#I LOVE VARIATIONS IN EYES AND NOSES AND CHINS

[narsh-poptarts]

First round of DnD NPCs for my campaign B) for legal reasons I can't tell you who these people are (sorry PCs, you'll just have to guess, but iykyk)

[miguelhugger2099]

Little Miguel, Big Miguel (Pt. 1)

In which Miguel finds himself face to face with a younger variant of himself that joins the Spider Society. He's not too happy about it but reluctantly agrees. And so ensues a point in time where there are two very different Miguel's. Lovely art in the middle by LBY2K99 on twt <3 Miguel x GN!Reader, soon-to-be fluff, Not proofread, Word Count: 1,734

Miguel was never a man shocked by things. Most things at least. Being Spider-Man, you tend to face all types of bizarre experiences and just write them off as another day for the neighborhood. In turn, it was really hard to stump Miguel and make him uncomfortable.

But this?

This was something he knew could happen but had really hoped it didn't.

He stood straight with his arms crossed tensely against his broad chest. His eyes narrowed but had no anger to them, only confusion, for a lack of a better term. He didn't know what to do with…it. Him? It felt awkward.

In front of him was, well, himself. Only a timid and incredibly young variant of himself. It was like looking in a mirror but minus 15 years. The little Miguel's demeanor was the complete opposite of the older one. His arms were glued to his side in tight fists. He was slightly hunched, intimidated and a little star-struck at his older self. The little one gulped and blinked his wide eyes up at older Miguel, which made his eyebrow twitch up.

“Jess…” Miguel spoke, his voice low and threatening. Jess was beside the smaller Miguel, a shit-eating grin on her face since she knew there was nothing to be afraid of and it was only mild annoyance from him. Still, she raised her hands up in mock defense.

“I just thought it'd be nice to include a new member. We have plenty of variations of Peter, I don't see why we can't have another one of you.” Miguel's frown deepened at Jess's words.

“He's young.” He retaliated.

“He's around the same age as Pav.” She gave him a deadpan look.

“He's–inexperienced!”

“Mayday is almost two and knows her way as a spider person already.”

Miguel grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't want this since he knew what would come from it.

Jess placed a hand on the little Miguel's shoulder, which he flinched at, and gestured to him softly. “I saw him work before coming up to him. He's great and he seems interested. I think all of us felt something when we heard there was a chance to meet people like us. A community.” Little Miguel stood awkwardly, awaiting the big boss, which was technically himself, for his answer.

“I-If I were you, which I am, I'd let me in.” Little Miguel coughed and crossed his arms, changing his stance to match his counterpart. He lifted his chin up but then faltered, shrinking back into himself when the older Miguel snapped his head to glare at him.

Miguel tightened his arms across his chest and sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. I'll assign him under you so give him a run down on this place,” Miguel pulled out the familiar time watch and tossed it in the smaller one's hand. Little Miguel grabbed it with two hands and marveled at the accessory that materialized before his eyes, his sharp fangs poking out from underneath his top lip when he smiled at it. He snapped the day pass bracelet off his wrist and replaced it with the watch. Jess smiled and Miguel waved a hand in the air. “Lyla, scan him.”

Lyla appeared in front of the smaller Miguel with shock on her face. “Woah! Freaky! I was wondering when another grump would pop up.” She flickered around him, using a tape measurer playfully as she subtly scanned him. He took a step back with a small yelp.

“What are you?”

Lyla squeaked a small gasp of offense. “Do you not have a me in your universe?” She asked, plucking a clipboard behind her back and sitting in mid-air. “Surely you have AI. You're from a different 2099, right? Although, not a single AI are quite as spectacular as me. But I could be better–so when you inevitably get around to making me, I have some suggestions–”

“Lyla,” The older Miguel growled and she quickly flicked back to his shoulder with a grin. “Did you get it?” He asked. Lyla nodded and saluted him.

“All done, boss. The file on him should be uploaded by now for your viewing pleasure,” She bowed before glancing over at the smaller version of her creator. “Y'know. It'd be a little confusing calling you by the same name. How does Miggy sound? Perfect! See ya, Miggy!” She brightened up, ignoring Miguel's inevitable protesting by phasing out from the air, leaving just the three in the room.

Miguel turned around to face his console monitors, his cheeks darkening. His hands made quick work pulling up his variants file and pushing away other documents to look at for another day. “Dismissed. And welcome to the club, kid.” Miguel grunted, focusing on the task at hand, gaining information on his variant’s universe.

Jess smacked Miggy's back and he grunted from the power. “Alright, now follow me. I'll show you the others first so you can get to know them. They might freak out but it'll be fine.” She waved it off, leading Miggy out the dark corridor and back into the light of the hallways.

Miggy blinked from the sudden brightness, his eyes adjusting and slowly widening as he took in the place. He turned in a circle while walking with Jess, seeing various versions of the Spider-Man he knew from the Heroic Age section in his History books. “So, you all just…hang here as spider people? Saving universes?” He asks and Jess nods. “I never thought there'd be so much of me. Us? You?” He stumbled and it made Jess laugh.

“Yeah, we all pretty much have that reaction. It's a little overwhelming going from being by yourself to a whole society of people like you.” Jess reminisced of the first time she was recruited by Miguel when the society was freshly made.

“No kidding,” Miggy sighed deeply, still glancing around. “So..me. The older me. He's not just me in the future right?” He turns his body to pass by another Spider-Man, waving hi when their costume eyes widened down at Miggy.

Jess chuckled. “No. You're your own person. You said you got bit, right? Most of us did but Miguel wasn't.” She explains and Miggy nods along, looking up at her.

“Alright, cool. ‘Cause even though that's me, he seemed kind of different from…” He trailed off, feeling his spidey senses going off. He blinked rapidly, trying to find what it was trying to tell him about. He heard Jess call your name in a greeting. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked you. 

You smiled at her, lifting a plastic bag to show her. “Miguel mentioned he'd stay late tonight so I thought I'd bring some food and hang with him for a while.” You explained. 

Miggy looked up at you as his spidey senses calmed down after landing on your form. His jaw slowly dropped, his cheeks reddening while he admired you. He felt his heart beat a bit faster, pounding in his ears and his mouth went dry. Miggy would barely hear anything that came out of Jess's mouth even when she pulled him close. Your eyes had finally glanced down at him and he felt his heart skip a beat, his cheeks darkening even more under your gaze. Holy shock.

“Oh my–! Look at how cute!” You gushed. You clutched the handles of the plastic bag tighter and lifted the bag to your chest as you cooed down at him. “You look so much like him! Oh, god it's uncanny!” You laughed and Miggy nearly melted at the angelic sound.

He became nervous, his palms sweating and clutched them at his side rigidly. He swallowed through his cotton mouth and tried to greet you. “H-hi…” His voice cracked and he burned brighter, if it was even possible. He quickly shut his mouth and pursed his lips.

You chuckled. “Hi.” You introduced yourself, sticking out your hand for a polite handshake. Miggy hesitated knowing how sweaty his hand had become. He wiped his hand on his thigh quickly and shook your hand with a soft whisper of your name on his lips. He noted that your hands were soft.

You noticed it but decided to hold off on teasing him. The poor kid looked like he'd combust any second and you found it adorable. You took a glance at his suit and hummed in thought. “It's been a while since I've seen the original. It's a classic Miguel look.” You smiled and Miggy stood straight and puffed his chest in pride to appear taller but he was still just a bit shorter than you.

“Y-yeah, I designed it myself. No biggie.” He coughed, rubbing his nose and looking away nonchalantly. You and Jess exchanged a look between each other. A similar thought in your minds that screamed of potential teasing material for the other Miguel. “So, you a spider person?” He asked, deepening his voice and running a hand through his longer hair, hoping he wasn't sweating through his suit.

You grinned with amusement and shook your head. “No, I'm a little more special. I'm short on time though, so I'll see you soon Jess. And maybe you too, Miggy.” He felt his heart skip two beats and his jaw clenched. Hearing his name, even though a nickname, on your lips made him feel warm and fuzzy. You waved at them both goodbye and passed them to head towards Miguel's dark corridor. Jess watched you for a moment and then looked down at Miggy, where he stared shamelessly like a teenage boy would.

“C'mon, lover boy. We still have a tour to do.” Jess tugged his arm and Miggy stumbled before catching his feet and walking in the same pace with her.

“Who–who were they exactly?” He asked with a squeak to his voice, his cheeks regaining their natural color and his heart returning at a normal pace. He wanted to know more about you, a small crush forming.

Jess waved him off. “They're too old for you, kid. Plus, we'll get to that in a second. I really need you to complete orientation before you start asking questions.” Miggy frowned, not satisfied with her answer and Jess could only think how his frown was exactly like Miguel's which made her laugh to herself. Miggy followed closely behind to not stray from her as they made their way into a familiar area that smelled of food and made his stomach growl.

Little Miguel is very loosely based on the Timestorm Spider-Man 2009/2099 comic he's in. There's not much on him I could find so I'm making it up as I go haha. This is mostly for myself because I think the idea of them meeting is too cute to pass up teehee. This will be my first ongoing series !!! not much reader but i promise there'll be more hehehaha

requests are open as well !!! i can multitask >:3

[izurou]

⋆ .˚ 𖤐 — ft. SHIDOU RYUSEI ⋮ contains: f!reader. penetrative sex. a creampie. choking. many pet names. cum eating if you squint maybe. his dialogue is .. anyways happy shidou day <3

ryusei’s love for you is strange.

he expresses it in such a way that fools everyone else into thinking there’s no love there at all—just some psychotic, lust driven obsession.

sure—he’s overzealous with his public affections, and has a dangerous habit of flashing his canines at anyone who looks your way, but that’s love. he loves you.

he loves everything about you, everything you do.

you’re underneath him, with the cutest little pout sitting on your lips, and he loves it. your brows are knit together—pleasure dotting your features, and he loves it. you’re letting him bury his cock inside you, as deep as he wants, and he fucking loves it.

but then—he leans down to press a kiss to your mouth and, you turn your head to the side.

“oh? what’s with the attitude?” he sneers, craning his neck in an attempt to follow your gaze. “hmm, babydoll? where’re your manners?”

“dunno,” you mumble—lolling your head back into place as you continue avoiding his persistent pink stare. “ask your other girlfriend.”

he starts to laugh.

it’s deep at first—straight from his gut, but the sound changes as it travels further up his throat, morphing into something a little higher pitched and maniacal when he tilts his head towards the ceiling.

“yeah,” his chuckling continues as he playfully taps a finger against the tip of your nose. “keep talkin’ like that baby, and you’re gonna have me cummin’ in no time.”

oh how he loves this.

you being upset over a harmless little interaction he had with another girl—fucking perfect, maybe he’s rubbing off on you, or maybe you’re starting to love in the same way he does. the thought is just so exciting, he can’t help but jump the gun.

“you’re insane,” you mutter under your breath.

“am i?” he tilts his head to the side and grips your chin, squishing your cheeks together a little. “for you, i might be.”

you swat his hand away and prop yourself up on your elbows, narrowing your gaze onto his. there’s displeasure flooding your stare, but he still grins at you, ear to ear.

and then you say it—what he thinks has to be his favourite question ever.

“only for me?”

⋆

he fucks you like it, like he’s batshit crazy for you.

you wouldn’t be surprised if there was a band of stars circling the crown of your head right now, that’s how completely dumb you feel.

the skillful, pornstar roll of his hips is a monster in and of itself—but pair it with the hand decorating your throat, the unmistakable weight of fingertips pressing into your skin, and he’s another creature entirely—a true demon.

a slew of crescent moons wrap around his wrist, a cute little bracelet etched into his skin, courtesy of your nails. he doesn’t seem to notice his new jewelry though—too entranced by those fucked out sounds leaving your mouth.

“still mad, babydoll?” his pace falters briefly as he locks eyes with you—god, you’re just so gorgeous like this, he’s already filled you up half a dozen times inside his head.

every variation of the word yes sits in the back of your throat—and maybe, you could’ve gotten one of them out if it weren’t for his hand—filtering out anything and everything he doesn’t want to hear.

all you can do is nod your head, and even then, you can barely do that.

“hm? doesn’t feel like it,” he taunts, and you know what he means—the stickiness of your cunt, the way it’s coating his shaft in a glistening hot sheen of your arousal. “shh shh,” he cups his free hand over your mouth with a sadistic grin, and that’s when you hear it—a lewd squelch, over and over and over again. “doesn’t sound like it either, huh? pussy’s talkin’ to me, shit, think she loves me.”

a wave of heat floods your cheeks, and oh—how you wish he would just shut up. unfortunately, silence isn’t a concept he’s very familiar with.

