#ANYWAY this was all supposed to be in black and white but i like colors too much so............

[helioxed]

Hands to the night sky, praying you might die before I fall in love with you

[voidimp]

hmmmm i need. new practice heads for bjd faceups. i dont like any of the ones i have. unfortunately they are not cheap

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than D

Black uncommons! :D

[vintagecandy]

Now for the 1920s reimagining of Jonathan Crane ! sorry this explanation is even longer lmao

As everyone's been saying, I should do the rest of the Dork Squad to match 1920s Jervis, and so here is my Jonathan! Easily the hardest to draw out of the three-- but I must say! Despite being outside my expertise, I'm a little surprised how much it looks exactly like I was imagining! Even if it took me ages but that's just procrastination lmao.

Anyways! What is his deal? Well, for one, design wise I did go a more drastically different direction from his usual look by doing a literal scareCROW. He's much more bird like, with a plague doctor mask being common imagery in steampunk, but he's still very southern themed with his messy broken overall strap and patchwork coat. Even his wings are rustic. ( he can't fly just glide btw lol ) Also! I leaned hard into the color orange instead of his usual green gas because it..... bugs me that both Crane and Nygma have a bright green in their color palette. I just want them to have distinct colors if they're going to be a trio. And look how vintage halloweeny he looks !!

So why is he so well dressed out of costume? Well! This Jonathan Crane is not a psychologist at all, here he is the very successful grandfather of horror movies in the silent film era. ( An illustrious origin, i hope canon Crane would be proud lmao ). This is referenced in how his face looks, he's wearing white powder and black makeup that's usually meant to emphasize key features on blurry film like his upper lip and around his eyes. And yes, he just keeps his makeup on during most events, and people just accept he's a little on the... eccentric side.

To me, the archetype of the mad artist fits Jonathan's vibe perfectly. When it comes to striking fear, he's a perfectionist, a trait that drove him to learn every single skill necessary himself, from costume design to props to making his own cameras to mechanical engineering, to.... a "fear gas" that was supposed to gently encourage immersion in the audience but ended up becoming a dangerous chemical weapon.

For his origin crime I am thinking !! Full blown Scooby Doo style monster mystery!! With some nuance! Crane, as a first impression, gives off an immediate air of pompous, aggressively impatient, pretentious director type. His presence is big and dramatic, but its distinctly not southern-- in fact, he seems to play up something between a hollywood accent and a thespian one. But this is all to cover for his farm hick background that he was once very ashamed of.

As a child of a failing farmhand during an infamously dry and dusty era, Jonathan developed an extreme resentment for his country existence from both the bullying of other children for all his strange quirks and the severe verbal and physical abuse of his father, driven to alcoholism by the stress of poverty and the loss of his wife. Originally offering his artistic ideas as a means to help them, he grows sick of their closed mindedness and berating and runs away to learn about the emerging potential of film in Gotham City.

Its been many years, Jonathan now in his early 30s, he finds himself surrounded by the shallow, champagne aristocrats that reflect his childhood bullies. Feeling wrong in his own skin, he develops a sightly unhealthy obsession with the escapism he finds in performing as the monsters in his movies.

But upon discovering that the corrupt rich of Gotham plan to push legislation that would negatively effect farmers like his own history, and that they expected him to be amongst those who support it, his irritation with the shallowness of society reaches its limits. In day, he would feign support for their behavior to cover his tracks, but at night he would don the mask of the Scarecrow, rumored to be the vengeful spirit of a farmer who was hanged, and who he believes to be a more freeing expression of himself than his true face, targeting not just the rich but striking fear in their laborers to scare them off land. And it works. So, he tries bending the will of society more.

Is he doing this out of any moral conviction or just spite and a love for the role? It's... hard to say.

As the Scarecrow, his methods are so effective he's near uncatchable, even by Batman. Its only by solving the mystery of who is under the mask are they able to catch him. They surprise him during one of his screenings, jump him in the dark, and prove his subtle use of fear gas in the theater to the police once he's cornered. Instead of being angry, he goes to the mad house applauding Batman's performance.

What an interesting character they play. He's very inspired.

[urfavleo777]

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, oral (f receiving), enemies to lovers.

pairing colby brock x fem¡reader

HALLOWEEN prompt: The new tenants of the house you’re haunting are being haunted by another ghost. War ensues.

As a ghost, you liked to make your presence felt.

It was fun to torment the living by slamming cabinets and putting on your favourite songs when you were still human. Terrified owners, convinced that they were dealing with a demon, started hanging crosses and pictures in huge numbers. In every corridor of this Victorian house there was at least one painting with the image of Mary. Within 24 hours they all landed on the floor with an incredible bang.

So you weren't surprised when they brought in a priest one day. As if that would help. The priest blessed the house in vain and when he left, the owners tried to communicate with you using the Ouija board. They asked a lot of questions and didn't get a single answer from you.

You thought they were fools. You've given them so many signs that you don't want them here. All you wanted was to get them all off your property. Why couldn't they just pack up their things and find another house? Maybe because not every house looked like a  fortress frozen in time.

The most active place was your room upstairs, which now, slightly renovated, belonged to their son. You particularly liked the youngest boy in the family, he seemed to be the most terrified and often you'd do things specifically targeting him, including whispering creepy sounds in his ear at night to keep him on edge.

You didn't remember when nor how you died. The only thing you remembered about your previous life was music. You loved music, sometimes you even replayed a Michael Jackson concert in your head that you, as a human, had managed to attend. So you must have been stuck here since the late 1980s, haunting this place for years, quietly watching over it.

Everything was fine until the other ghost showed up.

“Show yourself!” You gasped, trying to keep your voice steady.

A figure began to take shape out of the air, the image fuzzy but slowly growing clearer. As you stared at the spectre, it was clear that the presence before you had once been a man. You could see the sharp features and strong jawline from decades gone by.

A chill went up your spine as you realized the clothing of the ghost was very different from a modern outfit. It was older, but well-made and expensive-looking, like something an 1800s aristocrat might wear.

“You're new,” he said, his voice low and smooth, yet there was something cold in his tone. “This isn't your home.”

He stepped forward, and you could see the details of his face, a face that was sharp and handsome. He seemed to be in his mid-20s, with dark, intense eyes. He was wearing a long coat, perfectly tailored and a stark black and white color. A dark hat was in his hand, as if he'd just taken it off.

“I...” You swallowed hard, feeling overwhelmed by fear, but also this strange pull of curiosity. The ghost looked at you, his expression almost disdainful.

“You're the one who's been haunting this house,” he stated. It was clearly not a question. “You've been making yourself quite the nuisance, haven't you?”

“Before I died in this house, it was mine. I can scare anyone I want here and no one, especially no one who looks like... someone straight out of the Middle Ages, will stop me.”

"Oh, do I look out-of-date to you? I suppose fashion has changed since my time. But let me tell you something that has not: this house is mine. We built it. The Brock family.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait... Brock family?” You felt a sudden jolt of realization. “Brock... you mean the family that built the original part of this house?”

His expression hardened. “Yes. The Brock family. Every stone, every brick, belonged to my ancestors.”

The ghost smiled, though his smile was more of a sneer. He began to pace, the sound of his steps echoing throughout the chamber.

“Anyway, you think that dying in the house gives you the right to terrify its owners?” A small smile curled on his lips.

“I am the owner. And they deserved it,” You retorted, though you voice lacked the conviction you wished it to have.

The ghost cocked his head to the side. "Oh? And why is that?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

“They don't... value the history of this place. They are turning this house into some kind of religious cult. Have you seen these crosses? The only thing missing from perfection here is the Pope.”

He arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “A sentimental ghost. How... touching.”

“Better than a fallen aristocrat.” You retorted, though the ghost's smile was sending chills up your spine.

He leaned in close. His voice dropped to a murmur. “You think scaring them is enough?” He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a finger gently against your cheek. You felt a chill go through you, but not of coldness. “Why not do something... more entertaining, Y/N?” As your name left his lips, you almost died a second time. How did he know? You tried to hide your shock, “How- how do you know my name?”

The ghost had a small, smug smirk on his face. "I know a great many things, sweetheart,” he replied, his tone almost mocking. “Oh, and where are my manners? Colby Brock, son of the home's original owner.”

You hesitated for a moment, wary of him. But, almost against your will, you reached out to take his hand. It was strangely warm and as you felt the solidity of his hand in yours, you stared at him. He was a ghost like you, yet he seemed different. More... real, more present.

“How can I... feel you?” You whispered, your voice shaking a bit.

Colby's smirk widened. “I've been watching you... Y/N,” he said. You didn't like the way he said your name, almost as if it was an endearment.

“You've been watching me?” Your voice came out in a whisper.

“As much as a ghost can,” he replied, running a thumb over the back of your hand. “I have to admit, you're fascinating. A mischievous spirit with a penchant for causing chaos.”

His words made you feel uneasy, but you didn't pull your hand away. The feeling of his skin on yours was so... foreign. It had been decades since you felt a physical touch.

He shrugged, his other hand tracing a path around your wrist. It was strangely intimate.

“A little amusement,” he said, his voice low. “Your antics were a pleasant distraction from this eternal haunting of my former home.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip was firm. “Let me go,” You murmured, though there was no force in your voice.

Colby chuckled, his eyes locked with yours. “Or what?” he asked, his grip tightening just slightly. “What are you going to do? Cause a few bumps in the night? Knock some glasses off the kitchen counter?”

A small smirk played on his lips. “You can't do anything to me, sweetheart. Besides, this is my house.”

“It's my house too,” You retorted.

“Oh, no, my dear,” he said, his voice almost a purr. “This house has always been and always will be mine.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. You better tell me how we can scare them that they shit in their pants.”

Colby's expression turned smug. “Oh, a variety of things. A voice in the middle of the night, an unseen force knocking around the trinkets they'd placed. What fun would it be to tell you, sweetheart?”

His condescending tone irritated you, but even more concerning was how you were letting him hold your hand and the way your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in.

“Perhaps we could have a different kind of… fun.”

You felt your cheeks warm despite yourself. You wanted to argue with him, but something in his gaze kept you pinned in place.

