#*gritting my teeth* I LOVE DRAWING AND EVEN THOUGH I AM NOT AS GOOD AS OTHERS I STILL HAVE MY OWN STRENGTHS AND IT IS STILL BEAUTIFUL

[spineless-lobster]

I wish I could slather my brain all over the page and then my drawing would look as good as I imagined it

[weirdmorefics]

benedict with a younger sister who he catches at one of the parties he goes to talking to a man who has less than innocent intentions with her and she’s oblivious and just thought it would be a fun place to drink bcs that’s what she’d heard when was out at the park earlier that day

A/N- Sorry for it taking a while I really am starting to believe in the fanfiction curse. I also made up the seedy guy who had unhonorable intentions in this story just an FYI.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

TW- Sexism

Word Count- 1,653

Summary- Benedict goes to a local gathering of artists and happens to find his darling younger sister enjoying the company of some of Benedict's unsavory friends.

Unhonorable Intentions

I am a rake. I take no shame in this fact. I am allowed to be a free spirit it is my birthright as the second-born son. No obligations no responsibility. I would loathe to be in Anthony's shoes. Though Y/n seems to have made it her mission for me to walk in his shoes tonight. What is she even doing in a place like this? Last I knew she preferred literature over the arts. Yet she hangs on a man's arm as he explains his next work. in progress that he is sure will be his Magnus opus. I glare at them hopefully sister notices my gaze burning into her side so I can continue my night as if nothing happened. However, when I glare at them I realize who the man she is talking to is and now I know there is no way I can continue my night. Unfortunately said man felt my gaze instead of Y/n and smiled and pulled her forcefully along with him.

"Bridgerton! It's grand to see you! We've missed you at the club!" Alexander shakes my hand roughly and I return it with an insincere smile. "Saw you eyeing my new muse, I regret to inform you I don't share." God, I want to gag as I know what he does with his so-called muses. Y/n smiles at being called his muse she does love it when I draw her but this man does not have honorable intentions. He and I have very different definitions of what a muse is. My idea of a muse is someone who inspires you to create, Alexander's idea of a muse is a woman to sleep with and then abandon.

I straighten back to assert my taller posture over the man, "And I regret to inform you your so-called muse is my darling baby sister." I look down at her with demanding eyes, "I do say it is time we get back to Mother. Isn't Y/n?"

She looks taken aback by my tone, "What do you mean? I just got here."

Alexanders' grin increases tenfold, "A Bridgeton! Benedict I had no idea you were hiding such a beauty to yourself! If I was her brother I'd never let her out of the house either." This man is truly revolting the artist community here is unfortunately very small and I have to find a way to remain civil.

Y/n smiles, "So you know Alexander? That's too bad really I was hoping to learn some different art techniques from him to impart to you! I had no idea you knew such a famous artist!"

I grit my teeth, "Famous now Alexander are we?"

This flusters him for a moment but he recovers quickly, "Aren't all artists famous in a different sort of way?"

I want to laugh at such an absurd response… sadly Y/n is far too naive for her own good.

"I agree wholeheartedly! Benedict is the most famous artist in our family! I'm quite jealous of his talent I must admit! It makes sense he would be at such a regal event filled with so much talent. To be truthful I overheard this soiree would have fabulous drinks on this morning's promenade and couldn't resist," she gushes over my talents and breaks my heart for not being more present in my siblings' lives.

Anthony just seemed to have it all handled, Daphne was married off, Eloise could certainly hold her own ground, Francessa was so busy with her studies, and Mother had Gregory and Hycanith under control. Even though Y/n is Eloise's twin she couldn't be any more different she believes the best in everyone and is too quick to forgive in my opinion and Alexander is taking advantage of that and I will not let that stand.

I smile down at Y/n, "Y/n you downplay your own talents no need to associate with a man whose talents consist of preying on women through false pretenses."

Her eyes widen to the size of quarters, "Benedict you can not make such outrageous claims!"

I pretend to not know exactly what she is talking about, "You mean your talents? Your poetry talent is outrageous and that's not a claim it's just a fact."

She blushes at the compliment but for some asinine reason still wants to defend Alexander. Though it seemed her brain could not keep up with the unusual compliment from me and the unflattering words I spoke about Alexander she just stuttered unintelligible anger, shock, and joy all marking her face. Alexander on the other hand was just fuming red.

"First you insult me Bridgerton then you demean poetry as a genre by encouraging a woman to write it." he snarls.

I have never seen Y/n turn so quickly and before anyone in the room knows what's happening a resounding slap is heard over all the chatter and everyone turns to the noise. Alexander's eye is twitching and a red welt in the shape of my sister's hand is forming on his face. He glares at her with murderous eyes but she holds her head high I have never seen her this determined and it makes me wonder what else I missed while she was growing up and I was galavanting around with men like Alexander.

She points an angry finger at him like Mother would when she would scold us, "Gentleman like yourself actually I wouldn't even call men like you gentleman but that's beside the point. Men like you say women are too emotional to do anything but care for the home. Poetry is all about emotion it's supposed to make you feel something like the art you make, or apparently don't make from what I just learned from Benedict's side comment. I would also like to remind you who is in charge of our country or rather what sex they are?"

All eyes are on us and Alexander looks like he might strangle Y/n with his two hands if the vein bulging out of his forehead is any indicator.

"Oh and by the way when I complimented your line work on your latest piece I was lying it was shit but you know how men can be so emotional I didn't want to hurt your feelings," she fake pouted. This is definitely not the young sister I once knew she may still be naive but she has now learned to use her talent with words as a knife.

Alexander's arm shoots to roughly grab her but I am quick to block, "I'm Alexander but we must be going. It was so nice talking to you as always. I would definitely take my dear sister's words under advisement to spend more time working on your line art." I then pull him very closely into my body and if anyone hadn't seen the previous incident they would have thought it was just two chaps hugging. I whisper, "Less time with lines of ladies and coke you might find yourself able to make straight lines. And if I ever hear you laid a hand on my sister I will kill you myself." I roughly release him and he scrambles backwards ungracefully as all eyes on him.

I link arms with Y/n, "Come on we must really be going now."

Once we make it outside away from prying eyes she quickly bursts into sobs, "Gods what have I done! I was just so angry he'd judge me just based on my sex. God, what if Lady Whistledown writes about me!" She starts pacing with her hands on her forehead and this is the Y/n I am all too familiar with, " Oh God what if Mama reads it! What if I ruin the Bridgerton name? Anthony will never forgive me!"

I clap and quickly gain her attention back, "You certainly won't be the first Bridgerton featured in Lady Whistledown and I am certain you will not be the last."

"Not helping!' She shouts back.

"No one will be mad you stood your ground… in fact, I am quite proud of you."

Her eyes study me, "Are you serious? I just slapped your friend in a soiree full of your peers."

"Anthony was more of an acquaintance," I add.

She rolls her eyes, "That is not the point!"

I sigh, "Yes, I am proud. You defended your honor and didn't need my help to do so. Though I am sure any of your brothers would be there in a heartbeat to defend it including me."

She smiles, "You're proud of me."

"I am not saying it again," I state.

she starts to repeat you're proud of me in a sing-songy voice.

"My pride in you is diminishing and my worry is growing. I think I will be around more often seems like Anthony isn't keeping a watchful enough eye on you if he let you go to a seedy event like this."

She tilts her head, "But you were at the event?"

"Exactly I only attend seedy events, though it appears now I must reform. Think of me has your second Anthony," maybe having responsibilities won't be so bad if I get to see Y/n chew out more men like Alexander.

She groans, "I don't want another Anthony how will I ever do anything fun."

"That's the point Y/n," I smile.

She groans, "I hope Lady Whistledown writes you into the story and makes you sound dreadful."

"As long as she writes how daring and smart my younger sister is we will be on good terms," I smile as she groans again at her failed attempt to get under my skin.

"Thank you, I guess," she responds.

I may be late in helping my siblings but at least they all still have some more growing to do and I plan to be there for all of it.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(For your lovely rollo event.)

Rollo, how do you feel about children? Either just in general or perhaps.. if you would ever want to be a father in the future?

Like Fire, Hellfire.

“Children?”

He handled the word as though it were a skunk—innocent and harmless for now but primed to spray at the first hint of danger. A muscle in his face ticked. It was though he wished to shift into a different emotion but hadn't yet decided which one.

Handkerchief out, Rollo sucked in a breath through his teeth. The usual disgust or disapproval was not present in full force. Today, it was tempered by hesitance as he tip-toed around the subject.

"They have the capacity to be rambunctious. Like fire, difficult to tame. I’m not certain I can match their energy," he said vaguely. “The children in the City of Flowers are free-spirited, and that tends to result in acts of mischief. Whether their pranks and games disturb public peace depends on the time and place. I'm not fond of the instances when they do."

A slight grimace crossed his features. "There was once an incident when a boy blew hard into a magically charmed handkerchief, and the noise it produced startled the baker at the cafe I was frequenting. He had just pulled out a fresh batch of croissants from the oven. The croissants ended up all over the floor... What a waste of perfectly good food. The baker, too, was quite upset, as you can imagine."

"What happened to the boy?"

"Ah, him. He attempted to abscond from the scene of the crime. In his rush to escape, he paid no attention to his surroundings and collided with me." Rollo waved a hand. "The baker's rage was upon him in an instant. The boy was shaking like a leaf in the wind—he grasped onto my robes to keep himself upright.”

Rollo drew out a sigh that ended in a small smile. “I managed to smooth things over with the baker, though I also spoke with the boy and had him apologize. One must atone for one’s crimes—that lesson was surely instilled in him that day.”

"Aw, it was nice of you to step in and speak on behalf of the little guy." You found yourself smiling as well. Even though Rollo-san always has this stern air about him… "You really have a soft spot for kids, huh?”

His frown quickly returned. "No, I wouldn't say that. I was merely holding the boy accountable for his actions. Children can so easily be led astray without proper instruction and moral guidance. Who is to say he wouldn’t be a repeat offender if he was let off the hook?”

"Someone's in denial," you said in a teasing singsong. “It’s okay to confess that you’re good at taking care of kids, you know.”

“… I am not,” he insisted. “I am most content observing the children go about their simple days. I do not wish to take a larger part in their lives beyond that.”

A terrifying thought nipped at him from the dark crevices of his mind.

I don’t have a right to.

If his heart were a house, then a window had been thrown open, letting the outside in. A hole opened in the dark, and incriminating light rushed to fill it.

A flower of pain blossomed in his chest, its thorns driving deep into his flesh. The blood that rose to the surface was both hot and cold. Burning scorn, icy remorse.

A deadly duo.

Spiraling.

I wasn't able to protect the one that mattered most of all. My magic came too late. I'm in no position to be a big brother, let alone a father, a grandfather, an uncle, a guardian of any sort…!

I’m not worthy.

Rollo gritted his teeth. His soul ablaze, his mind jumbled with emotions running high. He pushed back with teeth and nails.

It’s not my fault. I’m not to blame!! The one who cast this flame is…!

“Rollo-san?”

You were staring at him, concern seeping into your eyes. Curiosity, too, had bloomed there. It was the same sort of expression one makes at a a stray on the side of the road. Sorry for it, but uncertain about drawing near to check its condition.

He gasped—realizing he had been making a most frightening face. Rearranging his features back into some semblance of calm, he cleared his throat.

“… Suffice to say, it is impossible in this current state of affairs for any child to grow up safe and free of sin. Around every bend and corner, there is temptation of magic calling out to them. How cruel!” he lamented pityingly. “The poor things, like lambs led to the slaughter.”

You shuddered at the gruesome image—human children like lambs.

Poor things, echoed your head. Poor Rollo, echoed your heart, thinking such things.

“Until I can bring about that magic-free world into fruition, I cannot commit my efforts toward any other endeavors,” he concluded. “A world without all the pain and suffering of this one… I intend to see my goal through to the very end. That is my utmost priority.”

A fairer world for all.

For the children.

For him.

[strobichie]

just sae.

♡⸝⸝ summary: poor you decided to replay ddlc, but something seems wrong... why is monika sae?

little note: bachira is sayori, rin is natsuki, and isagi is yuri!!

your perspective:

i had recently gotten a new computer, there are so many things i still need to work with and customise to my liking.

so, to cure my boredom, i'm installing ddlc again and replaying it!

my favourite character is natsuki, i absolutely loved how adorable and relatable she just is. she reminded me of one of the kids i babysat.

after installing the win files i extracted them all and started the game up, as usual, i see the 4 dokis on the main screen on startup.

i entered my name of choice and started the game ---

wait, bachira??? FROM BLUE LOCK??

why was he sayori? not gonna lie, his sprites are really cute, but how..??

i re-checked the website i downloaded the game from but it displayed the 4 dokis there and there was nothing wrong..

huh, why am i being scared?

i should be grateful, honestly.

i've been blessed by the gods above!! for once i'm fucking lucky!

no way was i gonna pass up the opportunity to interact with my favourite anime characters especially since they somehow ended up in my favourite childhood game..!

i wonder who natsuki, yuri, and monika would be, though?

this is interesting! as i progress even more reading the dialogues and clicking on the chat box, after a few minutes of suffering i finally got to the literature club with bachira!

"seriously, a girl? way to be a killjoy." rin... RIN?!?!?!?!?!

OH MY GOD RIN IS SO HOT? HIS ATTRACTIVENESS SCALE WENT TO 100 TO 1000 SO QUICK!!

wait.. could that mean ---

ISAGI IS YURI!! YES!! MY FAVOURITES ALL IN ONE ROOM!!

i hope monika is kaiser or even better, anri..!!

gosh this got me feelin' so giddy and chipper in the early fucking morning..

i skipped a few of the dialogues, and abruptly stopped when a certain person came into view.

