈💕 Am I a little obsessed with Daniel wearing Johnny's clothes? ...Mayyyyybeeee...)
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firstdegreefangirl · 3 months ago
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Time to go Home
“Honestly, sometimes I think I love this apartment more than I love you,” Taylor swings her feet from where she’s sitting on Buck’s kitchen island, heels knocking against the cabinet doors. A wine glass rests between her fingers; Buck has lost count of how many times she’s refilled it tonight. 
He doesn’t know when she stopped coming over without drinking. It’s telling, he thinks, that Taylor only seems to keep his company when there’s alcohol involved. 
Or maybe that one goes the other way. He looks at the beer bottle in his own hand, trying to convince himself to put it down. He can’t get himself to let go of the smooth glass. That’s new, but it’s not a constant. He’s perfectly capable of staying sober when he’s with Maddie or Chimney or Hen or Bobby or Eddie.  
But as soon as Taylor gets home from work, he’s offering up drinks. Either one of them had a good day and they’re celebrating, or they’re mourning a hard shift. It’s easier that way: get a little tipsy, fall into bed together, have some mind-blowing sex, rinse and repeat.  
Taylor is buzzed. He can see it in the flush of her cheeks, the way her torso sways as she talks. She doesn’t seem to have noticed that he isn’t listening; she’s still going on about the natural lighting and the stainless steel fixtures and the way the sunrise hits the loft every morning.  
She’s waxing poetic about his apartment, but lately he can’t get more than a habitual “love you too” when they part ways in the morning.  
Well. Drunk words are sober thoughts, right? 
“Keep it.” He cuts her off. 
“What?”  
“The apartment. If you like it so much, then keep it.” The words are out of his mouth almost before the thoughts have cleared his brain. But the more he says, the more he realizes that it’s true, and it’s been a long time coming. “You feel at home here? The place is yours. I’ll sublet what’s left of the lease, and we can move it to your name when you renew it.”  
“Buck … it’s your home.” 
“No, it’s just my residence. Home is where the heart is, right?” 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“It means … this has never felt like home to me, Tay. I thought maybe it could, once upon a time. All the open space, perfect for inviting people over, you know? But … no one ever hangs out here, really, except the two of us.” 
“So, what, you’re moving out? Where are you going to live?” 
“I … I don’t know. But if you love the apartment more than me, it’s yours.” He’s not sure if he means that she loves the apartment more than he does, or that she loves the apartment more than she loves him. 
He’s not sure it matters.  
All he’s sure of is that he doesn’t want to spend another night drinking just so he can stand being around his own girlfriend.  
Ex-girlfriend.  
That’s going to take some getting used to, but he can already tell that it’s more about the sting of another failed relationship than it is about losing Taylor’s place in his life.  
But what was it that he’d said to Eddie, however many months ago? You owe it to her to be honest, and I know what it’s like to be in love with someone who’s not all the way in, and stick it out? 
Maybe it’s his turn to be on the other side of that. Maybe this time, he’s not all the way in.  
Maybe he is all in, but not here.  
Because when Taylor asked him where he’s going to live, there’s only one place that popped into his head. One place he could picture that truly feels like home. 
“Buck …" Taylor tries to protest, but she doesn’t get any further than his name. 
“Don’t,” he says, finally loosening his grasp on the beer bottle. “I’ll get some stuff together for a few nights, and we can figure out how we’re doing the rest of it another day.” 
“If you’re sure.” Buck can’t figure out the emotion behind Taylor’s words, but she’s not arguing with him. So he steps away from the counter, leaving Taylor behind in the kitchen that never really felt like his. 
He takes the stairs two at a time, up to the loft where he pulls a duffle bag out of the closet. He packs his toiletries, a few shirts, a change of jeans and clean underwear.  
As he’s contemplating whether he should toss a hoodie onto the top of the pile, he slides his phone out of his back pocket and types out a text. 
What’re my two favorite guys up to tonight? 
Move night. Wallace and Gromit, I think. Why? Isn’t it date night in? 
Not so much. Long story, might need a place to crash for a few days. Room for one more, if I bring popcorn? 
Always room for you here.  