Colby tilted your chin up gently, making you meet his eyes. “Oh?” he murmured, his tone lowering, “Is that what you want, honey?”

Your breath hitched at his words and the soft touch. He was right, you missed the physicality of life, the sensation of being touched and held. His thumb gently traced the curve of your cheek. “I can give you what you want, Y/N,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that his lips were practically brushing yours.

Colby moved closer, his thumb tracing a slow path down your neck. You felt your breath hitch as a shiver ran down your spine at his touch.

He whispered, his voice low, “I know exactly how you feel. How your body aches for a touch that it will probably never feel again. I understand that, honey. Better than you know.”

He paused, so close you could almost taste his breath.

“But it comes with a price, you know,” he murmured. “You'll be mine. My haunting. My sweetheart.”

“Take me.” Was all you could manage to say.

Colby's smirk turned into a satisfied smile. "Gladly, sweetheart," he murmured. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and hungry, a century's worth of longing and loneliness poured into the contact, like he was trying to memorize every detail.

With a low growl, he pulled you fully into his lap, pressing you against him. His kisses grew more urgent, his hands gripping your waist, pulling your body against his.

“You have no idea how badly I've waited for this,” he murmured, kissing down your neck.

You threw your arms around his neck, feeling his breath, his skin, his solidness beneath you. It felt like a dream you’d spent decades having, and now it was here, real and solid.

Colby continued to kiss along your neck, his lips moving down to the hollow of your throat. When he reached the base of your neck, he paused, then gently bit down, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You let out a gasp, your nails digging into his back as he found a sensitive spot. Colby let out a dark chuckle, kissing and biting lightly as if to draw out more reactions from you.

“I need you, Colby,” you whispered between kisses. “Colby,” you whined, burying your hands in his hair.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Colby whined, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “Let me make you feel good, okay?” You nodded, settling down on the sofa where he knelt in front of you, taking you in. He cursed under his breath, looking you up and down.

“Colby,” you whined, arching your back. You needed his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything.

“I know, pretty,” he soothed, threading his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. “I will take care of you.” He slid them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

He took off his own shirt, threw it carelessly and let it get lost on the floor. He slid down to the bottom of your bra, teasingly touching the fabric before he put his hand behind your back and skillfully undid your bra in one easy movement. You arched your back again, the straps of your bra slipping off your shoulders.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect. You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, biting your lip as his hand left your breasts and moved down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He moved his fingers down some more, feeling where the arousal was leaking through the panties.

“Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispered. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kissed your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travelled to where you needed him most.

There’s something depraved about the way he was crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spread your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settled in between them.

He stopped and looked at you through closed eyes. You could see the want – no, need – in the way his muscles flexed and the way his jaw worked. But he hesitated, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rose and fell quickly as your eyes searched for his next move.

He finally pressed a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbled against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You threw your head back, whimpering his name like a mantra. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard.

“F-fuck!” You cried out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he set a relentless pace. “Colby!”

“I know, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.” He soothed and squeezes your hip, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion. Your walls fluttered again. “That’s it,” he cooed. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He started licking harder, faster.

Your body was his, completely at his mercy, and from the look in his eyes, he knew it. Your eyes fluttered shut, silently and vocally begging him to take control.

“That’s right, baby,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “Cum for me, darlin’.”

His words ignited something primal in you, your body responding to his dominance as you gasped for breath, legs shaking beneath you. You screamed in pleasure, causing Colby to groan.

“All mine,” He hissed, licking up the juices. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Fuck.

The youngest of the family, whom you loved to scare so much, spent the night away from his room. He couldn't bear to listen to the sound of furniture falling from the top floor.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 23: You Needed The Bear

GIF by: @hotch-girl

Bearblr Promptober Day 23: Dacryphilia

Summary: Carmy's has learned he likes seeing his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) cry when he makes her feel good enough. Smut.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns, finger sucking, oral sex (m receiving), Darling wants to choke on him, sir kink, Dom!Carmy, hair pulling (2203 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

23 Oct 2024

She tears up when she gets worked up enough.

It’s not even that hard to do. It’s funny how I didn’t even notice how easily I fucked her up; I was so wrapped up in my own head that the smallest amount of relief from that tangle of shorted cords meant that the world shifted abruptly. I liked finding the little things that were different. The things I didn’t notice before. Felt like I was in a new world.

Anyway, she’s not that hard to fuck up.

She’s not that hard to fuck up to tears.

And I’d say it’s a little unfortunate that I’m addicted to watching her get so wound up that she bursts into tears, but it’s a power trip knowing I’ve made her feel so good that the only way her body can respond is by making her cry.

She’s also a slightly different person now. Relaxed. Less careful. Fuck me, she was so fucking careful with me for so long, it must’ve been exhausting. I was determined to make her patience worthwhile in every way possible. And if that meant being the rock while she melted from having to hold it together at the hospital all day on her bad evenings, then I’d do everything in my power to be just that.

So, she sat in my lap, straddling my waist, hunting for kisses along my throat and jaw until finally planting a small one at the corner of my mouth.

“Carmy?” she whispered.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you make me feel good? Work was awful, I just… I just wanna feel good.”

We are supposed to talk about these kinds of things. It’s an unspoken rule between us, that we talk when either of us are neck-deep; she wears her stress more gracefully than I do, but it doesn’t mean she’s bulletproof. She is just as prone to burying shit under keeping herself busy—crochet, sewing with her friends, busying herself in deciphering me. Caring for me. If I am going to talk to her, then she is going to talk to me.

She drummed her fingers on my chest to get my attention. “Please? Please, sweetheart?”

I squeezed her thighs, also to get her attention. “You don’t wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head, whined her next sentence. “Later? Can we talk later?” She slid a hand up and tugged on my hair, a gesture more out of impatience than anything else. “Please?”

It takes a few seconds for the switch to flip. For me to go from the usual wreck of a person that I am to the one who destroys her in minutes, tops. Being mentally prepared for it ahead of time helps a lot, but I can manage a quick switch every once in a while, as the situation demands. So, I was my usual self when I finger-combed through her hair, swept it out of her face. But when I tensioned a fistful of it and traced her lips with my fingertip, I was the other one.

“Open,” I murmured.

She obeyed immediately. Her eyes fluttered closed and a moan escaped her throat when I pressed two fingers to her tongue.

“Suck.”

She enclosed her lips around my fingers and hollowed her cheeks, tracing her tongue over the digits. She held my wrist and forearm while she bobbed her head up and down their length, traced her thumb along the tendons, the scars, the tattoos that she memorized. She made a discontented noise when I adjusted for my back, holding my arm tighter so I couldn’t pull away. It was cute.

“I’m not taking ‘em away, cutie,” I reassured her. “Look at me, hm?”

She squeezed her eyes closed tighter.

I tightened my grip in her hair and repeated, firmer, “Look at me.”

She met my gaze for a few seconds, then looked away.

Oh? “You wanna keep feeling good, princess?”

She held tighter and sucked my fingers deeper into her mouth. That’d be a yes.

“Then you better listen. Look at me.”

She did, and within seconds, her face started flooding fuchsia. Her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the tips of her ears, her neck—all started going pink. Her movements lost their fluidity. Her thumb trembled as it traced the pulse in my wrist.

“Good girl. Keep looking at me. I wanna see your pretty eyes.” Her blush deepened further. Breathing quickened. “Want more?”

She whimpered a pathetic sort of sound in the back of her throat.

“That’s not an answer.”

She gave me a jerky nod. I added my ring finger, and her eyes threatened to flutter closed again.

“Keep looking at me, baby girl.” She did. And now her face and neck were red and hot to the touch. “Good girl.”

Her eyes went glassy, and tears pooled at her eyelashes. Her grip on my arm was bruising, trembling, causing these shooting pains up into my elbow, but fuck if I wasn’t enthralled by those gorgeous eyes, by her being so ruined by just looking at me that she’d begun to cry. I gently pressed down on her tongue, and her eyes snapped shut, sending black-tinted tears down her cheeks. She immediately blinked them back open, hooked her hand in my shirt neckline in a wordless effort to both apologize and beg me to continue.

“Aw, that’s okay sweetheart. It’s just too much for you, huh?”

She hesitated, but then gave me the tiniest nod.

“What do you say to something a bit bigger, hm?”

She grabbed my shirt now and pulled. Yes, Carmen, please.

I slowly removed my fingers from her mouth. “Go ahead. Good girl.”

She slid off my lap onto the floor and fumbled with my jeans. I had to help her get my dick free, but the instant I did, she took the head into her mouth, and I fucking swear to God, she almost fucking ruined me. Her mouth was so hot, so wet, she was so eager to flick her tongue over the slit and hum and dig her nails into my thighs.

“Fucking hell, baby girl… you really need me, huh?”

She nodded, pulled off just enough to whisper, “I wanna choke on you,” and then took me back into her mouth.

A searing wave of arousal washed over me.

Excuse the fuck outta me?

“You wanna what?”

She hummed. The fuck did that mean?

I gripped a fistful of her hair to get her to look up at me. “I asked you a question.”

Her cheeks flushed red again. Eyes went glassy. She was still just mouthing at the head, running her tongue maddeningly over and around it. She seemed reluctant to pull off or repeat what she’d said, but the heat in my core burned hotter. If she wasn’t about to clarify, I was going to make her choke on me anyway.

She let my dick fall from her mouth when I tightened my grip even further.

“I-I wanna ch-choke on your dick, sir,” she whimpered. “Please? Please fuck my throat? I’ll-I’ll tap three times if I need you to stop.” She did the motion on my thigh.

Something otherworldly possessed me then. I’m not a rough lover—at least, I wasn’t, not until I met Darling. It’s not that I didn’t want to be—I wanted, pretty much from the jump for what I can remember of being a hormonal teenager, to be rough with someone. I wanted to pull hair, bite, scratch, choke, I wanted to feel powerful and in control of something, be allowed to act on the barely contained insanity, that beast that festered just under the terrified, stuttering kid. Half of the reason I was called Bear was because of the last name—Berzatto. The other half?