...sae? really?

what an eyesore. i hate sae, of all people, why sae?

sure he was similar to monika, but only in appearance. kaiser or anri could have been able to fulfill this role.

i sighed in annoyance, at least i have rin and the others...

i continuously skipped many dialogues and had finally gotten to the part where sayori, or in this situation bachira, hangs himself..

right, this was a horror game after all. did i really forget about the main plot?

i stared at the screen with an obvious frown. rin and isagi are next..

and the person behind all this was saeshit. ugh, seriously... well, good thing i can just delete his files at any given time.

progressing through the story even further, i got a special poem and cringed at the 'drawing'. it was bachira hanging in a humorous manner.

this was unfortunate.

i clicked on the chat box endlessly, wanting to speedrun to the moments of all my favourite characters deaths..

seeing rin crack his neck and isagi stab himself looking like a crazed maniac broke my heart. good things don't last.. this will probably be the last time i'll ever be able to play this version of the game.

then, here sae was, fuck was he smiling for?

"let me take a quick one of rin's cupcakes, these such are really good for a brother so shitty and nasty." i scoffed and gritted my teeth in anger, sae was clearly the asshole in their brother-ship.

i was met face-to-face with sae, i pursed my lips and stared at my computer screen.

"it's nice to talk to you even if it's by a dialogue box." is this even real?

"i know that you're thinking: is this legitimate? to answer your question, yes it is. i became self aware after everything in that god damn manga and anime called blue lock, i felt sick and tired of not being able to show up in the manga after a long period of time. somehow, i found a way to break the barrier between the fictional animanga world and reality as you call it." that was a mouthful. he was pretty talkative now. my burning hatred for sae cooled down a bit as he spoke more ---

"i found this 'cutesy romance horror' game and it had all the things i needed in order to cross over to the real world. this version of the game only exists on your desktop, {user}. is {user} even your name? are you even a girl?" he shot me a confused expression.

"honestly, i don't care anymore. even i started falling in love with you. i thought i wasn't capable of love, just like the original character monika, i fell in love with you." this sent a shiver down my spine, i sweat-dropped and continued reading his dialogues.

"you read that right, i love you. even if i'm not real, i love you. i won't ever let you leave me. i'll kill you even if you think of it." he coldly stated and i opened my file explorer, ready to delete his character file --- huh.. why couldn't i delete it?

"i'm disappointed, why would you wanna try to delete me? i love you, you should be grateful i love you." but i hated sae, i hate him!

"i've been practicing for a while, i think i can finally break the laws of physics and rules of nature between our worlds." uhm, does he even know what the fuck's he saying?

"i'll see you soon, goodbye {name}. i love you." HOW DID HE GET MY NAME? DID HE HACK INTO MY COMPUTER BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK..?!?!?!

i was scared shitless, jesus christ, just what did he mean by all that? i force shut down my computer and rolled to my bed covering myself in my blankets. time to go back to sleep after that eventful experience.

short little fic, should i make a part two?

finally made a part 2!

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me - Chapter 3

Not so fun conversation topics for two total strangers; Can June put two and two together?

We have officially passed the og comic so this is all uncharted water (though I would love to draw this out eventually!)

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word count: 1116

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, Dehumanization

Aedes stared up at the looming woman before him, her apology- no- her admission hanging heavy in the air. Her answer hit him like ice; both chilling him to the bone and freezing him in place. She admitted it. He was trapped, the weight of her admission holding him in place... and yet there he stood, cornered, but still free from her grasp. 

"Then what?" He growls. The sound of his own voice grates on him; for all the raw anger in his voice, he hates that he can still hear his own desperation slipping through. 

" I.. I don't know.” She bit her lip. His skin bristled at the sight of the woman's teeth. He watches as she grows uncomfortable. Good. “It's not like I planned what to do…” 

He snorted. She didn't even know what she wanted to do with him? Catching for the sake of what?? Just wanting?? Was he that fucking insignificant? Was this some sort of sick fun? Just a game of cat and mouse? She couldn't even just be bothered to reach out and grab him- instead just prolonging the inevitable. His hands shook, claws digging into the meat of his palms as he clenched his fists. Her nonchalant attitude fed into his growing nausea. He could feel the blood he'd so recently drank rising up in his throat. Her answers terrified him. 

"And if you catch me," despite being cornered, he made sure to emphasize the word if, "would you ever let me go?"

Genuine shock seemed to dash across her features at his words. Her expression softened, as did her voice,

"O-Of course!" It was strange. She sounded… almost remorseful. "Look, I'm not…I'm sorry, I'm not trying to hold you hostage- like that’s obviously wrong- it's just… this is weird, okay? You're in my house- my bed!” 

It takes all of his willpower and probably some years off of his life to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. If you know it's wrong, why apologize ?? Just stop!?   He grits his teeth. If she didn't care enough not to hold him prisoner in this stupid corner then why would she care enough to let him go?

“Of course?” He didn’t believe her, but he played along, counting his blessings that he remained out of her grasp for now,  "So… if I let you quell your curiosity," He says, unable to keep the snide tone from his voice, "would I no longer be your hostage? Would you let me go?" 

"I admit, that wasn't really the best wording-"

"Would you?" His voice, though fearful, is firm. 

To his shock, she seems to shrink back at his tone. She nods. 

"I… I'd just like answers…" She states quietly, her voice nearly a whisper. He narrows his eyes. Fuck. What was he supposed to say?? The moment she puts two and two together she’ll- He shook his head, frustrated. He needed a plan. An idea. Anything. His chest tightened as his mind spun. What was he supposed to do? Why did he have to tell her anything in the first place? Did she just expect him to act like a dog and sit and speak on command? The thought grated against his pride. He grit his teeth. She’d already told him to stay. 

“And what?” He spits, “I’m just supposed to talk because you tell me "speak" ? Am I a pet or a person to you??" He winces at the bitter venom he tastes in his words. She holds all the cards. He shouldn’t outright try to provoke her, but his mind is spinning in desperation. What was he supposed to say?? She wanted answers he desperately did not want to give. The thought sends a shiver down his spin. Yet, to his surprise, his words didn't seem to anger her. He watched as she looked away- for a moment he was almost tempted to run, but surprise had him glued in place. She looked conflicted- or ashamed? He swallowed dryly, heart pounding in his chest Did she actually… could she actually see him as a person? After a long pause, she spoke.

"A person... I think?" His brief sense of hope seems to decay in his grasp- a sickening feeling of foreboding taking its place.   

"You think?”  He yells, voice growing louder with each syllable, "How can you not know?? Am I, or am I not a person to you!?” As he spat the question at her as he struggled to hold her gaze, his heart begging for her to see him… To his dismay, instead he saw himself; Reflected by the dim light from the moonlit window he saw his reflection in those too large fern green eyes. The sight disgusted him; A scared and pitiful creature trapped in the stare of being that was just so much… more. As much as he hated it, he refused to look away. However, she did. 

"I- " she pauses, her gaze turning back to him- eyes pleading… for what?? Why did she look like she was pleading to him??  "I don't know. I mean, I know you're not a… pet. You're a talking, thinking being." 

Oh?

Maybe there was hope… maybe she truly could see him…

"-but,"

Ah. There it was.

"I’m going to be honest… This feels different. I wouldn't contemplate catching a person... or you know, force them into a conversation with me. I-” She bites her lip, struggling to pick her words. “I don't want to lie to you. I promise you, I don’t see you as a pet, but honestly" She swallowed, seeming almost.. nervous? "I don't really see you as a person either."

Of course she didn't. What else did he expect? He wasn't a person to her- but then again, he wasn't a person at all. He wasn’t human- he was a parasite. The word tasted like poison on his tongue. He knew what he was, but if not a person or something to be had, what was he to her? Why was he still cornered? 

“Then what am I?” He hears an angry desperation in his voice he hadn't known was there. Had she figured it out? If not a person or a pet, did she know he was a pest?  She starts to answer and abruptly stops, reconsidering. After a moment, she continues;

"You tell me. What are you?"

He wanted to lie. To say he was nothing more than a man, just… a small one, but she had caught him in the act. How could he explain away… feeding. He grimaced. Why did it matter what he was? He was a thinking, speaking being-  just the same as her! 

“My name,” he sneered, “is Aedes.”

[nkn0va]

THE 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL

The homie @devfps found a thing for me. As a Seth main myself, I am now morally obligated to write the first ever genderbend Under Night x reader piece. And also I figured it was about time Under Night took a spotlight for once since it's mostly Blazblue. What better way to do that than write a very special oneshot for my main in this game as a little love letter of sorts to the most underrated fighting game on the market.

Also I know some of you might've been expecting an event of some kind but my inbox is way too full for that right now lmao

Also don't be surprised if shadow edits are made to make it better at any point in the future (In trying to find the source of the art, the artists' account has unfortunately been deleted/banned. It was found in a FB group reposting it. https://www.facebook.com/share/p/SLBCyMmzbFvTqtaZ/?mibextid=qi2Omg)

(After all my 5 minutes of research, turns out the name Sethe exists, and is a girl name, so that makes my job a hell of a lot easier)

A soft, quiet sigh escaped her pale lips as the sound of the bell rang throughout the school. It was just one of those days, the ones that felt never-ending. Exams drawing near, projects piling up, all with winter fast approaching. As if the cold season put the world itself into stasis, freezing time down to a shivering cold crawl. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. No point in complaining to the world itself, not when it had a history of never paying attention to her silent pleas for help, it's uncaring apathy as cold as the air that blew this time of year.

Steel grey eyes peered out the window next to her desk as she stood up. It was already the first snow of the season. It definitely came far earlier than last year. At least she was prepared for such a possibility.

Sethe had come with a plain black sweater vest in place of her school uniform, just in case. She blended in enough with the crowd to avoid the teachers and not get chewed out for it. If the snow hadn't come, it was easy enough to go into the bathroom and change out of it. As she left the classroom and made her way out into the hall she reached into her bag and pulled out a long, blue scarf. A bit too long for her comparatively small, thin body, yes, but it got the job done, so no reason to complain about it.

At least that's what she thought.

The snow had already started to gather on and cover the ground, albeit not much. It had apparently been snowing quite a bit since lunch, it was already a good couple inches deep. Sethe made her way outside and immediately made for her way home, she had nothing else to do in this annoyance of an obligation, nor did she feel the need to find something. Her absent train of thought was soon interrupted by a sudden, chilling gust of wind that chilled her to the bone. Her arms instinctively wrapped around herself as she grit her teeth.

She stopped in place momentarily to recollect herself, but just as quickly resumed her walk. The trains were likely going to be packed to hell and back in this weather, it would be more efficient to just walk there, as much of a pain as it was. She didn't get much farther though before a familiar voice called out from behind her.

"Guess even weather like this isn't enough to slow you down, huh?"

Sethe immediately stopped once more, her posture straightening in surprise as her head whipped around, only to see s/o. "Learn to relax a bit, yeah? At least enough for me to catch up."

Her body had now turned a tad more in their direction, the lower part of her face obscured by the scarf. "You're saying that like you almost want me to stay at school for something." Her voice took on it's usual quiet, restrained tone, though without the usual apathy or even defensiveness it had during the occasional instances she talked to her peers. S/o just seemed to have that effect on her, she couldn't bring herself to chase them away if she tried.

"Hey now, I wasn't saying that. Is it really a crime to wanna walk home with my girlfriend, spend some much needed alone time with her?" As the words came out of S/o's mouth, Sethe felt her cheeks heat up slightly, though it was made a tad more noticeable by how pale she was. The thought of being in a relationship...it was never a thought that had occurred to her before, being so focused on the duty that's sworn herself to, to free the Night Blade's princess from her curse. That was at least until she met s/o.

"Well... I never meant to imply that, but..."

She was cut off by an amused chuckle from s/o before she could think of a response. "Come on, you know I'm just messing with you. Let me at least walk you home." They took a few steps to catch up and be at her side as Sethe silently nodded and the two resumed your walk.

It was a relatively long way to where she lived. For a while it was all but completely silent, only broken by the snow crunching with their footsteps. Yet for the both of them, it was a comfortable one. At least it was until another gust of wind sent them both shivering. This was not going to work. It was then Sethe got an idea.

"...Here. Come closer."

"O...k...?" S/o confusedly side stepped towards her, and before they could register what was happening they felt a cloth make it's way around their shoulders and circle back around towards Sethe. The reserved young woman herself though seemed almost more surprised by her own actions than you did. Her face turning noticeably more red.

"There...now we shouldn't at least be as cold like this. Just try not to fall behind." Sethe resumed her walking, s/o guided along by the scarf to follow suit. It wasn't a complete, foolproof way of staying warm amidst the cold, but it was better than nothing. And she'd be lying to herself if she tried saying s/o's body warmth wasn't at least somewhat of a comfort.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she immediately felt the heat start creeping up on her face, this time much more prominent than normal as it finally occurred to her. She had initiated intimacy with s/o. Granted it wasn't exactly much, but this was pretty much the first time she had done so. She looked toward the corner of her eye over to s/o to gauge their reaction. She didn't quite know what she expected, however she still found herself pleasantly surprised.

S/o's shivering had mostly stopped, now walking along with Sethe, seemingly perfectly peaceful and content. Yes, the two were dating, but it hadn't been for all that long yet. She almost couldn't believe it. Her presence seemed to be welcome for s/o, just like their was for her, despite her stoic attitude, how cold she could seem sometimes, just like the unpleasant weather they were being forced to trudge through. Yet her coldness was one that s/o seemed to not care about, not feel any less about her for.

"Sethe? Are you alright?" S/o's voce once again snapped her out of her thoughts, the blushing only intensifying.

"You're getting red. Nothing's wrong, right?"

