#Exterior Shading Systems

[rain-world-region-showdown]

All of round one has been posted GO GO GO!!!

[hdra77]

edit: downpour region poll can be found here!

[favefandomimagines]

Storm’s Eye (t.o)

Request: @lonelyghosts-stuff “Helllllllo! I hope you are doing well! I was wondering if I could request a Tyler Owens x Reader enemies to lovers fic? I am such a sucker for that trope especially if it's like actually enemies who hate each other but then grow to care through shared experiences and learning about each other. Angsty and life and death stuff. Just super tropey lol”

AN: I’ve been trying a new writing style where I don’t write in the first person but rather the third person, but still using Y/N. Let me know what you guys think!

The sky was a bruised shade of purple.Tyler Owens was behind the wheel of his truck, eyes flicking between the horizon and the radar screen. He gripped the steering wheel, every fiber of his being tuned into the storm brewing in the distance. This was what he lived for—chasing the thrill, the danger.

Beside him, Boone and Javi were having a conversation about the best burgers in Oklahoma, but Tyler wasn’t paying attention. He was more concerned with staying ahead of the supercell that was beginning to form just over the ridge. His mind raced with calculations, predictions, and strategies, keeping track of the storm's trajectory in his head.

Then there was her.

Sitting in the backseat, quietly scrolling through the radar on her own tablet, was the new meteorologist Javi had brought onto the team. Y/N Y/L/N, the woman who had already gotten under Tyler’s skin.

“What do you think, Tyler?” Javi asked, peering over Tyler’s shoulder. “Y/N says we should head north and catch the storm as it loops back around.”

Tyler’s eyes snapped to the rearview mirror, catching Y/N’s gaze. Her eyes were sharp, confident—like she thought she knew everything there was to know about storms. It irked him.

“North?” Tyler scoffed, his voice laced with irritation. “We’re wasting time if we go north. The storm’s going to pivot east, not loop back. If you want to catch it, we need to stay on this road and head southeast.”

Y/N leaned forward, her expression calm but firm. “That storm’s got a hook echo forming. It’s going to swing north before it turns east. If we stay southeast, we’ll miss the rotation.”

“Miss the rotation?” Tyler barked a laugh. “I’ve been chasing storms for years, and I know this system. You’re just reading the radar. I can feel it.”

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t back down. “You think I’m just looking at a screen? I’ve been in the field, too. And I’m telling you, if we don’t adjust course, we’re going to be too far south to catch anything.”

Javi glanced between them, trying to keep the peace. “Hey, guys, how about we—”

“I’m the leader of this team,” Tyler interrupted, his tone hard. “We’re sticking with my call. We go southeast.”

Y/N crossed her arms, frustration simmering beneath her composed exterior. Tyler knew she was good at her job—Javi wouldn’t have brought her on if she wasn’t—but that didn’t mean he had to like her stepping on his turf.

“I’ll be here when you realize you’re wrong,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Tyler pretended not to hear, though her words festered in the back of his mind.

||

The next few days followed the same pattern. Y/N and Tyler clashed over nearly every decision—where to set up, what direction to head, even which equipment to use. The rest of the team, Boone, Javi, Kate, Lilly, Dani, and Dexter, watched their arguments like spectators at a tennis match, unsure of how to intervene.

“Maybe you should cut her some slack,” Boone suggested one evening after a particularly heated argument.

Tyler grumbled something incoherent and shook his head. Y/N was too smart, too stubborn, and way too sure of herself for his liking.

Later that night, while the others were fast asleep in the small roadside motel they were staying at, Tyler found himself unable to sleep. His mind was still buzzing from the day's chase, from the constant butting of heads with Y/N. He slipped out of his room and headed to the small, makeshift lounge area by the vending machines. To his surprise, Y/N was already there, sitting in one of the chairs with her nose buried in a weather report.

He hesitated, then finally walked over and sat down across from her. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the low hum of the soda machine.

Finally, Tyler broke the silence. “Where’d you go to school?”

Y/N glanced up from her report, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“I asked where you went to school,” he repeated, a little softer this time. “I’m just curious.”

She closed her report and leaned back in her chair. “University of Kansas.”

“Really? That’s a good program.” Tyler couldn’t help but be impressed, though he kept his tone neutral.

Y/N shrugged. “It’s close to home. My dad’s still there, and since my mom died a few years ago, I didn’t want to leave him alone for too long.”

The admission caught Tyler off guard. He hadn’t expected her to open up like that.

“He’s the one who made me want to be a meteorologist,” she continued, a small smile tugging at her lips. “When storm season would roll around, he’d stay calm. No matter how bad it got, he’d explain what was happening so I wouldn’t be scared.”

Tyler was quiet for a moment, processing her words. “That’s…that’s pretty cool.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes softer now. “Why did you start your YouTube channel? Seems like an unusual hobby.”

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how to explain. “I started it because if it helps even one person know what signs to look for, where to take shelter, and it saves lives…that’s the goal. Storms are dangerous, but the more people understand them, the better their chances.”

Y/N nodded, and for the first time, Tyler saw something other than frustration in her eyes. They had more in common than he realized. “I was a bull rider before this.” He spoke. Not sure why that was the first thing that came to his mind.

“Really?” She questioned. “Yeah, I was pretty good for a while. But too many bulls to the head, I wanted to get out before I became a vegetable. When deciding what to do next, I remembered how I felt during my first tornado. I knew I was supposed to be scared, my aunt was freaking out in the driver’s seat. But I couldn’t help but feel excited by it. Remembering that feeling helped me decide to go back to school.” Tyler explained.