“right, angel face?“ he grits his teeth and prods further, pressing kisses to your sweet spots with the thick head of his cock. “this pussy loves me.”

you screw your eyes shut and try to tune him out, knowing the mere sight of him above you, all wide eyed and pussy crazed, with a thin layer of sweat highlighting his chiseled features—is enough to tip you over the edge.

“fuck, c’mon, don’t do this to me sweetheart,” he feigns innocence, masking the subtle increase of pressure he puts on your throat with his honeyed words. “you’re breakin’ my heart here.”

shit, he really knows how to get you going.

he knows what buttons to press and which to steer clear from, and even then—he’ll rewire you to his liking and press them all regardless.

“r-ryu,” you choke out, struggling to remain in the present moment as your vision starts to blur—as the tight knot in your tummy threatens to unravel.

“oh yeah, right here baby, right here.” he purrs, coaxing what little focus you have left onto him. “cum with me, lemme feel that sweet cunt. it’s all mine, ain’t it?”

he loses you halfway through his sentence, but it’s fine—your body is about to give him the response he was looking for.

you don’t hold back—knowing how much he loves you like this, with your head thrown back and your hips stuttering towards him. you’re so upset, you think he’s crazy, and yet your cunt pulses on him in perfect time with the racing beat of your heart just beneath his fingertips.

he’s right there with you, moaning shamelessly as he blows a hot, sticky load between your folds—and fuck, it’s so much hotter when it’s real.

“shit, you’re somethin’ else,” he laughs breathily, enjoying the view of his sheathed cock twitching—shooting out whatever he has left.

and it physically pains him to have to pull out, but you look so pretty right now, so ruined—with your half lidded eyes and your wet lips, it’d be such a waste if he didn’t.

with a knee on either side of you and his cock in hand, he inches his way up your body—stopping only when he’s straddling your chest. he taps his tip against your lips, and being the perfect angel you are, you take him into your mouth.

“you taste yourself?” he bucks into your face a little, and you hum in response—forcing him to grab onto the headboard as the vibrations travel up his shaft.

“oh baby,” he sighs, “only you can cum on this cock.”

[satellite-sims]

Heya, it's time to present the final version of my beloved Antje. I worked on her since late 2019. It was the very beginning of my new era lol. I started writing Deep End where she have the support role and she should have look exactly the same as her real prototype. That's the goal. I had to admit - her face wasn't that easy to recreate. (Like Adrien's too). But i did my best to get even more resemblance by making a low-effort skinblend and it came out super gorgeous! I'm gonna show you results in the details. Pictures are slightly edited and taken with reshade.

Let's get started.

1. Portrait Zone

The first thing that triggered me in her face is her dark and "muddy" cheekbones. It was the skintone and the blush itself fault. Skintone have multiple colors on the face (some zones are yellow and some are pale & bluish) and it was disturbing to constantly remove this effect on portraits. Now this problem solved! Her face now have smooth colors with warm pink/peach undertones (which i usually remove to get the "porcelain" skin) and smooth cheekbone line. The other important part that may be not really visible is that her neck got shorter to fit the resemblance.

2. Face Proportions

When it gets to the skintone changing - sims may lose some details that makes them resembling. It does happened to Antje but it wasn't that terrible, because i blended some parts of her previous skin (Ephemera's Fresh) and the newest one (Simpicient's Tranquility) I blended eyelids, nose and lips to save the definition. I've added a cheekbone definition to make colors smoothly looking (makeup part not really worked with her) and it gave me an ability to make cheekbones a little lower which looks more accurate. Some little touches i've made: slightly reshaped the lips (they've got "sharper") and widener the jaw. I think i will do some changes in future, because chin and eyes are slightly off to me. Yeah, i'm the perfectionist, but anyway, i love how she comes out in general.

3. Clavicle & Cleavage Details

When i seeked some photos of Antje for references, i noticed that her clavicle and cleavage are not that subtle as my Antje. It's more soft and flat. Anyway, previous version looked unrealistic to me when i took the pics of her body in lingerie. Something was off to me. That's also the reason why i decided to experiment with skinblending. But in fact, i didn't changed the body. I just took original from Simpicient and i really liked how it looks on her. Textures are more realistic and details are smooth like Antje should have.

4. Belly & Spine

Honestly, i don't like how previous belly looked like. It's kind of dystrophic for a middle aged woman. It should be just flat in my view. And again a yellow tone looks a bit odd. Yeah, she still have ribs at the second pic but they're not that obvious now. And a neat button as bonus, lol. Spine is my favorite thing about Antje. She have unusual body shape for a woman - reversed triangle. It's always called "less feminine" and etc. but i found it very sexy. I really love how her spine looks like especially with wide shoulders.

5. Legs

It's the most boring part for me, lol, but they look fine in both variations. That's all. Second ones are just better textured as the whole skintone does. Knees are slightly controversial to me. Maybe, i will rework them later.

6. Misc Parts

These are the smallest improvements, but i decided to show like everything (except nude parts, sorry, but we're on tumblr).

That's all i wanted to show you. It's a little, but honest work :D I love the way Antje transformated just by changing a skintone. She became "older" and that's what i wanted to get. I wasn't sure that i have any luck with skinblending, because all my previous efforts were too bad. This one is a small but important step for developing my favorite character.

Thanks for reading ❤

[what-the-dark-has-foretold]

Happy Birthday

Shimura Tenko x fem!reader

Navi.

Notes: My dream Birthday I´m not even kidding

Autumn Event

Warnings: smut, mdni, modern au-ish?, fluff, aftercare, spit (incl. he spits in your mouth), reader has long(er) hair, he carries reader, lots of cute petnames (incl. "pretty slut" and variations), reader wears a dress, pretty cute and domestic overall, he overstimulates himself

Wordcount: 2k+

“I wanna sit on your lap.” It was a statement, rather than a request and he had to suppress the smile threatening to break out on his lips.

“Yeah? Is my pretty girl feeling needy?” he asked, extending an arm to pull you closer. You gasped but climbed on his lap nonetheless.

“Hey, it´s my birthday, you know? Shouldn´t you give me like…princess treatment or something?”

Tenko snorted as he helped you get comfortable. Carefully, he rested his chin on your shoulder and grabbed his mouse again.

“I always give you princess treatment.” The sensation of his breath against your neck made you shiver, and you could see him grin in the reflection of his computer.

You stuck out your tongue but cuddled deeper into him regardless. He couldn´t help but smile softly and pressed a kiss to your head. After holding you tightly for a moment, he focused back on his game.

“Wait. Is that my account?” you said, suddenly.

Tenko grinned.

“You hate exploring, so I thought I´d max out everything for you.”

You jerked around, eyes widened in surprise.

“Wait really?” you gasped. He nodded, already knowing you´d bless him by throwing your entire body into his arms.

“It´s really easy to make you happy, you know?” he murmured against your hair while you pressed your face into his chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so much!”

“Love you too, princess, now let me do my thing yeah?” he gently moved your body again so he could comfortably look over your shoulder and continue playing.

“Hmm.” You nuzzled deeper into him. “Wait, oh my god how did you do that?”

He snorted.

“Sounds like a skill issue on your part, baby.”

You gasped.

“How dare you! I will have you know, I´m a God at this game.”

“With an HP sands and goblet on your Wanderer?” he grinned down at your scowling form.

“Well, at least the crit stats look nice,” you pouted.

“I know, baby,” he cooed at you and kissed your temple. “At least you´re good at other things,” he mumbled.

“What? Tenko!”

He laughed.

“C´mon baby, what would I do without you in my life, hm?”

You grew soft.

“And?”

“Hm?”

“What would you do without me?”

He leaned back to look at you properly, hand finding your chin to tilt your face upwards.

“Playing video games and working and nothing more.”

You furrowed your brows.

“What? It´s all I did before you too.” a breathy chuckle escaped him. “What about you then?”

“I ask the question here!”

“Right, my bad, princess,” he teased and kissed the tip of your nose, barely pulling back after.

“Well lucky for you I don´t intend on leaving,” you grinned. “You´re stuck with me.”

He hummed, lips brushing yours. “Marriage and all?”

You giggled. “Yeah, marriage and all.”

“You´re so cute baby,” he murmured and kissed you again. “So fucking cute.”

He moved you to face him and gripped your waist to pull you flush against him so he could deepen the kiss. A mewl escaped your lips. You could feel him twitch against your core at the soft sound.

Gently, you ground your hips against his growing member, drawing a groan from his lips. His hands tightened around your waist, dragging your core against his body to drive you both toward an orgasm. You moaned against his mouth.

“Fuck,” he murmured, barely pulling away, too drunk on the taste of your lips. Abruptly, he picked you up and brought you to his bed – practically collapsing over your form. One of his arms was propped up right next to your head, fingers playing with your hair. His other hand made sure you couldn´t move away from his kiss.

You couldn´t help but mewl, silently begging him to come even closer, even tugging at his hoody. He grunted, settling down until he lay on top of you, hands cradling your face and hips slowly grounding against yours.

“Lemme eat you out, baby, yeah?” he rasped against your lips, but you couldn´t answer, breath completely stolen away. He rested his cheek against yours, watching you patiently until you had caught your breath again.

“Please, Tenko.”

He moaned at the sound of your broken voice and moved down your body, his hands squeezing and groping at your sides as he did so until he came face to face with your clothed pussy.

“Shit, baby, you smell so fucking good.”

Impatiently, he slipped off your panties for you and flipped up your skirt. He took another moment to breathe in your familar smell only to dive mouth-first into your pussy, spreading your outer lips to give his tongue space to lap at your clit. One of his hands held you down by your hips, the other trailed down your inner thigh. He briefly pulled back to wet some fingers with his tongue, but was back on you in a second, easing one of the digits into your pulsing core.

“Fuck, baby, you´re so good, take off your dress for me, yeah? Wanna see you completely,” he grunted, rutting his hips against the mattress at the sinful sounds you let out through your parted lips. You did as you were told, hands trembling and legs shaking at the pleasure coursing through you.

Soon he had you arching your back and pressing your pussy against him more while he sped up the licking and sucking at your clit, even pushing in a second finger to drive you ever closer to your orgasm.

You came against his tongue hard and he moaned at the feeling of you spasming around his fingers.

“Baby, fuuuck, you´re so good, gotta let me do that shit more often, yeah?” he groaned, slowly pulling out of you to push himself up on his hands, grinning down at you with cum smeared across his mouth. He leaned forward to kiss you and you both moaned at your taste now drenching both of your lips. ���Tastes so good, doesn´t she?” he rasped and you nodded dumbly. “C´mon baby, say it,” he tapped your cheek expectingly.

“Tastes so good,” you softly repeated, still coming down from your high.

“That´s my pretty girl,” he groaned and captured your lips in another kiss. “Gonna fuck you now, okay?”

You could only muster a helpless nod accompanied by a whine and he smiled fondly at you.

“Prettiest fucking girl,” he praised you again, before pecking your lips once more.

With two fingers he spread your pussy to properly line himself up with your hole.

He eased into you, letting out a low groan against your lips.

“F – Fuck princess, why – ngh – how do you always feel this good?”

A soft mewl left your lips when he had filled you up completely, grabbing at him, disoriented, to press a wet kiss to his cheek.

“Tenko,” you whimpered.

He moaned at the messy sight in front of him. Your hair chaotically strewn over the pillow, your eyes pleading and glassy fixated on him and a cute little pout on your lips. He snapped his hips against yours and your back arched at the feeling. Quickly, his arms circled your waist.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, setting a rapid rhythm, hands groping and tugging at your skin to have you even closer to him. His strokes were deep, his heavy cock sliding in and out of you so nicely. His lips found yours again, spit spread across your mouth with his eager tongue while he rutted into you.

One of his hands reached down to play with your clit, stroking her in tandem with his heavy thrusts into you.

“Heh.” He grinned at you, eyes lidded, watching your face contort into one of pleasure. “You cumming, baby?”

You nodded wildly, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hung open – just so perfect for him to spit into. “Uhu.”

“Uhu?” he mocked, the hand on your hips tightened its grip so he could drive even harder into you. “My little princess slut is cumming?” One more tug of his fingers on your clit and your body tensed in his hold. A boastful laugh escaped him, though it was cut short by the wild clenching of your pussy that made him topple over your body, his face tucked into the crook of your neck and a loud groan escaping him. The speed of his thrusts decreased, driving into you slow but hard as he came.