The other half is why I ended up in wrestling to begin with. Just somewhere to put violent energy that was structured and safe enough not to land me a prison sentence. Or at least, that was my experience. I was very much two sides of the same coin, but the only time I saw that other side represented was in horrible circumstances—so I learned to associate the need to be rough with something bad, vile, despicable, wrong. Darling was safe. She showed me ways to remain safe while still being able to act on those deep-seated impulses tattooed on my bones. She didn’t quite flip a switch in me so much as give me access to a switch I could flip myself. She was safe. She is safe.

Darling took me back into her mouth, but this time all the way to the back of her throat. Her eyes watered, but she kept at it, going slowly, giving me time to think. She wanted to choke on my dick, huh? You wanna choke on me? Need to feel so powerless and used like a fucktoy, do you? Need that cute little brain to take a backseat to raw, unadulterated pleasure for a little while the only way I know how to give you? Okay. Okay, baby girl.

I wove both hands in her hair and started fucking deeper into her throat. Her eyes rolled back. Tears spilled down her cheeks when she squeezed them shut.

“Like that, pretty girl?”

Pretty girl.

Didn’t plan it. Came out of nowhere. But both of us clearly liked it based on how it imprinted on my gray matter and the unrestrained, half-muffled, half-strangled, high-pitched whine she let out. She squeezed a fistful of my jeans with one hand, held my wrist loosely with the other.

Pretty girl. This is just what you needed huh? Me fucking your throat relentlessly while your eyes roll back, and you forget everything else that exists on this planet.

You needed The Bear tonight.

She snuck her hands under my shirt, traced the lines of my abdomen. It was as if she couldn’t gather enough coherence to do anything meaningful, but she wanted to get her hands on me. I moved her further off, almost all the way off, to give her jaw a bit of a break, but she quickly gripped at my hips, dug her fingernails into me, and whined loud enough that the corner neighbor definitely would’ve heard.

“Shhh, easy pretty girl.” I pet her face, brought her back down on my dick.

She hummed. Went right back to hollowing her cheeks and made another whiny sound until I started fucking her throat again. Then she settled down, eyes closed, bliss on her face despite the streaks of gray.

I couldn’t resist chuckling. “Oh, is it that good, pretty girl?”

She nodded.

“Just need to be fucked like a toy, do you?” What was I saying? Did I really just say that? “Used up like the pretty thing you are, huh?”

“Mmhm.” She nodded more emphatically this time, planted a hand on my sternum, turned those gorgeous, glassy eyes up to me. The sight seared into my memory. Fuck me, pretty girl. A look like that oughtta be illegal. Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you forget all your worries, all the bad things that happened today.

I’ll fucking destroy you, and you will just come crawling back for more. You’re going to work with some fucking marks tomorrow; I’ll trade you a lipstick print, how about that, hm? How about Monique learn that you’re getting taken care of, and I’ll tell Richie to fuck off when he learns the same about me? Fuck this world, Darling, baby girl, pretty girl, I got shit to say to it about how it treated me, and I’ll start with showing it that you’re mine and I’m yours.

“Now be a good girl and choke on me.”

She obeyed, taking me further into her throat. Her throat spasmed around my dick—this fucking delirious tightness that pushed me abruptly over the edge of the orgasm I was teetering on. Heat exploded through my chest and up into my face, I couldn’t get air in fast enough, my head spun and swam and buzzed, my abdomen stung with the force of my core contracting. She gripped fistfuls of my jeans, then pushed against my hip, then pulled back just enough to let her swallow. Then the wave of cold set in. The merciful, blissful, benevolent wave of cold that started at my shoulders and washed down me like a Fall rain, taking with it all the tension I didn’t realize I’d been carrying up until then. My head dropped against the back of the couch. Hands went limp in her hair. Eyes refused to stay open.

Darling pulled off me slowly. Nuzzled my hand, kissed my palm.

“Come’ere,” I mumbled.

She climbed back into my lap and hunted for kisses again. I gave them willingly, now boneless, powerless to resist her in any capacity. The Bear’s been sated, princess, do what you want to me. I’m yours. I belong to you.

“What does my pretty girl want, hm?”

She kissed my neck just under the hinge of my jaw. Her voice was hoarse, more a crackly whisper than her normal speaking tone. “Eat me out? Three fingers?”

Anything, my love.

[moonlight-records]

And The Winner Is... | T. Wolff (part II)

pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

summary: tickets are secured for VIP & pit. date night is set! the next mission: picking out the perfect concert outfit. the issue? your boyfriend doesn't see the necessitate of it.

warning: age gap, suggestive if you kinda squint?

fc: none!

a/n: welcome to the ATIS... mini series folks! Promise the answer of the cuffs will come!

wc: 1.8k

part 1 | current

“I still do not see the reason that I need an outfit for this concert.”

“I mean you don’t need an outfit.” You correct Toto, “but it would be fun if you got one.”

“Fun for you?” Toto half jokes as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel while waiting at the stoplight. 

You feel a soft blush creep onto your face because he’s right. It really is going to be fun for you but you won’t admit that to him. No need to inflate his ego more than needed since your entire job is supposed to humble your boyfriend. Letting out a huff of air, you roll your eyes. “No,” you lie, “it’s supposed to be fun for both of us! We can match!”

“You want me in a skirt?” Toto raises a brow as he continues, which gets a laugh out of you, “I do not think anybody wants to see that.”

“Who wouldn’t want to see those long legs in all their glory? Please, I think a lot of people would want to see that.” You joke while gently patting Toto’s knee with a smile, “I know I would.”

Toto scoffs gently, “of course you would.” He glances at you with a smirk, “all you have to do is ask, liebling.”

You look at Toto when he parks before clasping your hands together, batting your eyelashes over dramatically. “Really?” You ask, “you’d wear a skirt for me if I asked really nicely?”

You grin widely hearing the laugh that you pull from the older male before you undo your seat belt and get out of the car. Once Toto made sure the car was locked (you prayed it was after the third time he locked it), the two of you head into the mall, leaning into Toto’s side as he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. 

From what you’ve gathered, while also avoiding as many spoilers as possible, it’s giving sleepover vibes but she had a few sparkly outfits that gave ‘night out’ which was also something to work with if the sleepover vibes failed. Which was good because the sleepover vibes did fail.

You really did try but the first few stores you and Toto went into had nothing you were looking for. You had let Toto lead you into the more high end stores which you typically avoided since that wasn’t your style and Toto seemed determined to find you something but you both ended up empty handed. It was your turn to take charge and you went to the stores you were a frequent shopper at.

Still, you didn’t find anything in the sleepover vibe. The handful you did, it was always the wrong size. Either a size too big or too small. If it was the right size then it was the wrong color. You were aiming for something that was blue, pink, or black but it was white, red, green, or purple. The very rare few that fit the vibe, color, and size just didn’t scream…you. Even with Toto showering you in compliments (and buying the baby doll dresses for you anyway) you were set on finding the perfect outfit so you switched to the ‘night out’ vibes. 

You were browsing the clearance section in one of the stores, going through tops before finding the perfect one. It was a baby blue knitted top that had rhinestones littered all over it. It had two spaghetti straps that crossed in the front and when you flipped it over went down the back and kept criss-crossing in the back through loops so it could be tied. You viewed it as a very modern low kind of corset. Looking at the rack underneath, you find a matching pencil skirt and feeling the material, it's surprisingly very soft and stretchy. You grab your size and disappear to the dressing room to try it on. The skirt fits like a glove but the top is surprisingly huge. 

You change out of the outfit and swiftly exchange the top for smaller sizes. You end up with one that’s two sizes too small typically but it fits perfectly. Looking yourself over in the mirror you’ve decided that this would be a great outfit to go out as well as for the concert. You turn around to see the back before trying to fix the bow you made it tie it off

“Schatz?” Toto calls out.

“Over here! In number four!” You call out.

Hearing the familiar heavy footsteps, you turn back around to do a final once over, “I’ve been looking all over for you. Did you find something?”

“I did!” You open the door to show Toto your outfit. “Tada!”

“Wow,” Toto says breathlessly before gently taking your hand to spin you which you happily oblige to do, “it’s perfect, Liebste.”

“Thank you,” you smile before looking down at the skirt, “though I don’t know the skirt is too short.”

“I don’t think so.”

You turn back around to face the mirror again while playing with the skirt. There’s only one way to see if it’s short and you quickly bend down to touch your toes as you feel the skirt rise up. You squeak when you feel hands on your hips swiftly and Toto pressing himself against your back as you stand up.

“Schatz,” Toto hisses, leaning down, “what are you doing?”

“I was testing to see if the skirt was too short!”

You study Toto through the mirror as he puts his lips together before he moves his lips to ghost over the shell of your ear. You shiver softly, feeling his breath against your ear. “Well after that lovely show, I would argue that it is a bit on the shorter side.”

“Well.” You turn in Toto’s hold to face him, “I could always wear spandex underneath.”

“Oh?” Toto looks you up and down once again, “are you sure. I’m sure we could find something else for the concert..” He pulls you closer to his chest, “though I will say I’m more than happy to buy this for you just for my eyes.” You roll your eyes smiling while Toto twiddles with one of the straps, “are you sure you don’t want to find something else?”

“No, I think this is perfect.” 

Toto hums softly as he thinks it over before he nods, “Okay, schatz. Though what shoes are you going to wear with this?”

“Probably some tights and my white platform boots.”

Toto nods, “That would work. Well, why don’t you change so we can pay for this and get some lunch, ja?”

“Su–no,” you narrow your eyes, “you still need an outfit.”

Toto groans softly, “Do I really need one?”

“Yes! How about,” you step back and put your lips together looking at Toto, "Let’s say sneakers, black jeans, one of your plain button downs, and we find you a matching jacket to my outfit. Deal?”

“Deal.”

You grin before giving Toto a swift peck before slipping back into the dressing room to change. You emerge and Toto gently plucks the outfit from your hands before draping it over his arm as you happily go back into the store to find a jacket for Toto. Nothing really suits what you’re looking for so you and Toto pay for the outfit, thanking the cashier, before leaving. 

You two bounce between more stores before making your way back into the designer end of the mall. You find some and happily watch Toto try on jackets. You get distracted while focusing on his arms and how the jacket fits him just right and you’d love to have one of those biceps under your chin and–

“Too vibrant,” you crunch your nose up as Toto turns from the mirror, “not pale enough.”