“I guess you’re not all bad, Owens.” Y/N teased. “You’re not so bad either, Y/N.” Tyler replied, a small smirk on his face.

||

Tyler thought that after their late-night conversation, things might start to smooth out between them. But when they were out in the field the next day, the old tension returned.

Y/N was insisting they head west, while Tyler was adamant that they stick to the eastern route.

“You’re not thinking clearly!” Y/N snapped, pulling out her map and pointing to the storm's trajectory. “The data shows the storm shifting westward. If we don’t move now, we’re going to miss the funnel!”

Tyler’s frustration boiled over. “I’m the leader of this team, Y/N. My decision stands. Your opinion doesn’t matter.”

The words were out before he could stop them, and the effect was immediate. Y/N’s face fell, all the confidence and fire draining from her. Her lips pressed together, but she didn’t say anything. Just nodded and turned away.

As she walked back to the van, guilt gnawed at Tyler. He knew what he said had hurt her more than he intended. He knew the sting of being dismissed in a profession dominated by men, and he’d just done exactly that to her.

||

The storm that day was worse than any of them had expected. The winds picked up suddenly, driving rain slashing sideways across the open plains. They had barely made it into a small town when the tornado sirens began wailing.

“Get to the storm shelter!” Tyler shouted to the team over the howling wind.

Y/N was running beside him when something caught her eye. She stopped dead in her tracks, looking toward the edge of the street where a young golden retriever, still basically a puppy, was tied to a telephone pole barking frantically.

“Y/N, come on!” Tyler yelled, but she shook her head.

“I can’t leave him,” she shouted back, running toward the dog.

Tyler cursed under his breath and sprinted after her. “Y/N, you can’t—”

“I have to save him!” she interrupted, fumbling with the leash as the wind whipped around her, making it nearly impossible to untie the knots.

For a terrifying moment, Tyler thought they were both going to get swept away by the storm. Without thinking, he grabbed her hands and pulled them away from the leash, then used his pocket knife to cut it.

“Let’s go!” he urged, pulling her to her feet.

She scooped up the dog, and they ran together toward the storm shelter, barely making it inside before the worst of the storm hit.

Y/N collapsed against the wall, clutching the trembling dog in her arms. “Thanks,” she panted, a breathy laugh escaping her lips.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Tyler said, though his heart was still racing from fear, not anger.

She just smiled weakly in response.

||

When the storm passed, Y/N was outside, kneeling beside the dog and handing out food and water to the town’s residents who had been affected. Tyler watched her from a distance, unable to shake the fear he’d felt when he thought she wasn’t going to make it.

He walked over to her, his voice softer than usual. “That dog’s not going to let you out of his sight now.”

Y/N smiled, ruffling the dog’s fur. “He’s our new team mascot.”

Tyler crouched down beside her, his tone serious. “I was scared. I thought you weren’t going to make it. And it made me realize…I’ve been awful to you because I liked you. I was scared of how I felt.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You liked me?”

“Yeah,” Tyler admitted. “And I think…I think I still do.”

Y/N smiled, her voice soft. “Well it’s a good thing that I have feelings for you too, Tyler.” Tyler let out a light laugh before leaning in ever so slightly

Just as they were about to kiss, Boone appeared out of nowhere, grinning like a fool. “So, what’s the plan, lovebirds? Heading back on the road or what?”

Tyler groaned, but Y/N just laughed, the tension between them finally gone, like the storm that had just passed.

[weskie]

Stress Relief [And Love] (Albert Wesker x f!Reader)

18+ | ambiguous anatomy reader, femme terminology reader [masc terms here], smut, light degradation, aftercare | Fic Directory

Your face presses into the glass, breath fogging it to obscure the delicate, world-changing organisms inside.

He’d come to see you again.  A checkup on your progress, he’d said– his usual excuse.

Most often, he came down here for you.  You, his prized possession and the apple of his eye, were the real treasure within the cramped laboratory.  Though the flowers you’d raised and spliced were the fuel powering his dream, he’d long since told you how ridiculous he found the field of botany.  Beyond his tastes and especially his interests.  But he was interested in you.

He needed you.

More than you knew, actually. For the longest time, you thought it odd that his visits kept growing in frequency– that is, until the first day he’d stripped a glove from his hand and caressed your cheek with his fingertips, eyes shining brighter beneath those signature dark shades of his.  You’d never really considered your feelings for him prior– attractive as he is– but you practically turned to jell-o that day.

“My little flower girl.” He murmured, tilting your chin up for the softest, sweetest kiss you’d ever had.  Just like that, you were his.

Just like you are now.  

He drives into you from behind, hips snapping sharp and fast.  A long day, he’d told you.  Albert Wesker was typically a generous lover.  Exceptional dates, thoughtful gifts, and a laser-like focus on ensuring your comfort and happiness– but especially your pleasure.

Today he takes for himself, and you’re all too happy to oblige.

He’s got your lower half stripped bare, perfect for him to take in the sight and tease you as he pleases.  Nails biting at your hips, a palm striking your ass, fingers slinking around your waist to tease you mercilessly.  His hands are everywhere all at once, clouding your mind, and his face is buried in the curve of your neck where he kisses and nips and bites to his heart’s content.

“Look at you,” he growls.  “Your legs are quaking.  Pathetic.”

You mewl for him, nodding.  You’re almost positive his iron grip around your waist is the only thing keeping you from hitting the floor.  He takes a step closer, pinning his body to yours and pushing you further against the warmth of the flower tank.

Wesker grinds into you while a hand snakes up to grip in your hair, tugging your head back just enough for his lips to meet your ear. “My sweet little flower girl,” he coos, hips pushing circles against you.  You nod.

You are his.

He uses you for at least an hour, coming deep inside of you, eating you clean, pushing you to your knees to get him ready once more, then fucking you all over again.  By the time his seemingly awful day is worked out of his system, you’re a worn out mess on legs far too wobbly to stand.