“Mmh,” you mumbled, nuzzling deeper into his embrace, but all of a sudden, he picked up speed again. A surprised cry escaped you and your arms quickly found purchase around his shoulders. He moved so fast, holding you tightly and grunting against the skin of your neck. He couldn´t speak, just chasing the pleasure he felt when you spasmed around him, completely drunk on the feeling.

His cock was aching, but his mind was empty, set only on feeling you twitch around him again.

Moans and whimpers left your mouth, your body rocking against his from the way he harshly thrust into you. After a while he sped up even more and his grunts became louder. His left hand found the side of your cheek, shaky hand caressing your skin. It slowly travelled downwards, leaving goosebumps in its wake all over your body, until it pinched at your clit to make you crash head-first into your second orgasm.

He followed suit, body collapsing on top of yours, still rutting erratically into you until his thrusts turned sluggish and then, finally, stopped.

A long moan escaped him, his mouth, open, pressed against your neck.

You stayed entangled like this for a little bit as you attempted to catch your breaths. Once he had caught his breath again, he pressed several sloppy kisses against your skin and up your jaw. Slowly, he pulled away from your face and propped himself up on his arms to look at your tired-out form. He grinned at you blearily blinking up at him – lips swollen and breath still erratic.

“Fuck, you look so messy, princess,” he murmured, fingers brushing away some spit next to your mouth.

You whimpered.

“Mmh?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

His eyes widened, but a moment later a soft smile graced his mouth and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your parted lips. Then another. And another until he peppered your face with kisses and he held your giggling form in his embrace. His eyes crinkled at the sight.

“Wanna make out,” you whispered against his mouth, and he hummed.

"Just for a second though, gotta clean you up, baby.”

He moved his lips slowly against yours, fingers brushing lightly against your skin. Suddenly, he sat up, arms securely around you to carry your body with him and place you on his lap – his lips never leaving yours as they moved in tandem. His hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your skin.

He pulled back way too soon for your taste. Smiling fondly, he watched how your eyes fluttered open and a pout formed on your lips. “C´mon baby, I´ll carry you to the bathroom.”

He helped you to the toilet and held you steadily when he lead you to the shower afterwards, turning it on for you both. As the warm water finally soothed your skin, he ran his fingers through your hair while you hid your face in his shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

You mumbled unintelligibly and nuzzled deeper into his embrace.

“You wanna watch something and cuddle a little bit before going to sleep?”

He received a nod from you and smiled, gently patting your head. After a minute of just holding you close to him, he loosened the grip you had on him so he could pull away to wash the sweat and cum off of you.

You trembled once he brushed against your clit and whined, but he simply let out a chuckle as he straightened his back again. For a moment, he just looked at you, holding your face in his hand, only to swiftly pick you up again, laughing at your surprised shriek and carried you out of the shower.

Not too long after, you laid against Tenko´s chest, absentmindedly playing with the string of his hoody. His left arm held you tightly around your stomach and in his free hand he held the remote in order to turn on the tv. A familiar intro music started playing.

However, you couldn´t help but look up at him instead, smiling wide. He mirrored your smile and let his left hand lightly trail up and down your neck. Then, he leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

He hummed, thumb brushing away hair from your face.

“I love you too, princess.”

[astarionsilverbough]

“Darling.”

And it’s Different, when it’s for him.

Because, you see - Astarion calls everyone ‘darling.’ Even Shadowheart (though for a while that one is a bit… cruel).

And everyone gets a different version of the word, of course - and variations of it for different circumstances and events. So far, Gale has the most variations of the term - Halsin’s kept count. They range from affectionate and fond to absolutely poisonous and sometimes dangerous. There are, by Halsin’s count, thirteen versions of ‘darling,’ for Gale (who, again, is Astarion’s best and most steadfast friend - though Astarion would wrinkle his nose at the term).

But when it comes to him?

When it comes to him, there are three. Three variations of ‘darling’ that no one else - not even Gale - gets.

1.) Utterly and absolutely… soft. Oh, but it’s so soft. Often it’s used only in private - in moments when Astarion can cup his jaw or slide into his lap and murmur it against his lips. Halsin can think of two times Astarion has used that ‘darling’ in front of everyone else: the first?

When they (‘they’ being Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Wyll) had found Halsin broken and alone in the Underdark after he’d carved through the goblins alone.

It was the first time the two elves had seen each other in two hundred years and five months. Through the haze of drow poison and blood loss, Halsin had heard the sun.

“Halsin. Darling.”

Achingly soft and so beautiful. A calloused but gentle hand cupped his chin and Astarion - older and more magnificent than Halsin remembered - had swum into focus above him.

Oh, but how he’d fallen in love with the man all over again in that moment… The thrill of it had been just as intense as it had been the first time, when they were younger and more afraid.

That was the first time he’d ever heard the soft variation of ‘darling’. Two hundred years and five months after the last time he’d seen Astarion Ancunín, who was more magnificent than he remembered but smelled exactly the same and could outburn the sun.

The second had been -

“I have to do this alone, Astarion.”

The darkness was like ash clinging to his skin. Karlach had been throwing stones into the abyssal waters; Gale was pointedly trying not to listen while Shadowheart was watching them like a vulture about to clean a carcass.

And oh, how he’d been terrified. To wander the Shadowfell, nothing to go on but a glimmer of vengeful hope and the scent of lavender… would he ever see the sun again?

Would he forget what gold sounded like?

But then -

Astarion’s plush lips part and his brow creases, brilliant sunset eyes big and glistening. For a moment, Halsin expects - well. Nothing good, that’s for certain.

A foolish thing, to try and predict the heat of the sun.

A nimble hand slides over his chest and catches his chin. The next thing he knows, he’s being kissed with tongue and fang. Solar flares explode in his lungs and Astarion thumbs over his cheek.

“Come back to me, darling,” he says.

It is a command, gentle and easy. Soft in the way that inspires hope somewhere inside his bones.

Not a hint of worry. Trust him - he knows what the worried variant of ‘darling’ sounds like.

Speaking of which:

2.) Astarion trusts Halsin in a way he isn’t sure how to hold; he feels a bit like a child cradling a bird with a wounded wing in his palms. One wrong move and that wing could shatter and leave the little bird he seeks to protect incapable of flight.

He doesn’t use the worried variant of ‘darling’ when Halsin is about to or has already attempted something foolish or heroic (see: ‘darling’ variant no. 1).

Astarion’s concerned and slightly lilting “darling,” comes when they’re in situations and he needs Halsin to look exactly where he’s looking at that very moment. It is a precise and hard-learned code, one that Halsin is more tuned into than even the method by which nature forms the reality around them.

It starts immediately: they’re in the Underdark and Halsin is still aching from the effects of the drow poison and the blood loss, and he can feel Astarion’s presence like sunbeams on his skin.

But even as he’s so acutely focused on Astarion’s presence, he’s still aching from the effects of drow poison and the blood loss, and so when Astarion’s sharp and tense “darling,” comes, he looks around just a little too late.

The Spectator catches them by surprise. Somehow, they survive the fight.

Halsin is looking at Astarion with every snapping “darling” he utters, now.

But even as the worried variant of ‘darling’ is the command he exists by and the soft variant is the one that sends heat through his bones and burns them gold, the variant of ‘darling’ that Halsin adores the most is -

3.) Sheer, raw fury.

It has only been used with such enchantment once. So far, at least. Who knows what the rest of the eternity he intends to spend beside the moon-kissed elf will bring, but so far…

So far it’s just been -

“Be well, then, darling.”

And oh, the way it had seared across Halsin like a lash of flame! How it had made his soul twist and his heart stop, commanded still by the sheer weight of the viscerally vitriolic venom in the word.

There was to be no doubt, then. A mate he was, and a mate he would always be. Some part of Halsin was snatched away in that moment. It fused with Astarion’s shadow, and there it would stay until he was led back to the young elfling.

The compass to lead him home.

Because this variant of ‘darling’ - this horrible, wrenching barb of a thing - had been shot at Halsin after he had told a twenty-year-old Astarion that:

“I cannot give you what you seek,” after a quiet and heartbreaking:

“I love you. I’m - Halsin, I’m… in love with you.”

And he’s over a hundred and Astarion is twenty and even if he’s everything Halsin wants, it’s not time. Not yet. The seasons need more time to show Astarion what the world can offer. He needs to taste the fruits of many before he settles on his favorite.

So:

“Oh, my little star,” Halsin had said in elvish; “I cannot give you what you seek.”

It was like watching the winter freeze settle in. It was seeing the sea go black before a storm; it was the flicker of divinity in the pit of Halsin’s belly and the hunt at the height of the season. It was every perfect and horrible thing all at once and Halsin loved this creature more than the earth beneath his feet.

“You are so young - there is so much you’ve yet to witness, experience.” He’d taken one of Astarion’s hands. It had been limp, cold. He’d kissed it anyway and stepped back. “And I must go my own way for now. Don’t worry. You’ll see me again, little star.”

And it was silent then, the kind of silent that made Halsin’s skin pebble with gooseflesh.

Until:

“Be well, then, darling.”

A dismissal. Inelegant and so wrathful. A blessing lain on the path beneath his boots. The sun blazed so hot it carved itself into his soul and stole a piece of him away.

It has not rejoined him. That’s alright; he feels it whenever Astarion is near, and these days it’s rare when he isn’t. Halsin is his sword and shield, the crown on his head and the throne beneath him.

And when the word comes this time - “darling,” - it’s just for him, spoken against the shell of Halsin’s ear as a damp, fresh-from-the-bath Astarion settles over his thighs and slides his arms around Halsin’s neck. Heat lunges up Halsin’s spine and he frames Astarion’s slender waist with keeping hands. So lost in the taste of the man’s skin, Halsin barely notices he’s been talking at him until Astarion gently tugs at his hair.

“Halsin, darling.”

His ears perk up. That’s a new one - slightly exasperated, clipped and somewhat offended in a small, quiet way. A vulnerable way.

“Were you even listening to a thing I said?”

Stomach clenching, Halsin slides his keeping hands over Astarion’s flanks and scans his face. He’s pouting. This is a new face, a new variant. Halsin’s nerves align and he cups Astarion’s chin.

“Forgive me,” he says soberly. “I was lost in thought. Tell me what I missed - speak to me, lover.”

He jostles Astarion a bit and the elf’s expression softens just before he arches a brow and tips back with a shrewd, playful glare. Halsin keeps him supported with a big hand at the base of his spine and chases a hopeless kiss he doesn’t get on a whim.

“And what, pray tell, was so important it stole you away from me?” Astarion demands, fingertips guarding Halsin’s lips.

Halsin smiles against his touch. “You.”

And when Astarion’s expression changes, it makes Halsin feel like spring. Those sunset eyes go dewy and Astarion’s body melts against the strong plain of his own.

“You,” he mutters against Halsin’s lips, “are a menace, darling.”

And he’ll never tire of it - never tire of learning every cadence this man can shape. Maybe one day he’ll earn more variants than Gale - for now, he’ll settle on keeping the Different ones, the ones no one else gets to hold.

There is no greater honor.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: May's visit does not go as anticipated.

Word Count: 6,477

Notes: Warnings for depictions of sexual content and jealousy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 14: The Man Who Doesn't Exist

“Right. Now try this one.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him, taking the small shot glass filled with clear, shimmering liquid that he offered her, holding it up to the light, swirling it, and bringing it to her nose.

“You better be careful, or I’ll be drunk before midday,” she commented, taking a sip. Tommy watched her intensely as she swished the helping of freshly made gin in her mouth, testing the taste of it thoroughly before swallowing. “It’s good.”

“You’ve said that about all of them,” he pointed out with fond exasperation. It probably would have done him well to find someone less biased in their opinions about everything he did. But then again, it would probably be equally difficult to find someone not so stone cold terrified of him that they would be willing to be honest in their assessments of the recipe. 

“I don’t know. I’m not much of a gin drinker,” she set down the glass, eyeing the bottles lined up on the table in front of her, each containing a different variation of the recipe he’d been tinkering with.

“Exactly; I want it to appeal to both seasoned and unseasoned gin drinkers. Try ordering them for your favorite to least favorite,” he suggested, nudging one of the bottles her way. She started to pick them up, moving them around the table, sometimes pouring a splash of liquid into a glass to give it another taste before deciding on its ranking. 

“You should have May try some of it while she’s here. I bet she drinks more gin than I do.”