Buck replies with a thumbs up and a popcorn emoji. Then he slides the bag strap over his shoulder and takes a deep breath. 
It’s time for him to go home. 
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bwoahtastic · 3 months ago
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Cold hand in warm hand for pup max and momma Charles when max just joined the pack or something like that ?
Charles looked at the painfully small and thin pup sitting on the bathroom floor, huddled in multiple towels. Charles was sitting opposite him, trying to cooe softly at the little boy, who was looking back with wide eyes, just so so scared and unsure of everything that was happening.
Mick came padding back in with a little Ferrari onesie that seemed about Max's size, probably one of the only things in the merchandise store Dan had raided that would fit Max.
"Can I help you get dressed, Max?" Charles asked softly, while Mick kneeled down too to be less intimidating. Max nodded, letting Charles help him dry off and into the soft clothing. Charles tried not to let his scent betray how horiffied he felt seeing Max's ribs stand out against pale, bruised skin.
Charles picked the little one up afterwards, cooing softly as he carried him back into the pack room. Max whined a bit in his arms, seeming overwhelmed at the pack and being a little unsure what to do in Charles's arms, clearly not used to being held. Charles placed him in a soft nest and tucked him in real securely, still cooing as he sat down on the edge of the soft nest.
"Are you comfy like this, Max? Is there anything I can do?" Charles asked softly. He looked at the little hands resting on top of the blanket he had tucked around the boy. Small and pale and thin like the rest of him.
"Am scared." Max sniffled, brows furrowed together. Charles shushed him softly, reaching out to gently take one of Max's tiny hands in his. Max's fingers were still cold, and Charles gently tried to rub them warm.
"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." Charles whispered. "We will all keep you safe." he added. Max sniffled a bit, but then held out his free arm. Charles smiled softly and laid down next to him, one arm wrapped around him to keep him safe without overwhelming him.
"You are safe." Charles repeated, as Max fell asleep against him.
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lightdancer1 · a month ago
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'Oh Grave, Where is Thy Sting', a Sandman fanfic
Hob Gadling stared at the entity that neatly appeared in the New Inn, as if she had just risen out of shadows. Perhaps she had. Life was certainly weirder since he'd taken the plunge with the Lord of Dreams, the Nightmare King (and all those hundreds of other names, it was adorable, really). He was pale, austere, domineering....and melted like a cat given even minor physical affection, let alone what Hob gave him. Yet he was always a figure of Power, with the capital P and there were signs he was more than human even at the most human he seemed.
This woman, dark of skin and with a twinkle in her eye, had a latent sense of it too but if he didn't know her fairly well from Dream's descriptions, he wouldn't have suspected that she was Death.
Hello Hob Gadling, she said with a warm smile and kindly eyes.
She had a haunting beauty, moreso than anything he would see or would ever seen, a beauty that lingered in his mind and was one of the lasting effects of meeting her when living. Even when she clenched her hands and splayed them for a moment, letting herself breathe.
He greeted her in turn and the talk began with a bit of small talk about his job, a few veiled allusions to hers. And then the question that was his, all along, spilled from his lips.
"Why me? Why did you give me this gift? Why was I unlike all other people?"
She smiled, cryptically, as if she'd expected this the entire time and perhaps she had.
"Was this just a way to get me to hook up with your brother?"
Her smile was radiant and her laughter a melody that danced in his heart as he stared at her wide-eyed, as she shook her head.
No, Hob Gadling. It was not about you and my brother. It was not even really about my brother at all.
He blinked.
"Really?"
Dream and I are the closest of our family, we have been through things together that few can be. He knows I have his back, I know he has mine. So it is in that spirit that I say that he can be the most foolish, appalling, self-centered excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this and any other plane at times. He thought, in all truth, that my taking him in the mortal world is always about him. Sometimes it is, it was that day when I found him in the park in London when I was working.
She smiled fondly.
That day was not. In truth, giving you the gift had nothing to do with him. It had everything to do with you.
"Me?"
She nodded, blinking once.
You see you and I have something in common, Hob. We look at life, in its joys and its sorrows, and we see them. In my line of work I see an uncommon share of the sorrows but everyone sees me twice.