Which is how you end up in his arms, engulfed in a warm bubble bath.  You had no idea that he lived in the facility, let alone had such an extravagant bathroom.  It makes you envious for all the times you ever had to rinse off in the cramped little emergency shower in the lab after an unfortunate specimen exposure.

He’s so gentle with you, even going as far as to nudge your head back to rest against his chest when you try to fuss over him.

“Allow me to at least be a gentleman now,” Wesker murmurs as he moves a washcloth in circles over your bite mark ridden shoulders.  He’d traced every bruise and mark he left on your body with featherlight touches, each stutter a silent apology and declaration of his own disdain for how he’d handled you.  It was endearing to know how much he truly cared under that cold exterior he always seemed to have.

You give him a gentle, humming laugh.  There was no doubt in your mind that he’d take care of you afterward.  He always did.

“Rest, my dear.”  He coos, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Not that you were trying to fight it, but you did like to drag out your moments together.  “I’ll be here when you wake.”

And that’s exactly why…

“D’you promise?”  

Wesker was always on the go, always busy, always something to take care of that left you waiting and missing him terribly.  Such a statement was incredibly uncommon.

“I promise,” he says, smile audible in his voice.

Your eyes flutter shut, mind at ease knowing he’ll be the first thing you see when you wake.

[mmurderhousewrites]

Rich baby daddy pt. 2 (Sukuna x Reader)

i know i said this was gonna be 2 parts but i'm gonna make it 3, hopefully tmr ill be able to post the final part.

Summary: Things go downhill at the party, revealing secrets you would have never imagined

Warnings: unedited, slight reader x getou in the beginning

Getou had arrived in an all black limousine with tinted windows. It wasn't much of a shock to you considering Getou always went all out for his best friend. He stood outside of the limo, leaning against it and smirking when he saw your outfit. He was dressed in an all black tux, not buttoned up all the way which revealed a white button up shirt underneath, and black dress shoes to go with it.

Sure getou didn't see you as anything more then a friend, however he was still a man at the end of the day and couldn't block out those dirty thoughts he had of you.

The two of you had talked most of the way there and of course you and your best friend were already a little tipsy by the time the two of you arrived. After all there was a nice selection of alcohol in the limo.

You paid attention to the surroundings changing outside, you started in the city then slowly made your way to the suburbs. The houses looked beautiful, from two to the stories, and the giant yards, you could tell the neighborhood you were in was only meant for the successful people. It started to make you feel some type of way, and the liquor in your system wasn't helping at all.

"You really look amazing tonight, y/n" Getou says, giving you a lighthearted smile.

You smirk and raise an eyebrow at him, "Don't tell me youre catching feelings getou" you say jokingly, rolling your eyes.

Getou looks at you for a minute before chuckling, "of course not, after all youre Sukuna's girl and i'm not really in the mood to risk my life just for some pussy"

You roll your eyes again and cross your arms, "oh please just because i had his child doesn't make me his. I'm sure he's been sleeping with other women anyways, not that I care. And on top of that he was too busy to spend time with his family that's the reason why i left him."

"yeah i'm more then aware, you've told me story about 4 times now" Getou says, sipping his drink.

You huff and turn to look out the window. You notice how the houses are slowly fading away and now its mainly mountains. The driver turns down a narrow dirt road, following it up for about 2 minutes before the mansion comes in view.

It was huge and the exterior looked to bricks, all different shades of grey. The curtains inside the house were all pushed to the side, making it so everyone could see what was going on inside. This was the Richardson's manor.

After getting passed the gate, the driver pulls up to the front of the house where a few other cars and limos were parked. The driver parks the car and they get out, talking to one of the staff members.

Getou taps you, making you look over at him with a confused face. He smiles, pouring another shot of tequila for both you and him. Handing it to you he says, "for the road ahead"

This makes you smile. The two of you raise your glasses and clink them together before downing the shot. You shake your head in disgust as the liquor burns your throat. Your best friend on the other hand took his shot smoothly as per usual, making him laugh at you.

The driver comes around, opening the door for you and getou. Getou steps out first then offered you his hand. You take his hand and follow suit, looking up at the beautiful manor in front of you you cant help but stare in awe.

You kept your right arm linked with getou as you were greeted by the head butler, a tall man dressed in a black tailcoat with a white undershirt. He held a napkin around his arm and bowed to the two of you.

"You must be Suguru Getou, and this is..?" The butler questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I'm Y/n L/n. Head journalist for Gojo inc." You smile, extending your free hand to the butler. He looks shocked, almost immediately shaking your hand.

"Ah yes, Y/n! You've written the stories about the take down of Toji Fushiguro right?" He asks, actually seeming interesting.

You pull your hand away, "yup that's me!" you reply. Getou is standing there awkwardly before clearing his throat.

"it was nice meeting you ms. L/n. Please enjoy your night." The butler bows his head. Getou leads you through the large open doors, revealing the party inside There were many people from different companies and backgrounds as you expected.

Unnoticed to you, Sukuna was talking to a few business partners in the back near the bar when he seen you walk in. At first he was seriously irritated considering he had definetly told you Not to come. Sukuna had his own business to take care of tonight and he was certain he wouldn't be able to get it done with you here.

You had stuck to getou's arm almost the whole night and it was starting to come to an end. There wasn't much dirt you uncovered on anybody considering you were already tipsy when you got here and you were getting rounds of shots for you and your friend every 30 minutes it seemed.

It also seemed you were too drunk to notice your baby dad angrily sulking on a bar stool, holding his glass of vodka. Sukuna had managed to make some new business partners and also managed to get many looks from potential partner's wives making them iffy on working with him.