He rested his cheek on his fist as he watched her work. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” 

The light struck her face at an angle, highlighting the shape of her cheekbones. The freckles that always dotted her skin were a little more pronounced, likely as a result of spending more time outside in the sun since Christmas. Her lips formed an adorable, ever so slightly downturned pout when she concentrated, comparing the gin from two separate bottles before choosing their positions in the ranking.   

She had been sad for a while after Aberama gave her the news about her mother. Understandably so, of course, but it still hurt him to see her so despondent. Like the spark that lived inside of her had dulled, somewhat.

But she was coming back to herself, gradually. A healthy hue of color in her cheeks, the bright warmth in her eyes steadily returning. 

Tommy shifted a little closer to her, swallowing roughly when she pushed a lock of deep red hair back out of her face. He was close enough to smell the distinct scent of her rose perfume, the temptation building within him to pick her up, swipe all the bottles of gin off of the table to crash upon the floor, and make love to her on that table until she screamed his name. 

“Done!” she announced, rousing him from his lascivious daydream. She looked over her shoulder at him, and the spark of conspiratorial cheekiness in her eyes nearly had his self control snapping completely. “Tommy?”

“Mm?”

She looked to be trying very hard to suppress a smile, head jerking towards the bottles. He cleared his throat, rising from his seat and moving to stand behind her, bending down to wrap his arms around her shoulders, hooking his chin over her shoulder. 

“Right; let’s see what we’ve got, eh?” he assessed her decisions carefully. She’d rated the one flavored with cinnamon the highest–predictably so, Lucy did love her cinnamon. “Didn’t like the one with the coriander, eh?” he asked, leaning forward to swipe up the bottle she’s put at the bottom of her ranking. 

“It was more that it’s too weak on the alcohol, rather than the coriander that was the problem,” she tapped the bottle that was second to last. “But this one was too strong. You’ll have people staggering around after one glass if you sell them this stuff.”

He reached into his pocket, fishing out a notebook already half filled with various gin recipes he’d been trying out, jotting down the notes she was giving him. 

“Honestly, on all of them I could use a little more sweetness. I like the cinnamon flavor, but I don’t know how popular that will be with the general public. You’ll have to ask a couple more people,” her head craned around to look at him from over her shoulder. “It’s getting there.”

He smiled shyly. “You think so?”

“Mhm.”

He squeezed his arms around her, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. She tasted sweetly of gin, a soft, wanting groan leaving his mouth at the first meeting stroke of their tongues. Lucy giggled softly against his mouth, giving him another peck before leaning back, smiling again when he bumped her nose affectionately with his. 

“We better get going if we want to be there when May arrives at the yard.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but made no movement, instead dropping his head into her neck, mouth trailing kisses up to her jaw. She laughed, a sound more beautiful than a harp or the chirp of birds, squirming halfheartedly in his arms.

“Tommy!”

“Alright, alright,” he huffed in teasing grumpiness, forcing himself to draw away from her. She touched his cheek, her expression one of deep affection.

“There'll be time for more of that later,” she promised, kissing him quickly once more before standing. He reached for her hand eagerly, enveloping her seemingly eternally chilled fingers with his, and let her pull him with a strong tug from the room.  

∗ ∗ ∗ 

May’s perfume smelled sweet, the fur that rested around her collar soft against Lucy’s cheek when she pulled her in for a hug. In the mist whirling around the canals, she had looked nearly ethereal as the boat glided up to the dock. 

“Hi, May. It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Lucy. You’re looking well.”

She smiled bashfully, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Tommy smiled at her from over May’s head, and began ushering them to the office. They chatted as they walked, inquiring about what May had been up to (not much, outside of her horse training duties) and how things were going with the horse (very well). 

Lucy glanced over her shoulder, brows pinching when they passed by Lizzie’s desk on their way to the doors to Tommy’s office. She could hear her muttering angrily under her breath, shooting glares in their direction, but couldn’t make out entirely what she was saying. 

She frowned, but decided not to say anything on the matter. At least not now.

She hadn’t expected Lizzie’s black mood to last so long. Especially since things had been going so well between them beforehand.  

Shaking her head, she closed the doors behind the three of them, moving to plop down in the chair next to May, taking an offered cigarette from Tommy while he and May talked about the horse. The toe of her shoe bumped against Tommy’s shin, rubbing up and down idly while she rested her head on her fist, looking over at May appreciatively as she set down the horse’s registration papers for Tommy to sign. He fixed her with an intense gaze, and Lucy leaned forward a little in eagerness as he questioned coyly just why on earth May would come all the way here in person for nothing but a signature. 

May’s eyes darted between them, a little color rising in her cheeks. Lucy couldn’t help the cheeky smile she sent her way, shifting in her seat with barely contained excitement. 

Outside of Grace, May had always been her favorite of the girls she and Tommy had included in their trysts in the past, and she had remained a close friend even after they’d broken things off.

May raised her eyes back to Tommy, and there was something in her face and voice that Lucy couldn’t entirely place; something that smothered her excitement a bit.

“Nothing seems to change you,” May said, in reference to both Grace and John’s death. The words alone had Lucy’s brow furrowing, but before she could fully ponder them, the door flung open and Lizzie waltzed in. Tommy started, and Lucy’s head snapped around sharply at the sudden intrusion.  

Fucking hell; had she fallen and hit her head and forgotten how to knock?

Her shock at the intrusion, however, had nothing on her surprise when Lizzie openly sneered at May, tossing the file she was carrying onto Tommy’s desk, then pulled herself up to her full, impressive height, arms leaning against the back of the large chair behind the desk. She ignored Tommy’s attempts to dismiss her, smirking at May smugly.

“But, you know sometimes, he sees something glamorous and expensive, he just can’t resist it,” Lizzie grinned, as if she’d made some big, clever point. “He’s so weak.”

Lucy’s jaw just about hit the floor. She had been on the receiving end of several of Lizzie’s jealousy-induced fits over the years, but this one had to take the fucking cake. May hadn’t even done anything. And in all that time, she didn’t think she’d ever seen Lizzie take such a harsh swipe at Tommy before. Normally it was just Lucy she went after, never him. 

The blatant smugness and disrespect had her so flabbergasted that she couldn’t even speak. 

Tommy seemed equally as stunned, meeting her gaze with widened eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure if the repeating thought of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck was in her own head, or something that she was picking up through the silent way that they sometimes communicated through glances. 

May responded before either of them could, and in quite graceful fashion too, announcing her desire to make a donation to the charity set up in Grace’s name. Lizzie’s smug smile faded steadily as May filled out the check, and Lucy caught herself feeling a spike of satisfaction at seeing her knocked so cleanly off of the high horse she’d decided to perch herself upon.

She immediately scolded herself internally for the petty feeling.

Lizzie’s jaw was clenching, entire form practically vibrating with rage. For a moment, Lucy thought that she might explode without another glorious display.

“That’ll be all, Lizzie, thank you,” Tommy said firmly, hardly even looking at her. Her jaw twitched once, and then she went stalking from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Lucy stared at the place where Lizzie had been standing, thumb dancing along the length of one of her rings, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. 

Lizzie had always been one for more the cold shoulder when she was jealous or upset. Subtle jabs and maybe the occasional snide, hurtful comment. But never anything quite like that.

It was obvious that taking Lizzie to the canal had been a mistake. She’d gotten her hopes up, though Lucy couldn’t entirely understand why. Perhaps if Tommy had taken her there on his own, just the two of them, it would make more sense why the sudden mood change, but Lucy had been there too. It wasn’t like her presence had been even subtle. So why? Why had it clearly affected Lizzie so deeply?

Maybe it had just been a reminder of what Lizzie wanted so badly, but could never have.  

She had always known deep down that Lizzie used their rendezvous to fulfill her own fantasies: ones in which Lucy was positive she did not exist, and it was just Lizzie and Tommy, happy and in love.

All this time, Lizzie’s feelings for Tommy had perhaps not been fading, but simply sleeping. And they’d gone and woken them back up again. 

They could never do something like that with her again, Lucy decided resolutely. It wasn’t fair, and it only brought them trouble. 

“Lucy?”

She roused, realizing that she had just been staring intensely at the wall behind the desk, and looked over to find that Tommy had gone over to the shelf of liquor, his hand resting on the decanter of whiskey.

“Sorry?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Drink?” 

“Yes, please,” she said desperately. He shot her a sympathetic look, pouring a glass and handing it to her before returning to fix another for himself. She took a gulp of the amber liquid gratefully while Tommy hastily corrected course, asking May if she had packed an overnight back, and explaining that the train drivers had called a wildcat strike earlier in the day.

Lucy raised an eyebrow at the lie, but didn’t comment. 

May didn’t seem perturbed, simply asking where she was to stay. Tommy offered that they could meet her at four. 

“Meet and do what?” May asked. Lucy looked up at her through lowered lashes, one corner of her lips pulling upwards.

Surely you must know, my dear.

Tommy was fighting back his own coy smile, but rather than stating the obvious, merely offered for her to try the gin he’d been distilling.

A…not a hobby, precisely, but an activity that he had grown more and more obsessive over recently. Probably just a symptom of him going minorly mad over being cooped up in Small Heath for so long. 

It was honestly kind of cute, how serious he got about the whole thing, tinkering with the recipe that his father had left him and asking her to consume far more amounts of gin than she’d normally prefer–she would always be more of a whiskey girl–to get her opinion. 

Again, there was that moment of trepidation, when May did not immediately seem amiable to the suite at the Midland that Tommy had booked for her–them, technically, if May even wanted them there–but it faded when she agreed to a tasting of the gin. Lucy wetted her lips, cigarette turning over and over in her fingers, trying to puzzle out the mixed signals May was giving out. 

They agreed to meet at four, Tommy pulling on his coat and ducking out the door. Lucy could see his figure through the glass, moving over to Lizzie’s desk, the gestures of his hands making it blatant that he was scolding her.  

“I’m sorry about Lizzie,” she apologized to May, grabbing her coat and beginning to pull it on. 

“Is she often like that?” May asked curiously, rising elegantly from her own seat.

“She’s…” Lucy sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything, when it comes to Tommy?” 

Lucy finished pulling her coat up over her shoulders, adjusting the collar. “Not always,” she murmured quietly. Her relationship with him had never been all that complicated, after all. They loved each other. They were together. All the rest was just details. “I have to go with him,” she said apologetically. “You’re welcome to stay here in the office, if you’d like. Or I’m sure Charlie and Curly would be happy to host you at the yard.”

“I worry that if I stay here Lizzie might try to maim me.”

Lucy chuckled. “No, that’s more Polly’s thing. Lizzie will just mutter nasty things behind your back when she doesn’t think you’re listening.”

May shook her head, shooting her a funny look. “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

Lucy shrugged. “You and me both. I’ll see you at four?”

“Yes.”

She gave her one last smile. “Alright.”

Tommy was just stepping away from Lizzie’s desk, head turning when he heard the door opening, tensed shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. 

“Ready?”

She shot a curious glance at Lizzie, who was sitting at her desk and visibly sulking, lips pursed. “Yeah.”

He took her hand, and began to pull her to the doors, when she heard, muttered snidely under Lizzie’s breath:

“Fucking slut. Don’t know what he fucking sees in you.”

Tommy’s hand squeezed hard in hers in reaction to the words he had also heard, body half turning, mouth opening to shout at her, but Lucy grasped him tightly, pushing him lightly towards the door.

“Don’t,” she hissed, half begged, under her breath. He was so puzzled at the reaction that she managed to push him out the doors and away from Lizzie, though not before they also heard her bellowing on about May again. She would have stopped to verbally cuff her for that, had she not been confident that May could more than handle herself. At the moment, she needed to get Tommy out of there before an actual fight broke out.

“Let it go,” she told him firmly, half pulling him along to the corner before stopping. Tommy gave her a baffled look. 

“But she–”

“She’s just had her heart broken, Tommy. Give her a break. I’m fine,” not entirely true, the words still stung, no matter how often she had to hear them, but she was a big girl. She could handle a few insults flung her way. Given her role in Lizzie’s anguish, she probably deserved it, on some level.      

His face furrowed with guilt, though a spark of anger still flickered in his eyes. “Upset or not, that’s no reason to speak to you or May the way that she did.”

Lucy made a noise of agreement, gaze darting away, passing over the street without really seeing it, hands twisting and fumbling with each other. 

“Hey,” he touched her chin, raising her gaze back up to his. “Don’t let her get to you.”

“I just thought that we were passed all of this…”

“I know,” his eyes were sad. “I know; me too,” with a sigh, he looked away to the rising smoke of the factories. “Not much we can do about it now, other than distance ourselves until the storm passes.”

