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Day 3 - Blog Posts
DAY THREE Emmet appreciation month (June 2024)
[Battle]
There´s static in the air, thick and suffocating in the way it crackles along Emmet´s skin, leaving the hairs along his arms raised and the skin under them uncomfortable.
The anticipation is almost as stifling as the air and as Emmet cranes his neck, looking up and up and up, still not catching the creatures eyes but feeling the way it´s awareness looms, washing over him like a fever all the same.
This is it.
Clutching Chandelure´s Pokéball firmly in his left hand he hesitates, but chastises himself in the same motion.
It´s now or never. And with a red chain nestled in his right jacket pocket and his mind firmly made up Emmet is prepared to fight a God.
Shatter
Event: Angstpril 2025 ; hosted by @chaos-company Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Castiel x Dean Winchester | Destiel Rating: T Tags: My boyfriend said it ouch in a good way (he said I can quote him on it)
It will forever be one of Dean’s biggest regrets. Not saying anything, taking the time to process what was actually said, and not responding—not reacting in any way. Cas had said the words so softly that Dean wasn’t sure what it was, until the words branded themselves in his brain. Something he’d never be able to wash off or forget.
I love you
That was what left Cas’ lips. He could feel the anguish from the angel more than he could hear it. The words spoken as a last resort. His way of letting Dean into the deepest parts of him yet unexplored by any mortal being. Parts that Dean had subliminally been begging for over the years they’d spent together.
Little echoes of Cas’ voice lingered, when the man himself didn't. Dean tried to convince himself that it wasn’t Cas’ choice. That nobody could have foreseen him being swallowed into Hell as the conclusion to the story, and Dean knew. He couldn’t go back there. He had a one free access pass to Crowley’s domain and he had already used it.
A year before when a demon pulled Cas away from Dean. Again in a situation just like he was faced with right then.
Dean could hear the crack when he fell to his knees in that dusty warehouse. The place that was forever immortalised as where their story began—and ended. No interlude, no body of work. Just Cas saying those wretched words that Dean had waited for. Begged for. Dreamed about.
He stared at the spot where Cas was standing only moments before.
Saw the tears that glimmered as he said the words an angel was banned to speak. But, for Dean, he let go of propriety yet again.
The moment was akin to a heated blade searing its way into Dean’s stomach. On the inside there would barely be a mark to show what he had gone through, but god. The pain.
His throat felt raw and it was only when he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder that he realised it’d been him screaming. Yelling out for an angel no longer there, a miracle that was never his for the taking.
A prayer that wouldn’t get answered.
“I love you too.” Words that he whispered so soft, with only himself and Sam as witnesses to the weighted statement. One that Cas would never hear.
And what tore Dean apart was that now, with only Crowley and kin for company, Cas would never know how loved he really was. How highly ranked he really was in Dean’s head.
That all the sacrifices and deviance from his path had never been for nought.
That he was who Dean turned to in times of need and elation.
“I LOVE YOU.” The second time he used all of his strength to scream. All the feelings that he’d bottled up under the guise of needing to get the job done, and that they weren’t ready, flowed into his voice. And for only a second, he could pretend that Cas heard it.
That he wasn’t too late, and that Cas would come back.
For a second. He could believe that it would be alright.
Day three: Hands All Over
A/N: Ever since seeing a guitar in Ressler’s apartment I have always been convinced that Donald is a blues-guitarist. I’ve never been able to see him differently. Enjoy!
_______
Red keeps a recording of Donald’s guitar playing in his desk.
It’s a silly keepsake, one he has been tempted to trash a few times over. But he can never quite bring himself to do so. How he came about such a keepsake is not exactly a thrilling story, but he does remember it clearly.
Once a long time ago, Red came into the habit of bugging the home of the FBI Agent who was currently assigned to catching him. It was a guilty pleasure. That delicious satisfaction when he could drop events, names and dates of their lives like hand grenades to shake their foundations.
They always took a moment to recover. Sputtering and stuttering to get themselves going again, by which point Red was long gone. He missed those days.
But then Ressler came along. The same routine was followed, a bug slipped into his home where he wouldn’t see it. Activated only when there was activity, or movement nearby and everything was recorded. And Red had picked up excellent facts, good little titbits, to spit out when Donald was in front of him.
But it never shook or rattled him like the others. Donald, sturdy like marble, simply took it on the nose, as if he’d half-way expected Red to know these things.