Toto chuckles and nods and this is how the next half-hour unfolds. Toto tries jackets on, your mind wanders, you explain why the suit jacket doesn’t match, and the cycle repeats. 

You're watching Toto’s fingers roll up the sleeve of the jacket while sitting in your seat. You can’t help but think about what else Toto’s fingers could be working on when he speaks and you bring your gaze up. The suit jacket fitted him perfectly. It was snug enough to cling to his arms and show off his muscles when he shifted and turned in a certain way but still loose enough that it’s breathable and you know that if you put it on, you’d be swimming in it and that’s a great thing to note. Though looking at the jacket in full, your eyes light up. It’s sparkly and the perfect matching baby blue with some white accents to your outfit. It reminds you of mermaid scales.

“Perfect!” You jump up and come over.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” you hum softly as you stand in front of him, gently button the jacket up a little cheekily before stepping back. “Yep. This is the jacket. Come on.”

You practically vibrate in excitement when Toto takes the jacket off before the two of you go to the counter. You beat Toto to it, touching your phone to the card reader and paying for the jacket, looking at your very surprised and slightly offended boyfriend and the fact you just bought his jacket. You just stare at him before turning to the worker, smiling and thanking them when they hand you the bag before turning on your heels as Toto follows you.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because you’ve bought all my outfits today and I am having you dress up with me so we can match so it’s the least I could do for you.”

Toto huffs before he makes an attempt to at least carry and lets out a soft noise of surprise when you hold the bag away from him. Toto snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you to his side as you two walked.

“Schatz,” Toto murmurs, “you have something that you shouldn’t have.”

“Mm no I think I have everything I need.” You nod slightly before Toto catches your chin and forces you to look at him, “yes?”

“The bag.” Toto states.

“What do I get if I hand the bag over?”

“You won’t be punished.”

You put your lips together in thought. As much as you would love to be punished, the concert was five days away and you did not want to spend the days leading up to it recovering from a punishment. You finally hand the bag over to Toto but tighten your grip when Toto grabs it, “if I hand this over, you have to let me pay for lunch as you now have to learn concert etiquette.”

“Concert etiquette?” 

“Yes, concert etiquette,” you nod, “but does this mean I can pay for lunch?”

Toto debates for a moment before gritting his teeth slightly because he hates not spoiling you but you got him there, “Fine but I pick where we eat.”

“Deal,” you let the bag go with a smile before turning to keep walking, “Come on, slow poke!”

“Fucking brat,” Toto murmurs loving as he watches you walk away before following you.

[flippinpancakes64]

hey can i request romantic moments between cullens and reader? btw i love your works🫶🏻

Romantic moments with the Cullens

Thank you so much! I think I’ll always be shocked whenever anyone says they like what I do so thank you.

And this one was a lot of fun to make! I did get a bit carried away at some points tho… I tried a new form of writing for me so hopefully it's good

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

You and Edward had been dating for almost two years now

You were about to graduate high school, your first time and his 100th

You had talked about doing so many things to memorialize your senior year

A scrapbook, a picture every day, a custom t-shirt

Literally everything

But you just kept forgetting

Between all of the stress of moving into your final year, saving up for college, working your part-time job, and all of your extracurriculars, fun stuff just slipped your mind

And now you were helping Alice set up for your graduation party and you’re realizing just how empty the place is

Not that there aren’t decorations, which there definitely are, it’s just nothing you wanted

The place was covered in black and gold and your favorite color

There were piles of your favorite foods

But then you looked at the empty table where all of your mementos are supposed to go

You have everything you technically need

Your baby pictures, all of your awards, your school picture from every year, and your acceptance letter to your future college

But it was still missing something, all of those little projects you had been wanting to do so badly but simply didn't

You turned away from your sad little table tucked away in a corner of the Cullen house when you see Edward standing in the doorway

He's carrying a huge box in his hands, stuff overflowing from the top

"Edward, what is all of that? Don't tell me it's more streamers, we don't have room. Unless you want to cover the entire house in them-"

"Shh. It's not streamers I promise. It's for you. I promise you'll love it."

He sets the box down on your memento table and instantly you recognize it all

The wooden box with your name on the side carved in fancy cursive lettering holds everything you wanted

You pull out a leather-bound journal, opening it reveals picture upon picture of you from every single day that year

Next is a basic white shirt, but scribbled all over it are signatures and notes from all of your friends and your favorite teachers

Underneath that is a framed picture of your senior parking spot, though it looks like Edward redrew it because you don't remember yours looking this good

In the bottom of the box lies a Build-a-Bear of your favorite animal dressed in a little cap and gown

You were speechless. He remembered every single thing that you wanted, all of your dreams that you forgot to fulfill, and he did them for you

"I have so many questions, but for right now just come here and give me a kiss"

"Gladly!"

Alice:

Today was your one-year anniversary of being turned into a vampire

And for your surprise, Alice decided she would take you to do something that you had always told her you wanted to do

Sit on the bottom of the deep end of the pool

And naturally, Alice went all out

You were out at the store with Esme when you got a call from Alice telling you to put on the clothes she laid out on your bed and to go into the backyard when you got home

To say you were confused would be an understatement

But you did it anyway

After you and Esme got home and you helped her bring in the new couch she bought, you trekked up to yours and Alice's shared room

Laying on your bed was a swimsuit that you had never seen before

It was your favorite color and it was adorned with jewels

Queasily, you wondered if they were real diamonds

Fake or not, you were still careful pulling it on

Of course it fit like a glove did you expect anything else

You walk out the back door and you see Alice sitting next to the pool, the sun reflecting off of her shiny skin with a big smile on her face

In her lap there was a small bag that was zipped tightly shut

"Okay, what's all this?"

"Well, remember when you were still human and you used to tell me all the time how all you wanted was to just go to the bottom of the pool and take a nap down there?"

"So that's what all this is? I can't even sleep anymore"

"Oh shush I know that, of course I have something else planned"

With that, she grabs the bag and dives headfirst into the pool

You can see her bright purple bikini as she makes her way to the bottom of the pool only stopping once she's 12 feet deep

You hesitate as you're about to follow her

You know that logically you'll be fine, but a human part still exists somewhere inside of you

Swallowing back your fear, you jump in, swimming down to the bottom to join Alice

"You don't need to hold your breath, silly. Go ahead, let it out"

You didn't even realize you were holding your breath

"Now, for the main event. Since it's your anniversary, I figured we could have a nice romantic dinner down here."

With that, she pulls out a small battery operated candle and flicks it on, the water above making it just barely dark enough for the candle to be visible

Next, she pulls out two pouches that have screw-on lids

"What is that?"

"Blood, of course. Fresh from the moose I caught this morning."

She hands you one, and underneath the pressure of the warm water, huddled around your little candle, you have the most romantic dinner of your life

Jasper:

To be honest, you were having a terrible week

You completely forgot about a really important essay that you needed for one of your AP classes, your favorite shirt got eaten by the washing machine, and now, your friends cancelled on you last minute when you were all supposed to go to the fair

You were sitting on your bed, still dressed in the outfit you were going to wear for the day, staring down at the text message from your friends

And you just started sobbing

It was too much

Jasper was downstairs at the time, he could feel your creeping sadness, but when your tears erupted, he knew he had to step in

He flew up the steps and stopped just outside of your door

He knocked and waited until you permitted him to come in

"What happened?"

"My friends... what are the chances that all four of them had something come up so suddenly? Do they hate me? I bet they do..."

He just took your hand and crept his ability into your mind, easing your sadness at least a little

When your sniffling finally came to an end, he grabbed your face to look at him

"Do you still want to go? To the fair, I mean"

You just looked at him shocked

"But, Jasper, you hate being out in public. I would never ask that of you"

"That's why you're not asking, I'm offering. Come on, let's go"

With that he pulls you out to the car and drives you to the fair

You drag him everywhere

From all of the food stands to every single ride, he goes willingly

If he is uncomfortable being around all of the sweet-smelling humans, he makes no indication of it

As the night is coming to an end and the blinking lights on the tents illuminate your face, you stand in front of a Pop-The-Balloon game

Just within your reach, so close you can taste it, a giant orange monkey stuffed animal hangs on the edge of the stall

The only thing between you and the monkey is your terrible darts skills

You've easily gone through 50 bucks, Jasper next to you always ready to hand the Carnie another couple of bills

"Are you sure you don't want me to try at least once?"

"I got this, Jasper. One more try, this next one is the one I can feel it."

He just sighs and fishes another couple of dollars out of his wallet

Of course, this round goes just as well as all of the other ones, leaving you even more frustrated

"Now can I try?"

"Ugh, go for it"

He pops every single balloon so fast you wonder if he used his super speed to race behind the counter to pop them all

The Carnie reluctantly handed over the monkey, and you were all too eager to take it

You didn't even care that you were still in a very public spot, you pulled Jasper in for one of the biggest kisses you've ever given

Rosalie:

You had been talking for weeks about buying a one-of-a-kind action figure from a seller online

There was someone on ebay who repainted various dolls and sold them

There was one that you had been eyeing specifically because it reminded you of Rosalie

Personally, she didn't think it looked like her at all but whatever

The two of you were laying in bed one afternoon peacefully when all of a sudden you shot up and screamed

She is on her feet instantly, looking around for the threat

But then you turn your phone screen to her, screaming about how someone outbid you at the very last moment and that now the doll is gone

"You can't just scream like that! You scared me"

"But Rose! It's gone! I can't believe it this is so unfair"

Cue the waterworks

She feels bad, she tries to console you, but you can't be reasoned with

Over the next couple of days, she tracks down every single detail that she can find about the person who "stole" the doll from you

She hacks into ebay's security system to find their address

And then she tells you that her and Alice are randomly taking a road trip

When she comes back, she invites you out to a nice dinner

She books out the entire dining room of a fancy restaurant and brings you there

As your appetizer and entree come out, you two talk

She makes up some made-up story about her "road trip" with Alice

Just as the waiter leaves with your dessert order, you see Rosalie pull out a wrapped box with a silver bow around it

"What's that?"