She shook her head and looked forward once more, attempting to bury her face in the scarf a bit more as much as she could. "No, it's just the cold."

"You're not getting sick, are you? That's kinda the last thing you need right now with how hectic school's starting to get and all."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Sethe's reply didn't really convince s/o. Not the part about not being sick, but rather about the redness on her face. They were well aware intimacy was never her strong suit. However they knew openly teasing her about it was not wise, lest they wanted to ruin the moment. The one she had started for a change, no less. No reason to look a gift horse in the mouth, so they decided to quit while they were ahead.

Their body heat combined in the close proximity of the shared scarf as they both adjusted their paces to match the other. Despite the occasional winds that would bite at them, they were able to keep going, now having each other's warmth and support to stay strong. Their shoulders brushed against each other, as their body temperatures mingled and found solace from the biting cold in each other. At some point, s/o's gaze seemed to gravitate over to Sethe as well from the edge of their peripheral vision. They could spot the snowflakes starting to pepper her mostly black hair, protecting her delicate face from the precipitation. The setting sun was shining down on her, contrasting with her dark eyes in a way that seemed to set them ablaze in a subtle, yet genuine show of her natural beauty. S/o seriously couldn't figure out why she seemed to be so ignored by their shared peers, not when she practically stole their breath away in times like this. She seemed content with that however, so it probably wasn't their place to speak on it anyway. Not like they were complaining, to them it meant no one would be trying to hit on her.

The walk felt like it was lasting forever, though to both of them, that would've been far from the worst outcome, even if they didn't say that out loud. They probably didn't even need to in the first place. Unfortunately, it was proven to them once more that good things aren't always meant to last, Sethe's house soon coming into their view. The Night Blade assassin stopped as they came in front of it, making s/o stop to so as not to accidentally push her over.

"Well, here we are." She took back her scarf, gently pulling it off around s/o's shoulders. "The snow's not going away anytime soon. Are you sure you're gonna be fine making it back home?"

S/o gave a disarming wave of their hand. Despite Sethe trying to play it off casually, s/o knew better. There was concern for them deep down. "I can put up with the trains just fine. It'll be a pain right now, but at least I'm not gonna freeze."

Sethe nodded at their response. "Yeah, that might be the best course of action. I just don't want you getting yourself hurt."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she quickly realized what she said. Her face started turning red once more as she averted her gaze staying silent. Despite her instinct to quickly take back what she said, she knew that would only make her sound bad. She froze up, the words dying in her throat as s/o couldn't hold back the smile creeping onto their own face. Both in contentment and reassurance.

"I'll be fine, you can relax. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Despite herself, Sethe could only find herself smiling back. A small one, almost unnoticeable to most people, but a smile nonetheless. A reward for s/o after learning to spot these rare occasions she did.

"Well, tomorrow's a school day. A rather redundant question, no?"

S/o let out a light laugh, genuinely at peace in her presence. "Yeah fair enough. The reassurance still helps though, especially coming from you. I know I can always count on you."

The sudden profession caught Sethe off guard, her eyes widening slightly as they snapped back to s/o. "You...you can?"

S/o nodded, their facial expression making it seem as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course. It's probably the biggest reason I wanted to be with you. Even when we met, you never went back on your word. That kind of honesty isn't something you find every day. That determination is what I always admired about you the most."

Sethe was clearly not used to receiving compliments, no less such genuine ones from someone she cared about. There was no hiding her blush now, despite her trying to bury her face in the scarf and turning her head away. "I...I see..."

She wanted to return the favor. All the reasons she felt the same about s/o threatened to spill out all at once, but were almost painfully stopped by her own inhibition and nervousness. Her instinct telling her that sharing her feelings about them would only make them laugh or become uncomfortable, yet her rational mind telling her that was a stupid fear.

Much to her relief, s/o didn't seem off put by her silence, seeming to read her once again, just like the way they always did. That almost unreasonable amount of patience that could only come from truly caring about another person, the kind that Sethe was a stranger to up until only recently, but eventually one that could only bring the small yet genuine smile back to her face. They understood what she was feeling, and felt no reason to judge her or question her further.

S/o turned off to the side to leave. "You should head inside and warm up. I should be getting to doing the same. See you tomorrow." They raised their hand up in a wave and began to walk back they way they came, heading toward the train station.

Sethe stood where she was a bit longer, watching them as they slowly but surely disappeared into the distance. While they weren't looking, she gave her own small, subtle wave, feeling that strange but familiar warmth in her chest, the one she would only feel when around S/o.

That feeling welling up in her body, the one she only felt for S/o; that was what made her sure she was truly in love.

[vaultureculture]

Thought I'd share this here too.

Some people have already read through my thoughts in my other social media, but I think it's good to have this here as well.

What to say.

Art is a journey. Although I am rarely satisfied with my improvements, although I oftentimes grit my teeth and seethe at the fact that I cannot make progress as quickly as I’d want to- it is still a journey. My journey, and I am enjoying it quite so!

I had been thinking on painting over this piece of mine for a while. I really liked the concept and the character portrayed (my dear Elvia), yet, as my eyes and hands evolved in these nine month, I found myself wanting to give it a little… revamp.

So I did! I am quite happy with the results, but not as happy as I am about the fact that I now get to rapidly flip between canvas layers to compare the old one and the new one huhuhu.

But well, I digress. I guess what I wanted to say is that, no matter how much time passes, there is always a piece of you in every single artwork you’ve made. You weave and intertwine your illustrations with small fragments of your soul, shedding your light and essence like petals in the wind, one encased in each drawing.

So it’s still you. No matter how much you change, it’s still you. That little kid drawing Pokémon characters was me; the 10 year old writing furry character stories and illustrating them was me. The Pandora Hearts Fan, the anime phase kid, they were all me.

I can see Candela in every drawing I’ve made, and even though sometimes I want to be angry at my alleged artistic incompetence , the truth is that I will forever recognize my touch in my art.

And I will love it to infinity.

[wildlyglittering]

Silver In Her Eyes - Part 4

Happy Saturday!

Silver In Her Eyes part 4 is up on Ao3 here and also below the cut!

Please show it some love ❤❤❤

Lucien appeared well.

His long, russet hair flowed to his waist and he smiled more, laughed more. Rhys had interrupted raucous noise when he entered the drawing room, Lucien and his new friends throwing grapes into each other’s mouths.

Rhys' visit was unexpected but also apparently unwelcome. Jurian and Vassa excused themselves to the garden while Lucien stood and watched them leave. When he turned to face his guest his eyes, both the good and the golden, pierced straight through as though he could see Rhys’ very soul.

Rhys turned his agitation into resentment.

Resentment that Lucien was well while Amren made herself ill, resentment that Lucien greeted him as cooly as Varian now did. Resentment that Lucien found delight in the world when Feyre bloomed and grew like a rose before the sharp snap of winter claimed her.

There was the looming issue of allies. Varian’s growing coolness might influence Tarquin and Kallias was fretting like some old crone. Rumours persisted that Keir was whispering promises in Tamlin’s ear and Eris seemed extremely displeased at the lack of negotiated terms between himself and Night.

Even Helion had spoken to Rhys. About how worried he was over Rhys, how Rhys wasn't himself. Rhys had gritted his teeth. Now Helion thought him weak and it just wouldn’t do.

Rhys knew if he secured Lucien, Helion would remain an ally and Lucien could be used to convince Eris to drop his request regarding Nesta and potentially get Tamlin to choose Night. The trick was to secure Lucien in the right way.

Rhys joined Lucien by the window as Jurian and Vassa now lounged on the grass continuing their game. Vassa laughed when one grape missed and hit her in the eye.

“Is this what you were doing before I arrived?” Rhys asked. “How...puerile.”

Lucien scoffed as he moved away to lean against a bookcase. “We were having fun. It’s what friends do with each other. You’d know if you had any left.”

Rhys snarled, more beast than High Lord. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I have friends.”

The golden eye whirred as an eyebrow raised. Lucien crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. Detached, disinterested, bored.

“If you think you’re intimidating, you’re not.” Lucien looked back to Rhys. “You forget I lived with Tamlin for centuries and stood in front of Amarantha myself.” He gestured to the very gold eye Rhys was glaring into. “For my troubles.”

Rhys took a breath. This was not securing Lucien the right way. Rhys wouldn't benefit in losing his temper and giving Lucien a reason to slam the door in his face – not until Rhys had dangled his carrot.

“Apologies. I am... tense. Keir is making a power grab. He seems to think now is his chance to strike. He’s wrong of course but he has some invested parties and I’m now forced to try and find the same.”

“I’ve heard.” Lucien paused, his face falling into a frown. “What I don’t understand is why now? When Feyre is having your son, doesn’t that weaken his position?”

Rhys closed his eyes. He’d been able to contain the truth to the Inner Circle and Madja. Keir was an unfortunate slip up, one that wouldn’t be repeated once Azriel found the fae who shared that piece of information.

“Who knows what Keir is thinking,” Rhys said, opening his eyes, “but you can probably guess why I’m here.”

“Influence Tamlin? Beron?”

“No, not him.”

Lucien tilted his head and Rhys decided honesty would be the approach.

“Eris has promised to ally to me in exchange for certain conditions. One of those is that he marries an Archeron. For his sins, he’s chosen Nesta.”

A wry smile emerged on Lucien’s face.

“I have to dissuade Eris. Cassian and Nesta are together. I’m hoping you can appeal to Eris’ better nature as his brother, his love for you means you’d have his ear. I’d so hate for mates to be torn apart. Wouldn’t you?”

Half honesty then. Lucien didn’t need to know about the blades Nesta Made.

Lucien exhaled, facing towards the window, his pulse thundering in his neck before he relaxed as though something swept in and whisked his upset away.

“Ah yes,” he said, “the glory of Eris’ brotherly love. If Nesta hasn’t chosen him in return, why not tell him no? She doesn’t seem the type to be shy on how she feels.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. No. This reluctance of Lucien to be involved wouldn’t do.

Rhys conjured images, of Eris turning his head from the eldest Archeron to the one that tended the thorns. He constructed an image of Elain amongst her roses, being swept up by Eris and dragged to the Forest House where she walked the hallways, wailing like she did now.

Rhys fluttered them across to Lucien’s mind like butterflies where they should have landed so delicately that Lucien wouldn’t have realised they were not his own fears.

Instead, they caught on a torrent in the outer reaches of Lucien’s mind and tore into pieces, their fragile wings shredded and gone. Rhys kept his face neutral as his heart raced. Power had built within Lucien, the natural resistance of a High Lord against a High Lord but without trying, without even knowing.

The second approach then. Rhys’ back up plan. He snapped his fingers behind his back, a cry of surprise echoed out from the garden beyond.

“Elain’s here,” Rhys said, inspecting his fingernails. “I’ve winnowed her into the grounds. Take a look.”

Lucien’s face snapped to Rhys’ but he lifted himself from where he leant against the bookcase to move nearer to the window, Rhys joining him.

Elain now stood in the garden, glancing about her at the trees in confusion as a shocked Vassa and Jurian went to greet her. Rhys had promised her a visit to the Mortal Lands, a great garden for her to view and she seemed eager to accept the invitation.

Her fingers curled into the pale pink fabric of her dress, colour blooming to her cheeks which Rhys had yet to see in Night.

Lucien drank her in like he’d been deprived of water for years.

“It is a tragedy, isn’t it? When mates are torn apart,” Rhys said by Lucien’s shoulder. Some small guilt spun down Rhys’ web, knowing he dangled a mate in front of a male when Rhys himself was on the precipice of losing his own.

But it wasn’t the same. Elain and Lucien were nothing in comparison to he and Feyre.

“She looks well enough,” Lucien said, “but she’s sad, lonely. All the pieces of her life are falling away.”

“Night is good for her,” Rhys said, noting how Lucien placed a hand against the pane of the glass. “I think it would do her good to remain. I don’t know how she would fare though if she lost Nesta to Autumn. Another piece taken away I suppose.”

She’d fare fine, Rhys thought. Considering as the sisters could scarcely exist in the same space.

Lucien blinked, his palm dropping from the window and he turned to face Rhys, their bodies too close for his comfort. That damned golden eye whirred again.

“Rhysand, you speak of Eris wanting to marry Nesta to ally with you, of your concern over Cassian and their bond, of Elain’s wellbeing. Surely you can tell Eris no and be done with it. Or perhaps ask Nesta what she wants. That isn’t what you think of those under your protection is it? That they are merely pieces of furniture in your Court without will of their own.”

Rhys’ teeth pressed together. An impulse to dash out that damned eye rose within him, an impulse he quashed. Instead, he turned towards the window where Vassa was now offering Elain grapes but Elain was ignoring her, instead staring through the window back at Rhys, her brown eyes watchful.

“Of course not,” Rhys said, and with a click of his fingers, Elain was gone.

***

Rhys had been fouler than usual.

Where others saw confidence, Nesta saw arrogance. Where they saw charm, she saw manipulation. She never had love in her heart for him and though she tried to find a slither of affection for Feyre’s sake and Cassian’s, Nesta felt that she had always been looking at a different person.

She knew he’d travelled to the Mortal Lands to visit Lucien and had taken Elain with him. She’d not learnt that from Elain but from Feyre, the only sister still willing to speak with her. A simple note landing on her desk; Feyre was busy planning the nursery, the baby was kicking and keeping her awake, Elain had gone to the Mortal Lands.

Nesta guessed that Rhys’ interaction with Lucien had been far from pleasant based on the way Rhys stormed into the House of Wind.

She hid her smile behind her hand, a smile which didn’t linger long as Rhys checked over the blades she forged, chastising her for producing less.

“Three,” he said, a dark mist swirling around his feet. “Last week, the number was five.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “I’m tired,” she told him. “These three are what you get.”