You had excused yourself from getou to go get a drink of water, while you were in the process of ordering your drink, suddenly there was shouting. You turn around to see a group of people with masks on entering the premises.

Your eyes widen as you notice the large guns in their hands. Shots are fired and before you can process anything you are tackled over and behind the bar.

You look up seeing your baby dad, his hand was on your shoulder as he pulled out a pistol. You were shocked to say the least. When you two were together you never would have imagined sukuna would wield a weapon. He's a business man not a mafia man, right?

Sukuna never talked to you about things like this but then again when you were together he wouldn't really mention work at all unless you pressed him about it. It's possible Sukuna wasn't the man he claimed to be.

You were extremely frightened, Sukuna seems to notice this looking down at you and smiling softly. "I told you not to come for a reason" He says quietly.

There was a lot of gunfire and shouting in the background, you were sure your eyes were about to pop out of your head. Grabbing onto Sukuna you start to let out a few tears.

"You were so vague about it how was i supposed to know people would be dying?!" you exclaim angrily.

Sukuna rubs your arm before pulling out his phone and quickly typing something. "were gonna be okay. I just need you to follow my lead." He says and you nod your head quickly.

Sukuna peaks around the bar to see what's going on, shooting his own gun a few times. You hear a few grunts and sukuna turns back to you. He quickly throws you over his shoulder before making a run for the back of the house.

The two of you are met by a black Cadillac and sukuna opens the back door before sliding the both of you in. Immediately the SUV pulls off.

You sit there in shock, even surprised to see Getou as the driver, "What the hell is going on?!" You finally exclaim, looking at Ryomen angrily.

Sukuna looks over at you and sighs, "I've been trying to keep you away from this, princess but obviously I can't anymore. You should get Yuji from your parents tomorrow and come stay with me for now."

He takes your hand in his, "There's a lot of explaining to do. I'm gonna take you back to my house for the night."

You not your head in agreement. That would be for the best and after the night you've had you definitely wanted some company.

tag list; @cassouandco @mrs--imperfect @maskedpacific @domainofmarie @thejujvtsupost @valleydoli

[girlkisser13]

ares cabin headcanons

children of ares

• it’s more difficult to break a weapon in a child of war’s hand (with the exception being if someone was a child of the big three).

• they can pull of any shade of red.

• camo EVERYTHING. they just have a weird obsession with camo.

• a lot of them obsessively collect sneakers.

• they have nicknames/call signs for all their members, they don't choose one when they join, it'll be given to them sooner or later.

• leather jackets, military boots, aviators, chains, chokers and metal rings are the norm.

• there's always that one kid that likes to show off their butterfly knife tricks. (i’m sorry if that’s you.)

• every one of them has a scar somewhere, usually they got it even before they came to camp. they treat scars like tattoos—the bigger and more obvious they are, the more badass they are.

• all the armies on the loosing side are forced to serve them and their father so they can summon them at a time of battle and increase their power by invoking their father’s powers.

• they’re the best fighters in camp, but that doesn't mean all they have is physical strength.

• they have the strength to stand their ground and defend a point that is so strongly that many of them become outstanding politicians.

• they don't just teach people how to fight monsters, but they also basic self-defence for anyone who feels unsafe in the city.

• the tradition of capture the flag initially started as a dispute between the ares and athena cabin, with the other camps joining one of the two.

• it has always been a ceremony for the two cabins to always be against each other.

• they all have excellent posture because they’re always training, so they’re always wearing breastplates. (i’m assume breastplates improve your posture the same way corsets do).

• rumor has it there's an underground fight club that's invite-only (but you didn't hear that from me).

•those who have a taken a vow of nonviolence run an anger management group for their siblings who want to gain a little more control.

cabin exterior

• the cabin has a rugged, fortress-like appearance, with sturdy stone walls that seem built to withstand a siege. the front door is made of reinforced steel, adorned with battle scars and dents.

• it also has heavy punk rock aesthetics, which is ironic considering how much discipline is enforced within its members.

• various weapons, such as swords, spears, and shields, are displayed prominently on the walls, either as decoration or trophies from past battles. some are enchanted to glow faintly, adding an aura of intimidation.

• the cabin is adorned with tattered banners and flags, each representing a different battle or conquest. the ares symbol, a wild boar or a spear, is prominently displayed.

• the walls are covered in graffiti and markings made by the cabin members, depicting their victories, names, and personal symbols. these give the cabin a rough, lived-in look.

• the cabin itself might show signs of past conflicts, with scorch marks, cracks, and patched-up sections that hint at the intensity of the cabin's training sessions and disputes.

• at the entrance, there are statues of ares himself, standing guard and setting the tone for those who enter.

• the stuffed boar head at the front of the cabin acts as a surveillance system, it’s enchanted to squeal when there are intruders.

cabin interior

• the cabin has a minimalist, utilitarian design, with few decorations and a focus on functionality. the beds are simple, sturdy cots, and personal belongings are kept to a minimum.

• the bunks are arranged in a regimented, military style, with each camper's area neatly organized. personal spaces include a footlocker for storing gear and a small, sturdy nightstand.

• ac/dc is constantly playing in the background?

• every available wall space is utilized for weapon racks and shelves, holding an array of swords, spears, axes, and shields.

• the cabin has an area dedicated to training, with punching bags, weights, and practice dummies. there is even be a small sparring ring in one corner for indoor practice.

• various trophies from past battles and quests are displayed inside the cabin, including weapons, monster teeth, claws, and other memorabilia. these serve as a testament to the cabin's prowess in combat.

• large maps detailing various battlefields and strategic locations are pinned to the walls. they have markers and notes, reflecting ongoing planning and strategies.