Hob blinked and he exhaled.
"Oh." That word was slow and drawn out and she smiled with that lovely smile that left him thinking that it was a wonder that souls could hate her if they saw her.
It's the secret, both my blessing and my curse that I am the most mortal-like of my entire family. It leads to my great frustration in life, that as the one most like mortals I give much to be one, for a century a day. My siblings have never understood it, they treat it like a punishment. Like I need it to remind me of the cost of my job.
She laughed, and for a moment it was a dark and a bitter and an ugly thing.
I don't need those reminders. I was the first one to break under the strain of our responsibilities, and to a point I never really recovered from that, or the shame, or the horror of what I'm asked to do. I am a kindly face to mortals because it is a necessary thing. I am not alone, and they are not alone. No, that was never it. It is that great secret. As the one most like mortals it is not the part of me for which I am named, that I adore. It is the part that is life.
Hob blinked and then he exhaled again.
"So when I said death was a mug's game...."
She nodded.
I saw a kindred spirit. It is a beautiful thing, a lovely thing that you are a voice of reason, and a balance. My family has vast power, little sense, and little real desire for sense in wielding it. We are not the Olympians, but mostly insofar as we have less direct need to influence the worlds of mortals. Not that it stops people, even Dream from time to time.
That was not the intent, it is simply a pleasing thing that I chose well. No, the thing that drew me was someone who could look at life, and not in the sense to 'rage, rage against the dying of the light.'
It is the sense of being master of your fate, captain of your soul. To kneel, bloodied yet unbowed, and then rise, no matter what life throws at you.
Hob nodded. "Well of course. Life can be a terrible thing, and a painful one. That century where I lost everything lingers in my memory as a reminder of that. But even then, at my lowest point, even then...." he gave her a warm smile. "There's always so much more to live for, so much more to see."
Death nodded.
Exactly. You get it. Dying is simple. Living is hard.
He nodded.
"Yep. Dream still doesn't get it."
Her smile was a bit bitter and sad.
They don't. It's the sad part. Dream is lord of stories and of nightmares and of dreams, so he is a part of every person much as all the other siblings I have are, and we are a reflection of mortals....to a point.
He held up her dark hand and tapped it.
No bones. No hood. No scythe. That was an image of grief, of anger. I do have more unpleasant aspects and shades, at points. The rider on the pale horse, Hel of Niflheim, among others. It happens. But that's only a very small part of who I am. Life, in all its complexities, the good and the bad, the sorrowful and the boring, that is what I love. What I live for.
She smiled at him.
To be the most mortal-like immortal being has its drawbacks.
He thought for a moment.
"Dream tells me he can and does send nightmares, they're not just things that happen."
She nodded.
"Isn't it a heady thing to have that kind of power?
For Desire, Dream, Delirium, and Despair certainly. For me?
She shrugged.
I am death, but I am also life. If I wanted power, I have no need for it. For all that lives, and all that dies, is me as I am it. By my breath it lives, by my hands it goes to the Sunless Lands and from them to another fate. Yet, in the end, I do have more choice than the rest of my family. It too has its drawbacks, in the event that some extremely powerful or lucky mortal does me major injury my sphere crashes and they realize too late that the life bit is the one with the real sting. But if I were to be partial, to pick and choose fates of souls even as the most mortal of all beings, I would be something monstrous. Menacing, a figure of terror rightly seen as the monster I am already believed to be.
She grimaced.
Which is why I prefer to focus on the part that is life, on enjoying living with it. And when I heard your words, in that bar, I equally ironically did exercise that choice. I gave you life, Hob Gadling, to do with it what you would. I had hopes that you and my brother would continue to meet, but I had no real control of that, for or about it. My job asks me to make hard, impossible decisions all the time.
So when I see a man, a peasant of England, in the time of the Black Death, who speaks the kind of boasts I've heard not in vainglory, but simply seeing the wonders of the world as well as its sorrows, I couldn't but respond to it. The thought of a true mortal who sees that truth, and will live it so long as he wishes, it gives me hope.
Hob blinked.