He’d slammed the door on his way out while Nesta rolled her eyes at his retreating back.

It was no lie. She was exhausted. The time it took for her to forge a single blade had increased. Her back hurt and her head throbbed, her fingers slipped when she held the tools and she’d almost dropped a dagger on her foot.

The clash of hammer on metal was still a song but now each blade joined a screaming chorus in the room and Nesta couldn’t recall when there had last been silence.

She loved the blades but she knew, as she had always known, these were not ordinary. That she had poured a part of herself into their being.

The pile was growing but it wasn’t enough and deciding that Rhys would never be happy if she produced two or twenty, Nesta left the House, the hood of her cape pulled over her face and she stepped out into the fresh Velaris air.

Her desperate, clandestine walk along the cobbled fae-lit streets was not to meet a lover but the two friends she had made on her own. The café was small and squashed between two shabby buildings that would be overlooked by any of the Inner Circle if they tried to find her.

Hours were spent tucked in an alcove, the three of them; Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn, so close Nesta had to push down the pang of sadness at remembering when she, Feyre and Elain had to share the same bed.

This time there was nothing but joy. They consumed cups of hot tea and thick slabs of cake with chocolate so rich Nesta smelt it as it left the kitchen. All she wanted was this. A home, friends, someone who loved her.

Nesta returned to the House drunk on excitement. When she approached the first steps, she considered turning and fleeing into the darkness of the wilderness. Yes, the House gave her everything she required but a gilded cage was still a cage.

That excitement soon died when she reached the top. At first Nesta thought exhaustion had overtaken the adrenaline but she realised what she was hearing – or rather what she wasn’t.

Silence.

The blades that spent their time calling to her no longer did. Her stomach squirmed as she ran, her heart racing.

The door to the blacksmith was open, the blades gone. Only Rhys stood in the darkness, the moonlight highlighting his form.

“Did I give you permission to leave?”

“Am I a prisoner?”

He ignored her. “I thought you were tired, Nesta. Isn’t that why only three blades were made this week?”

Her laugh was brittle. “Have you not heard of rest? I asked if I was a prisoner but let me re-phrase; I am not a prisoner. Nor am I your slave. It seems the fae struggle to let old habits die out.”

The growl was low and strong that Nesta first thought it was thunder. But Rhys’ eyes were now blacker rather than violet, the mists swimming about his fingers.

Ice grew within her, her bones hardening, her blood freezing. Nesta’s teeth chattered together as her skin turned grey. He’d freeze her from inside out and then she’d shatter into pieces on the ground.

“You are worthless,” he said. “Letting your baby sister risk her life to keep you fed and clothed, allowing her to come close to starvation. Even the first blow against Hybern wasn’t yours. You benefit from the success of others while doing nothing of note. Your family doesn’t want to see you and Cassian is with you because he has to be. You are no one’s choice, Nesta, no one’s. I am gracious enough to give you a gift to make you more than useless and this is how you repay me.”

The heat she’d felt before burned in her, the flames licking the inside of her skin. A voice spoke into her ear. Do not let him see. Stay as you are, as hard as it may be.

Nesta shivered and she pushed her tongue to the roof of her mouth lest her teeth bite through it.

“You leave this House without permission again and I won’t be so forgiving. Agree to it. Agree.”

Nesta’s words were forced. “Agree.”

He moved away, dropping his power as he did, walking past her without a backward glance as Nesta sagged on the floor like a puppet whose master had cut the strings.

She didn’t cry. She couldn’t cry. The effort of pushing down whatever rose within her had exhausted her and the fire which burned inside her had turned any tears to steam.

Nesta made it to her room. She was alone in the House again, no Cassian, no Azriel. She knew she wasn’t the only one who had demands held against them but unlike the others, she wasn’t acting through love.

Her arms and legs were heavy as she crawled into bed, barely removing her cape, not even removing her dress. An ache started in her chest and she pushed her hand against it. This wasn’t an ache for Cassian, it was for something else.

“Where are you?” she said aloud. She could never reach Ataraxia although she knew where the sword was housed. She thought of Betrayer who had been mounted in the blacksmiths, of the other swords surrounding it.

Nothing. But she was starting too large - she was weak and unpractised so why did she think calling to a broad sword would gain an answer.

Nesta thought of the small, unassuming dagger which had been sheathed in the corner, its snake like handle twisting into an open jaw, sharp fangs protruding. That had been a blade which called to her with clarity, an image of Nesta slicing through Rhys’ cheek to draw first blood.

Viper. She spoke its name. This time not aloud but inside her mind, imagining the colours of the metal, the shimmer of subtle green along the metal, the sting of its point.

Nesta envisioned pulling; her teeth grinding, sweat dripping down her neck and back. A reverse birthing. No expulsion of life but a calling of it back. She dug her heels into her bed and pressed down, grabbed at the sheets with her fists tearing into the cloth.

Then the pull snapped and her eyes opened. There it was, lying on her stomach, blade pointing towards her heart, as though an invisible midwife had lain it upon her.

Nesta sobbed, even if she couldn’t form tears, sitting up and grasping Viper in her hands. Somehow it was warm and cold to the touch, shivering with anticipation, overjoyed to be back with Nesta.

Rhys had the blades hidden someplace Nesta couldn't reach but for now she had this one, her one. Viper.

It whispered to her, soft and slow, a much-wanted breeze on a too hot day. Mother.

***

“I will not forge.”

Cassian’s presence at the House was a rarity these days and she was loathe to spend their time together in any state of argument. After their fight regarding children, they hadn’t spoken before he’d once again left for Illyria.

Now he was home and while their old argument was cast aside, they were on the precipice of a new one. But this was one she meant.

Cassian had paused by the bed redressing, shirt half on, expanses of tattooed skin still on display while Nesta stood in front of the fireplace. The flames flickered across the wood but she’d been long adept at making them soundless. All that existed was the heat.

She refused to continue forging, not until she learnt what the blades could do or who they were for - or who they would be used against. She also didn’t want Rhys to lay claim to any more, not like he’d done with her first three and the rest he’d stolen since.

Cassian’s shirt rustled as he continued dressing, movement finally returned to his body but she noted his fingers were stiff, fumbling as he worked the buttons.

“Have you said this to Rhys?”

“Not yet.”

Cassian stared at her and Nesta braced herself for the onslaught of his irritation, the protestations of how could Nesta do this to Rhys, his most beloved High Lord and friend.

Instead, he walked to her, placing large, warm hands on her shoulders as his eyes searched her face. A war waged within him; guilt, shame, worry. No, not worry, something stronger and with a more potent flavour – fear.

“Don’t tell him,” Cassian said, “let me be the one to speak to him.”

“Why? I’m not afraid of him.” Furious yes, but not fearful.

“Because he’ll say no to you. He might not say no to me.”

Nesta clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. “Do you hear yourself? I don’t care if he says no. He doesn’t get to make that choice. I want to stop, so I am stopping.”

Heat flooded her hands, fuelled by the pit of rage stoking in her belly, and rushed up her arms and over her chest. For a moment Nesta felt like her face was on fire, that her eyes were burning.

Cassian reared back, dropping his hands from her shoulders and stepped away, his palms singed.

“Nesta-” he begun

“I don’t know what that was,” she said, stepping backwards herself, groping at the wall behind her. “I don’t-”

“Tell no one,” Cassian said, the smoke already dissipating from his hands as he held them up, imploring her. “And don’t speak to Rhys.”

“Fine,” she said, pressing a shaking finger against her newly pounding temple. "Speak to him yourself if you think that will sweeten the blow but I will not sit in that room for him anymore.”

Cassian’s chest rose and fell, his eyes wide, his hand now rubbing his brow. A stab of sadness hit Nesta’s chest and she felt his confusion, his torn allegiance.

Part of him remained a little boy, a child forced to be a soldier rather than play at one. He wanted comfort, a mother to hold him, a mate to love him. Cassian had stood for centuries; fighting and commanding, garnering respect and loyalty, dragging numbers of creatures into a prison and here he was, subservient and scared.

The ice-cold shimmer of his fear was not directed at her but towards the male he called brother.

She walked towards him, pulling his hand from his face, before tilting his face down so she could press a kiss, sweet and chaste, upon his cheek.

Even as she did, Cassian leaning towards her, his chin on the crown of her head, pulling her tighter into his embrace she knew part of him was too far away.

[bubblegumbeech]

Hyde Inside

Hello! I am starting my Bi-Weekly update Fic experiment where I try to stay on top of updating a fic Bi-weekly(every other week). The fic voted on by my lovely followers was a Jekyll and Hyde x Dracula crossover so here's Chapter one!

He had taken the poison. Had tried, so desperately to kill it, to kill the part of himself that was—that could be Hyde. 

Because he knew, in the end, he did not have the control he needed to stop himself. He would always be Hyde, would always know that behind the trappings of propriety and social consequence he was a monster capable of horrid things…

Of murder.

He grit his teeth. Even now, underneath the mask of the respectable doctor, he was Hyde still. 

“Harry,” Utterson spoke, drawing Jekyll’s attention to him. “My dear Harry… what have you been doing to yourself?”

Jekyll’s eyes went wide and he quickly turned his gaze away. There was nothing to say, no excuse to be made. No more lies or twisted truths. He had transformed back eventually, after his near death, before the doctor his friend had called and his very friend himself. He had lost the one desperate secret he had been so keen to keep. 

Had been willing to die to keep.

“This Hyde,” the strange doctor then spoke. “Does he possess you?”

Jekyll bit back another lie. What was the use of it now? What good would pouring the blame on Hyde do when he was Hyde? Did he truly wish to stoke the hatred that already bloomed in the chests of those he cared about? What if he should be trapped once more in the guise he had crafted for himself, unable to walk tall and upright as Doctor Jekyll? Faced only with scorn… no. He could bear that no longer. Better to take the bad with the good than once more risk losing the good entirely and having only the bad left behind.

He met Utterson’s eyes. “No. He does not possess me any more than I possess him. He is my own creation, a form I take when I—“

He could not get the rest of the confession past his lips. It was too much, too great a sin. 

It seemed that was enough though, for understanding to bloom among the two beside him.

“I see…” said the doctor, an interested glimmer in his eye. “So then, this Hyde is caused by a concoction of your own creation?” 

Jekyll nodded. 

“If that is truly the case, and this a matter of science, though science beyond my own expertise, I must consult a friend of mine instead.” And the doctor was off, just as Jekyll made to reach for him, to stop him. 

Utterson held him back. “No my friend,” he said, a dark, disappointed gleam in his eye, “I will not let you dig yourself deeper into trouble. If he thinks another doctor is needed, then another doctor he shall call.”

“And ruin what is left of my reputation?” Jekyll snarled. Utterson frowned, clearly taken aback. 

Jekyll once more turned his gaze away in shame. He had gotten addicted, he knew now, to the freedom and inhumanity granted to him by Hyde. 

“I should have known,” Utterson sighed, shaking his head, “I should have seen him in you, or you in him. But I did not. This is as much my fault in failing to be your friend and confidant as it is yours in failing to confide. But I will see you helped, before it goes any further.”

“What further distance is there to go?” he asked weakly. 

Utterson grabbed him by the hand. “I’ve seen men fall further and further still when they thought there was no distance left to fall. Is it selfish to ask you not do the same?” 

“…I can’t control it anymore. The transformation. It’s not a secret I can—“ his voice broke, the horror, the realization that the very thing he’d been trying to avoid by creating Hyde in the beginning was the very thing happening to him now, unstoppable and uncontainable and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest—

“Harry!” Utterson’s voice pulled him back, “Jekyll, please. If it is the fault of science then surely science can fix it. There are more minds than your own, despite your belief otherwise.” 

Jekyll barked out half a laugh at that; of course Utterson, dear Utterson who could not keep up in a conversation between him and Lanyon, would trust this had a simple solution. One that might see Henry Jekyll back to normal, if further repressed, and Hyde disappeared forever from the collective consciousness. 

… Was that even what Jekyll wanted? To never again show the side of him he’d let indulge too deeply in his own desires. To be only what he was seen to be as Doctor Henry Jekyll? 

Was that even possible, with the tattered shreds of the reputation Hyde had left behind? 

“You truly hate Hyde?” he asked now, his voice a whisper. “No affection for that young man, despite how I asked—pleaded for you to care for him should I disappear?”

Utterson had not let go of his hand. “Jekyll, how could I hate you? You’re my dearest friend. I don’t approve of your actions—“

“But you hate Hyde —“

“Jekyll!” Utterson interrupted again. “I do not hate you. No matter what form you take.”

At that, he cried. A gut wrenching cry that was more relief than anything else. He did not know why he had thought Utterson, with the reputation he had, a lawyer who had stood at the side of men who’d fallen far further than Jekyll had even as Hyde, would abandon him now. But with the reassurance that he would not, that the worst of Jekyll’s true fears would not be recognized, he felt his world crash at once. The stress and fear and desperation giving way to great heaving sobs of regret. 

Oh how he did regret.

“I do not know,” he admitted, even as Utterson held a firm hand upon his shoulder, “if I can be what I once was again. The allure of Hyde exists strongly within me.”

Utterson once more did not retreat, but said instead, “we shall see, I suppose, what the new doctor might make of this.” 

Jekyll nodded, and then turned his gaze properly to his friend. “I did not expect you to call a doctor I do not recognize.” 

“I’m afraid I was worried you might not live the night should I have stayed with you alone. And I did not wish to sully your reputation further amongst our friends. Doctor Van Helsing is known for being strange and unconventional, I thought he might be the best to call in the case of my friend shifting forms and drinking poison.”

Jekyll remained silent.

It was another half hour at least when Van Helsing once more returned to the room. “I have sent a telegram to Doctor Seward and we now await news from him. He is, of course, an excellent doctor in the field of psychology and the mind.”