• the interior features rough, durable materials like stone and wood, designed to withstand heavy use and combat-related activities. the floors are covered in animal skins and thick, worn rugs.

cabin traditions

• for every child of war that has died in battle, a spear bearing their name is placed on the roof of the cabin.

• they have a ritual where members show off their battle scars and share stories of how they got them, celebrating their bravery and toughness.

• they have regular evenings dedicated to cleaning, sharpening, and maintaining their weapons and armor, often accompanied by storytelling or strategizing.

• they have CONSTANT meetings where they plan strategies for capture the flag and other camp activities, often held in a militaristic fashion with a focus on tactics and leadership.

• they have regular sparring sessions where they challenge each other to friendly duels to improve their skills and rank within the cabin.

• before major events like capture the flag, they paint their faces and arms with war paint as a symbol of their readiness for battle and to intimidate their opponents.

divider by @sunkupng

[copepods]

pop quiz!

[venbetta]

Night Light

Ven x Glam Freddy SFW Drabble (OC x Canon)

Beneath the cut

This tension was familiar to Ven, the way their blood froze at their heels as the heavy presence was upon them as they stood before their late master. His eyes probed her small frame, she remembered that horrible look he gave her when she spoiled the mission.

The clawed hand yanked her chin, and Ven gasped as her gaze was set on Ulysses, never having thought she would see him ever again. Not ever.

Despite their fear, Ven wriggled from his touch and recoiled, the demon stiffening from her defiance. The room shifted and flickered as Ven's legs pumped to escape from his deathly hold, Ulysses’ roaring for their return.

Not long after, his hard steps shook the ground beneath her as she ran through jello, slow and unwilling to move forward.

The corridor wobbled, and a door was barely in their grasp when a hand gagged them quiet.

A strained squeal uttered from her, kicking but met air. His piercing red glare tore through her, and just like his gaze, a dull searing pain gutted through her, Ven managed a horrible scream, clawing at his penetrated arm.

He struck her again, her torso bent and pulled, she could feel herself being split again, she expected to see gore but only for an inky substance to coat Ulysses’ forearm as he dug into her flesh. Flailing, Ven incoherently begged, even though there was no ounce of contrite in that demon's face…

Ven still had the robust to wail, only for the hall to close in on them. Or her own vision closing in, as she managed another shriek.

The air was dry in the room and Ven had become shrill, clambering upwards in a panic and grabbing for… something. She wasn't sure what. But a hard, yet warm pair of arms gathered her back and that baritone coaxed into her ears, melting away the cries.

“You are safe– you are fine...” He ushered, “I am here.”

Ven darted her eyes, seeking the demon that had her in the shadows of the space. I'm looking for those red dots that bored her. She fell to the foot of the bed, finding nothing but her and the mascot’s feet partially buried beneath the covers. The weight of the bed was heavy, that being due to having a large robot in the bed…

A rattling exhale leaves them, mimicking chills, but she was hardly cold. The room was dim, hardly lit by the moonlight leaking in through the shades, yet the artificial glow of Freddy's eyes created the effect of a night light. Something Ven never knew she needed again, believing them to be childish after having given them up for that reason… and most nights, she regretted getting rid of it.

“Everything is alright. Settle your breathing.” Freddy nudged into her temple, feeling her staggered breaths against his metal frame. The way her heart was racing, he would have believed she had run a marathon. Their body was still trembling.

“Breathe…”

Ven couldn't breathe, not properly, when her systems were overwhelmed with a terrible prickling sensation in her legs and a cramp seizing up her abdomen. Her eyes clamped shut, and she buried into Freddy's chest, trying to swallow any sound that left. Freddy felt her body flinch, and a wobble took over her throat. The imp shook as she unwounded in his arms.

“H…He kill– he killed me– he killed me a-again…” Ven gasped, in a horrible breathing state, “I was…he had me–”

Freddy wavered, “You are safe now. You are here.” Ven shook their head, but Freddy just held on.

He caught her instability, stroking her shoulders and lowering his palm to her navel. The pain was almost a phantom, Ven whirring from his touch, but Freddy didn't retract it. He kept it there. A soothing heat overtakes his palm, and he rests it there for her.

The room remained quiet with Ven weeping and gulping for air, Freddy's voice occasionally uttering solace. Eventually, Freddy rests Ven on top of his chest, letting them soak their tears against his metal exterior. His systems picked up her deescalating heart, and what was once a constantly thump became a legato beat. Sniffles were lessening, and ultimately, Ven became subdued…

“Do you want to talk about it?” Freddy asked gently, his voice vibrating his frame. Ven quietly shook their head, reduced to silence now. A sigh leaves him, resting his hand on her backside.

“I understand… When you wish to, I will be here to listen.”

Ven doesn't respond, only shifting to rest comfortably against him. Freddy noted the rise in her abdomen, unsure he wanted to mention this symptom; he recognized their cycle patterns, and it appeared that it was coming soon. Instead, he kept it to himself, not wanting to burden them with this right now. Their exhaustion was prevalent, and he just wanted them to rest.

“Let me know if this is comfortable, I do not mind moving if you aren't.”

After some shuffling and getting settled, Ven rested on their side, pressing their back to the bear's front. Freddy returned his hand to her navel, hoping to soothe the pain that haunted her. Before long, he heard deep, elongated breathing, and Ven was fast asleep.

All he could do was press into her tighter…

_________

[rainworldspinterest]

Image description: a digital collage-esque fan-art of Rain World. The background consists of painted pieces of every region available in vanilla campaigns, that being from left to right: Outskirts, Sky Islands, Chimney Canopy, Farm Arrays, Garbage Wastes, Drainage System, Industrial Complex, Shoreline, Exterior, Five Pebbles (region), Shaded Citadel, Subterranean. Throughout the piece are scattered several shaded drawings of The Survivor, and single ones of a green lizard, pole plant, centipede, batfly, dropwig, overseer, karma flower, leviathan, monster kelp, slime mold, daddy long legs and miros bird. Each is outlined with a colorful outline. ID ends.