"A gift for you"

She hands you the package and on the inside is the little Rosalie look-alike and one more doll that strangely bears a striking resemblance to you

"Is this... is that... oh my god"

"I didn't go on a trip with Alice. Well, technically I did. But we drove to that guy's house and stole the doll back. Since he stole it from you in the first place, it's only fair you got it back."

"And this one? Where did this one come from?"

"He had a couple more in his house, I thought you might like that one too."

So now there are two dolls standing on one of the shelves in your room <3

Emmett:

You had no clue why Emmett was being so weird today

He seemed fidgety all day

That morning he woke you up with a plate of pancakes in bed, drizzled with syrup that he made himself

Then he took you out to the mall

He took you to a really fancy clothing store and had you pick out the most dazzling outfit you could find

He even got it custom tailored to you

After that he took you to the spa where you both got a deep tissue massage

You had tried to ask him multiple times what all this was for, but he never answered

He would just usher you on to the next thing

Now you were in one of Edward's nice foreign cars and he was driving you to somewhere else

"So... as much as I appreciate everything you've been doing today, really, what is this all for?"

"Oh come on, don't act dumb. And before you even ask, no, I don't need anything in return"

"You're literally not even making sense. What is today?"

"You know what day it is :) "

After that he doesn't answer any more of your questions

You just hold your complaints in the passenger seat as he finally parks the car in a spot along the pier

Out on the water, you see multiple couples floating in those pedal-powered swan boats

And then you see the grin on your idiot boyfriend's face

"Ugh, Emmett. Are we really getting on the swans?"

"Yes we are now come on and stop complaining"

You sit across from him floating atop the water, the fairy lights twinkling across your face

Emmett is smushed into his seat, it clearly wasn't made for someone as beefy as him

"So. Now are you gonna tell me what all of this was for?"

"Do... you really not know?"

He sounds hurt

"No I don't. I've been racking my brain all day. It's not my birthday and it's not yours. I haven't won anything recently or been promoted, and it's not an anniversary. Just help me out here"

"It IS our anniversary, though. Our three year anniversary!"

"..."

"What?"

"Our anniversary is SEPTEMBER 28th... not August 28th"

"Oh..."

You start cracking up laughing, doubling over in your little swan seat, the boat rocking with how hard you're laughing

He apologizes over and over again for getting the date wrong

You reassure him that it's fine

You spend the rest of your 2 years and 11 months anniversary seeing how fast you can make the swan boat go

You both get kicked out and blacklisted

Esme:

A while back, you watched Bridgerton

The plotlines and characters didn't really stand out to you too much

What really stood out was the clothing

You made Esme sit down and watch it with you

The whole time you were just raving about the costume design and how much you wish you could wear what they were wearing

Time passed and you eventually forgot about it

Working, going to school, watching different shows, you know, life

You were sitting in the living room, lounging on the couch while some random cooking show played

Edward and Bella were sitting on the couch too, not really watching either

All three of you were just sort of zoned out until you heard Esme yell your name as loud as she could

You and Bella jumped, Edward probably heard it before it happened

Instantly, you shot up and ran down the hall to Esme's workroom

You flung the door open and looked inside

"Esme! What's wrong, what happened?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong! In fact, it's all perfect! Come here, come here"

You stepped inside of her studio and instantly spotted it

In the corner was a mannequin that seemed too specific to your height and weight measurements to be a coincidence

Hanging off the mannequin was a beautiful outfit

It looked straight out of the 1600s, made out of fine silks, golden fabrics, and fine linen

There were various imperfections on it, the wrong color of thread used here, a hole in the fabric there, but it was beautiful regardless

"A while back you mentioned that you wanted to look like someone from that show, so I made you this! I hope you like it, if not I can change anything you want me to"

"You made this, all by yourself?"

"Yes! I watched so many tutorials and I even went to the tailor shop in town to ask them for some tips. It's obvious that I'm no seamstress, but I'm still pretty proud of myself"

"Proud? You should be overjoyed! This deserves to be in a competition, on TV, at craft shows, anywhere!"

When you tried it on after a couple of minutes of insisting that she did a wonderful job, you were blown away once more

It fit perfectly, you looked like you just walked out of a fairytale book

Her next project is making one for herself

Carlisle:

You had a little habit of leaving notes in Carlisle's packed lunch for when he goes to the clinic

He didn't need the food, but he did need to keep up appearances

It's already not a very human look when the best doctor in town willingly works almost every shift and is always on call and ready to work

So he needs something to bring him back down

You found out not too long into dating the little routine

Esme packs him a sandwich and a bottle of water, she takes it to him at work, eats it in the very public break room for everyone to see, pukes it up cause his body can't digest it, and then comes home

So the cycle continues after that

The first time you saw Esme making a little ham and cheese sandwich, you were confused

After she explained, you asked if you could put something in there too

So you started your own routine of writing Carlisle a cute little note

Usually just about how much you loved him, sometimes accompanied by a little doodle

A couple of times when he would come home, he would thank you for your note

But other than that, you thought that was it

Until one day you were admittedly snooping in his office

You were just bored and wanted to see what fun stuff there was to read in his office

You were pulling book after book off of his shelves, flipping through them, and then putting them back

But then you stumbled across a small book with only the word "Love" written on the front in the handwriting you recognized to be Carlisle's

Inside was every single note you had ever given him

Each one was lovingly placed on the page, making a collage

Some pieces of paper were lined, some plain

Some notes were written with black ink, some with whatever other pen was lying around at the time

The only similarity was that underneath all of them, Carlisle had dated them

You flipped through every page, until you got to the second half of the book that was still blank

Your heart surged, this man

"You caught me"

You whipped around to see Carlisle standing in the doorway, his white lab coat still hung across his shoulders, and a slight smile on his face

He walked over to you, grabbing the book gently from your hands

He set it on his desk and sat down in the chair, you peered over his shoulder

From his breast pocket, he pulled out the note that you wrote that morning

He opened the book to the next page, and glued the slip in

He dated it with a flawless ease and swiveled to look up at you

You just tackled him with a kiss

Vampire! Bella:

You were really worried

You'd been dating Bella for a whole year now, but she still hasn't seen your bedroom

That wouldn't be an issue if she wasn't coming over today

And if your room wasn't a fucking mess

You knew that Bella would be coming over for like a week

You told yourself days ago that you had to clean your room for her

But now the day is here, Bella is on her way

You were frantically running around your room, trying your best to round up all of the dirty clothes on the floor, get all the trash picked up, and light a couple candles

But it was too late

From downstairs you could hear the front door open and your mom called up the steps that Bella was here

When she opened the door, you had a bundle of dirty clothes in your hands as you attempted to at least get one more thing done

"I'm so sorry, Bella. Really, it's not usually this bad, I promise. I just forgot to clean my room yesterday and the day before and this morning and-"

"Woah! Calm down!"

She walks over to you and takes the dirty clothes from your hands, throwing them effortlessly into the hamper across the room

"I promise, I don't mind. You should have seen my room when Edward left me a couple years ago... ugh, terrible"

"No, I'm- I'm so sorry. It's so bad in here. I promise it's not usually this bad. This is not the first impression I wanted to give you"

After some more back and forth, but really more of her being stubborn, you finally agree to let her help you clean your room

It only takes about 5 minutes

The place was covered in dirty clothes before, dishes piling up, trash on every surface

And now it looked brand new

You were cuddling on your freshly cleaned bed and watching a movie

"You know, that was pretty fun. You should call me the next time your room gets really dirty"

"... are you a psychopath?"

[kindasketchysideblog]

Wake up babe, new rant and redesign for Hanzo just dropped.

Hanzo’s OW2 design kinda sucks ngl, but narratively- it’s well done. He’s hidden his boob window, removed his gourd (which most likely has alcohol in it), and really cleaned up his facial hair. But it’s only narratively.

I’m not saying I’m better than the ones who designed Hanzo. And I’m definitely not saying I’m better coloring or rendering-wise.

But ffs, his OW2 design just blends all the colors together. Have they even heard of a wonderful thing called saturation or even using color variety to differentiate… colors? The grey moves onto the dark grey to the black in the OW2 only to be separated by a thin white strip, a small blue string on his side, and the occasional yellow. It’s just an desolate ombré with accent colors that was put in half-assed.

With this redesign, I wanted Hanzo to embrace tradition, streetwear, and dashes of cringe. Hanzo’s OG design was inspired by lots of Japanese men participating in “Kyūdō”, a practice in which archery and zen are mixed, sometimes will have their nipples out. This uniform/clothing also includes a robe like bottom- in which my re-design I made into pants instead. I still wanted to keep that narrative choice of covering up his titty (as sad as that may be) while still making it slutty enough: so I sliced it.

I’ve also reclaimed the gourd for Hanzo, as gourds back then were not solely used for holding alcohol back then, but many liquids, and this obviously includes water. The OW1 gourd also had the Shimada insignia, so I think it’d be OOC for Hanzo to not hold on to it imo. The gourd is also cracked in some spots, revealing the real original gourd underneath- parallel to how Hanzo is trying to open up, but still hanging onto family legacy and/or how his facade of honor is cracking. You choose how to interpret~

Other details like the buttons, his piercings, the dragon painted on his pants, and some additional colors were inspired/taken from Hanzo’s casual skin. Another is the feather in Hanzo’s hair- from the one Genji gave to Hanzo in the Dragons cinematic.

Anyways end of rant and pointing out details. Thanks for reading, it means a lot🥹 .

@wildissylupus @dawnthefox24 I was really inspired by your writing and all the fanfics surrounding OW characters and decided to take a shot with this. Hope you like what I came up with.

PS: That blob is supposed to be his dragon tattoo but it’s hard to draw it ok?

PSS: this is open for (constructive) criticism! As Genji says while you press deflect, “do your worst!”

[loonarmuunar]

Pauper, protector, prince.

I wanted to give a proper tribute to the chokehold of a broken family bond by @dekupalace! So. Take this‼️‼️

Extra under cut!!

Some contrived stuff bfkgk:

Siffrin’s head is turned up, towards the crown. A reference to how Siffrin mentions many times how he has to loop up higher and higher to see the King.