“I can never tell if she really means it or not. The things that she says.”

Tommy opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, looking down, hand smoothing along her arm. “I’m sorry.”

She just shrugged. “Not your fault.”

“It kind of is.”

“You don’t control what Lizzie says or does.”

“I could go back in there and yell at her some more if it would make you feel better.” 

She bit back a small, terrible smile at the suggestion. “I appreciate the offer, love, but I’m pretty sure that would only make things worse.”

“I don’t understand her,” he shook his head. “You’re wonderful. All you’ve ever done is try to be nice to her…”

“I stole you from her.”

“What?” he looked entirely taken aback. Lucy shrugged again.

“She was here first, technically. Then I came along and snatched up you and all of your love for myself.”

“That’s not what happened. She and I never even were anything. She was just a whore I saw on a semi-regular basis.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure that’s how she sees it.”

He touched her face, expression puzzled and concerned. “You’re not stealing her share of love from me.”

She leaned her face a little into the soothing warmth of his strong palm, closing her eyes. “I know,” she mumbled softly, though she was not entirely sure that she really did. Because the guilt still gnawed at her; the wondering that, maybe, if it weren’t for her, Tommy and Lizzie might have actually had a chance.  

When she opened her eyes again, he was looking at her with an appraising, narrowed expression.

“You’re really sure you don’t want me to go scold her some more?”

A small, sharp exhale of air that might’ve been the beginning of a laugh passed through her nose. “I’m sure, love,” she turned her head, kissing his palm and taking it in hers, stretching up onto her toes to peck his cheek. “But I appreciate the protectiveness.”

He gave her a gentle, adoring look, lips brushing the crown of her head. 

“We should get going, or we’ll be late to the boxing ring.”

“Mm. Yeah,” he squeezed her hand still holding onto her firmly, their shoes clicking in tandem together against the cobblestones as they started to walk. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The boxing ring smelled of sweat and rubber. The slap of boxing gloves hitting both flesh and the punching bags filled the room, as did the grunts of exertion and concentration of the men practicing. Bonnie Gold already had his gloves on and was in the ring, practically bouncing on his toe while he waited for his first opponent. Aberama was standing on the sidelines, hat cocked on his head, watching his son. He gave Tommy and Lucy a respectful nod of greeting when they approached, and while Tommy went to speak with King Maine, the boxing trainer, she moved to stand beside Aberama, arms crossed over her chest.

“Good afternoon,” he said, after a moment, eye remaining fixed on Bonnie with Maine directed another boy to get into the ring with him.

“Afternoon,” Lucy said back, shifting from foot to foot.

“You look to be doing well,” he finally turned his gaze onto her. Lucy rolled her head to a noncommittal angle, shrugging.

“Not much use that can be done just sitting around and crying,” she looked back at Tommy still talking with Maine. “It’s better that I keep busy.”

“I can understand that.”

“Thank you again for telling me. Mum and I…we fell out of contact around 1920 when she went back to the caravans.” She was grateful that he did not ask her why.

“She was very proud of you, you know.”

Brows furrowing, she looked at him sharply, searching for any trace of a lie in his face and finding none. 

“I spoke to her, once or twice when we would run into her and Miri at the fairs. She always had such a glow about her, when she told us how she had a daughter in the city, in a high position in a company there.”

Lucy looked down and away quickly, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the sudden glassiness in her eyes.

“She had all these clippings from the papers, about Shelby Company Ltd., pictures of you at various company events. Miri said she would sometimes spend hours just pouring over them.”

Lucy swallowed hard, clearing her throat roughly. “I wish that she had stayed here. I wish that I could have looked after her. Maybe then…”

Aberama suddenly touched her shoulder. “There’s no point spending valuable time and energy mulling over the things we could have or should have done. It brings nothing but pain. Your mother loved you. Focus on remembering that.” He gave her a stern, yet paternal look, waiting until she nodded before lowering his hand from where he’d rested it lightly on her shoulder. Lucy looked at him for a long moment. 

“You’re not entirely what I expected,” she admitted. Aberama chuckled.

“And what were you expecting?”

She shrugged. “After everything Johnny Dogs told us? Someone more…”

“Savage?”

“I was going to say feral.”

He cracked a sly smile. “I’ve found that playing up the reputation at times can be…beneficial,” those clever, fox-like eyes darted back to hers. “Something tells me that you’ve discovered the same.”

Lucy bit back a smirk. “Yes, something like that.”

“What you did with Changretta’s cousin was impressive.”

“Thank you. I’d prefer to avoid advertising it around for just a little while yet, though.”

“Why?”

She smiled sweetly. “I want to see the look on Luca Changretta’s face when he realized that I’m not just a tiny little woman who only got where she is by fucking the boss.” 

Aberama’s lips quirked in quiet approval, expression growing serious when Tommy and Maine approached them to watch Bonnie fight.

After it was over, she followed Tommy out of the gym, his hand dipping into his pocket to procure his watch, glancing at the face before tucking it away again. 

“I need to go by the factory and speak with Devlin. But you can head back to the yard and spend some more time with May, if you’d like.” 

“You’re sure?” She tried not to show just how excited the idea made her. Tommy nodded. 

“I can deal with Devlin. You go on. You can show her the gin distillery, if you’d like. I’ll meet you at four.”

With a grin, she stretched up onto her toes to peck his cheek. “Thank you.”

He gave her a small smile. “Try not to have too much fun without me.”

“No promises, Shelby.”

The skin around his eyes crinkled, even as he attempted to suppress the fond smile pulling at his lips. His hand curled around her hip, pulling her just a little more closer so as to press a quick kiss to her lips. 

“See you soon,” he promised.

She gave him a small smile, walked a few paces backward before turning around and heading in the direction of the yard. She could feel the protective presence of his gaze on her until she went around a corner and out of his line of sight. 

The walk to the yard was quiet and peaceful. While the smog and smoke still lingered in the air, the sun was actually out for once, and she enjoyed the gentle warmth that the beams languished upon her.

“Charlie,” she greeted him where he was working by the entrance when she came in. “Where’s May?”

“The stables.”

“Right. Thanks.” She weaved her way towards the aforementioned building, stepping through the open barn doors, smiling to herself at the sound of May’s posh accent speaking lowly while she stroked careful fingers through Sin’s reddish mane. She started at the crunch of hay under Lucy’s boots, head turning in her direction. 

“I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you until four.”

“First meeting wrapped up quick. Tommy’s got another one he needs to go to, but he doesn’t need me for it.” Coming up beside May, she gave Sin a little pat to her flank. “Charlie and Curly been treating you alright?”

“Yes,” but there was a small hesitation before she spoke, and Lucy shot a curious look her way, again feeling that prickle in the back of her mind that something was not entirely right. “I was going to take a walk by the canal, but then Charlie told me I’d need to take a revolver with me, so I figured perhaps it would be best to just stay here.”

“I can take you, if you’d like.”

Again, May hesitated, doe-brown eyes looking Lucy over as if she were assessing her. “That’s alright. I’d rather try Tommy’s gin, I think.”

“Okay.”

She led the way through the yard, into another set of stables where Curly was busy at work. 

“Curly, dear, could you get us a bottle of Tommy’s gin?” Lucy asked. He nodded, bustling away hastily. While they waited, Lucy grabbed a blanket to spread out over a haystack for May to sit.   

“Is everything alright?” Lucy asked after a few moments, the silence feeling long and all encompassing. 

“Yes, of course.”

“You’re sure? Charlie and Curly didn’t say anything, did they?”

“They said several things. But it’s alright. Really,” she turned her face away from Lucy to look at the entrance to the bar expectantly. “How are things going with the Italians? Honestly, I mean.”

With a sigh, she shrugged, and it was her turn to avert her gaze down to her shoes. “Could be worse. But could be a lot damn better, too.” Looking up, she met May’s worried eyes, her brow furrowed in a way that only served to accentuate the unique shape of her face. “We’ll be fine.”  

But the frown did not leave May’s features. “What about you? Are you doing alright?”

Lucy shrugged. “It took a little adjusting at first with everyone being scattered and then coming back together after so long, but I’ve managed.”

“Polly hasn’t been causing you any trouble?”

“Actually, no. Not really. She’s been…nicer maybe isn’t exactly the word, but it’s been easier to be around her.” She gave May a small, humorless smile. “I doubt that it’ll last, but I’m going to enjoy it while I can.”

“And what about you and Tommy?”

Lucy cocked her head, not understanding. “What about us?”

“Is everything alright between you two?”

Now she was truly puzzled. “Yes, of course. Why?”

“So much tragedy, and in such a short span of time…I’ve seen it have nasty effects on couples before.”

“Most everything else has been hard, at one point or the other, but not us,” she again shot May a curious look. “We help each other, we…it’s always been easy. Being with him.”

May shook her head. “That’s such a strange thing to hear, having known him for a few years, now.”

Lucy didn’t entirely know what to say to that. She was aware that the way that Tommy treated her was different from how he was with almost everyone else. It was not something she could entirely explain. Hell, she doubted that even Tommy would struggle to entirely articulate why that was. It probably had at least something to do with all of the trauma that they shared. But it wasn’t just that.  

“You’ve really never wanted him to change?” May asked, the question completely catching Lucy off guard. “Not even a little?”

For a moment she could only stare at May in bafflement. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of understanding something, but what that was, she couldn’t entirely say. May met her gaze with those wide, dark eyes, waiting patiently for her answer.  

“No,” she said softly, truthfully. “Not ever. I like him just the way he is.” 

  A flicker of disappointment, quick as a sudden, sharp spark, ignited in May’s eyes. It was gone just as quickly, only appearing for such a brief moment that Lucy was left half wondering if it had actually been there at all. May smiled at her, sadness entangled with the expression.

“I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me.”

Lucy nodded, still confused, still trying to grasp onto what it was that was causing May to behave so strangely. But before she could get a good grip on it, Curly came back in with a bottle and two glasses clutched in his hands. 

“Thank you, Curly,” Lucy took them from him and shooed him away, pouring a glass first for May and then for herself. 

As they drank, they talked about lighter things: May’s horses. The particularly talented gardener she had just recently employed at the house. The beautiful tea set Lucy had found during her and Tommy’s most recent trip into London. 

But all the while, even as they laughed together in the stables, sitting nearly shoulder to shoulder, Lucy could not shake the feeling that May was steadily drifting farther and farther away. 

Fumbling with her pocket watch, she checked the time, finishing off her glass and setting it aside. 

“He won’t be long. What do you think?”

“It’s alright. A little too sweet for my taste, I’d say.”

Lucy nodded. “He’s hoping that it’ll be big in America, so he’s been trying to tailor it more to their tastes.”

“Has he been working on this long?”

“Not as long as you’d think. I’ve probably taste-tested at least a bucket’s worth of it, now.”

May let out a quiet chuckle, taking another sip from her glass. They continued to chat while they waited for Tommy, ultimately winding up laying side by side on the hay, May’s voice a soft, low hum as she started to sing. Lucy stared up at the ceiling, her empty glass seated beside her, throat constricting with memories of lingering near the doors of the Garrison, watching Grace stand up on a chair in the back, her rich voice echoing throughout the pub as she sang song after song, some her own choosing, others requests from the crowd. 

Her eyes darted to the dark corners of the stables, searching with hope for the golden-haired ghost, but finding nothing but black shadows. 

May’s singing cut off abruptly at the sound of Tommy’s voice announcing his presence, both of them sitting up to see him approaching them with quick steps from the door. Lucy hopped down from the hay while May offered her opinion to him on the gin, Tommy dipping his head to give Lucy a quick kiss to say hello, big hand taking hold of hers, beginning to lead the way towards the stairs that led down to the distillery.

It was cool down the stairs. Lucy jumped up to sit on the table where Tommy deposited a crate of bottles, legs swinging in the air. He rifled through the bottles, selecting one and uncorking it to pour another glass for May to try. 

Lucy’s legs unconsciously stopped swinging as she watched him begin to lay on his famous charm, standing close to May, glass filled with clear liquid offered to her, voice lowered, eyes looking steadily into hers. May continued to keep her eyes on him, even as she lifted the glass from his fingers and took a sip.

“You’re unlike any man I’ve ever met,” she told him, and Lucy felt the beginning pulsings of want stirring within her, leaning forward where she was seated on the table.   

At May’s determination that the gin was still too sweet, Tommy leaned in, and kissed her.