We completed this back in May, and it took several days morning to evening to complete.

Art usage notes: free to use (PFP, edits, moodboard, etc) with credit. Please overview our notes on content we don't want our fan-work to be associated with in our pinned first.

[honeycomb-hotel]

Minecraft phantom alter?

𓎟𓎟 minecraft phantom .ᐟ

⠀request // posted by mod ender .

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; names – phantom, shade, wraith, ghost

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; age – ageless

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; pronouns – he / it / spook / dark / gloom / vamp

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; gender – masc-aligned, eeriebodiment, bloodlust, bloodecorated, unholything, rabidpredator

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; orientation – bisexual, aceflux

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; transID – perma-dissociated, reincarnated, perma-psychpatient, goth, snvff, hikikomori

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; paraphilias – 🩸, 🫀, 🌙, 🥩, 🩹, 👀, 🔪, 🪜, 💧, 👻

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; species – phantom, shapeshifter

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; roles – tranquil, nightwatcher, urge holder, shock absorber

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; source – phantom mob ; minecraft

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; personality – a figure of eerie grace and silent intensity. his presence is marked by periods of quiet introspection, where he silently observes the world with a keen awareness, as if he's constantly scanning for threats in the shadows. despite his calm exterior, there are moments of intense focus and determination, where a primal instinct surfaces, driving him to take action with a cold, calculating demeanor. within the system, he embodies a mysterious and somewhat unsettling aura.

︵⠀ᡣ𐭩 ; art credit – r/AliciaViscard on reddit, @/Scootioz on twt, @/cheetahjevams on deviantart

[kid-az]

Star Wars AU/alternate timeline where Jakku isn’t Just Tatooine 2 but has a different aesthetic to it, aka Scavenger-punk where the native cultures all emphasize the scavenging and recycling of the wrecks of spaceships and vehicles from various wars and making use of them in their daily life, kinda like how Rey resided inside an At-At.

The planet being utterly filled with the wrecks of Imperial, Rebel, Clone Wars, and even older ships, and half of the inhabitants of Jakku are sapient droids (Many being CIS battle droids who live peacefully with the residents) who coexist equally and alongside the organic inhabitants.

Not only do sapient organics and droids benefit from these wrecks but the wildlife does too. Water from coolant systems and waste alike, food supplies and shade provided by these ships creating oasis’s filled with bountiful life and plants, the warships that were once utilized to kill instead nourishing new life on the planet.

While definitely cold in exterior and distrustful of outsiders, (Since these outsiders were usually criminal groups or corporations wanting to exploit the resources of Jakku) Jakku’s people emphasized cooperation and supporting one-another in their daily life and struggles.

The galaxy may have treated them as nobodies and their planet as a dumping ground for trash, but for the people of Jakku their planet was a home that had everything they needed, a world that was theirs to be free, to run amok the so-called “useless” wrecks and make something new and beautiful out of them.

Sorry for not sounding normal I just think Jakku had potential to not be a discount Tatooine and instead be a unique planet with its own identity and culture emphasizing cooperation and the recycling of old technology and treas to make tools and works of beauty, where organics and droids lived together in harmony.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 41)

Tw: not that i know of

Part 42

Vote below pls i will only consider first 21 votes

Yves effortlessly carried you out of the back seat and placed you onto the wheelchair.

You gaped at everything while Yves closed his car door.

It's a stylish and minimalistic house with two floors. You like its modern architecture with sharp edges and boxy shapes, the walls and roofs are painted with black or various shades of grey.

It's much smaller than his neighbors who boast their colossal mansions and manors. Even if each owned land is similar in size, Yves's vicinity appears larger by tenfold due to how little he built. You saw some lawns even have a helipad, all other houses had a swimming pool of some sort and a garage that was as big as a shopping mall's parking lot.

Yves had none of that. It was just a relatively boring, regular sized luxury house. And with a small garden and a garage that fits a maximum of two cars.

You think he wanted you to look around, that is why he parked outside instead. His home looked... out of place. Not because he appears poor due to his lack of excessiveness, but it almost seems like he's hiding something from his equally wealthy neighbors.

Because how else is he able to secure housing in a neighbourhood that appears to accommodate multi billionaires? Yves has to be rich, but he refuses to show it, going against the norm. Is that not social suicide for the wealthy?

He lifts the brakes off your chair and pushes you towards the entrance. It's just a plain, singular door with no grand carvings. There is a metal gate that he had to unlock before accessing the next barrier, though. But it felt bizarre how there isn't some complex security system. Just a surveillance camera and two keyholes.

"Welcome to the place I call home, my love." Said Yves as he wheeled you inside.

His home is breathtaking. A dramatic, gothic interior design complete with a giant chandelier emitting soft, golden light. Black, greys, burgundy, ecru and browns were all you could see. It is exactly like the ones you would see in high end magazines, the epitome of opulence.

He has a brick fireplace that isn't lit, but upon further inspection, it's more of a glass box- an electronic fireplace that replaced the need for gas, wood or an actual fire. It's obviously not lit at the moment due to the scorching weather.

The lighting is nothing like you imagined, illuminance came from slender, golden lamps that glowed pleasantly. It's never too bright or dim, it felt perfect.

The windows quadruple your height and the blinds block natural outside light so much that you thought they were part of the walls, it's ridiculously spacious for its exterior. It was as if Yves managed to stuff an entire plane hangar into a little room.