Flowers resembling the party! This is a reference to another fic, Bloom! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE check it out!! Siffrin is crushing the flowers under his heels.

The flower in Siffrin’s hair is a nadine jessie, a type of dahlia. Obviously supposed to represent Nadine, but I wanted it specifically in Siffrin’s hair bc of the festival :) (couldn’t get it on their hat bc of the angle lol)

Siffrin holds a rose tucked between his palm and thumb, representing the King. I chose a rose, because of its connection to theatre, and its thorns.

Siffrin’s pose is knightly in nature, but without a sword or any grand weapon. They hide their dagger behind their back, alluding to the role he’s supposed to play. He is a knight, a protector, without any of the grace or nobility.

Siffrin faces away from the stars, and his face is shadowed, kinda alluding to Siffrin’s doubts of if this is really the right thing, if they are truly doing what the universe wants. Siffrin is, literally, turning their back to the stars.

Songbirds- I talked about this in a comment, but basically in my mind Siffrin taking the plunge into having to assassinate Mirabelle kinda reminds me of Eurydice from Hadestown agreeing to go to Hadestown.

The songbirds are specifically loggerhead shrikes, songbirds that impale their prey on sharp things like brambles and wire. Beforehand they paralyze their prey by biting down on the spinal cord with their tomial tooth. This made me think of King’s time craft freezing, or “paralyzing” Vaugarde.

I was inspired by this wonderful animatic for it! Also I just really love birds and will take ANY chance to include them in a drawing. (and Loggerhead shrikes translate very well to a desaturated color scheme—)

The king’s hair is staining from white to black/black to white, like Nadine’s hair dye.

ANYWAYS!!! YEAH!!! This is kinda a love letter, so to speak, for this fic, but to these fanworks in general :) If you haven’t already seen them, please check out these wonderful and creative works. I absolutely adore them all, and they deserve love!!

[bubblybloob]

If you’re wondering, at this moment I think my new favorite route and princess is Spectre’s new chapter 3, spoilers below

The Princess and The Dragoon did something that’s been played with as an idea but has never played out like this, they flipped everything on its head. You and the Princess are stuck in the basement, your a voice now, and your voices are piloting your body.

We get to see things from her perspective, I remember a while before Pristine Cut came out someone said that the white lines on a black background weren’t supposed to be twisted flashes of what the princess sees, but actually what she sees. Her point of view is black and white and ours has color with, well, mostly grays, but also reds and even some yellows, which is- so cool.

Anyway finally just getting to talk and laugh with her and get to know her a little was great, I feel closer to her now knowing what it’s like from her side of things, at least we get a title card, she just gets shot into the next reality. It’s nice to just sit down and have a conversation with her that isn’t interrogative in some sense.

And finally seeing what we look like? Oh man, we’re terrifying! I’m sure it’s not the same with a ton of voices piloting us with all their different expressions and body language butting into one another, as well as the fact we’re seeing our body through the princess’s vision, but gosh it’s really cool!

Opportunist fucking smile was horrifying, and I’m not sure if Schrödinger’s beak is back since whenever Cold cropped up it looked like it would disappear back into the body, as well as when no one was taking over at the time.

I’m just a little disappointed that there isn’t a way to convince the Opportunist to let us live and leave with us in the princess’s body instead of in our own (unless that is possible and I haven’t found it), because that’d be awesome to not only be her for a time, but leave as her. Even still, the chapter is probably my new favorite and shoots Spectre way higher than she used to be for me (I used to think she was a little boring).

I don’t really know what to call this princess, usually we just give them the chapter name, but since the dragon part of the name is for us and not her, idk. Spectre 2? Electric boogaloo?

[rhadamanthes]

Made with love. Toji x reader

word count : 2,8k

warnings : kitchen sex, fluff, praise, bakery AU, food play, breeding kink, soft toji, forced proximity, single dad toji, slowburnish.

"Thanks for that, I owe you :)" You sigh, reading Shiu's message. You accepted one of his friends to work with you for a time. Toji, your new coworker starts today, you couldn't be more nervous. For the past 4 years, you've been working alone. You own a small pastry shop downtown, key word being small you don't even know how two people are going to fit in. You fidget nervously waiting for someone to show up. Shiu didn't even take the time to send a picture of the said friend. So you're just looking like a creep observing every passerby trough the window of the bakery waiting for someone to stop.

And when they do you can't help but gasp. A black haired man, built like a brick, is looking at the facade. That must be the guy. You open the door and pass your head through the crack.

"Toji?" you call hesitantly.

His head drops to meet your gaze and he nods. You're taken aback by the beautiful shade of his eyes, a deep captivating green. You feel the heat cripping to your cheeks but invite him inside.

"Did you find it easily ?" you start to break the ice.

"Yeah it's the only pastel colored shop in the business district" he laughs

You clear your throat in embarrassment, what's wrong with pastel color ?

"Anyways, so I suppose Shiu told you that I'm specialized in dessert and stuff, do you have any experience with that ?" you ask nervously.

"Not really in sweets, I used to cook for the army."

"Oh nice so you have some basis, I'll give you a quick tour."

The shop is small and only has a few seating tables so it goes pretty fast, pushing the swing door you're now behind the counter, and your fear comes to life. With the way he's built this feels like you're stepping on each other's feet. You open the door to the kitchen in a hurry needing to have some personal space again, it's the biggest room in the shop, and you walk him through it.

"So that's it, if you have any questions before we start don't hesitate and- oh! I almost forgot here is your apron, it's a spare of mine so I think it's going to be small but I'll go shop for others tomorrow." You say handing him the white colored clothes,

Now That you think about it, it also has lace details on the hem, you purse your lips the idea of this mountain of a man wearing a way too small apron with girly little details on it. Toji nods his head accepting the piece of cloth.

"So are you going to watch me change ?" he asks teasingly.

"N-no! Not at all the door here it's the break room, you can change there"You stutter over your word.

You put your own apron on, taking the ingredients that you need out of the fridge.

⠀༺ ✤ ༻

The morning rolls around fast and you're satisfied with Toji's way of working, he learns fast and is independent. The first customers start to walk in and you decide to put Toji at the desk to see how he interacts with them. And it's kind of catastrophic, not a smile in sight, no greetings or basic customer service sentences. You put your hand over your mouth looking at him. You go behind the counter, tapping his shoulder lightly.

"Toji, you know it would hurt anybody if you smiled a bit" you whisper not to expose him in front of the client sitting at the tables. "Look how I do with the next ones, yeah ?" He nods without saying a word.

Waiting patiently for the next customer, you rearrange the displayed goods, telling Toji how you like them to be presented. The bells at the doors ring and you put on your customer service smile, fading quickly when you realise who it is.

"Get out" you hiss.

"That's how you greet your friends now ? I just came by to see how the partnership is going" Shiu answers in his usual mischievous tone.

"It's great, now turn around and go away"

"Hmm i'll have the fondant aux poires please" you roll your eyes at his request serving him anyway.

"You're lucky i don't have tomatoes in here i'd ruin your suit"

"One day you'll thank me~" he says in a singsong voice handing you the cash "So toji how do you like it so far?"

"It's nice," he answers flatly.

You can't help but wonder if he really keeps this monotonous tone, and stone cold expression even with his friends. You turn around to meet his eyes and he's already looking at you, neutral expression, just grazing the scar on his lips with his fingers.

"Well I'll leave you to it then" Shiu says bidding you both farewell.

"So can I threaten the next customer?" Toji says leaning back on the counter.

" "Hello", and "have a nice day" will do, Forget about the smile" you say, hitting his arm lightly, going back to the kitchen.

At the end of the day you show Toji how to leave the kitchen ready for tomorrow, and everything clean. Outside of the shop you're both standing in front of each other awkwardly.

"Well i hope you enjoyed today" you laugh nervously "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, 8 am again ?"

You nod your head.

"See you then" he says, turning around going his ways.

Looking at him disappear, you think that this might not be as terrible as you thought, nobody ever denies a little help. This will do you think, this will do.

༺ ✤ ༻

You quickly get used to Toji, it's not like he's talkative, or particularly joyous but his presence makes you feel less lonely. He's less trouble then he seems, during the lunchbreak the two of you usually sit next to each other in the break area, when you were alone you would always put on some TV reality show to unwind. Now that Toji is here you still do, but he made fun of you for the first few days. Now he silently watches it with you, making comments from time to time.

Work wise you couldn't be more satisfied he quickly followed your rhythm and rarely complains. The only thing is that in such a small space you stopped counting the number of times you bumped into each other especially when behind the counter, he would always make snarky comments about how it's not an accident and you just want to feel his muscles. You always shut him off but he likes to see you so flustered.

One day Toji came to you looking thoughtful. You immediately pick up on it asking him what's wrong.

"Would...it be a problem if my son came to eat with us today ?" he asks, scratching his neck.

You're a bit dumbfounded, he has a son ? Of course Shiu didn't mention it.

"Hum yeah sure no problem" you says realising how few you really know about him

"Thanks, i should have warned you sooner but he only decided it a few minutes ago" he says avoiding your gaze

"It's fine, really, let's get back to work" you shut him off.

For the rest of the morning you can only think about Toji and his son, how old he's he ? Is it the reason why Shiu insisted for you to engage him ? Before you can think anymore about it the door opens, ringing the bell. You can see a small form rushing through the door and an adult following close behind, telling the kid to slow down.

"Megumi!" Toji beams as he takes the kid in his arms "Giving Tsumiki a hard time?" he laughs ruffling the hair of his son. The kid doesn't answer, hugging his father.

Tsumiki, the woman you suppose was following behind, is out of breath.

"Sorry about the cub, did he make you run around town again ?" Toji asks.

"No that's fine" she whispers, slowly breathing back to normal. "Enjoy your meal and I'll pick him up after hmm?"

Toji nods and she makes her way to the exit giving you a warm smile and a wave of her hand. You mimic her still not realising what happened.

"This is my son Megumi" Toji states awkwardly "Megumi says Hello" he whispers in his hair.

The kid turns around waving, not saying a word, well if it wasn't for the fact he's his dad spitting image, the attitude gives it away. You chuckle at the scene before you, leading them to the break room.