It was a soft, sensual kiss. The kind that Lucy was intimately familiar with receiving from him. Lips moving slowly against each other, his touch gentle but firm. 

May responded with a hand on his chest, leaning into his body. Quiet and graceful as a cat, Lucy slid from her spot on the table, padding over to them and pressing her front to May’s back, running her nose through her soft, sweet-smelling hair to get at the nape of her neck, ghosting a kiss across it while her hands landed gingerly on her shoulders. She could feel Tommy shifting the positioning of his arms, so that he was more thoroughly embracing her. 

And then she felt May go abruptly stiff and freeze. Tommy felt it too, pulling back a fraction to look at her. 

“You said you booked a room?” she asked softly, after a moment. Tommy’s lips quirked up a fraction. 

“No, I booked a suite.”

“Thank you,” there was something dull in May’s voice that had Lucy pulling slightly away from her, head angling to try to get a look at her face. May drew in a deep breath. “If you book a taxi, I’ll go.”

Lucy started, brow creasing and eyes shifting from May, to Tommy, then back again. Tommy’s face drew away from her, expression suddenly hardening, going cold. The warmth and tenderness he’d been exuding a moment ago almost entirely shut off in the face of the abrupt rejection. As May continued to speak, Lucy drew her hands from her, taking a step back. 

“If only you could…”

“If only I could what?” Tommy asked, with a voice like sharp razors, eyes searching May’s before he took a large step back, away from her. “‘If only you could change.’ Go on, say it. If only you could change the bad.” 

Suddenly, all of May’s strange behavior over the day started to make sense. Particularly that curious question she had broached about whether or not Lucy ever wished Tommy could change.

He continued to verbally snarl for a moment, a wounded animal, hurt and angry and lashing out at the person who’d stung it. Because Lucy knew that it kept him awake at night, how badly he wanted to be better.

“You all deserve better than me,” he sometimes whispered, head resting on her chest, against her breasts on the particularly bad nights when she held him and stroked his hair. She always shook her head, kissing him between the brows, reminding him as best she knew how that she loved him exactly as he was.

May had struck a raw nerve she was not even aware of.

“You fucking people,” he fumed, storming away, back to them. Lucy watched him mournfully. She did not think that May intended to hurt either of them. But still, it ached. 

At least she could recognize that perhaps they could not offer what she truly wanted. At least she had the sense to understand that and step away.

If only more women were like her: with that sense and acknowledgement that she could not change nor heal a man through the power of love alone. 

Lizzie had never learned. Linda had never learned with Arthur. Hell, Lucy had sometimes wondered, at some level, at least, if even Grace had not understood that reality completely. 

“You bite like your horse,” May said after a long moment of silence, and there was both regret and apology in her voice, but not for how she felt. No, the apology was for the unintentional sting that her rejection had inflicted. Tommy’s eyes moved from hers to Lucy’s.

Fuck. 

Yes, she agreed silently, sadly. Now over his little outburst, Tommy beckoned May to follow, reaching for Lucy’s hand before beginning to move. She squeezed his fingers, his grip tightening enough that her rings bit into her flesh a little. 

None of them said much of anything at all on the walk through the canals, to a boat that could take May to the train station. It was a long enough of a walk for the disappointment to really settle in Lucy’s stomach, leaving her feeling gloomy. 

“Here’s your carriage,” Tommy said, gesturing to the boat, informing May of the train that she could catch. She gave him a look of exasperated fondness when he admitted to lying about the strikes. Lucy couldn’t help but smile a little herself at her gangster’s devilish antics.

May touched his cheek gently for a moment, looking between them, suddenly earnest.

“We’ll keep in touch?”

They both nodded, and that seemed to relax her a little. Lucy felt a wave of relief wash over her. At least May did not want them entirely ejected from her life. 

“I’ll call with updates about the horse. And please, feel welcome to stop by the house or the stables anytime you’d like.” 

At their agreement, she moved away, but not before giving Lucy a firm hug in farewell.

“I mean it, anytime you need to get away from this one, just come on by.”

“Oi!” Tommy sputtered in indignation, and they both giggled while he rolled his eyes, looking to the sky as if asking what he’d done to deserve such teasing. He helped May up and into the boat, and Lucy watched with a steady ache in her chest as she disappeared below deck, Curly climbing aboard after her. 

Tommy settled a hand on her shoulder, and very gently, began to guide her from the canal. As they walked, he wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her tightly into his side. 

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[alnair-jpg]

hello!!! I love your art- and I was curious on how you do your skin (in the drawings!!! I'm not a creep- trust)

Have a nice day :D

Hi!! thank you 💕

Do you mean how do I render skin?

I, of course, am not an expert but I can share a little bit of how I go about it!

1. Pick a base skin tone for the character, color it everywhere skin is exposed. Since I know I’ll be making it darker and more saturated this is often a little lighter than what I’m going for.

2. Using a peachy red color that compliments the first- different for each skin tone- and a light airbrush type brush, go over areas where there’s more color variation (blush, tips of ears, knuckles, elbows, etc.)

3. Using a slightly darker and more saturated color than the base skin tone, and a low opacity paint brush like brush, layer up the darker shades where the body has shapes and shadows (making arms look like cylinders, adding shadows to follow the contours of the face, shading where muscles have definition). Blend out the edges if they need to be softer/you don’t want different strokes visible. I often do two passes, one to get the shades that I blend out then another to define shapes with harder edges.

4. With a another darker color and smaller brush size, do this again to deepen shadows where needed

5. With a softer brush (I like a marker-like one) add highlights where the light hits, areas that are lighter than the areas in shadows (tip of the nose, under the eyes, sometimes song the chin). This can be a lighter skin tone color or related to the environment.

Something to consider: skin tones have a lot of under tones, some are more yellow, others more red. For darker skin tones in particular you want to make sure you really lean into those when doing shadows rather than just making the color “darker” or else the skin will look more washed out.

Some of this changes depending on lighting, but that’s the general approach I use! I hope it’s helpful!

[queerdiazs]

wip wednesday, teehee

i was tagged ny @eddiediaztho, @hippolotamus, @exhuastedpigeon, @wikiangela, @daffi-990, and @jesuisici33, mwah

have a sorta long snippet of hoa eddie finally starting to figure his shit out. he's a fucking loser. i love him.

Once Buck’s drifted off to sleep, snug and relaxed under the big blanket, Eddie rolls over and grabs his phone off the nightstand. He opens one eye, turns the brightness all the way down, clicks onto the browser, and types am i gay quiz in the search bar.  Dozens of links pop up. He clicks on the first one, marks the answers that resonate the most with him, and frowns when his results of 89% straight flash on the screen with a sullen face.  “What the fuck does that even mean?” he mumbles and then, with a fierceness that crinkles his brow, clicks off the quiz and finds another.  He takes seven more, each a little more deranged than the last, and throws his phone to the hardwood floor when he gets his eighth variation of Unfortunately, you aren’t gay! because he’s upset. It thuds loud and heavy, and slides face up all the way to his closet; the screen shines bright like a little flashlight, illuminating the corner.  Eddie huffs, flops onto his back, crosses his arms over his chest, and pouts.  How dare those quizzes diagnose him heterosexual? Yeah, sure, he has a preference for feminine-presenting people, but he’s had plenty of cock to know he’s not straight, too, and being in heterosexual-passing relationships don’t make him any less queer. He’s worked too damn hard to accept himself, selfishly and fearlessly and totally, to let a few quizzes invalid him.  Which—why was he taking the quizzes in the first place? He knows he’s queer and he doesn’t need a pompous test on the Internet to tell him so, Christ. He’s acting like a lovestruck kid with his first crush on another boy.  The absurdity of the situation makes him giggle. He swipes a hand over his face to muffle his laughter, but his body shakes, so near Buck’s, and it rouses Buck around. Eddie sobers and shuts his eyes, feigning sleep.  It doesn’t work.  This must be how Christopher feels when it’s past his negotiated bedtime of midnight.  Buck murmurs, a pitiful noise, and snuffles close. “Eddie?” He noses along Eddie’s shoulder until he has his face stuffed in Eddie’s throat, right where his pulse throbs. “Wha’s goin’ on? Heard a noise.”  “It’s fine,” he says, wrapping Buck up in his arms and pulling him in, until he’s nearly laid out atop Eddie’s body. His weight feels nice, solid and sturdy. “Go back to sleep.”  Buck smacks his lips, puffs his stinky breath in Eddie’s face, and sighs. “M’kay.” He cuddles in, nestling up over Eddie’s body like three’s no other place in the world he wants to be, and goes still. “Nighty night.”  Eddie exhales. “Night, Buck,” he says, setting his chin on top of Buck’s head and running his fingers through Buck’s sweaty, frizzy hair.  He looks at his phone in the corner one last time and wonders if there are any quizzes on the Internet that might help him figure out if he’s in love with his best friend before he eventually dozes off, too, wrapped up tight beneath Buck’s big body. 

no pressure tagging @wildlife4life, @watchyourbuck, @callmenewbie, @thewolvesof1998, @try-set-me-on-fire, @shitouttabuck, @folk-fae, @fortheloveofbuddie, @eowon, @giddyupbuck, @honestlydarkprincess, @ladydorian05, @loserdiaz, @callaplums, @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy, and whoever else wants to share something <3

[2cutie]

Shang Tsung with Hope is now my roman empire, and if one of them dies - I will be crying rivers, so angst time!

During Titan Shang Tsung reveal and fight with Order of Darkness, Hope could try to attack Titan ST but he just grabs the cat and could probably harm it heavily (throwing it or doing something evil, all my homies hate Titan Shang Tsung). I think Shang would go rampage and try to kill his Titan counterpart, but second one already disappears.

i love angst, thank you for feeding me. Please, allow me to make it so much worse <33 also sorry this took me ages to reply, I saved this ask to think about and then forgot it was still in my box bfchd continuing cat!reader+Shang Tsung prompt

Shang had to (begrudgingly) side with Liu Kang when he realized he was a victim of deception. His own kind, even, from another timeline. It was both disgracing yet commendable.

Hope - you, his loyal & fierce cat - of course stood beside him through anything, even wars. Shang had trained you, enhanced you; you would battle by his side 'til the end.

So when Titan Shang Tsung posed a threat to your Shang, you were in a fury. You were fighting alongside him, but the Titan's army was vast, and you were caught between fighting many villains with familiar yet different faces from those in your timeline. Shang was fighting his own battles as you both could hold your own.

But that was until the Titan variation of him diverted his attention to Shang. Both versions of themselves battled, but your timeline's was not to compare to the Titan version. When you finished fending off your own enemy and looked to Shang, you saw him spiraling back to the floor, blood gushing from his nose. The crimson flow was staining his clothes, his hand grasping it doing nothing stop the blood.

You barely registered moving, or your claws gashing alongside the Titan's face. But you did feel the immense pain that followed after. The feeling of something - maybe somethings - in your body shattering as you were thrown to a wall that crumbled as you hit it. Some stone also would land on you from the sheer age of the deteriorating architect. Your mind turned fuzzy then, you couldn't really comprehend things. You felt paralyzed. Maybe you were. You could only faintly feel the buzz of pure pain vibrating through you.

Shang was still, as if he could not comprehend what had happened. He stared with wide eyes where he saw your body fall to, but the rubble was blocking him from seeing you. He didn't breath as he stared with a blank mind.

Until the Titan scoffed and his eyes flicked back to him with immense speed, a searing inhuman anger in his glare. The Titan Shang wore an impressive wound - your claws had seared him across his cheeks and to his lips, blood gushing down to stain his chin and neck, to his clothes. He wiped in vain, as the blood continued. You cut deep.

Frankly, Titan Shang Tsung barely registered what he had thrown to the wall; just acted purely on instinct from the threat and pain. But when he gazed back to his lesser counterpart, saw his towering rage, a wicked smile spread across his bloodied lips. Blood filtered to his mouth, staining his teeth.

"Oh my," the titan spoke, pure velvet. Sickening. Impure. "I didn't hurt your little cat now, did I? You can't possibly blame me. Who would bring a pet to a fight? That's all your own fault, really."

Shang Tsung's teeth bared as the Titan approached and he brought his hand away from his nose, instead using it to pull himself back up. Now, Shang didn't show much of his emotions outside of his careless, sassy demeanor. But now? He was pure unchecked, hysteria rage. Purely seething. If looks could kill, Titan Shang Tsung wouldn't be just dead a million times over, he wouldn't even have been born.