But in any event, lest you forget, you have been humanity's ill-starred side far moreso than the nightmare my brother made as that, in truth. That nightmare became a brutish and stunted thing, a thuggish killer and rapist for sport. Nothing unusual, nor is a nightmare itself as much when brightly clad figures can pull planets from their orbits and light stars. You, on the other hand, have been as avid in participating in some of the worst things as well as the good ones.
His gaze lingered on her skin tone and he flushed, pulling at his collar.
"Does that bother you?"
Sometimes. Death blinked slowly. I collected enough souls from that ship to know what it meant and who was taking them. There were a few moments where it did get to me, as it does. There are points like that in the history of all worlds, where life gets to its worst, where mortals slay their own kinds to the tunes of tens or hundreds of millions and even with that kindliness it creaks, it cracks because why wouldn't it? I am grateful I seldom sleep for I would be in the shadow-realm of my brother all the time, if I did. I am on all my mortal days with the things I've seen, from the dawn of reality to where it is now.
She sighed. As I said, to be the most mortal is to have drawbacks, sometimes severe ones. You know the price of dying. Some of my mortal days ended badly, in great pain, and in great fear. My appearance was incentive, not deterrence. But I am neither blessed nor merciful, I simply am. In the good kinds of death and the bad.
"I see," Hob said. And he did, his head dipping. "Not a day goes by that it doesn't haunt me."
Good. Death's word was a glimpse of what she could have been were she the arbitrator and all he could do was nod.
"It does seem kind of simple."
She nodded.
That's because it is, and also because it isn't. There are those who've gained stays from my gifts for worse reasons and have made terrible decisions in it. I will be there for them, in the end. In the end, I shall be last of all things and leave the universe, my function wrapped up and yet I shall still exist, and then I don't know what, if anything, I could be. I could resent that. A part of me does. The one thing I fear beyond all others, what lies beyond. What I am, last of all things, my family gone, the title and responsibilities ended but would the abilities I have? Am I more than that and just locked into what I am now?
She looked at him and the look of understanding in his face was a thing of relief.
So yes, I am grateful you and my brother are together, even if it wasn't the intent. Humanity, and humans, are beings of many facets and contradictions. I see that, in a way none of my siblings do. A blessing and a curse, in that way that shall endure when the stars are cold spheres of iron.
That is what you see, what I saw in you. The mightiest of all things in life, Hob, is not life, or death, or destiny. We are the eldest of the Endless, and yet there are beings that could flatten me with a blink of their eyes and I could do nothing to stop it. A relief, really. It is not the people who pull planets from their orbits, or those of the Fourth World or other spheres. It is a concept, an idea. Hope.
There is no situation so dire, so horrid, so wretched, that in the end hope cannot survive.
She looked into her drink, seeming to stare at her own reflection.
So those who understand that instinctively live, because in you, the rest of us are reminded of the true gifts in life, of what they are, and that life itself, in good and ill alike, is the greatest gift of them all.
Hob spent time that evening just drinking in silence with her after that, letting himself live, as she did. Dream would speak to him in surprise and consternation at learning his sister sought him out, still moreso when Hob spoke to him of some of the things his sister said.
Something in him knew peace at the thought that he wasn't a pawn in the hand of uncaring godlings who'd struck it lucky where so many caught in the games of the Endless did not, that there was no highborn destiny. He had become someone very different from Robert Gadling of 1389, and yet he still was him. And in time, too, he would slowly begin to appreciate that there were some who were men of good fortune enough that answers, when given, were not things of a harsh bluntness, but something to feel relief in. For many, even most, it would not have been true.
He would later ask Dream to extend an invitation to Death to come to the New Inn, even then slowly evolving into what it would one day be, a place where Dreaming and Waking met, where gods and mortals could meet freely, if they wished (sometimes they did, and sometimes they did not) to go there if things weighed her down, or if she just needed someone to talk to. Dream thought on it and after a year passed it.
A month after, a woman walked into his bar and sat down, as he sat at the stool beside her. They shared a small grin at that and they would sit and talk.
