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sachiko6243 · 10 months ago

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You are ours to please

Summary: just pure smut, not much plot. This is the epiloge of a fanfiction I have written on Wattpad. Its called "the prophecy of the elven warrior" A fanfiction dealing with Visha the main character drawn between the Commander of the marchwardens and the prince of Mirkwood. Feel free to check it out, as it is finished now when I posted this. 😉🥰

Word count: 4521

Warnings: smut, threesome, rough sex, dom! Haldir, dom! Legolas, sub! reader, double penetration, anal, blackout and aftercare. This contains adult content. Minors DNI!!!

I found myself in the bathroom of Haldir, Legolas and my room in Imraldis. The three of us managed to sneak away as the festivities of Legolas and my wedding were on a high, hoping that our disappearance would go unnoticed. It would be very unlikely between all the elves, but I couldn’t help myself but hope. Now I was naked in the big bathtub, that had more in common with a pool than a bathtub. It was embedded in the ground, deep enough that I was covered up to my chest when standing.

Legolas had joined me in the tub, while Haldir was sitting on the edge, watching us with his usual strong gaze. Like a predator, Legolas had slowly stalked me down, until I found myself pressed against the edge and between Haldirs legs. His naked thighs caging me in, hands holding me by my shoulders as if he was presenting me to Legolas.

Soon the other ellon was standing in front of me, a sly smile on his lips, as he saw in my eyes how much this position turned me on. “You like that, don’t you?” He asked and I couldn’t help but blush, looking aside to hide my embarrassment. Haldirs callused fingers tilted my head back to look at Legolas. “Answer him, meleth. How much do you like this?”

“Very.” I softly whispered, not really able to get much more out of my mouth. Legolas grin turned wolfish, as he took another step towards me. “By Valar how much I love it, when you are a little slut for us…” He turned to looked at Haldir. “Isn't she beautiful like this? Flustered and riled up. Ready to take us as we please?” A growl grew behind me, the grip on my shoulders reaching lower, weighing my breasts. “Indeed, it is, gwanur. Makes me want to take her right here. See how much she is able to take.”

His words felt like they had a double meaning. And when Legolas ears perked up, I knew they had planned something. “Well… there are ways to test how much she is capable to take. I wonder if she is willing to do it.” Them speaking about me, as if I wasn’t in the room, set something free in me, that I didn’t know I had. Immediately, I melted into Haldirs hands, not really thinking about where I was and what they had planned. All I could think about was them filling me up. Marking my body and fucking me senseless.

That’s why I nearly missed Haldir speaking up again: “Look at that. She is already a goner and we haven’t really started. Are you sure you want to do this, gwanur? She doesn’t look like she can handle much more…”

“Please…” I begged. “I want to do it.”

“You don’t even know what it is, nin iell.” Haldir whispered into my ear, causing goosebumps to spread over my body. “I don’t care.” I whimpered. “I need you. Both of you. Now. Please. Make the heat go away… I cant… I need…” My sentence got interrupted with the sudden moan that rang through the room, when Haldirs fingers squeezed my nipples between them.

Legolas closed the distance between us, pressing me against the cold stone tiles on my back. Even though the water was hot, it suddenly felt cold compared to the heat that rose in my body. “You wanna take us both? At the same time?” He asked, speaking out what both of them had in mind. I froze at the offering, my eyes widening in shock, snapping between the two men. There was no uncertainty, no tease in them. Just honest curiosity and honest worry about me. “You don’t have to, nin galad. We don’t want to pressure you.” Legolas quickly added, misreading my silence as fear.

“Okey.” I said, trying to make my voice sound strong, but I failed miserably.

“What?” Legolas asked.

“I wanna try it.” I repeated, clearing what I wanted. “You made me curious and now I wanna know.”

Both men exchanged a look, before the sly smiles crept upon their faces once again. “You are such a good little slut for us, do you know that?” Haldir asked, close to my ear and his tone send shivers down my spine. “Such a greedy little girl. So desperate to be fucked, that you don’t care about anything else, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, letting my head lull back against his stomach. “I want you to take me. Please. I need you!”

“Start it!” Haldir growled and Legolas didn’t hesitate for one second, catching my lips in a searing kiss.

As my hands lifted, one to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of hair, and the other to his biceps, Legolas shoulders relaxed. His body was impossibly warm, skin searing beneath my palms as I pressed myself forward, reveling in it. Legolas soft and warm lips curved into a soft smile as his free hand found my waist. My heartbeat feeling too fast, too heavy for me to comprehend anything else.

When his tongue pressed to the seam of my lips, eager to deepen the kiss and sink entirely into it, the reprieve of the water was lost. There was only heat; the wall of muscle that was his body, the soft press of his hands as they gripped my hip, his mouth as he swallowed the noises of my pleasure eagerly, his heavy groan as I pressed even closer.

It silenced every thought that raced through my mind. I had imagined this a thousand times before, dreamt about it more often than I dared to admit. Having them both take me at the same time was something that had wandered my mind a long time, but I was always too scared to asked them to do it. Fearing they might be taken aback by it, or worse lose their respect for me.

With every swipe of his fingers, touch teasing as he brushed along the expanse my stomach, up my sides, just beneath the swell of my breast, my body grew warmer. It was all dizzying, more than I could have ever asked for.