"How sad," the Titan continued, circling slowly around him. Predatory. Like an animal teasing his prey. "To think an offspring from me could be so pitifully stupid. Getting attached to such a filthy thing.. I truly am the superiority of all timelines. Which is exactly why I-"

Often times, Shang would ramble to you. It had been a thing between you two, since he didn't keep friends. He would ramble and catch your expression when he spoke too much. But he would roll his eyes and continue. "Please, I do not talk *that* much," he would say, containing to ramble.

But now? Yes, he could see just how much he talked. Just how insatiably annoying it could be.

Because he just gave a vicious, toasty uppercut to Titan Shang Tsung just to shut him up. It caught him so off guard, he bit his tongue, the appendage almost splitting in two.

The horror that passed on the Titan's face for even a split second before shifting to annoyance and anger would fuel Shang. Seeing more blood spill from his mouth inspired him. The Titan had to keep his chin tilted so he wouldn't choke on the blood. Shang hoped he would - but wouldn't mind if he didn't either. That way he could kill Titan Shang Tsung himself. Feel his neck crunch in his hands. He would avenge you.

a/n: ending is up to youuuu. did you survive?? does shang win?? eye emojs all around !!

[rearranged-fanfic]

The Great Cross-Post Continues

For those unaware, I have a little collection of side stories that are AU variations of the Reader-chan from REARRANGED. One of these stories, Godhead, has been successfully cross-posted!

Hoorah!

:.:

Links

Read on Wattpad

Read on Quotev

Read on Fanfiction.net (Censored)

:.:

Story Synopsis

Godhead

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Elements

Rating: High M, Low E

Relationship: Gojo Satoru/Reader (AFAB Original Character)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Gods and Goddesses, God Gojo Satoru, Yandere Gojo Satoru, Human Reader, Drama, Angst, Manipulation, Murder, Grooming, Cunnilingus, Extremely Dubious Consent

Summary: What can one do when faced with the love of a god?

I was three when I attracted the attention of the local deity, O-Satoru-sama. As I grew older, I became painfully aware that I wasn't like the other young women of our tiny, remote mountain village. No. I was special. Blessed. Of course, looking back, I wonder if that blessing wasn't more of a curse.

:.:

Excerpts *Spoilers Below*

Excerpt 1:

I hardly notice when the air becomes unseasonably warm, nor when the birds and insects suddenly stop their droning song.  There is only me and my grief.  And our village’s silent, absent god. Then there’s the slightest sensation of something sliding through my hair.  The weight of a hand, warm and reassuring, presses down on me.  I close my eyes and bask in the sensation.  It feels loving, like when Papa would stroke my head and hum until I fell asleep.  But this hand isn’t well-worn or large like Papa’s; the fingers are slender, graceful, smooth.  This hand has never done hard labor in the fields, has never felled a tree nor carved leather.  But it is strong.  I feel the weight of it in my bones. This is the hand of a god, I think blearily. “I am still here, My Love.” I shiver in place.  Is this… is this O-Satoru-sama’s presence? The hand leaves me, and when I sit up and look around, I am alone as I was before.  The birds sing again, and the insects buzz.  And despite the fall chill nipping at my nose, my insides feel warm.  I stroke the hair where his hand had rested and jar his scent loose.  O-Satoru-sama smells like life, like sunshine. I am blessed, I must remind myself.  God came to me. He touched me.

Excerpt 2:

God is kneeling before me, clad in a sky-blue kimono which shines like it’s made of the finest silks.  The cloth is worth more than I’d ever be able to comprehend, with its patterned weave and embroidered imagery of waves.  The six-eyed mask that his statue dons is pulled up off his face, affixed to the side of his head seemingly with magic.  Even lowered as he is, I can tell that he towers over me.  One of his pale hands—unmarred by imperfections like scars or calluses—moves to cup my chin.  His thumb strokes over my lips, and those otherworldly eyes of his fixate on my mouth.  For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.  But a little part of my brain says that he looks like he’d rather eat me. I shudder in his grasp.  And I swallow down a sigh of something that I can’t quite name. When God speaks this time, it’s not in my mind.  Instead, his smooth voice is that of a human’s, reaching my ears.  “You were my new mouthpiece.  From the moment your little hand met me, you were mine.”  He takes my hand and presses it against his chest.  “You touched my heart, and I recognized your soul.” God has a beating heart.  I can feel it thrumming beneath my fingertips.

Peace, my lovelies!

[rivangel]

wait mikasa's mom looks like an asian, dark hair and all. So does Mikasa. ackermans also have dark hair. I mean it's normal that they look similar. You can also look like your ancestors and not like your mother or father, I look like my grandma and nothing like my father or mother. So I never questioned why mikasa doesn't look like her dad. Can you please explain your theory/headcanon a little bit more if you thought about it? it sounds interesting!

first post

second post

thank you :3 i think i’ll put all the parts of my theory together in this post because there’s some stuff i didn’t get into and new stuff i thought about, and i’d love to elaborate !!!

my theory is basically that Mikasa’s dad isn’t the Ackerman, but it’s Mikasa’s mom.

this is every Ackerman showed in the series (now arguably with Mikasa’s mom on the top left).

[+a colored manga panel of kuchel because the lighting is a little weird]

and this is Mikasa’s dad:

genetics can skip generations, and characteristics definitely can remain consistent as they’re passed down. but this is my thought:

1: it’s uncanny. solid black, straight hair, pale skin, thin brows, small hooded bluish-grey eyes, lip shape, larger foreheads, pointed chins, small noses, angular facial structure.

with some expected exceptions. like Kenny’s nose, and Mikasa and her mom’s solid grey eyes, plus all their heights vary. that’s realistic enough for me to believe that all Ackermans generally look alike, while giving room for normal variations in looks.

Kiyomi, head of the Azumabitos, looks like this:

this resemblance also is unmistakable and uncanny (besides her nose).

in aot, the two groups that were persecuted by the Eldian king were the Asians and the Ackermans.

i severely doubt the Ackermans always resembled them. Ackermans are the product of accidental Titan science made in Marley hundreds of years before the Great Titan War (and it was after that war that the Ackermans and Asians were banished/hunted to extinction/persecuted).

the Ackermans and the Asians were rejected by the same country they were once a part of or otherwise were loyal to. wouldn’t that have brought them together?—especially taking into account that the Ackermans were being hunted to extinction. as well as the fact that Ackermans have strength of the Titans inside them, so interbreeding would’ve been beneficial for both. i believe that’s why, in the present day, Asians and Ackermans both look alike.

Ackerman physical traits always appear more than an Eldian, Marleyan, or whoever the other parent is.

1: Levi’s father was confirmed to be a nobleman, average-looking, and short. that makes him an Eldian.(source)

Mikasa’s father looks like most other eldians behind the walls. generally German or west European?

those parents aren’t Ackermans, and yet Mikasa and Levi resemble their respective mothers and each other more closely than should be coincidental/by chance.

2: Ackermans as we know are unnaturally strong. also, they’re all connected via the paths where they draw the experience of every other Ackerman during life or death circumstances. this connection by itself is a reason i believe in my theory.

3: but also, wouldn’t that strength also translate to genetics? so whether the baby has a parent that looks like Mikasa’s dad, it would come out most resembling the Ackerman parent (with a few traits from the other parent of course).

like height (as much as height can be based on genetics rather than environment). Levi is very short for a man, while Kenny is way above average height, and so on. also Kenny’s nose shape, and Mikasa and her mom’s solid grey eyes as opposed to bluish-grey.

Kenny’s grandpa has grey hair, but Isayama has confirmed that he designed him to look like Levi as an old man (source) (and he’s Levi’s great grandfather) so there’s credence to the idea Isayama’s designs are purposeful. every detail matters (as usual with aot). aot shows that exact looks can skip generations.

but Mikasa’s mom and Kuchel weren’t strong?

an Ackerman’s powers have a chance of awakening inside them during a life or death moment.

but we also don’t know nearly enough about Kuchel to say whether or not she did. we don’t know for sure if an Ackerman can die from sickness, or how long it took for Kuchel to die, or whether she ever told Levi (but she probably didn’t seeing how she didn’t even tell him their last name).

Mikasa’s mom put up more of a fight than her dad did. he didn’t have that Ackerman *shudder* moment and react fast enough. but Mikasa’s mom was also too weak to overpower one of her attackers.

so the presence of powers have nothing to do with my theory

about Mikasa’s family specifically

(i get my exact heights from the official aot character guidebook)

Mikasa’s dad was 6’0, and Mikasa’s mom was 5’2. she turned out 5’7 at 18 years old, which is a good average.

Mikasa has a pointed chin, thin brows, and larger forehead like her dad, but that doesn’t say much when that’s a trait across all Ackermans in the series. it could go either way.

her dad’s skin is tan, with round hazel eyes, big ears, dark blond hair, and an oval shaped face (as opposed to the heart shape of other Ackermans, except Kenny). so many characteristics Mikasa doesn’t take on. but she does have some.

so i feel it’s realistic to theorize that Mikasa’s mom was the Ackerman.

but there are also other reasons.

now i can talk about the most major detracting argument that should shoot down my theory from the beginning:

i think Mikasa’s mom and dad told her the wrong information on purpose.

we know next to nothing about Mikasa’s mom’s character. we do know she was a descendant of the Azumabito clan, which is royalty in Hizuru. she gave the tattoo of the symbol to Mikasa and told her to pass it on to her children.

so she’s Asian at any rate.

but 1: we have reason to believe that Ackermans and Asians interbred after the Great Titan War.

2: all Ackermans (in the series) have several uncannily matching physical characteristics - Mikasa’s dad, supposedly the Ackerman, being the only glaring odd one out.

Asians and Ackermans are equally ostracized on Paradis. imagine if you were both :/

you retreat to the mountains to be safe, and meet an Eldian. years pass, and you have a child together.

i want to believe that Mikasa’s mother’s character falls in with one of the prevalent themes in aot, which is the idea of living your life with pride, unapologetically, despite the burdens you were born with.

for example, Historia taking back her name, freckles Ymir rejecting the life and identity forced upon her, Reiner being the son of an Eldian and Marleyan (which was extremely illegal), putting aside that he could never make his father proud, and moving forward to make his mom proud and "save the world" anyway. there are multiple examples.

we know at least that Mikasa’s mom was proud of her Asian heritage and wanted to pass it down to Mikasa and Mikasa’s children, so if she was an Ackerman, wouldn't she want to be proud of that too and keep the name?

so when she married Mikasa’s father, she would've asked him if he would take her last name. that would've been extremely unconventional for the time (1800s western European society?), but it's unthinkable that they would've gotten married on official terms under the Ackerman name!!

so Mikasa’s mother tells her father about the Ackermans and the Asians and the persecution they face, and the reason she fled to the mountains. Mikasa’s mom also could've very well been unaware of the reason her groups were persecuted against.

then Mikasa comes along.

it makes perfect sense in my mind that her mom and dad would've stretched the truth.

1: that puts Mikasa in much less danger if her mom's dual identity ever got out. like how they couldn't guarantee that Mikasa wouldn't one day go into the cities.

2: but when that day came, they would know that it was safe to have that last name again because of Grisha, who is certainly in the know about what being Ackerman/Asian means, and his visits to the Interior also would've let him know when that day came.

(and it did when Kenny met Uri, long before year 843 when Mikasa went to live with Eren’s family.)

and that's the reason why they gave the last name Ackerman to Mikasa and told her the story of the Ackerman-Asian persecution. they just stretched the truth to more ensure their family's safety against the wrong individuals + if Mikasa, an Ackerman, looked Asian, no one would've batted an eye because every Ackerman in the modern age on Paradis looks like that - and like that, Mikasa’s mom can live (relatively) with her Asian heritage and Ackerman identity openly.

so i believe Mikasa’s mom was the Ackerman, not her father.