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thanosskillet · a month ago
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Νέο tumblr exclusive, κάτι πιο βαρύ και ολοκληρωμένο από τα προηγούμενα. Είναι demo version, θα γίνει άλλο beat και ενδεχομένως να διορθωθούν στίχοι, αλλά απολαύστε το όπως είναι για την ώρα. Θα εκτιμούσα πολύ κάποιο feedback.
Από τον επερχόμενο δίσκο μου "Οι Φανταστικοί μου Φίλοι LP". Produced by Hanto / Rough mix by Thanos Skillet
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nocontextthreebeansaladpod · 3 months ago
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frist-dumblr · 8 months ago
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here’s my idea for a Cortextaur that may appear in the new Crash Bandicoot videogame. Tell me what you think
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aressss1 · a year ago
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I’m Yours
(Technoblade x Reader)
Request:  Alright I have a request, so like monarch techno is pretty cool but what if he had a royal guard and asked them to taste test the food and it practically turned into a date because he just keeps feeding them.
A/N: I had a hard time writing this one, but I hope you like it all the same!
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You did your duty, protecting your lord, the King of the Nether… The one and only Blood God. He didn’t need you by a long shot, he could protect himself, but he chose you as his head knight, his bodyguard. You had come to accept that you would probably just serve as a meat shield to him when the time came and nothing more. This was one of his sleepless nights, and you had to stay by his side. Being head knight meant more responsibilities… And very little sleep.
 You stood by the door of the dining hall, as your king waited for his food. Parts of the blackstone floor were shining red from the light the windows let in. That light shone over the king, as he seemed to be in thought. He held his chin in his hand as he stared off into space. Nights like these weren’t too bad, the King was always quiet… Always in his own head… He intrigued you.
Well… He did more than intrigue you… You spent many overworld moons pining after the hybrid King. He treated you like a dear friend, speaking to you as an ally not as a servant. But that could always be your mind playing tricks on you. So… You settled for servant, ready to lay your life down for him always.
 You tensed, your hand on the hilt of your sword as the doors opened revealing a maid with a silver platter in her hands. Her heels clacked on the blackstone, as she made her way over to the king. Setting the platter in front of him. She curtsied, a blush forming on her face. She was one of the new maids of the castle. His bored eyes settled on her as he waved her off, dismissing her.
 You kept your eyes forward as she left. The sound of her heels receding into the depths of the castle. The king looked at the dome that covered the food on the platter and he removed it, revealing his steaming hot supper. Your body straightened as he called your name.
 “Will you please test this for me?” His golden eyes sought you out and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. “You never know when someone… wants to poison the king.” So… you were now… a taste tester?
 “My lord?” You were confused. “Isn’t that the chef’s job?” You questioned. Oh, to be reduced to nothing more than a… poison detector…
 “I don’t see him out here.” The king kept his eyes on you, as he waved you over.
 “At your command… Sire.” Your words were almost bitter. You wanted to lay your life down for him but dying to poison was not an honorable way to die for your king… Making your way to the table he motions for you to sit down, and you do. He sat at the head of the long dining room table and you sat at his right side. You lean forward, grabbing his utensils, you start carving off a piece of the steak that lay on the platter. You take your bite of his steak, feeling his eyes watching you. You swallow, enjoying the taste. Nothing seemed amiss, so you put his utensils down next to the plate.
 “What about the rest of the meal?” His words were soft, as he motioned toward the bread, the potatoes, and the carrots on his plate. “Can’t afford to have the King die now, can we?” You deadpanned, was he… taunting you? You weren’t sure you appreciated that… You looked down at the seemingly harmless food in front of the both of you.
 “No, my lord…” You grumbled taking his fork in hand once again. Stabbing the fork into the carrot, the king’s eyes stayed on you as you raised the carrot to your mouth, you were starting to feel self-conscious… But this was for the safety of the king, it was your duty to protect him. When you had tasted everything that was left on his plate you pushed the plate back to him, standing up from your chair.
 “Did I dismiss you?” Your king's voice rang out in the dining hall and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You had heard that tone of voice from him before and while you were glad it was never directed at you, well… before now… Why in the hell were you so aroused when it was??? You shook your head sitting back down in your chair slowly. He rang a bell signaling the maid from before, asking her to bring another platter of food. He watches her leave before his eyes slide over to you.