Dinner with the father and son duo was fun, they act exactly like each other, but Megumi is a bit more talkative you would say, he went on and on about the dogs he has back home and his friend Yuuji. This is the most information you have on the Fushiguro's. For dessert you offered Megumi a pastry and he happily devoured it. Tsumiki went to pick up the kid and the two of you resumed your shift. Since Toji brought a part of his private life here you allowed yourself to ask him a few questions, you learned that his wife passed away giving birth to their only son, and that Tsumiki is like a big sister to Megumi.

༺ ✤ ༻

Toji is not used to praise, or simply people talking to him without a second thought. To him, your sweetness hides something, so when you're both preparing the sweets of the day and you tell him how good he's doing, he snaps.

"Stop doing this" he tones. His harsh tone takes you aback, you furrow your brows.

"What are you talking about?" you ask genuinely intrigued

"Your stupid words of encouragement i'm not a toddler i don't need this, or your pity"

"This shop is all i have i don't care about your personal feelings, i care about your performance if you were doing bad i'll tell you too, you know what next time i'll tell you to fuck off when youre done with one of your task" you scoff losing patience.

Turning your back to him, you keep on decorating the cupcakes. The rest of the day was silent. Toji felt stupid for even mentioning that. He won't say it out loud but the silent treatment you're giving makes him miss your voice. He'll accept anything now, even the oversweet words.

༺ ✤ ༻

Today is the end of the week, on friday customers are rare in the afternoon. This is usually the day you take your time to try new recipes. Sitting on the counter you're eating a blueberry crumble with cream on the top.

"Solitary pleasure ?" Toji's voice interrupts you.

The both of you quickly made up after the little fight and everything is back to normal, even his little teasing. Heat creeps to your cheeks at his comment and you clear your throat.

"No just trying some new stuff" you stammers

"And can I have a bite?" he smiles.

You nod, extending your hand. A normal person would have picked up the sweet from your hand but not Toji, supporting your hand with his, he dips his head low, eating straight from your skin. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your skin makes you shiver. What is wrong with him ? He looks at you through his lashes and you instinctively close your thighs. He straightens his back, licking his lips.

"Don't close your thighs on me darling" he purrs with a smirk growing on his lips.

You hit him with your feet, getting off the counter to wash your hands in the nearby sink. The water runs against your skin and you try to forget what he feels like against you. But he seems to have other plans. Caging you against the counter, Toji takes your hands in his, spreading the soap on your limbs. His chest feels like a wall behind you, he's hot and strong, you relax in his touch and wonder how his tongue would feel on every part of your body. He keeps on massaging your hands as he rubs against your ass.

"Toji stop" you blurt in a meek voice, you're not even convincing yourself.

"You sure you want me to stop? you have goosebumps all over" he whispers in your neck. "And I can tell you want me, everytime i pass behind you you clutch your little thighs or your cute little apron," he adds, kissing your neck.

You moan out loud at the feeling. He stops the water, drying both your hands on the closest piece of clothes. Toji turns you around, locking your lips in a heated kiss. You completely let yourself go at his contact, locking your arm behind his neck as you start to grind on him too. He places a knee between your legs and your clit catches at every fiber of his jeans making you squirm. You can already feel yourself getting wet, as well as he's getting hard under your ministrations.

Lifting your hips, Toji places you on the counter. You shiver against the cold marble. Breaking the kiss you get rid of your apron and his. He rips open your blouse, attacking your nipples with his warm mouth. Your back arch off the counter in pleasure, as his tongue twirls against your sensitive bud. With his free hand toji reaches for the bowl of cream you used for your cake he places the cold mixture on your other tits lapping hungrily at it.

"Fuck Toji" you cry at the hot and cold sensation.

You're getting wetter by the second and want to feel him inside of your pussy right now. You let your hand travel to your pants working the zipper down. Toji lifts your lower body off the counter so you can properly take it off. He does the same for himself and you pat him through his boxer. Fuck he's big, you bite your lips.

"Scared ?" he asked with a grin.

You bite hard on his neck as an answer, he chuckles. You stroke his cock a few times and spread your legs when you feel he's hard enough. The tip of his cock runs against your folds and you clench his shoulders. Slowly entering you, you let your head fall backward at the stretch feeling.

"God that tight little pussy" he rasps in your ear

"You like that? you taunt petting his hair

Letting your back hit the counter once more, he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he begins a slow pace in your cunt. His big cock pushes your gummy walls all the way. It's been a long time since you've been fuck like that. The faster he gets the louder you moan.

"Shit Toji, just like that, good boy"

His hips stutter at your words and he groans.

"Say it again" he growls.

"You're a good boy," you say, kissing his jaw.

"More"

"My good boy" you purr right next to his ear.

A defeated sound escapes his mouth and picks up the pace ramming into your pussy full force. Each thrusts lock you harder against the counter while you dig your nails into his muscular back. Turning you around Toji places you in a doggy style position. Your hair is firmly locked in one of his hands while he pounds into you. He's close you can't tell. you're not far away either. He keeps rutting into you, the knot in your belly is getting closer to snap with each thrust.

"Make me cum Toji please be good to me" you moan on the verge of your orgasm .

A few more thrust and you cum undone, face pressed against the cold counter. Your muscles squeezing around his length make him shoot all of his cum deep inside of you. YOu're both moaning, and breathing heavily. His head rests against your sweaty back, you can feel his dick twitching inside of you.

Catching normal breaths you straighten your back.Toji is locking you against his torso in the process, his beefy arms resting on your belly. You're glad he does because your legs feel like jelly right now. Catching a few of the whipped cream with your finger you raise it to his mouth he licks it looking at you in the eyes.

"What a good little boy, you want more ?" you taunt

He squeezes his arms tighter around you and you apologize, laughing a bit. Guess you really have to thank Shiu for that.

[slothkittfunsies]

Deep Dive into the issues on Alastor.

CONTENT WARNING: Racism, Aphobia.

Now that I created a blog specifically for stuff like this, It's time for the dive.

Alastor is a character that resonates with me, because this guy is supposed to represent me and my people (aspec/aroace community) and I liked his pilot personality. (That went to shit)

This man got so many issues, that i have to take the pen myself and scribble what Vivzie has wrote. So, Let's start, shall we?

THE DESIGN

The first time I saw the Hazbin pilot, I got confused about what Alastor was supposed to be. I thought he was just a grey human wearing some kind of animal ears until the fandom said he is a deer.

A deer. Let that sink in.

(Images for comparsion)

As someone passionate about the arts, this upset me. Sure, I haven't been to art school, but even I know you need to put the backstory and features in mind when designing a character.

Character design is NOT throwing things at the wall and seeing which sticks. It needs actual critical thinking. If your audience is confused about your character's species, it's time to go back to the drawing table (unless you have a reason for making it mysterious.)

Second, the overabundance of red is awful in terms of color theory. This guy is in Hell, which is also red, causing an eyesore. I got a headache when trying to focus on him on a red background. And also, colors have meaning. People associate red with danger, so the fact he even managed to get victims to kill makes me puzzled.

Also, the fact he's supposed to be mixed/black makes this design even worse. Why is he grey instead of brown, perhaps? Vivzie has a pattern of making POCs grey-skinned, which is, again, awful.

I think Vivzie only made him a POC due to the voodoo issue. I mean, just remove the symbols and you are done. But nah the symbols are too "aesthetic" to remove. So gotta change his race.

She could have used another symbols, like THIS for example:

Since, you know, he's the "Radio Demon"?

THE BACKSTORY

Ok, this where I'm very confused.

Alastor is a radio host, and also a serial killer. He was born in the USA, got killed by a deer hunter by mistake, and lived in the 1920's.

This is what I gathered from being a superfan back then, and it sounds unorganised/cluttered. And the years he lived in make his design even worse. (Again! His clothing doesn't speak the 1920s!)

The fact he's from an old era, and yet speaks in modern slang is weird. He's supposed to hate anything modern, and yet he does it anyway? His saying "fuck" multiple times is so out of character for him. I guess the "If made by Vivziepop" memes have some truth.

Putting the fact he's mixed, makes the backstory more confusing. How did he manage to be a popular radio host at the time before the civil rights movement became a thing? He will have been put down like the rest of the POCs in America. Either that he's white-passing, or it's VERY difficult. Adding the fact he's a serial killer makes me think how the cops didn't get to him (the mere fact he's black should have got him questioned in 1920s America)

Now, for his identity. I'm mad he's the only aroace character in the sea of gays and bisexuals. (I'm not saying gay men and bisexual people should not have representation. I have to say that due to tumblr's piss poor reading comprehersion)

which made me go through on why Vivzie made him aroace in the first place. I don't know if this is true, but I heard she made him aroace because "he only loves himself"

Um. Here we go again with allos assuming we are non-empathic psychopaths for our lack of sexual or/and romantic attraction. I hope that's not true at all, but knowing Vivzie's past, I wouldn't be surprised.

Alastor would have been a great character if another person took care of it instead of Vivziepop. What I'm gonna say is, wasted potential.

[takami-takami]

Nightmares.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. angst. hurt/comfort.

warnings— ptsd. trauma. self harm. nightmares. touch starved!keigo. be careful and know your limits!

Keigo feels the drop in his stomach first before anything else.

His bloodshot eyes snap open, lungs gulping in air as he sits up and grasps at the sheets below.

It doesn't matter that the room is pitch black. All he sees, clouding his field of vision, is red.

Red, when he attempts to blink it away. Red, when they're opened wide. Red, even through the bubbles of tears that he claws away with his nails. Red, when he stares at his filthy palms.

Unclean.

He asks himself if he could scrape it away if he tried hard enough, could expose the fresh cells underneath– the newly formed skin that has never been touched by the sins their owner has committed. New, like the skin of a child untainted by the corruption of those who were supposed to protect them.

He flinches when he feels the drape of his feathers surrounding him. Distantly, somewhere far outside his body, he wonders if they were always this scarlet color. Was he born with white wings? Did something make them this way? Did something make them the perfect shade for concealing bloodshed?

Did someone?

The waves of panic, the ones that shake his system to its core, bubble to the surface of his throat. They taste like disgust, like shame.