What was left of Jekyll’s heart stopped beating and he turned an incredulous gaze towards Van Helsing. 

“You called for a psychiatrist.” 

“Yes! He, as well as I, had been to the ends of the earth and hell and would not flinch at such a curious case as—“

Jekyll almost flew from the sick bed in his rage. “I will not—“ he coughed, a searing and familiar pain choking the words from him. 

“Get..away… from me…” he managed to hiss, even as his transformation took hold. 

Utterson did not move to give him space, and unfortunately neither did that wretch Van Helsing. Instead they moved closer, Utterson pulling Jekyll further into his arms in an attempt to comfort him despite Jekyll’s larger frame, and Van Helsing with a hellish glint of curiosity in his gaze. 

Jekyll reached out as if to attack him, but Utterson managed to hold him back and the entire room went to white until Jekyll had disappeared and only Hyde remained, locked properly in the arms of his friend—smaller and more easily held back. 

“I’ll kill you—“

“Jekyll!” Utterson cried, horrified. But Hyde only snarled, the last threads of his self control snapping away with the transformation. 

“I’m Hyde. Let go and—“

“Fascinating,” Van Helsing breathed and Hyde started clawing at Utterson’s clothed arms to try and get at him. Perhaps a proper beating with a cane would show this fool he was no curiosity to be studied. 

“ Hyde ,” Utterson corrected himself, “you were just speaking of regret. Does that concept become foreign to you entirely once you’ve transformed?” 

Hyde bristled but stilled, allowing for the moment, Utterson to be his restraint. It was strange, being held so tightly by his friend in a body smaller as opposed to larger than Utterson’s own. 

He did not find it repulsive, and instead took a moment to find his own comfort, sitting now, almost entirely upon the lap of his friend, and throwing his arms around Utterson’s shoulders. 

“Mr Hyde?” The grating voice of Van Helsing interrupted Hyde’s musings about the comfort of Utterson’s embrace and he once more toyed with the thought of attacking him. If only so he wouldn’t feel so comfortable getting as close as he had to ask his question.

“Yes?” 

“You say you are no different from Jekyll, but your actions—“

“Are my own. I am not a case study.”

Van Helsing, unfortunately, did not seem discouraged. “I see,” he said instead of leaving, “ The courage of the mask, but to an extreme degree.”

Utterson sighed, and Hyde felt the air of it tickle his hair. It was not an unpleasant feeling and so he tucked himself closer. Maybe if he ignored him, Van Helsing would leave. Or at the very least stop talking. He was mumbling now, all matter of metaphor and anecdotes involving masks and various fruits. 

Hyde busied himself nuzzling into Utterson’s neck, the small strip of skin there that was uncovered was warm and inviting and Utterson had yet to push him away. Likely so that he might be in position to hold Hyde back from another homicidal rage. But Hyde was one to take advantage, and so advantage he took. 

“He seems more prone to affection than violence,” Van Helsing noted and Hyde almost leapt towards him if only to prove him wrong. Utterson’s own grip got stronger just as Hyde tested the thought and once more he was held back, relegated to simply hissing instead. 

“I think he would be more comfortable if you waited outside, Doctor Van Helsing,” Utterson said dryly. 

To his credit, Van Helsing only needed a simple glance at Hyde’s violent gaze to realize he may have dug his own grave and left the room to the two of them once more. 

“Now Jekyll—“

“Hyde.”

There was a moment of awkward quiet that allowed himself to bask in. No need to force pleasant conversation when Hyde himself was feeling far from pleasant at all. 

“Hyde,” Utterson said again, his patience shorter than with Jekyll’s form. “Do not chase off the one doctor willing to help you.”

Hyde scoffed, crawling out of Utterson’s lap to stand straight up on the bed. He looked down on Utterson and said, “he seeks to help me be institutionalized.”

“Perhaps that is best.” Hyde felt betrayal’s fierce sting. “Until you can control yourself—“

“This is Not a malady of the mind—“

“You murdered a man Hyde. ” Utterson’s voice was colder than he’d ever heard it. No soft affection, or fiery fury. Just cold, and sharp, and it stabbed at him as a dagger might stab his back. “Would you rather be sent to jail instead? Or seek the Hangman’s noose? Would that protect your cherished reputation?”

“I…” but he had no more words to defend himself. Instead he deflated, curling into himself and pressing his back into the headboard of the bed. “I would not do it again…”

Utterson pinched the bridge of his nose. “You sought to do it just now against Doctor Van Helsing.”

…. Perhaps he might try once more to practice restraint. 

As if the thought itself caused it, once more Hyde felt the burning pain of transformation. And once more he was Jekyll, curled into the tangle of limbs he had made of himself. 

He did not cry or reach out. Instead he soothed the wrinkles of his now snug clothing and turned an embarrassed gaze away from his friend whose lap he had occupied only moments prior. The transformation was exhausting and so the two sat longer in silence until eventually the door once more slammed open, this time for the entry of both Van Helsing and another younger doctor that Jekyll did not recognize. 

“Doctor Seward I presume?” he said, standing and holding a firm hand to shake. 

Seward took it, a flush of red painting his cheeks, likely from exertion. “Doctor Jekyll, I’ve heard quite a bit about your reputation and find myself quite a fan.”

Jekyll held back a response, chanting a mantra of self restraint in the back of his mind. “I am afraid I myself am less than familiar with your own work–”

“Of course, I wouldn’t be here without Van Helsing’s recommendation. What can you tell me of the patient?”

“...Pardon?” Jekyll caught the gaze of Van Helsing and saw him give a subtle nod. 

“Mr. Hyde,” Seward continued, “I was told I am to consult on him? Before I meet him it would help to know what behaviors you’re worried about.”

Utterson walked around the bed to stand at Jekyll’s side, an equally, if less noticeably, confused expression on his face. “Did Doctor Van Helsing not explain the situation?”

“He gave me only the news that there might be a patient who needed my expertise.”

At that, Van Helsing’s temporary silence was lifted. “Mr. Hyde is an acquaintance of Doctor Jekyll and seems to suffer from a lack of impulse control,” he said, heavily winking towards Jekyll in what was an entirely unsubtle way. Nonetheless, Seward seemed oblivious at least and listened as Van Helsing recounted a bastardized version of events. 

Seward nodded along, a frail looking hand balanced delicately at his chin that Jekyll was not thinking about breaking. “A lack of inhibitions or self control can be indicative of a damaged prefrontal cortex–”

“Hyde is not damaged. ” He spoke before he could stop himself, Utterson’s hand finding a place upon his shoulder. 

“Perhaps not visibly,” Seward coaxed, “But it could also be physically underdeveloped if this is a problem that has followed his entire life.”

“It has not.”

“Hasn’t it?” Utterson muttered. 

Jekyll grit his teeth. 

“Either way, if his tendency towards violence and odd behaviors like the ones you’ve described are true, it is best we send him to the institution to be watched over immediately.” Jekyll held back. “It’s best to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“He won’t ,” Jekyll bit out. 

Seward looked at him with a note of pity. “You can’t know that for sure, if it's true he lacks restraint. His promises can’t be trusted, even if you care for him deeply. And if the public has judged him a lunatic—”

Utterson’s grip was not enough to hold him back, but the searing pain in his chest once he lunged was. Beyond the blinding white he heard Van Helsing shuffle the Doctor away and out the door and was only just awake enough to notice Utterson was the one to catch Hyde when the exhaustion of the back and forth transformations finally took hold. 

[notsostraightarrowbabey]

Chapter 20 is Live!!

You can find it:

Here! on ao3

Here! on ffn

Or Below the Cut if you prefer Tumblr :)

“Christ Jesus,” Tomura said through gritted teeth. His fingers were bone white where he gripped the rail.

“He can’t help you now, captain. Instead of invoking his name, why don’t you pray that I get these stitches straight instead?” Magne said as she corked the liquor bottle that she had just poured over Tomura’s shoulder.

Dabi huffed out a breath. He was stood next to Tomura, one arm wrapped around the other’s back to help him stand still. “Dramatic much? It doesn’t really suit you, Mag. That’s more Compress’ thing.”

All he received in return was an eye roll from Magne and a sharp hiss from Tomura as the needle broke through his skin.

Himiko watched this all from her seat on the upper deck. Her legs were stuck through the bars that held up the railing, and her hands were holding a flannel blanket tight around her shoulders. The three others were below her on the main deck, along with Ochako and her friends but they were all on the other side of the ship. She watched closely as Magne slid the thin needle—made from bone and insanely sharp—through Tomura’s flesh again and again, drawing his bullet wound closed with black thread and precise tugs. As a pirate, knife enthusiast, and former vagabond, Himiko was intimately familiar with stitches. She knew the feeling of thread through flesh better than she knew a mother’s comfort. There had been a time where the thought of her mother dragged her into a depression that was nigh inescapable for days and days on end, but that was a long time ago and things have changed. Himiko had a family now–a true family, one that loved her for who she was–and she no longer mourned her mother. No, the grief she now felt had nothing to do with the woman who had tried to suppress her daughter’s very nature. The grief that now twisted and roiled inside her chest came from another daughter estranged from her mother because of an age-old hatred and the fear of the unknown.

A cold touch on her shoulder shook Himiko out of the past.

“A question for you, old friend, if you’ll hear it,” Himiko said to Jin, who had gone through the effort to expend energy and become more corporeal. Looking through him now was not unlike peering through an old warped glass. The ship beyond him was foggy, distorted, and tinted different colors–faint gray through his jacket, parchment colored through his yellow hair, and soft red through the scarf tied around his brow. Himiko could see more clearly the large gash, the permanent marker of his death, that scored his forehead vertically in two peeking from the bottom of his scarf as it cut down to slice the very top of his nose.

“Always, Himiko,” He crouched down to sit beside her on the wooden floor. “What’s troubling you?”

Himiko knew without looking when a second contradicting statement didn’t come that Jin had to be doing something to control his curse, and indeed when she turned to look him in the eye she could see that his mouth was screwed into a tense line–white around the edges from the amount of force. She knew that this was hard for him. Even though it was possible for him to control his curse when he was more corporeal, it still took a vast amount of effort.

“Is it noble and good to turn someone away, to let them go if you believe that you are poisoning them with your presence?”

Confusion clouded Jin’s face. “How do you mean?”

“How can I, in good conscience, allow Ochako to stay here when she should be at home with her parents leading a normal life? It is my fault, is it not, that she is here instead of home. I am poison, as I said before. I have ruined her chance at a good, normal life.” Himiko turned her head away and looked at Ochako again. The other girl was now talking to Magne and Dabi, and Himiko could hear her ask, Is there anything I can do to help?

There was a long pause before Jin deigned to respond. He heaved a great sigh and said, “I think this is a question better saved for Ochako, but I will tell you this while I still have relative control over myself,” He reached over and laid a hand on her knee. “Contrary to your belief, you are not poison. Put that thought from your mind completely and immediately.” He paused again and urged her to look at him. She did so with wet eyes. “You are my friend. We are one and the same, Himiko. If you are poison, then I, too, must be poison. Whatever we are, whatever we do, we exist together.” He stood, and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. He then faded, and became merely a rush of wind.

Though she knew that she should move, that she should be helping her crew to recover and set course for wherever they planned to sail, Jin's words and her own despair froze her and rendered her immobile. She watched her shipmates–including Ochako’s group–come and go over the next several hours. Himiko only clutched the flannel blanket closer around herself and laid down on her side, drawing her knees to her chest. She could see the questioning, concerned looks that were sent in her direction. She knew they were all worried, though she thought that the worry was misplaced. Tomura was the one that had been shot, not her. She was fine, she was just planning her next move, was all.

The moon was well into the sky by the time Himiko found the strength to move. Tomura and Eri had retired to the cabin below deck, as well as Dabi who hadn’t left Tomura’s side willingly since they had set foot back on the ship. Magne, Spinner, and Compress were slowly but surely finishing up with the rigging and setting the sails. She could faintly hear Compress leading the appropriate shanties to get the job done. Jin, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen.

Himiko could just barely spot the new trio out of the corner of her eye. Over the course of the last several hours they had stood near the port-side rail, then migrated to the starboard rail, and were now standing directly underneath the upper-deck stage where she was lying. If she wanted to, Himiko could reach down and weave the strands of Ochako’s russet hair between her fingers. She refrained, keeping her fingers to herself. She tried listening to whatever the three of them were talking about, but she couldn’t shake the fog in her mind. It muffled her ears and made her eyes wide and unseeing. Everything was far away in a sensation that Himiko hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“‘Scuse me, dears,” Magne said, brushing past the trio. Himiko blinked, coming back to herself a little as Magne pried open the door–swollen with moisture– to the cabins below deck. She looked Himiko in the eyes right before she disappeared through the door. Another concerned look.

With Magne’s interruption, Ochako, Izuku and Tsuyu’s conversation died out. The sound of the waves crashing and rolling against the hull became hypnotizing, and Himiko’s mind began to turn numb once more until the door opened and Magne stepped back on deck.

“All right,” she said, walking amidship. “I’ve just talked with the captain, and he’s given us the go ahead to set sail. Everyone to the capstan, we’re raising anchor.”

Himiko forced herself to sit up and then shook her head hard. She could continue her sulking–or whatever this was–later. She had skipped out on her responsibilities enough, especially since this was a task that required as many hands as possible. With three crew members injured, busy, or missing, she was needed. A thought bothered her, though.

Sail? Himiko thought. Where are we sailing to? It wasn’t as if Ochako’s parents would find them all the way out here. Well, we have been anchored here for quite some time. Maybe it was for the better that they were leaving. Himiko only wished that she could have had a reason to send Ochako away. She didn’t need to be anywhere near Himiko anymore, not when Himiko had already disrupted and ruined everything that Ochako had ever had. A painful realization, but a correct one, Himiko knew.