It's cool inside, but not freezing. You couldn't find the air conditioner anywhere, you wonder where the cold air is coming from. No visible vents nor openings in the walls.

You picked up a nice, citrusy and vaguely floral smell with a clear note of sandalwood. It's very mild, almost unnoticeable if one were to be absentminded. But the general fragrance of his home fits the theme, sophisticated and seductive, yet enigmatic. You have no idea where the smell is coming from, seeing that there isn't an air freshener nearby.

It's so surreal to exist in such magnificence, you're afraid to touch anything else because whatever your eyes landed on, you knew that it cost way more than your life.

You told Yves that his design is beautiful. He smiled at your compliment.

"I'm happy that you like my sense of style. As you will be living with me for a while."

You asked if the bedrooms are upstairs. To that, he said yes. Scratching the back of your head nervously, you asked if you could stay downstairs until your leg is healed instead. It would be tedious going up and down with a pair of crutches.

Yves pauses for a bit. He had to hold his tongue as he would have told you to rely on him completely for mobility. That wouldn't have sat well with you as someone who values their autonomy to a certain degree. However, he would have gladly carried you wherever and whenever you wanted.

"I do have a guest bedroom downstairs." Yves appeared disappointed. You ignored that and told him you would take that instead.

"Very well then." He uttered, moving you towards your new bedroom.

__

You're surprised to know Yves has already moved all your belongings into his home. So setting up your new bedroom only took an hour. It seems like he was under the assumption that you will be staying upstairs, as he had to bring boxes upon boxes down by himself.

You grinned and leaned back against your comfortable office chair, your wheels resting close by. The room is almost five times as large as your previous one, everything is new and maintained. The aesthetic is similar to that outside, but it's more impersonal and plain. You assume that Yves would want his guests to customize their temporary living space to an extent.

The bed is fluffy and king-sized and there is an ensuite bathroom.

Yves hung up the last of your posters before bringing his attention back to you.

"Use this if you need me." He handed you a key fob with one button. It's safe to assume that you simply press it to alert Yves.

"I have duties to attend to." He bent down and gave you a kiss on the forehead. "I will be in my office, is there anything else you would like me to do, before I leave?"

You shook your head.

"Then, I will meet you later, my dear." He caressed your cheek before giving you privacy.

As soon as the door closes, you open your laptop and turn it on. The sound of your dusty fans whirring filled the space, it was loud and unnerving. But what could you do, you're too stingy to use the $5000 allowance from Yves to buy a new one since it's still working. You're not going to ask Yves to get another laptop for you either.

You clicked a few icons and began typing.

Yves frowned at his screen that's mirroring yours. His emerald eyes watched you type "Room rentals for university students" in the search bar of your browser.

He adjusted his reading glasses as he flitted his eyes between what is shown on his monitor and the conditions in your room. It's slightly colder than what you're comfortable with, so he adjusted the thermostat in your room.

After a few minutes of scrolling through the listings, once the temperature hits a specific figure, down to the decimals, you immediately close the window just to open up your favourite computer game. Seemingly losing interest in putting your life back together and wanting to distract yourself instead.

Meanwhile, you thought about what you wanted to do as you level your character up. There is no doubt that living with others is much cheaper, but you really wanted to try living on your own. Especially when you probably have the means to pay two months of rent in advance already.

Living with Yves is great, but you noted the lack of bus stops around. The rich wouldn't need public transportation, they have their own private vehicles and maybe their own hidden highways. That means you couldn't move around as freely and you would have to rely on Yves to give you a ride.

You didn't feel comfortable with being that needy with your boyfriend yet. Fearing that he might grow tired and annoyed with your constant requests. He has work and other obligations, he couldn't be on your beck and call 24/7.

Unless he hires a chauffeur, which from your past experiences, it wasn't all that nice.

You remember seeing an opening for a studio apartment on that website. The price seems reasonable and it's a 25-minute walk to your university, so you could save on bus fares.

You wouldn't need to ask permission from anybody, well maybe your parents who are funding your education and living expenses. Maybe even Yves to supplement more money. But in the end, you're an adult that has the right to make their own decisions.

Then again... money. Well, you'll burn that bridge when you get there.

You thought about it, pondering what your next step should be.

[weskie]

Stress Relief [And Love] (Albert Wesker x m!Reader)

18+ | ambiguous anatomy reader, masc terminology reader [femme terms here], smut, light degradation, aftercare | Fic Directory

Your face presses into the glass, breath fogging it to obscure the delicate, world-changing organisms inside.

He’d come to see you again.  A checkup on your progress, he’d said– his usual excuse.

Most often, he came down here for you.  You, his prized possession and the apple of his eye, were the real treasure within the cramped laboratory.  Though the flowers you’d raised and spliced were the fuel powering his dream, he’d long since told you how ridiculous he found the field of botany.  Beyond his tastes and especially his interests.  But he was interested in you.

He needed you.

More than you knew, actually. For the longest time, you thought it odd that his visits kept growing in frequency– that is, until the first day he’d stripped a glove from his hand and caressed your cheek with his fingertips, eyes shining brighter beneath those signature dark shades of his.  You’d never really considered your feelings for him prior– attractive as he is– but you practically turned to jell-o that day.

“My little flower boy.” He murmured, tilting your chin up for the softest, sweetest kiss you’d ever had.  Just like that, you were his.

Just like you are now.  

He drives into you from behind, hips snapping sharp and fast.  A long day, he’d told you.  Albert Wesker was typically a generous lover.  Exceptional dates, thoughtful gifts, and a laser-like focus on ensuring your comfort and happiness– but especially your pleasure.

Today he takes for himself, and you’re all too happy to oblige.