Don't let the guilt control you, Hawks, they say. Don't even let the thought pass through your mind. There's no reason to be upset... This is for the greater good. This is for your own good.

That's what they always told him.

His breathing comes quicker, deeper; but no matter how wide his chest expands, he still drowns. He needs to get out of here, needs to escape, there has to be an escape route, there has to be if he can just—

"Baby?"

The room illuminates with the click of a switch. His eyes, golden color swallowing shrunken pupils, glance behind him. Your face is illuminated by the dull, amber glow of the lamp by your bedside.

You look worried. Are you okay? He should ask you if you're okay.

He blinks, eyes focused directly on you. His body feels inhuman, hunched over and trembling with his hands still cupped below him. Stiff.

When he feels the bed creak beneath him, the velvet expanse of the comforter creasing with your movement towards him, he remains still. You offer the soft touch of your palm against his, interlacing his fingers with yours, silently asking permission. He squeezes back.

Your skin is pristine. Don't you know if you do that, you'll get them dirty?

You bring his hands to your lips anyway, kiss each pad of his fingertips tenderly before you begin to speak.

"Dreams again?"

He lets out a shaky breath in response, dropping his shoulders. He hasn't stopped staring at you for a second.

"Yeah, I-I," Keigo stutters, the adreneline beginning to dissipate from his veins, but still there. "Yeah, I guess so."

You hum. "Do you need some water? C'mon, sit up, I've got you. You're okay. I'll get you some water—"

You barely get the chance to move an inch before his hand shoots out and grips your arm, tightly at first before it frightens him that he'd be so quick to reach out. That his touch would be so rough.

"No! Please, don't stop," he all but begs, voice entirely too loud for his own ears. He wishes you were talking instead. Your voice is soothing, your voice is whole. "Stay. You... Can you just hold me? I didn't want to, I had to, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry—"

You know you're not the only one he's apologizing to. You accept it anyway, with a soft kiss that melts him to the core. "It's okay. I trust you." You tuck his hair behind his ears, to which he responds by leaning into the grounding touch. "You're doing your best. You're a good person."

It's difficult for Keigo to allow himself this, but you make giving in to the comfort too tempting. He buries himself into your chest, melts into the scratch of your fingers on his scalp.

Just stay like this. Just a little while longer, he thinks. Until I can feel like a person again.

[richea]

Inomata’s Design Notes & Memories - Destiny Cast

Some notes:

I’ve linked images of each thing she references below.

Unlike the first batch of Eternia characters I previously posted, these were in Japanese. And unlike the Destiny 2 ones I translated, she talks about her experiences with the characters in the game and not just her design processes!

The book in question is this one.

What I think about most when designing characters is their colors and the components to their look. The characters are displayed as such small sprites, so in order to be able to differentiate them from each other, I give each of them a specific color palette and unique accessories to each of their outfits.

Stahn’s thing was his scarf. I also made sure his shoulder pads, gloves, and boots looked huge.

Rutee is supposed to be a thief, so I made her look a bit like a ninja. I didn’t want her to look too girly, so I gave her shorts and exposed her navel. For colors I went with red and black, since that’s a distinctive palette. Whenever I’d do boss battles, she’d always be joyfully picking 2 gald off the ground instead of healing my very low HP characters (laughs). I thought about removing her from my party to prevent this, but then I’d feel bad, and it just made me think “this is all part of her plot” (laughs).

Philia is a priestess through and through. I went for white and green to give her an earthly feel (laughs). Her glasses and braids were a strong request from Namco. I came up with designs for her, but they didn’t have the glasses or braids, so they were repurposed for the priests in Straylize Temple. It was the basis for Philia’s design as well as Elraine’s in the sequel. Philia has her eye on Stahn, but he eats too much and he oversleeps. I feel like they’d work out better if Philia was more the assertive type herself (laughs).

Woodrow is an archetypical handsome man, so I didn’t have much to stress about when designing him. He’s a king, so I wished he had a stronger atmosphere behind him. I almost never used him when playing the game though (laughs). When you break into Dycroft, I thought, “it’d be really cool in a narrative sense to use him here, but he’s just so weak”. But you get special dialogue if you take him along, so I went “tsk” and brought him anyway. “Just stick to the backlines and don’t die” (laughs).

Leon’s really easy to draw, so again I didn’t have much to stress about when drawing him. He has a princely vibe to him, so I gave him white tights, but everyone was taken back by it! I thought, “is it that weird?” and ended up making them less tight fitting (laughs). He acts a bit snobbish, gets seasick easily and refuses to eat vegetables, so he really crosses off a lot on the “young master” list. He’s also really fun to use in battle (laughs). He has a really low defense stat but he hits fast, so it’s crucial that you string your combos together. When paired with Stahn, if you can isolate your bosses in the far side of the screen, they go down quite fast. Then I see the popup that Rutee’s picking gald off the floor again and I just use healing items on him (laughs).

I wanted to make Chelsea cute and small, so I based her image off of little birds. I gave her a palette of pink, green and blue, and made her hair look like a cockatoo or parrot. Her bloomers look like a paper lantern and I find them quite cute (laughs). Her life story makes me want to cry though. She’s fine and all in the first game, but in the sequel, she’s still wearing those bloomers from when she was a kid, living all alone on a snowy mountain. And if you go through her drawers, you can take something that Woodrow gave to her. I felt so bad, I thought “even though it’s so out of the way, I’ll go buy all the items you need!” (laughs). Then she makes all of these bows for you, but by then, I’d already enhanced my weapons a lot… But I felt so bad that I never Refined them and thought, “I’ll keep these on me forever” (laughs).

Johnny’s original idea was “troubadour,” but as the story progressed and I gave him his hat and all sorts of plumes, he came out a bit comical (laughs). He’s a really fun character to have in your party though, and I fell in love with him right away. I love that his tone-deafness does physical damage to the enemies (laughs).

With the Swordians, they have the will of humans and I wanted to incorporate that into their designs, but it didn’t seem to fit so I went for something more inorganic. Berselius alone has a creepy aura to him, and when Destiny 2 came around I thought “But his owner is such a nice person! Is it really okay for him to have such a creepy design?” but then I thought well, maybe Harold just likes things that way (laughs).

[lokabrenna-writes]

Soukoku headcannons because they have taken over my life

(Remember how I said I don’t write romance? Guess there’s a first time of everything •v•)

Port Mafia

Dazai fell first and harder

They have matching rings they got from the arcade and wore them all the time until they eventually broke. The rings were bound to break eventually considering how many battles they had been through, but they didn’t break during a battle. The duo were arguing about who knows what for the millionth time and the rings just snapped. They looked down at the pieces of plastic that had hit the floor in silence for a few minutes. (“If Chuuya wanted a divorce he could’ve just said so.” “Shut up and go win us new ones.”)

They both have specific items they steal from each other whenever they’re going to be separated for some time (separate missions, hospital stays, etc.). Chuuya will steal Dazai’s black hoodie that has what looks like lightning strike decals on the sides of the sleeves. Dazai will steal Chuuya’s white blanket that has what is supposed to be a slug and a mackerel messily stitched in one of the corners from when Chuuya was first learning how to embroider. They always make sure to return it without the other noticing when they get back from wherever they were so the item will smell like the other when it’s time for the duo to be separated again. Of course, both know the other takes said items, but neither say anything.

They paint each other’s nails every now and then. Black is they’re default color but they’ve also tried various nude/pink shades, blues, reds, and some glitters.

They’ve both attempted eyeliner (liquid and pencil) and failed. Both ended up with the liner all over their eyelids, but that didn’t stop either of them from laughing at the other.

They were each other’s first kiss. It was 2 in the morning and they were watching a movie. Since they can never agree on what to watch, they have a bowl with random numbers in it and whichever number is pulled is what they type in on the tv. Tonight some romance movie had been selected. Neither were particularly interested but they watched anyways (mainly to see whose movie plot prediction was right). Chuuya was growing sleepy towards the end. Sleep never came easy to Dazai so he let his mind wonder why the kiss scene at the end was always made out to be this grand moment. He turned to Chuuya who had laid his head to rest on his shoulder. He tucked his finger under Chuuya’s chin to tilt his head up and connected their lips. It was quick, not nearly as drawn out as the one playing on the screen. Yes, they both liked dramatics but it’s important to not over do it. They both hummed as they broke apart. It was pleasant, but it was not firework worthy as the movies had made it seem. Chuuya rested his head again, this time in the crook of Dazai’s neck rather than the edge of his shoulder before saying “Next time put some chapstick on. Get the strawberry one.”

Dazai finds children to be annoying, but he doesn’t exactly like or dislike them. Chuuya adores children and finds them to be endearing. To Dazai, there is very little in this world that can make him laugh as children falling. He's not necessarily laughing because the child may or may not be hurt, but more so at the face they make when they're processing what happened and then start crying. Chuuya yells at him despite this explanation.

The first and last time they said "I love you" was the night Dazai left. Before placing the bomb under Chuuya's car, Dazai had used his spare key to enter Chuuya's apartment to take his car keys. An extra precaution to ensure Chuuya wasn't caught in the explosion. He was supposed to be in and out, but he couldn't resist checking on Chuuya one last time. He peeked into the bedroom to find Chuuya already fast asleep. He walked over and watched him for a bit, knowing it would be a long time before he would be able to do so again in peace. He reached in his pocket and applied the strawberry chapstick to his lips before leaning down to connect their lips. Chuuya stirred at the contact and even though he cracked his eyes open, it was clear his mind was still very much asleep. Dazai pulled back after a few seconds and placed the chapstick along with his spare apartment key on Chuuya's bedside table. He briefly debated on leave a note before deciding he had already been in the apartment for too long. The last thing he wanted was to make it seem like Chuuya knew of his departure beforehand. "I love you," Dazai said in a quiet voice. It took more in him to actually get the words out then he cares to admit. "I love you so much. Forgive me for what I'm about to do, especially to your car, but this is for the best." These words came out more broken then he intended, but he hopes he got his point across. "I love you too," Chuuya mumbled out, eyes shut and snuggling deeper into his pillow. Dazai would come to cherish the moment the second he stepped out of the apartment. Chuuya does not remember it, but believed those three words to have been merely apart of his dream.