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

I never liked Leon's face model in ID and DI, I wish they would use his face from Damnation. I don't understand why they changed

capcom has never been consistent when it comes to their character designs. that's also why they don't stray too much from outfit choices/colours and hairstyles. otherwise a character can easily be misinterpreted as another imo. example, red is always ada or claire. blue is leon or jill. rebecca is green etc. orange is ashley.

leon has had red, blond, brown and black hair. blue eyes and i think brown??? green? eyes. ada has had brown, green, grey eyes? even now ashley had her iconic amber eyes be switched to a green :| (im not happy about it, i liked her og eye colour better as it was rarer and more unique looking. now ashley looks like any other blonde girl)

leon has kept his hair style and general colour palettes. the only one significantly different was re6 outfit with the red undershirt, as red is not a colour commonly associated with leon. (i like to this it's connected to ada heehee)

to be fair, i think the changes might actually be a good idea in terms of garnering a larger audience. hear me out here.

we have a general idea of what leon looks like. but let's switch the hair colours, okay. now some people love blond leon. and some love dark haired leon. okay now let's tweak some variations of his face. okay some LOVE infinite darkness leon (daddy) and some LOVE babyface re2r leon. and some LOVE damnation leon (daddy) and some LOVE vendetta leon (emo daddy) BUT i have also seen people disliking ALL of these variants of leon.

now the consistent things i've noticed about his face is that he always is depicted with the sharp brow, and he has a very pronounced nose bridge, and the butt chin has been on every modern interpretation of leon since after 2004 (re4) infinite darkness Leon is actually a decent interpretation of re6 leon and damnation leon

in the og timeline, with re4, leon's cheek is cut and has a scar even in re6. because of re4r no longer recreating this cut, we can assume that he will not have a scar in a potential re6r. the scar is also not in any cgi film.

he and ada both share gsw scars in the opposite shoulders, but it's unlikely we will see these. (please let me see them in a movie or game, i am begging you. i want them to kiss each other scars)

i think with so many variations of leon in different companies mind you, since the cgi films are a different production team than the games. it makes sense on why they might have their own versions of leon. at least with the game remakes, we have a more consistent face model for leon. i'll be honest, i am not a fan of re4r leon's face. i like it, it's not my favourite. and that's okay! but here we go now, we've created fun discourse over it lol

my favourite has always been re6 leon. something about his voice (matt mercer) and his design just won me over so much.

also that being said with your original ask, damnation leon is actually one of the more different ones as well. he has a completely different eye colour, same with ada. and the darker hair colour.

and also (allegedly ada was modelled after their voice actors/mocap actors. (for re6) so i want to assume that they did the same for leon/matt mercer/his mocap actor), and i do wonder if they did this for damnation as well.

at least with the remakes it seems they want to be more consistent, which is good. but with capcom's track record, i wouldn't be too sure that they would continue with this route. we might even get a more infinite darkness style face in re6r. who knows. only time will tell lol

[watori-fics]

20-year-old's 20 Kisses

Pairing: TachiJin Summary: ANOTHER variation of Jin’s Kissy Attacks Version 3. Jin can't hold his liquor and creates yet another chaos. Note: Let’s escalate the chaos with twenty kisses and five hilarious hugs. Here we go!

Tachikawa lounged on the couch, enjoying a quiet night in to celebrate Jin's twentieth birthday with some Sake. Jin, sitting next to him, was already feeling the effects of his first bottle, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Hey, Tachikawa-san,” Jin said, leaning in with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Now that I’m finally legal, I think I need to thank you properly.”

Before Tachikawa could even respond, Jin leaned in and planted a peck on Tachikawa's cheek. Tachikawa blinked in surprise. “Uh, what was that for?”

“For being you!” Jin replied, clearly getting more confident as the sake flowed.

Jin quickly followed up with another kiss, this time on the opposite cheek. Tachikawa chuckled, shaking his head, but it only encouraged Jin further. “Thank you for always being there!” he said, landing a peck on Tachikawa’s forehead next.

“What is this? A kissing spree?” Tachikawa laughed, but Jin was undeterred.

“Just warming up!” Jin grinned and went in for a quick peck on Tachikawa's nose. Tachikawa tried to dodge but ended up leaning back too far, nearly tipping over the edge of the couch.

“Whoa, easy there! You’re a lightweight!” Tachikawa exclaimed, trying to regain his balance.

“I’m fine!” Jin insisted, now beaming with pride as he leaned in for a fifth kiss on the chin, and then swiftly moved on to a sixth smack on the lips. “That’s six! Isn’t it cute?”

Tachikawa could only laugh, a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “You’re lucky I like you, Jin.”

But Jin wasn’t done. He managed to launch into an enthusiastic seventh kiss, landing right on Tachikawa’s mouth. “I think I like this one the best!” he said, winking, before quickly pecking Tachikawa's right cheek, then the left, rapidly alternating as if it were a game.

Tachikawa found himself laughing uncontrollably. “Alright, alright, enough!”

“Not yet!” Jin declared, leaning back for a moment, clearly preparing for something big. He grabbed Tachikawa in a tight hug, squeezing him with all the strength his slight frame could muster. “You’re the best!”

“Okay, that’s a huge hug!” Tachikawa chuckled, amused. But Jin wasn’t done yet. He pushed Tachikawa back slightly, only to envelop him in another hug, this one more dramatic, his arms flailing as he exclaimed, “Thank you for sparring with me!”

“Careful, you’re gonna squeeze the life out of me!” Tachikawa laughed, but Jin released him, only to pull him into a third hug, this one from behind, his head resting on Tachikawa's shoulder.

“Jin, this is getting a little intense,” Tachikawa said, trying to keep his cool as he felt warmth spread across his face.

But Jin grinned, clearly loving every second of it. He released him again, but not without planting an unexpected kiss on the back of Tachikawa’s neck. “Just making sure you know how much I appreciate you!”

“Eight! That’s eight kisses!” Tachikawa exclaimed, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. But Jin only looked more determined.

“More!” Jin insisted, leaning in for another quick peck, then another, then another, counting loudly as he went. “Nine! Ten! Eleven! Twelve!”

With each kiss, Tachikawa’s laughter turned into a mixture of amusement and mild panic as he tried to wrangle Jin’s enthusiasm.

Finally, Jin, in a grand gesture, leaned in for a dramatic, almost theatrical thirteenth kiss. “This one is special!” he announced, pressing his lips firmly against Tachikawa’s for a moment longer than usual.

“Okay, okay!” Tachikawa said, flailing his hands. “Enough, or I’ll drop you!”

“Not yet!” Jin declared, still riding the wave of drunken confidence. “Let’s go for twenty!”

“Twenty?!” Tachikawa exclaimed, incredulous, but he couldn’t help but chuckle as Jin continued on his kissing spree.

“Fourteen! Fifteen! Sixteen!” Jin counted, pecking Tachikawa’s cheeks, forehead, and lips like he was on a mission. Each kiss came faster than the last.

Tachikawa was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “You’ve gone mad!”

“Seventeen! Eighteen!” Jin exclaimed, his eyes sparkling as he pulled Tachikawa into yet another hug, this time a bear hug that nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“Is that twenty?!” Tachikawa gasped, struggling to keep up with Jin’s enthusiasm.

“Almost! Nineteen!” Jin giggled, landing one last quick kiss on Tachikawa’s lips, then he spun around, ready for his grand finale. “And twenty!”

With a flourish, Jin pulled Tachikawa into one last hug, squeezing him tightly as if he would never let go. Tachikawa, now completely out of breath from laughter, finally surrendered to the absurdity of it all.

Just then, the door swung open, and in walked Suwa, Kazama, Kizaki, and Raizou, ready for their own celebration. They stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide.

Tachikawa and Jin were a tangled mess on the couch, Jin beaming with pride, cheeks flushed, while Tachikawa’s face was a deep shade of red.

“What in the world…?” Suwa started, unable to suppress a laugh.

Kizaki just grinned. “Looks like you two were busy!”

Kazama raised an eyebrow. “Should we even ask?”

Tachikawa groaned, burying his face in his hands as Jin shouted, “We were just celebrating my birthday with twenty kisses!”

The room erupted in laughter, and Tachikawa couldn’t help but join in, even as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

“Next time, maybe stick to cake!” Kizaki teased, and Tachikawa couldn't help but think that this was going to be a night to remember.

[herrscherofmagic]

does anyone else get that weird feeling when you can look at a bajillion different art styles and go "yeah that's neat! love it! so cool!" and then as soon as you do absolutely any of your own drawing, there's just a constant alarm going off in your head saying "THIS IS INCORRECT AND IF YOU DON'T FIX IT, IT WILL LOOK TERRIBLE AND ANATOMICALLY INACCURATE" despite it being nothing different from all those other art styles you see and love??? like "uncanny valley" but w/ all your own artwork and almost all the time

like I was just thinking about this, because there's lots of awesome artists I follow on Instagram & Tumblr that have interesting styles that don't necessarily follow real-life human proportions. It's often different variants of anime art but that's not always the case, and across pretty much all these different styles you have different things like how the contours of the face are (i.e. chin, cheeks), or the size/spacing of eyes, or the way the mouth is drawn

but it's just occurred to me that whenever I draw, there's pretty much always a constant nagging feeling, that I have to fix every anatomical or rendering mistake and if I don't then it just won't look "right", and that's one of the biggest things that stops me from completing 99% of my art

like earlier today I posted a 10-minute sketch, and it was obviously not "good anatomy"- it was pure vibes, just drawing what felt right in the moment and immediately posting it without trying to correct anything at all. and as soon as I did it, it hit me- that was probably the first time I've ever just created a piece of art for fun with virtually zero concern about "accuracy". Everything else I ever work on is always constantly drawn-out and changed and modified endlessly because it never feels "correct" and I don't feel like I can proceed with it.

today I've spent more than 3 hours just practicing how to draw heads, and it was the same thing. I was doing okay, but it took ages to get through even the simple parts like drawing straight from an anatomy ref. and it drives me insane not just because of perfectionism or whatever... but the fact that there's not a single "correct" human figure.

There's a ton of natural variation in how people appear, that's why we're all unique ffs! Different people have differently-shaped faces, their noses look different, their cheeks are different, their foreheads can be different, the wrinkles or freckles or eyebrows or eye shape or X Y Z are all varied and unique among different people.

Of course there are certain basic proportions and principles, you don't put someone's eyes on the back of their head, but I know all the basic proportions at this point and I've made a ridiculous amount of figure drawings both live and from photo, quite literally hundreds of drawings ranging from 1-3 minute gestures all the way to 1-, 2-, 3-hour-long works.

So why is it that no matter who or what I draw there's always that piercing & uncanny feeling? that i'm never able to capture a likeness of someone whether real or fictional, whether I'm trying to draw realistically or stylized?? it feels like I'm still getting something fundamentally wrong all the time even when I've studied all the basics and so much more, and even when my own professors look at what I do and say it's correct.

it's probably the autism, since there's a ton of other things in life where I appreciate predictability and uniformity and certainty. math problems have correct answers, essays can have certain types of analysis, machines can be described in terms of mechanical principles. But art isn't like that, and I've had similar issues w/ my art classes before, I just never quite thought of it from this specific perspective. I knew I struggled with open-endedness in projects, but this feels like something even deeper and more infuriating than that >.>

going back to that sketch, I can look at it and see obvious simple mistakes that I didn't bother to fix because I kept it strictly to 10 minutes. the chin is an obvious one, for instance, and the eyes could be better too. but I don't want to go back to that artwork, partially because it's just a 10-min sketch and it's not really anything that profound, but also partially because even though I know I can make it better I'm scared that as soon as I start messing with it I'll never be able to look at it comfortably ever again because it'll always feel incorrect. Not incorrect because I didn't care but incorrect despite me caring so much. which feels so much worse than just making a silly mistake when you're drawing normally.

[baby-pink-flowers]

Jim Jimenez x AFAB!reader

Summary: you got your period and everyone is concurred but Jim helps you deal with it

A/n: I got my period recently. This is my way of coping with the pain. Also very self-indulgent if y'all want a more gender neutral version I more then happy to. Jim NEEDS more content. I love them😙😙🥰.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"Hey, has anyone seen y/n" Jim asks

Everyone says some variation of 'I don't know'. Jim goes to their room, to find their find partner. They see you in your beige night gown, curled up in a ball, they can hear soft sobs coming from you.

" What's wrong, Sweetie" Jim says concurred, walking up to you, put a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm on the rag" I reply in a whin, from the pain in my lower abdomen, tears falling from my eyes.

"Oh Chica, I'm sorry to here that" they say rolling me over, so they can look at my face. They could tell I had been crying for a while, my eyes blood shot, cheek wet with tears, and I was sniffling

They hold my face in their hands, their thumbs rubing my face, Jim's lips making contact with my forehead. Jim made their way down my face, down my nose bridge to the edge of my lips. I than grab Jim's face, holding their scruffy, messy hair.

" You feel better, cariño?"

" a little bit, maybe I'll feel better if you come and lay with me"

I that move over so Jim can lay with me. Jim than lies next to me, putting their chin on top my head, their arms wrapped around my waist. I close my eyes, fully relaxing, in their arms. They start to slowly rub my side.

"Better?"

"Much better"

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Sorry that's it's so short