Needless to say, it sucked the fun right out of it.
He wanted to cut off the bug. Leave it dead and quiet in Donald’s apartment, what’s the point if Red couldn’t have any fun? When next the bug crackled to life over the speak and the recording clicked alive, he had stood to turn it off. No point in listening to the boring life of an Agent when he had better things to do.
“I’m not very good…” you’re at least a decent pain in the ass, Donald.
“Just play already!” He paused, his hand hovering over the volume.
“Alright, alright!” a long breath of silence, then the raspy voice of a guitar started playing over the speaker. At first it was tender, almost timid, as if he was apologizing for playing. But the notes were sweet, a blues tone with a warm resonance. There was no singing, just the soft ship-cha, rhythm carrying through the song. He could so easily imagine Donald’s hands, so quick to punch, shoot or kill, tenderly gripping the neck of his guitar. His other picking the strings with a tenderness he would never see in person. He was surprised to find he wanted to.
The song grew in strength and voice, and when it finally trickled to a stop, Red found himself sitting next to the speaker completely enraptured.
“That was amazing!” Audrey squealed.
“Thanks, it –“ Red cut off the volume, and immediately stopped the recording. He removed the tiny cassette, still more reliable than USB sticks in his opinion, and shoved it in his pocket. Later, when Dembe came home he would ask him to remove the speaker, they had no more use for it.
Years later he still has the cassette, tucked away in the corner of whatever desk he currently owns. He doesn’t listen to it often, but every now and then he slips it into the cassette player, sits back and listens to the raspy notes a blues song. Perfectly imagining Donald’s hands around the neck of his guitar.
@theblacklistrareshipsweek
Day 3, “Hands All Over”
Now Kiss and Make up
@theblacklistrareshipsweek
Day 3, "Hands All Over"
Red had to give emergency medical aid to Ressler in Anslo Garrick which involved a lot of touching. But these two find excuses for physical touch throughout their relationship. Whether it's slapping on handcuffs, a pat on the shoulder, gentle care or a full-body hug, our #Resslington pair just seem to get more touchy as the years roll by.
I had to!
(Not my gifs. Credit to the original gif artist/s.)
#donald ressler #raymond reddington #resslington #the blacklist rare ships week #TBLRSW
@theblacklistrareshipsweek, Day 3 “Hands All Over”.
Pain is love, pain is love Drag me into the drain of your heart
“Pain Is Love” by Spiritual Front
@theblacklistrareshipsweek, Day 3 “Hands All Over”.
We are the same endless desire, devotion like emptiness I’m so in love with you, desperately in love with you Devoted to you as I
“Devoted To You” by Spiritual Front
@theblacklistrareshipsweek
Day 3, "Hands All Over"
There's no denying it: Whenever Donald and Tom got into a fight, it was anything goes and LOTS of physical contact. And look closely at frame #6: Tom had to get in the last "hit", the way he swatted Donald's arm while walking away. You guys just can't keep your paws off each other, can you? #Tessler
#donald ressler #tom keen #tessler #theblacklistrareshipsweek #TBLRSW
(Not my gifs. Credit to the original gif maker/s.)
Day 3. “Hands All Over”, Resslington. Partially whump, but everyone’s seen the show, eh?
Day 3. “Hands all over”. Resslington.
Does anyone have a hand kink? Because I do.
Day 3: “Hands All Over”
They hold hands? Their fingers brush for an instant? Or they are hungry for touch?
What about both? I love all the ways they love each other. The gentle touches and the support, the desperate way they hold on when they’ve missed each other. There’s so much in ever movement, in every touch.
The Blacklist Rare Ships Appreciation Week
Day 3: “Hands All Over” - They hold hands? Their fingers brush for an instant? Or they are hungry for touch?
Ressler’s hand-cuffs. They hold hands. Literally. And deserve a mention.
Good morning, fellas!
It’s Day 3: “Hands All Over”. Brush up your memory here: FAQs|Guidelines|Daily Themes|Ship Ideas|
Something to set your creative mood for the day by our glorious host, @yddraigwyllt
***
Samar/punching bag
Punch, punch, punch!
Inhale, exhale, inhale again: small fists throw punches into the bag full of sand; the bag spins, the chain rattles, echoing all over the empty gym this early morning.
Punch, punch, punch!