The capstan–located behind the main mast–was made entirely of iron. Himiko remembered in the early days of her joining the crew when the capstan was so black and shiny that it would nearly blind her when the sun was at its highest in the sky. Nowadays, it was dull looking and squealed quite a bit when used. She, along with the rest of the crew, lifted their wooden handles and inserted them into their respective slots in the head of the capstan.

Himiko didn’t miss the confused glance that Ochako–located diagonally from Himiko across the circular head of the capstan–gave her when at first nobody moved. Everyone was holding onto their spoke, leaning over and ready to push, and yet they were still. It wasn’t until Compress called out a line of a capstan shanty that they all began to push, marching dutifully to beat.

“Oh Santiana gained the day–”

The wooden capstan handle bit into her hand as she heaved along with everyone else. They were weathered and splintering, the varnish that was originally on then chipped almost completely away.

The crew, minus Ochako, Izuku and Tsuyu, dutifully called back: “–away Santiana–.”

On and on it went for hours. Every so often someone would have to break away to untie and retie the messenger cable to the anchor cable. By the third verse, the new trio had gotten the hang of the call and response that made up the shanty. Breaks were required, even with the advanced strength of some of the crew. The fog in Himiko’s brain lingered, not helped by the repetitiveness of the task at hand. The fog grew worse, accompanied by a shrinking feeling in her chest when she saw–even across the distance between them–that Ochako’s hands had left blood on her capstan handle.