He’s got your lower half stripped bare, perfect for him to take in the sight and tease you as he pleases.  Nails biting at your hips, a palm striking your ass, fingers slinking around your waist to tease you mercilessly.  His hands are everywhere all at once, clouding your mind, and his face is buried in the curve of your neck where he kisses and nips and bites to his heart’s content.

“Look at you,” he growls.  “Your legs are quaking.  Pathetic.”

You mewl for him, nodding.  You’re almost positive his iron grip around your waist is the only thing keeping you from hitting the floor.  He takes a step closer, pinning his body to yours and pushing you further against the warmth of the flower tank.

Wesker grinds into you while a hand snakes up to grip in your hair, tugging your head back just enough for his lips to meet your ear. “My sweet little flower boy,” he coos, hips pushing circles against you.  You nod.

You are his.

He uses you for at least an hour, coming deep inside of you, eating you clean, pushing you to your knees to get him ready once more, then fucking you all over again.  By the time his seemingly awful day is worked out of his system, you’re a worn out mess on legs far too wobbly to stand.

Which is how you end up in his arms, engulfed in a warm bubble bath.  You had no idea that he lived in the facility, let alone had such an extravagant bathroom.  It makes you envious for all the times you ever had to rinse off in the cramped little emergency shower in the lab after an unfortunate specimen exposure.

He’s so gentle with you, even going as far as to nudge your head back to rest against his chest when you try to fuss over him.

“Allow me to at least be a gentleman now,” Wesker murmurs as he moves a washcloth in circles over your bite mark ridden shoulders.  He’d traced every bruise and mark he left on your body with featherlight touches, each stutter a silent apology and declaration of his own disdain for how he’d handled you.  It was endearing to know how much he truly cared under that cold exterior he always seemed to have.

You give him a gentle, humming laugh.  There was no doubt in your mind that he’d take care of you afterward.  He always did.

“Rest, my dear.”  He coos, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Not that you were trying to fight it, but you did like to drag out your moments together.  “I’ll be here when you wake.”

And that’s exactly why…

“D’you promise?”  

Wesker was always on the go, always busy, always something to take care of that left you waiting and missing him terribly.  Such a statement was incredibly uncommon.

“I promise,” he says, smile audible in his voice.

Your eyes flutter shut, mind at ease knowing he’ll be the first thing you see when you wake.

[theink-stainedfolk]

Character Poll Antagonist Edition.

Thank you for the tag @willtheweaver and @the-golden-comet

Minister Farnak From The Tale of The King & His Knight

is a man driven by an insatiable hunger for power and control. Behind his calm and composed exterior lies a mind constantly scheming, always a step ahead in the political game. Farnak is highly intelligent, a master manipulator who knows how to exploit the weaknesses and desires of others to his advantage. He thrives in the shadows, pulling the strings of the kingdom without ever revealing his hand.

Dante from Beyond the Pages

is a complex individual, driven by a deep sense of control and an obsession with perfection. He sees the world as a canvas, where every person and action must fit into the intricate design he envisions. Highly intelligent and articulate, Dante has a penchant for manipulation, viewing emotions as tools to be used rather than felt. His mind is a labyrinth of calculated moves, always several steps ahead of those around him. While he initially appears composed and cultured, beneath the surface lies a relentless need to dominate and possess, particularly when it comes to those who catch his interest. His fixation on Pareen shifts from a desire to eliminate him to a more twisted longing to own and shape him, much like an artist with their prized creation. Despite his cold exterior, Dante is not entirely devoid of emotions, but he channels them into his obsession with control, making him both a terrifying and captivating presence.

The antagonist in Shades of Erudition

is a complex and multifaceted individual, someone whose outward demeanor masks a deeply cunning and manipulative nature. He is a professor at the university, but his academic role is just the surface layer of his identity. Beneath his scholarly persona lies a man driven by ambition, power, and an insatiable thirst for control. He is highly intelligent, with a mind that works several steps ahead of everyone else. He has spent years carefully cultivating an image of respectability, using his charisma and influence to gain the trust of both his colleagues and students. His reputation as a brilliant scholar and a mentor is well-established, making it difficult for anyone to suspect the darkness that lurks within him.

The Archon from The Shadows We Cast

is a figure shrouded in both mystery and fear. He is a man of intellect, driven not by chaos, but by a deeply rooted belief in his own vision of order. The Archon sees himself as a necessary force, someone who must reshape the world according to his ideals, even if it means bending or breaking the law. He is meticulous, calculating every move like a grandmaster in a chess game, always several steps ahead of his opponents. Unlike typical villains, The Archon isn't motivated by greed or vengeance. Instead, he is fueled by a distorted sense of justice, believing that the current system is flawed and that only he has the wisdom to correct it. He is coldly rational, often viewing human emotions as weaknesses to be exploited rather than experienced. To him, the end always justifies the means, and he is willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to achieve his goals.

The Necromancer from The Veil of Allegiance

The Necromancer, whose true name has been lost to the ravages of history and persecution, is not inherently evil, but rather a tragic figure shaped by the injustices inflicted upon him and his kin. He is a protector of the marginalized and the forgotten, those who were hunted, killed, and erased by Etral’s ruthless campaign against magic. To him, the revival of magic is not just an act of rebellion—it is an act of restoration, a way to reclaim the dignity and power that was stolen from his people. Driven by a profound sense of duty and sorrow, the Necromancer sees himself as the last hope for his people

I'll tag @cssnder @finickyfelix @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @winglesswriter @paeliae-occasionally @drchenquill @thecomfywriter @roarintheheavens @wyked-ao3

[rwpolls]

which region has the best region art? as in the backgrounds for the title screen/passaging to that region (this can be two polls for vanilla and downpour)