 “Now…” His eyes settled on you, almost in a demanding way. “Since it seems that you do not like the food that I have to offer you… I’ll let you off easy. Your punishment shall be you finishing that plate of food since you don’t seem to like it.” You looked up at him quizzically, questioning him. His cheeks burned a deep red, and you let out a laugh, falling back in your chair.
 “Forgive me my lord but… Did you plan this?” The way the King looked away told you, yes… This was exactly what he was trying for. He was silent for a few seconds, his eyes eventually meeting yours.
 “…It’s been on my mind for a while… I just… couldn’t find the time to ask you. I couldn’t get you alone to ask you…” The king looked away, embarrassed. “Being king is busy enough, but you’re always workin’ on ways to protect the castle, I chose you for that reason… You are an amazin’ fighter, fightin’ by your side has and always will be a pleasure.” Your heart pounded, and butterflies made their rounds in your stomach.
 “You couldn’t have just requested an audience with me?” Techno shook his head, as he leaned up onto the table, his eyes leveling with yours.
 “Too many pryin’ eyes.” He looked down at his hands. “The… voices quiet down when I’m with you…” His cheeks burned as he took to studying his hands too closely, long nails tapping at the mahogany table. “I feel at peace with you.” The voices… He told you about his voices, made you swore not to tell anyone, for only you and Phil knew about them. It could be used as a weakness against the Nether King. You felt honored that he would even tell you.
 “My lord?” You bent forward trying to catch his eyes.
 “It is a knight’s duty to die for their king…” He didn’t meet your gaze, “I don’t want that for you.” Heartrate rising, you grip the arms of the chair you sat in. “The king isn’t supposed to want to die for the knight should the time ever rise...” It seemed like Techno had a lot of inner turmoil he was working through. “I don’t want to lose you.”
 With that, Techno stood abruptly, the chair letting out a groan against the blackstone flooring as he stands, he quickly kneels in front of you, just like you knelt in front of him when you were knighted. His pink hair and red cape pooling around him as he bows his head to you. You… were stunned. How were you supposed to react to this? Gods forbid anyone see this right now.
 “I may be a king, but that doesn’t mean anythin’, not when it comes to provin’ my worth to you.” Techno let out a shaky breath. “I pledge myself to you, mind, body and soul… If you’ll have me?” His eyes flit to your sword that hung on your hip. “Strike me down if I am unworthy.” You swore you could melt at this scene.
 “Techno…” The word felt strange on your tongue, you had never called him by his name before, well, not to his face anyway. Your hands slowly make their way to his face, the pads of your fingers swiping over his scarred face, as you lift his chin to look in his eyes. Without a word, you lean forward in your chair, the creak of the wood echoing out through the room as you did so. You pressed your lips to his, letting out a soft groan. This felt amazing, like the two of you were made for each other.
 You went forward off of the chair, your knees hitting the floor as you pressed yourself deeper into him and his kiss, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, the size of his body enveloping you. Tangling your fingers into his hair you felt tears springing forth. This man, who had pulled you out of battles to heal you with the finest potions, who treated you as an equal rather than a peasant, really thought he was unworthy of you. Your head spun at the thought.
 You pulled back for air, leaning your forehead against his. Eyes locked as the two of you regained your breath, your fingers still entangled in his locks. You loved the way his hands felt as they glided over your form. You were sure it would feel better once your armor was off, but for now this would have to do.
 “Be mine?” Techno looked for confirmation, and when you nodded his grip tightened on you. “Even with a whole kingdom to take care of?”
 “I’m yours,” You whispered it in his ear as you rested your head on his chest, taking in his scent. He was everything you wanted and more. The door of the dining hall opened once more and that was when the two of you split from each other standing from your position on the floor. The maid from before, taking note of both your hands intertwined in the others. The both of you were nothing but shy smiles as you moved your seat closer to his and you both ate the meal in front of you. Random conversation playing in the wind.
 There were preparations to be made. Changes to be had, but that was fine, just as long as you stood by your king… Technoblade.
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