When the scraping, thunking sound of the anchor hitting the hull was heard Himiko nearly fell over in relief.

~~~~~~~~

Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty - TBD

[ohwell-itsme]

Oh, you don't understand, I grew up in isolation searching for evil in my heart so I can't be hurt saying I'm not human at all and playing dead in my room sometimes it feels like I am already centuries old but I still think of myself as a child and I'll never have enough time I was never good at lying, but I can't help thinking "if I am too earnest, they will kill me like a dog" because I've always been other, even where I'm supposed to belong, and it's hard not to be bitter, learned not to be forgiving because there's people who never change, but they do hang around and they'll say that it's good that I am passionate and unique but I can't get along because what I really am is selfish and sensitive and I think that mother is a wound that pours into you and it never stops bleeding, and love is only salt in it I'm entitled and I'm bitchy, too queer and radical, but not really, actually too passive, ignorant and escapist, wouldn't care, I mean, my mother says with full conviction that I don't like anyone, when my sister once again is firing questions about favorites and connections, isn't she wrong, though? hard to tell I still get lonely, that is for sure, I am a safe distance from everyone and they can't reach me, no, not even if we both try, because it all looks fake through my lenses, sometimes I think we're all just manipulating each other into getting affirmations, putting on masks, like it's not our nature to be cruel and we play nice to get something good in return, maybe I only ever speak when I try to get praise or throw it all up when I can't hold back no more, but who knows.

After so much time alone, you get weird, weirder than you can naturally be or get on purpose, 90% of human behaviors are annoying, things that don't personally interest me are a bother, but I grit my teeth and try to be more normal, just like I do when I agonize over myself being annoying and refuse to give in to the instinct to bolt. It is largely a pain to be around other people, I don't have the energy for it most of the time, I can't do small talk or platitudes and I am bossy in creative projects, sometimes it's more like, maybe I need to give people a breather from me so they still like me, but mostly I just sink into things to do alone, I could be alone for ages, if the immortality came with no longer having physical needs, that'd be great, I might still sometimes indulge, but mostly I'd forget to, I'd waste a few decades on games, maybe start getting into more books later, and puzzles, and just walking around, travelling when I can, maybe second or third century in, I'd be like "I should start maxing out my skills" and try learning again, it wouldn't go very well, since I like getting the general idea and saying that's enough about most topics, I would take two things seriously: experimenting in the kitchen and being overtly studious about shows/visual novels, making notes and docs and all the prep for writing I never get around to; maybe I'd get into painting too, not drawing tho, and I wouldn't try to be good either. Again, given that I don't have needs and don't have to submit to capitalism, I could actually end up writing out my stuff, go somewhere where I can be alone, with the only distraction being myself, and write, without worrying about what I have to do next, like shopping or sleeping, I could actually get somewhere like that. Maybe eventually I'd figure that learning some type of fighting and increasing my body strength is also beneficial, so I have an easier time traveling further away and partying alone. Maybe at some point I'd decide to live in the wild, at least for a while, but probably not, or at least, not in the woods. I'd try to get better at recognizing plants, but fail to memorize their names. A few centuries in, I'd start to do stupid things I used to be afraid of, because I felt like the adrenaline of it was only shortening my lifespan. I'd dye my hair every color. I still would never have sex. I'd try to become a cryptid or otherwise start an urban legend or something like that. Keep on changing my identity and trying to get famous and seeing if people will say that I look like myself. Invent a sandwich and keep on telling people like it's already known until it sticks as a classic of unknown origin. Make up words. Be an unsettling presence. Relationships already are fleeing and last a miniscule part of my life, why would I be worried about that? It's always just for a little itty bit and it's never close enough, and it burns and breaks and leaves a scar. People don't like knowing me, they like it when I'm somewhere in the orbit, occasionally popping in, showing my best face, and then I'm cool and wise and inspiring and I like how they're reacting too.

[catt-leya]

This is gonna be different to what you usually write but can I request for a dominant female reader who ties Rick to the bed after she caught him flirting with Jessie at the party and punishes him. She rides his face and his dick and doesn’t let him come 👀

Jealousy (18+) || Rick Grimes

Thanks to you anon for getting me out of my comfort zone. I wrote through the fic in one sitting and fell a little in love with sub Rick, even though I'm a whore for dom Rick 👉🏼👈🏼

I tried to write something I hope you'll like and enjoy reading it 💗

(Quick side note for @toxic-ink : I hope I didn't disappoint you with my nice fic 👀💓)

I tug the dress into place one last time and follow my boyfriend into the room full of people.

The fact that I'm wearing a dress at all, given the realities of the world, is unusual enough, but seeing the group of people relaxed, sipping their alcohol, and apparently really celebrating is disconcerting.

Actually, I didn't want to come here at all, but Rick wanted to be here for who knows why and because I love him, I picked out an old dress and am now with him among the people who have offered us a safe place to stay.

Sighing, I slide my fingers out of Rick's hand and point my head toward the bar, "I clearly need alcohol to get through this."

My boyfriend gives me a nod, "Okay" before he disappears between people and I roll my eyes.

Rick is just the type of person who likes to be around people and people are always hanging on his every word.

He has a certain presence that captures others and that's how he got me around quite easily in the beginning.

I let him have his fun and turn to my joy: alcohol.

Before the world went down the drain, I used to enjoy a glass or two of wine with my friends, but now there are usually other priorities.

With a glass of wine, I lean against the wall farthest from everyone else and look around.

The Alexandria people are really nice but naive as hell, and I find it hard to believe they've survived this long without suffering major casualties.

I keep sipping from my glass as I spot my boyfriend at the other end of the room. Smiling, I watch as he talks with bright eyes to a woman I saw here in Alexandria yesterday.

He takes a sip from his glass and my smile grows even wider. It just makes me happy to see him so content.

The moment I want to let my gaze wander further, I see Rick put his hand on the young woman's back.

My eyebrows draw together and I don't take my eyes off the two of them. Normally, I'm anything but the jealous type and don't mind when Rick talks to other women and has fun doing it. It's the trust that I have in him and he has in me, but his hand is so dangerously low that I don't want to avert my eyes.

He probably thinks nothing of it, but when he lowers his head and whispers something in her ear, I see red.

I exe my wine and set the glass down on the first available sideboard and tap Rick on the shoulder. Still in a good mood, he turns to me with the woman in his arms and says, "There you are. I want you to meet Jessie."

I look over at Jessie and have to gulp for a second because she is so beautiful. I quickly catch myself though and jut my chin up, "Hey, nice to meet you."

She leans against my Rick a bit and I grit my teeth. He probably didn't even think to tell her he's in a committed relationship, which makes him anything but available.

She's not to blame because I know how good Rick can feel next to you.

So I paste a smile on my face and look up at Rick, who still has his fucking hand on her back, and say, "I'd like to go home."

I feel Jessie's gaze on me, but only look at Rick, who asks, "But why? Aren't you having fun?"

Shortly, I say, "No."

I know he's not going to let me go home alone and I'm right because he lets go of Jessie and looks at her apologetically, "I hope I see you again soon."

His stupid voice, which is the perfect mix of raspy and deep, makes Jessie shiver and fuck, me too.

She looks dreamily at Rick and murmurs, "I hope so too."

That's the moment I've had enough and I press out, "I'm sure you'll see my boyfriend in Alexandria now and then."

Her features all slip away and I use the moment to grab Rick's hand and drag him away from her.

We're probably both surprised at how hard I pull him behind me, and he stumbles after me all the way out into the fresh air.

Only outside does he catch himself and brace himself against me, which he manages with ease, hissing, "What's wrong with you?"

Furious, I turn to him and dig a finger into his chest, "You asshole went for that blonde."

What's in his favor is the fact that he looks genuinely confused as he mutters, "Huh? What makes you think that? I was just talking to her. You don't usually act like that when I talk to other women either."

I want to talk it out with him and try to get my anger under control, and he shrugs and walks past me, "Just relax and don't act like that."

My mouth just drops open and all I can do is stare after him. I can't believe he told me to relax.

ME to relax?

This asshole is so fucking arrogant I want to rip his balls off. I love him, but his arrogance sucks and I know exactly how to pay him back.

Couple times I take a deep breath and try to make my voice sound soft as I walk up behind him and say, "You're right."

Surprised, he looks at me again, "Oh really?" And then quickly corrects himself, "I know."

I suppress rolling my eyes and walk beside him with played equanimity. The fact that he thinks I'm going to let him treat me like this and just swallow it all is so incredibly humiliating.

When we finally arrive home, I am surprised myself that I have this level of self-control and follow Rick all the way to our bedroom without hitting the ceiling.

Rick tells me something about his plans for tomorrow and I slowly get up and put my arms around his body from behind, "Rick?"

I feel his muscles relax under my touch and grin against his back as he sighs softly.

In the end, Rick is just a man too, feeling soft breasts pressed against his back.

Slowly, I let my hands slide down his stomach to his belt and he murmurs, "I like apologies like that."

Biting my lower lip to keep from growling something like, "You should apologize to me," I undo his belt and pull it out of the loops.

With his belt in hand, I take a step back and he turns to face me. I can literally see how much he wants to touch me and dominate me, but today I want to do it differently.

His blue eyes follow me as I sit down on the edge of the bed and gently tap the bed, "Take your pants off and come here please."

Of course, I don't have to ask him twice.

Faster than I would have given him credit for, he strips off his shirt and pants, including his boxers, and I have to pull myself together to keep from falling into our normal dynamic of asking him what he wants me to do. Because that's exactly what heats up our sex so much: the dominance game between us in which I let him do whatever he wants and he takes me to my limits.

Unfortunately, it was a mistake to sit on the edge of the bed while he is still standing, because he can look down on me and quietly commands: "Take off your clothes, sweetie and put your face down into the pillows and your butt up in the air."

My eyes flutter shut and I say weakly, "Not today."

I hear him laugh, "Oh yes you are and you know it."

My traitorous center tightens at his tone, but I haven't forgotten Jessie either. So I shake my head and look him in the eye, "I want to tie you to the bed."

Of course, he bursts out laughing and doesn't seem to care at all that he's naked and vulnerable in front of me, "You want to tie me to the bed? Are you serious? Sorry, sweetie, but you do realize it's your part, right?"

Of course Rick respects me and actually we are partners at eye level, but as soon as it goes to the sexual level, it's just the opposite. That's why I can't blame him for laughing.

But I look up at him pleadingly, "Please?"

I know that's the only way I can get what I want, and I see Rick glance briefly at the belt in my hand.

Why I have to ask him to do this is obvious to both of us.

If he ties me up, it's easy and even if I resist, he's far superior to me physically. If I tried it on him, he could just push me aside. That's why he has to let me do it to him.

He looks me in the eye again and then sighs heavily, "Fine."

Without taking his eyes off me, he drops onto his back and extends his wrists toward me, "Go."

Even in this position he gives me orders and through clenched teeth I do.

I climb onto his thighs and put the belt around his wrists the way he usually does with me, fixing them to the metal of the bed frame.

Briefly he tugs on it and then murmurs, "Well done."

Now that I know he has no chance to touch me and can barely move himself, I smile at him in relief: The hard part is done.

Only now can I concentrate on Rick and trace his nipples with my finger. The sight of him straining against the bondage at this innocent touch makes my stomach warm and I bend over to whisper in his ear, "Want me to tell you a secret? I'm still mad at you because I know for a fact that you were flirting with that blonde."

Again, he braces himself and I press my middle against his cock, making him gasp, "Oh come on."

Gently I rub against his shaft and the unfamiliar position he's in seems to bother him.

Smiling, I breathe, "You know Rick, I have eyes in my head and I saw exactly where your hands were with her. For that, you can forget about touching me in the slightest today."

I can see how annoyed he is with the development, but I want him to beg me like I always do. I want him to beg to come and forget that Jessie even exists.

Lasciviously, I stand up and give him a strip show he won't forget in his lifetime and as I bend over to let my panties slide to the floor as the last piece of clothing, I stick my ass out at him so he can see what's his.

It doesn't matter that he can barely move because I still belong to him.

When I turn back to him, he's still staring between my legs and I purr, "Let's see if you can make amends."

Unusually still, he looks up at me and I can't get enough of the sight of him.

The way his biceps protrude through the restraints and his curls frame his beautiful face like a halo.

I stare at his lips and lean forward so that only a few inches separate us, "I want you to kiss me."

Immediately he lifts his head and wants to press my lips to mine, but I grab his curls and yank his head back before he can kiss me. I pull so hard on his hair that he moans softly, "Fuck."

Then I swing one leg over his head and kneel to the left and right of his arms so that my wet pussy hovers in front of his face.

Desperate to maintain control, I try to hide the trembling of my hands by bracing myself against the wall behind the headboard of the bed.

Breathing heavily, I look to him and almost give in at the sight of him looking at me with that special glint in his eyes. Unfortunately, I can't hide the trembling in my voice as I breathe, "I want you to kiss me like that."

Still not saying a word of his own and moving my pussy a little closer to his lips, he whispers softly, "You need to go down further."

I close my eyes and just think: His voice…heaven his voice….

Somehow I'm trying to punish him, but I can't shake the feeling that he doesn't even really see it as punishment yet.

Again I lower myself further and immediately he puts his lips on me.

At the first touch, my legs threaten to give way and I moan, "Oh God."

This guy just has a magic tongue and without complaining, he licks me, causing my hands to slide off the wall and I have to hold onto the edge of the bed to keep from falling on top of him and cutting off Rick's air.

My legs start to shake and Rick moans softly, "Lower."

Without thinking, I do as he says and he slides his tongue inside me.

Hectically I gyrate my hips and he knows exactly what he's doing as he presses his nose against my clit and all my muscles contract.

As I come on his tongue he tugs at the bondage and probably only now he realizes how lousy his situation actually is.

Shaky from the orgasm, I roll off him and my eyes fall on his cock, which twitches expectantly before I look up into his face.

Rick's blue eyes shine in the dim light and the feeling of pride is overwhelming as I see his beard glistening from my wetness.

I'm proud of myself that a man like Rick is licking me like it's the only thing that matters and this feeling of power over him is just overwhelming.

He licks his still wet lips and pulls at the belt around his wrists, "I got it, sweetie. Untie me so I can fuck you the way you deserve. I want to show you that you are my goddess."

The words out of his mouth are like a drug, but I want him to beg. I want to bring him to the brink of collapse. So I pull myself together and push myself on top of him again.

When my wet pussy touches his belly, he flinches and I huff, "Forget it."

I trace a wet trail across his belly as I move to his cock and out of reflex he lifts his hips to enter me, but I brace myself on my knees and aim his cock so that only the tip is at my entrance.

Eyes wide, he stares up at me and moans as I close my hand tighter around him.

I take a deep breath and purr, "Do you want to feel how ready I am for you, Rick?"

Panting, he nods and his cock twitches in my hand as he growls, "Fuck, yeah."

Sugar-sweetly, I ask, "What was that? I think there was something missing."

Rick is smart and knows immediately what I mean. I can see how much he resists, but the need to feel my warm walls around his cock is stronger, so he moans, "Please, sweetie."

I don't move an inch and my wetness wets his tip.

Rick yanks so hard on the belt that I'm briefly afraid he'll rip the bed part right off with it, but his hands stay in place and he growls in frustration, "I'm sorry I touched Jessie. Really."

I slide a little lower and his tip is inside me.

I've never seen him so desperate and needy as he is at this moment.

The vein on his neck comes out clearly and his hands are clenched into fists. Having this power over him is intoxicating and I whisper, "So what?"

He tries to come higher with his hips, but I move out of the way and he gasps, "Holy shit, I'm sorry I told you to relax."

Again I slide a little lower and moan hoarsely with him. I'm so wet that he slides into me so incredibly easily and I demand, "Beg for it."

Our eyes meet and I know full well that I'm taking it too far and that I'll regret it when I take his ties off afterwards.

But his desperation is so great that he unintentionally complies: "Please, please let me into your perfect pussy, sweetie."

At my petname, I let myself fall on top of him, moaning, and his whole body tenses as my pussy wraps tightly around his cock.

Panting, I give in and let my upper body fall forward so that my breasts are pressed against his torso.

He's so big and deep inside me that I can barely breathe, let alone move.

Especially since Rick usually has his hands on my hips, helping me move on top of him. It's not that I don't know what to do, but now I have to take care of it myself and I can't let him take control.

Rick notices my hesitation and gasps harshly in my ear, "You want to do this alone?"

With my hand on his chest, I feel his heart hammering fast and I whimper with my lips against his neck, "Yes."

His curls tickle my cheek as he moves his head slightly and murmurs, "Just try. You can't do anything wrong and you don't need my help to do it too. Finish it, sweetie."

Surprised by his encouraging words, I straighten up a bit and the love in his eyes blows me away. I had actually planned on not letting him come at all, but now I don't want to.

A little awkwardly, I straighten up again, bracing my hands against his broad shoulders as I raise my hips again, then lower myself back down onto him.

My mouth hangs wide open and with each deep moan from Rick, my whole abdomen tightens and Rick gets louder too. To my surprise, he also no longer resists the belt and lets me do whatever I deem fit to him.

As his cock starts to twitch inside me, he huskily blurts out, "That's it. Take what you need." And fuck, I do.

Trembling, I come one more time, pulling Rick right along with me. I'm still pulsing around him as I drop forward on top of him again, sliding my hands down his arms.

I undo the belt and once his hands are free, he wraps them around me, "Thank you."

I nod weakly and he lifts me to slide out of me and lay me down next to him in the bed.

My whole body feels like it's made of rubber and I open my eyes lazily as he whispers softly, "I'm really sorry. Are you still mad at me?"

Smiling, I shake my head and he brushes a strand of hair out of my face.

My eyes fall to his wrist and I'm instantly wide awake again, "Oh God, I didn't mean to. Why didn't you tell me I tightened the belt too much?"

I reach for his wrist and stroke the clearly visible red scratches and look up in irritation as he laughs softly, "Take it easy. It's all good. I kept pulling on it myself, didn't I? Don't worry about it."

Doubting, I look back down at the marks on his skin and he laughs again, "I think you should worry more about how uncomfortable it's going to be when someone asks about how I got those." And now I can't hold back the laughter either.

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink

[idiasdiscordkitten]

Hello again >:) Ok so prompt for Vampire! Trey, Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Malleus. Can be spicy if you feel like it ;) So, Reader doesn't know that the other person is a vampire and cut themselves pretty deep, thus bleeding. The twst character, being the only other person there, have to bandage their wound and help them. Are they comfortable? Stressed? Hungry? Horny? Up to you~

now this right here is the kind of content i live for. i love stuff like this! i'm going to do my best :) thank you for the request!

i think i am going to keep this mostly non-spicy, just because it wouldn't apply to most of them

you guys i love writing the boys as supernatural creatures

trey, leona, floyd, jamil, and malleus as vampires tending to an oblivious, bleeding prefect

Trey Clover

❤️ trey is a little uncomfortable with the fact that you’re bleeding, since it’s not like he has fresh blood all that often, but his priority is making sure you’re alright.  his teeth ache, but he’s able to put those desires aside to tend to your wound

❤️ he cares a lot about what you think of him.  he doesn’t want anyone to view him as someone (or something) to be afraid of, so he does his best to appear as “normal” as possible

❤️ you notice that he’s a little shaky, but when he tells you he’s just a little squeamish, he’s very convincing, and you don’t suspect a thing

❤️ after he makes sure you’re going to heal up just fine and you’re back at the dorm, he goes back to his own room to cool off.  he wasn’t about to lose it, or anything, but he certainly feels dehydrated.  moreso than usual

Leona Kingscholar

💛 his instincts immediately kick in, telling him to completely devour you, but he fights back so that he doesn’t draw suspicion.  if anyone finds out he’s a vampire, it’ll just bring more attention to him, and he’d really prefer to be left alone