Inhale, exhale—Samar lets a shallow breath, but her lips curve in a wide smile: she’s in a perfect shape, and she knows it. No one in a whole unit cannot compete with her—not now, not ever.
Punch, punch, punch!
She throws her hair back, straightens her shoulders, and wraps fingers of her right hand around the wrist of the left one. She smiles—she almost smells the hot sand of Negev, sweat, and gunpowder.
When the time comes, she will be ready to kick the ISIS’ ass.
***
WE TRACK: #the blacklist rare ships week, #TBLRSW (#tblrsw).
Tuesdays are no better than Mondays: getting up early, trying to wake up your brainbox, scrambling your brain for coherent response… Well, at least, here they call Tuesday the 2nd Monday.
We’re hoping your Tuesday morning is much better than Don’s ;)
Good morning, fellas, and let’s roll!
Day 3: “Hands All Over”
They hold hands? Their fingers brush for an instant? Or they are hungry for touch?
Confused? Brush up your memory here: FAQs|Guidelines|Daily Themes|Ship Ideas|
WE TRACK: #the blacklist rare ships week, #TBLRSW (#tblrsw).
I had very little energybtoday, soooo injust did this verrryyyyy messy band AU Martin today, not broud of it, and it was drawn on my phone.. but it exists.. and it firsts the magtober prompt, ill probably redraw this when i have energy but heres this.
@emerald-emerlad
Daily Doodles- Day 3- 18/04/24
I'm kinda tired and kept forgetting to draw today. She's my second attempt. I tried doing too much again, but finally decided to actually do the 'doodle' part of this thing 😆
Her hair is my favorite part
The tag for this is #agdoodles
Finally did somthing with this : D plus a lil bonus I had sketched up from before
Chilchuck sitting on Laios shoulder like a parrot translating social ques for him
Temporary
Event: Angstpril 2025 by @chaos-company Fandom: Arcane Ship: Ekko x Jinx | Timebomb Rating: M Tags: MCD Beta: @crypt-exe
She still had his blood on her hands.
She…
Still had his blood….
On her. Cooling. Sticky. Dripping…
…down her face.
He isn’t moving anymore. Limp. He isn’t moving. He…he isn’t breathing.
She’d learned that long ago. People had to breathe. Human’s need air in their lungs. She scrambles to her bruised knees. He’d bruised them when he pushed her out of the way. He’d shoved her. “YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!” she screamed at him. Leaning over him. His eyes were open. Staring into the void. “You pushed me asshole. You don’t push ladies!”
Hot droplets leaking from her fierce violet eyes lands on him. Maybe they’d warm him up. Like he’d do with her. Wrap her in warm hugs. She’d never told him he gives good hugs. She’d shrug them off. That’s what she was supposed to do. Never let them get close.
She was a Jinx after all.
“C’mon. You gotta get up. They’re gonna find us.” She whispers. “Ekko. C’mon. You gotta get up!”
They were walking home. He’d taken her for ice cream.
All she had asked was “what did it taste like?”
She forgot to warn him. She put in new traps. She’d had dreams. Bad dreams. Nightmares. They followed her. The eyes. They. she had…to. She had to put the traps in. Nobody could…find them. They were precious. He.
He is precious. Worth protecting.
He stayed with her. It’s dangerous with her. HE HAD TO BE PROTECTED!!!
He took one step off the beaten path. One step. boom.
It was a small pop. Barely a marble hitting the ground. But….now Ekko….
She could fix it. She…she can fix him. Stitch him back together. Make him one piece again. She’d tell him she loved his hugs. She…there’s still time.
“BLINK IF YOU CAN HEAR ME!” She screams. She pounds her fists against his chest, but it’s caving in. She kisses him. His lips are cold. Breathes into him.
Nothing. Stillness. Silence.
If he didn’t push her out of the way. If she’d told him. If she was a second faster. Her ears are ringing.
Silence.
Not….not even…an..echo…
Not
Not even. An. But his hugs… Not. Even. An. Ekko.
“I love you.” She says for the first time. “Come home.” she says for the last.
Inktober: Day 3
Triangle spooky kitty
Had a hard time trying to come up with something I’d like to draw for this prompt
Day 3: seafaring society/ sky society
Shou’s design is based off a lionfish cause they look cool
I swear I need to find a consistent art style. Anyway here’s the two losers trying (and failing) at trying to kiss for the first time lol
Day 3: firsts/love languages