💛 leona figures that you’re too stupid to patch yourself up, so he grits his teeth and carefully bandages you up

💛 once he’s closer to you, the scent really hits him and he starts to zone out a little, just holding on to you for a second and staring.  when he hears his own name, he snaps out of it.  his excuse is that annoying herbivores like you are preventing him from taking a nap, so he’s extra tired (not that that’s a lie or anything)

💛 after you’re all fixed up, he orders you to go home.  if you’re *that* injured, he’ll ask ruggie or jack to escort you.  he needs some time alone to drink something, anything, to get your scent off his mind.  it was just too good

Floyd Leech

💜 you may not know that floyd’s a vampire, but you do know he’s dangerous.  if there’s anyone you don’t really want to be injured in front of, it’s him.  and with good reason, too

💜 he glances at your cut and laughs a little, smiling.  he wants a taste really, really bad, and he’s honestly a little turned on by your scent, too.  he absolutely wants to take you

💜 when he grabs you, he takes a closer look and contemplates whether or not he should actually bite you.  would it really be all that interesting?  or is the punishment for such an action too lame, too much of a turnoff

💜 “aw, i didn’t know little shrimpies could bleed like that,” he says.  he decides that eating you now would be too easy, and right now, you’re not really worth the trouble.  he fixes you up and lets you go, but even though he does a good job bandaging you up, he makes sure to make it “messy” at first so he can get a sample of your blood for later

Jamil Viper

🧡 jamil has phenomenal control, since he’s had to take care of kalim his whole life, but it takes a lot of energy to maintain that composure.  your blood smells so good to him, so unique, that he almost breaks character for a second

🧡 he fixes you up really quickly.  you don’t think anything of it, since he’s basically a professional malewife, and he’s grateful that he’s got plenty of experience with situations like these

🧡 but god, is he hungry

🧡 all he wants to do is use his teeth.  that’s all.  it’s frustrating to him that he has these fangs and he can’t even use them...  maybe someday

Malleus Draconia

💚 he knows you’re bleeding before you do.  he could tell that your blood smelled good even when it was trapped beneath your skin, but now that it’s free?  my, what a special child of man you are

💚 malleus knows that everyone is terrified of him, though.  the thought of you being scared of him, too, is just too painful.  he’s old enough to be able to restrain himself without issue, so he makes sure to be as gentle and warm as possible while he tends to your injury

💚 he knows his skin is cold, so he tries not to let his touch linger for too long.  you two have never made skin-to-skin contact before, and he laments that it’s under these circumstances.  he hopes you don’t suspect anything

💚 your kindness proves you would never hold judgment towards something like that, and he’s relieved that you didn’t seem to realize anything.  after you leave, he realizes his own tongue is bleeding.  has he really been pushing his fangs into it this whole time without noticing?  it’s time to feed, then

[queenshelby]

The Secretary (One Shot)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warning: Smut, Anal, Total Filth Really, No Plot, Derogation, Dom!Daddy Kink

Requested: Yes!

You were employed as Tommy Shelby’s secretary but, providing secretarial services wasn’t all that was listed on your job description. Every day, you relieved your employer of his stress and today, in addition to the usual blow job, Tommy wanted something more from you but it wasn’t your virginity he wanted. It was your ass.  

***

"Now, turn around Love” Tommy ordered and you looked at him with some confusion but complied with his request nonetheless.

You turned around and, after he gave a slight little push on the back, you bent over on the desk. It was a position you weren’t used to. Your face was pressed onto the table and your butt was in the air. You had no idea what to expect.

Eventually, you felt him lift the bottom of your skirt and then he pulled your panties down around your ankles, causing you to shriek.

“Mr Shelby, as I explained already, I am preserving my virginity for the man I will marry” you told him and, unbeknownst to you, he smiled.

“Don’t worry Love. As promised, your virginity will remain intact” Tommy smirked, adding to your confusion until, suddenly, you felt the strong hands of your employer unexpectedly spread your butt cheeks apart.

"So, what are you going to do?" you asked with your face on the desk.

“I’ll fuck your beautiful ass instead” he told you and a mass of confusion, fear, arousal, uncertainty, almost everything a person could feel, ran over you.

“My ass, sir?” you yelped in shock as your private little hole was completely exposed to him now. Was he being serious, you wondered?

“Yes Love” he confirmed as you felt the unusual sensation of your anus being exposed to so much air from the spreading.

“I don’t think it will fit” you said with concern as you could feel Tommy staring inside your tiny hole.

“I promise you, it will fit. Now, do you want me to continue or shall I find someone else more suitable for this position?” Tommy asked and, after hesitating a little longer, you nodded and responded with a quiet “okay”.

“Good girl” he said before he pulled apart your asscheeks apart even further with both of his hands, assessing your small puckered hole.

You dug your fingers into the wood of the desk in anticipation, teeth clenched, toes curled. This would be agony if you didn't relax a little. The fear would feed on itself, and the pain would be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Then, the next thing you felt was something wet, but it wasn’t Tommy’s cock. It was a finger, drenched in spit, working its way inside your smallest opening.

“So nice and tight, eh. There is nothing better than an asshole that has never been fucked” Tommy groaned as he pushed his index finger inside of you gently and you shrieked again with suprise.

“Mr Shelby, it hurts” you told him, but he already knew that it would and proceeded with care.

“Play with your clit Love. Try to relax. The first time might be a little uncomfortable but you will soon get used to it” he reassured you before forcing another finger into your opening, spreading you open before drawing them in and out slowly.

“There you go” he cooed as, eventually, he determined that you were relaxed enough to take his cock.

“I think you can take my cock now Love” he told you as he spit on your slightly open hole, right in between your asscheeks and aligned himself against your tight entrance.

Then, he began to push the head in and you immediately began to whine. It was more painful than you thought and it felt as though your passage didn’t want to give way to the intruder.

"You have to relax” Tommy said as he massaged the back of your neck and pushed forward another half-inch. There was nothing, nothing like an untried ass he thought. He wanted to plunge in, bury himself in your ass in one stroke, but he wouldn't do that to you.

You coughed, choked. Your anus tried to close, a vise around Tommy’s cock and he gritted his teeth and waited.

"Breathe, Love. You're doing so well” he cooed and you took a nice, deep breath, allowing him to opened you more, taking a couple of inches all at once this time.

"It hurts so much" you whispered but Tommy reassured you that you would be getting used to it soon.

“The pain will fade Love. I promise” Tommy told you as inch by inch, he eased his way into the hot, twitching tunnel of your ass, running his hands over your shoulder blades, your waist, your trembling ass cheeks.

“You feel so fucking good. So nice and tight” Tommy groaned as, finally, his cock was all the way inside your ass, his balls pressed against your cheeks. In one smooth motion, he pulled all the way out of you and pulled your ass apart.

“You should see your ass now, spread open by my cock and gaping wide” he went on to say as your twitching pink hole was contracting furiously and stretched to about the size of a dime.

Tommy then spit down onto your ass again and rubbed the spit into your ass with his thumb, lubricating your entrance some more. He pushed his index finger down into your ass, then added his middle finger, and finally a third. He twisted his fingers in slow, easy circles, stretching out those tight, tight muscles and you whimpered. Clearly, he was enjoying himself and he enjoyed seeing you like this.

“Fuck Love” he groaned as he jerked his fingers out again, revealing a slightly more stretched little hole now.

You knew that you were never going to forget this, never going to forget how full you felt and, when he drove his cock down into your body again, you could feel him all the way inside your stomach. So deep and so full.

Faster this time, he began to fuck you in earnest. You moaned and screamed, finally collapsing into a silent, teary mess. There was pain and there was pleasure, all combined with each other.

As he was going faster, you were rising to meet his every thrust and your strangled cries were filling the air. Your sphincter tightened, thighs clenched. You pushed up on your hands, arched your back.

“That’s it Love. You are taking my cock so well now and soon I will fill you with my cum. I will cum all the way inside you, filling your stomach with my seed” Tommy groaned as he kept fucking you hard and fast, your sphincter giving way now and accommodating his thrusts.

"Oh god" you groaned, and then you were there. Your whole body trembled, and you collapsed on your elbows, face pressed against Tommy’s desk.

“That’s it Love. Cum with my cock in your ass” Tommy groaned and you knew that his orgasm had been building for a while, and now, he let it loose, shooting streams of cum into your tight opening.

He was holding himself as deep as he could, spilling his seed into your bowls and you felt a warm and stinging sensation inside you.

It felt unusual and incredible at the same time. He groaned loudly, giving you a few more thrusts before he pulled out and spread your cheeks apart so that he could see his cum leaking from your gaping little asshole.

“Push it out for me Love” he told you and you tried as best as you could but then wished that you hadn’t as Tommy collected some of his cum with his fingers.

“Now clean them up for me. You did well. Such a good girl, eh” he spoke as he brought his cum soaked fingers to your mouth and you obliged with his request and licked them clean.

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[humanmorph]

success : ) he added the songs. i also drew something and thought about brnine at 5am in lieu of listening to the new ep

This song makes me mostly sad about Phrygian but it's a good Brnine grief song generally. It's probably all the talk about listening to tapes of a person you love. "I'll hear what you say and you'll hear me too" specifically kind of gets me... Also "the way we used to fight" because Brnine HAS to still be thinking about the S.I. fight even of just subconsciously. It clicks.

I don't remember if its come up on the show but I don't really think Brnine watches/listens to the GurValence recordings?* I'm just having trouble imagining that when they won't even say their name. If that's true, (it is to me at the time I drew this and am thinking about it now) this probably feels like a moment of weakness or giving in. (It's late at night or very early and they can't sleep. Probably just recently moved from the hospital room to their own. The sound is a hum from the Asepsis terrarium and, quietly, the tape. The room is very messy.)

Though I guess here grief re: Valence is more direct since they're listening to one of those tapes (though they might not be like, /hearing/ it really) and re: Phrygian it's more like. A vague revulsion but also comfort? familarity? and not wanting to think about it at feeling the wires & cables on their skin (the shapes lying around are supposed to be gutted machine parts or whatever. You know. Things with wires and cables in them). I also drew this hand with a cord twirled around their fingers kind of gripping it, it just didn't fit in the picture.

I do think this is probably too emo for Brnine because they're so... Compartmentalizing with their grief specifically until it catches them off guard or/bc they stop moving (Which they won't now. They're on borrowed time! ). I just really liked this image I had in my head! This is what fanart is for. I love Brnine.

Lately I've really been wanting to play around with lineweight more, it's something I like a lot in art I look at... it kind of goes together with a fluidity I wish my lines had! (I think my lines usually end up looking kind of rigid because I always want them to be really clean.) I've been enjoying looking at beeelderly's art for that reason lately. You probably just get a feeling on where to put weight the more you do it, but currently it's guesswork for me, so I'm paying close attention. I wish I could remember the name of a webcomic I read recently that also used this... Anyways I have like 1 brush that does this well (luckily I like using it. I think it's the one I used to the animatic?), and I might look for more. I wanna get more bold with it too. Lining! I might grit my teeth about it a lot but it's fun! The color palette is kind of from the album cover... I didn't directly color pick or anything but I haven't drawn with a green like that in a while (PALISADE art keeps ending up being purple) & I like it. I'm also enjoying coloring in monotones. I'm still mostly bullshitting lighting, but it's a bit easier to wrap my head around this way... I should still practice coloring & actually look at color theory more, but I'm having fun with this, and it's a step up from leaving sketches black & white (which has it's merits too! I'm usually planning comics in b&w).

_______________

* When I thought about this the other day I was like woah... just like in Andor...!** I can't be assed to find this AMCA quote rn but there's a part where they talk about Cassian being afraid to take Nemiks manifesto. And then he just stores it in a box along with his most important possessions for x amount of time. And it's not really the same it's not but you could draw parallels if you wanted to. I believe..... (Thinking about rewatching Andor again. The AMCA coverage really was crazy good on that one. I also miss when I wasn't fully caught up on AMCA I might just start relistening to their Clone Wars eps.....)

** Well let's be clear. PARTIZAN was first.

this is the 2nd song that has lyrics in the episode desc but wasnt added to the palisade playlist so i might risk being kind of annoying and send an ask to austin about it. because what the fuck i love this

[1tad0ri]

what abt gojo taking reader’s virginity ;))

warning: virgin!reader, praising, fingering, eating out, penetration, mild overstimulation

gojou satoru x fem!reader

say less, this man owns my entire heart

“how are you doing?”

the question would’ve been almost cute if he wasn’t knuckle deep in your cunt, two fingers curling with seemingly no rhyme or reason to your hazed brain, but somehow working—yes, they were definitely working. it was the fact that he didn’t even look like he was remotely trying but was still somehow getting results that really got you—you don’t know why you expected anything less from him.

satoru’s lips wrapped around your clit, sucking, the feeling sharp yet... warm? the unfamiliar sensation made you hiss.

the top of a third finger nudged your entrance, slowly, carefully pushing in—the stretch; you didn’t know how much more you could take. your hips bucked against him, you throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapping around his back to push his face closer, the flat of his tongue pressing on you. (not that you had much say in the matter anyway; the arm locked around your thigh pulling you closer to him wouldn’t let you get very far even if you did try to move away.)

“my god, satoru—” you propped yourself up on your forearm and then promptly let yourself fall back onto the pillow, face burning at the sight. even with his blindfold on, you could tell he was watching you, looking smug, attention focused so fully on your aching core. oh god, this was embarrassing—

“you were taking too long to answer,” he mused, mouth pulling back from your pussy enough to talk, fingers still pumping in and out. the third finger was working its way in still, the fit tight but he knew you could take it. of course you could.

“so?” his eyes flicked back up to yours behind his blindfold. “how are you doing?”

it was hard to talk aside from your irregular pants and you tilted your head up to look at the ceiling, trying to slow the racing beats of your heart. you nodded, swallowing. “good,” you managed out, then sucked in a harsh breath, “very good.”

“that’s my baby. so proud of you.” third finger in, he watched your face, allowing you to adjust, and when you didn’t protest, he curled it tentatively. the sharp rise and fall of your chest at the action spurred him to continue, stretching you further, your walls squeezing his fingers. “you’re doing so well.” a light kiss to your clit made you gasp—he was having way too much fun.

your slick dripped down his hand, perfectly matching the wet sound of him fucking his fingers into you. your leg pressed down more on his back—you didn’t know what to do, squirming in place, wanting more yet still barely handling what he was already giving you.

“do you think you’re ready?” satoru asked after a moment, voice soft—the vibration of him talking so close to your folds did not help though and you ran a hand down to grip at his hair.

“i think...,” a pant when his fingers bumped against you just right and you had to resist screaming from how he was going to drive you insane at this rate, “i think i am.”

that was all the confirmation he needed before he removed his fingers. you didn’t even get the chance to mewl in protest before his tongue replaced the digits, pushing itself into your still tight hole, flicking against your sensitive spot and fucking you.

“satoru, fuck, oh my god— satoru.”

and then he was pulling back again, tongue running up and down your folds and lapping up your juices before he sat back to observe you.

towering over your form spread before him, satoru decided that waiting for this moment was worth the pretty sight. “good girl.” he squeezed your thigh reassuringly, letting you catch your breath, and then setting about ridding himself of the remaining pieces of fabric.

his blindfold discarded to the side, you didn’t even have it in you to be embarrassed when he shoved his boxers down, cock bouncing free. you were already thinking about how it would feel, caught up in the lust of the moment. things were hazy... so sharply realistic yet mixing with the muddled euphoria from all of his touches from before.

satoru settled back between your legs, lifting them up around his waist. you automatically locked them around him, drawing him close enough that you could feel his cock bump against your clit as he tried to get comfortable. the sensation alone filled you with shockwaves of electricity and you wriggled against him, impatient.

he leaned over you, forearms planted on either side of your head, and carefully guided his cock to run against your folds. you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull his chest flush to yours, tits pressing against his front.

“please,” you murmured, forehead against his and eyes squeezed shut, “want you. so bad.”

“fuck, so pretty just for me, aren’t you?” smiling, he moved to kiss your neck and the simple touch made you shiver. “so impatient.”

you pulled at his hair, brows furrowed and face hot. “shut up.”

satoru kissed the corner of your mouth and then nibbled at the area. “you’re so cute like this. so pretty—ow.” another tug at his hair made him ease up on the teasing (plus he had to admit he was ready to finally do this too).

“okay, okay. i’m going to take of you, baby. going to take care of you so good.” he breathed in, touch reassuring where it rubbed circles into your sides. “okay?” satoru pressed his lips to your cheek when you nodded, steeling yourself. “just tell me if you ever want to... stoppp—fu...ck,” the end of his sentence mixed together into a groan as he started to sink into you, cock stiff and hot. he was so careful, so slow, you almost wouldn’t think he wanted to fuck you into the mattress right now. nails against his back, you buried your face into his neck, breathing heavy.

“don’t stop.” the words spilled out of you when he tried to give you time to adjust, your legs pushing him in further. “god, do not stop.” your lips tickled against his skin and he pressed his forehead into the pillow beside you—you were so fucking tight. all for him. completely his.

as he eventually bottomed out after what felt like an eternity, he leaned back to look down at you, your looped arms about his shoulders not letting him go far. “i love you.” his words melted into your mouth when he leaned back down and his lips sucked against yours in a kiss, open mouthed, messy, and so good. hands tangled in his hair, you tilted your head up to meet him with the same fevor.

in between the meager chances he let you take a quick gasp of air before diving back in, you were able to get out your own sentence. “i love—” another wet kiss cut you off. “—you too—” and another. “—so much.”

attention focused on your mouth, satoru began to pull out just the smallest bit and then snap his hips back into yours, relishing the hot breaths you were releasing against his face. hums of contentment and hands flitting all over his hair, head, face, and back trying to find purchase were the responses he got from you as he continued with the shallow thrusts, lengthening them bit by bit until he was pulling almost all the way out to slam back into you.

the vibration of his grunts and moans, knowing you were the reason he was like this, it was too much. the brushing of his cock against the sensitive spot buried deep inside you had you cursing, messy lips and saliva mixing in until you turned your head to the side to breathe, gasping for air.

and then when one of his hands rubbed against your clit before you even realized what was happening, you clenched around him (earning you a low growl from him as you squeezed his cock even tighter than before), gritting your teeth. somehow he knew exactly what to do to get a rise out of you, even if this was your first time.

“are you going to cum for me, baby?” teasing yet lust-driven, his words went straight to the coil building up in your stomach, your whole body hot as he nipped at your neck and you took shuddering breaths.

“y... yes,” the broken word fell from your lips, throat suddenly sore from the tension, “please make me cu... ah,” he pressed down on your clit at just the right angle, rubbing in a perfect circle—god, so perfect, “please, just—”

satoru soothed you with quiet coos, capturing your lips once more. it wasn’t long until you completely let yourself go, slick coating his cock as you saw stars and the pressure released from within you.

“i’m almost... there...” he gasped against you, hips snapping against yours as he continued to fuck into you. the overstimulation was so good, fuck, you didn’t want to come down from your high. the feeling of his chest tensing up against you as he came had you clinging to his back all over again, muscles taunt under your touch.

it took a while for both of you to calm down, sweaty foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing and lips brushing.

when he could finally speak, satoru brought his hand up to cup your face and he pressed a kiss to your lips, one that was a sharp contrast to the unhinged nature of the ones previous. “i love you. you were so good.” satoru squished your cheek, laughing a little. “love you so much.”

you nodded, feeling feverish, still burning from the thrill, and leaned up to kiss him again, drawing him down into a slow, smooth lapping of mouths against one another. “i love you too.”