Any thoughts of the future, the past, the moments in between, all ceased to exist as Legolas nipped at my bottom lip, biting into it, and dragging a loud moan from my throat. And when I broke the kiss to catch my breath, he simply redirected. His lips brushing along the curve of my jaw, down my throat, marking the soft skin of my shoulder and neck. Warm hands trailed lower, fingers wrapping around my thighs and lifting to hitch me over his hips as his teeth nipped at my pulse point just beneath my ear. “We thought about this a long time.” He whispered; his voice strained in harsh self-control.

“You’ve…?”

Luckily, he managed to follow my train of thought where my voice failed. “We have lost track of how often, meleth.” He admitted, pausing only to mouth at the valley of my breasts. “It has been a deep wish for both of us. Have you take us at the same time. Caught between us, nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide. Forced to take the pleasure we give to you.”

As difficult as it was to formulate a coherent sentence, I blinked through the blurry vision that started to form in front of my eyes. “Thought about it too.” It was breathless, as Legolas hands lifted to my breasts, his touch certain as he kneaded the soft skin. “Wanted this. Both of you the same.” I added to make clear that I was consenting to this.

“We know.” Now it was Haldir that took lead of the conversation, enabling Legolas to fully concentrate on what he was doing. “You’re not subtle, nin iell.”

I gasped, not knowing if it was because of Legolas suddenly sucking on my nipple, or Haldirs confession that they knew I wanted it the whole time. Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled my stomach. Lust clouding my thoughts. He made it difficult for me to do more than groan, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety I had felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers. They had a way of making me feel as if I was the only person in the world, the only one worthy of their time and attention.

“Please.” The plea was muffled, breathed into the night, but Legolas understood. His hum of acknowledgement was accompanied by one last sharp tug on my nipple, making me gasp. “I know, nin galad.” His hand dipped between my thighs, fingers ghosting along the sensitive inner skin as he met my eyes. “We are going to give you what you want.”

Soft hands ghosted along my thighs, pressing closer and closer to the aching center as Legolas leaned in to nose at the hinge of my jaw. A plea for more was on the tip of my tongue, a request for him to just touch me where I wanted it the most, but before I could ask, his fingers swiped through my folds. His thumb caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves and sent a jolt down my spine.

Legolas mouth curving into a grin, eager to hear just how good he made me feel. I imagined he would tease, take his time to work me into a frenzy. But his touch wasn’t rushed, there was no need for him. He knew he had all the time in the world.

There was a deliberateness to the swipe of his fingers through my folds, a sharp precision that had my vision turning blurry at the edges as he finally sank a finger into my heat, my body arching into his as he shifted even closer. Haldirs grip of his fingers pressed me against his abdomen, holding me upright as Legolas blue eyes searched my face. The grip would likely leave a bruise but I couldn’t wait to see the outline of his touch in the morning. Giving evidence of what had happened.

Focused on my pleasure, I felt the press of his cock against my hip growing more noticeable with every swipe of his fingers. The hard, heavy appendage twitched with each moan that escaped my mouth, with every gasp, as his fingers brushed against the spot that had me seeing stars.

Though the water and dimmed fair light made it difficult to see much, I could clearly see the size of him as my fingers swiped at the sensitive head. The thought of feeling him, of taking all that he had to give, made me clench around his fingers causing him to groan: “Careful of what you are setting in motion, because if you think that’s going to distract me from ruining you, you are wrong.” Behind me, I could hear Haldir chuckle lowly at his words, his fingers finding their way once again to my breasts and lower.

Slowly pushing me forward, he sunk into the water behind me, his hot and hard body pressing against my back and I could feel how turned on he got by just watching. When he had reached low enough to take a hold of my knees, he lifted me from the floor. Now I was hanging in his arms, unable to do much more than twitch, while Legolas worked me relentlessly.

The press of his fingers growing more insistent with every swipe of my hand, with every brush of my thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, and with every gasp that left my lips. He mouthed at the damp skin between my breasts, breath fanning over my hard nipples and leaving me with goosebumps, as his thumb circled my aching clit.

“Please.” He hummed at my pleads, as my fingers tugged at his hair. “Want to feel you. Need to feel you.” I pleaded, eager to finally feel them after spending so long imagining this moment. “Please.”

A small part of me expected a taunt, a tease from at least one of them, that called me a needy slut, but they seemed just as desperate as I was. “Whatever you want, nin iell.” Legolas acquiesced, hand leaving my center after a final circle to my bundle of nerves. Even as I whined at the loss, he shushed me. “Its alright, little one. We are here to take care of you.” Haldir shifted his position, tapping my leg to encourage me to wrap it around Legolas waist. The younger ellon smirking at the shaking of my limbs, as I waited to finally feel him. He kept his eyes trained on my face as he took a brief moment to tease.

The head of his cock caught at my entrance, pulling a soft gasp from my mouth as my hands wrapped around Haldirs neck to gain some sort of stability. I tipped my head to kiss the man holding me, desperate to kiss him for a long time now, as Legolas began to press forward.

Every inch of Legolas filling me felt incredible, too much but not quite enough at the same time, and I allowed myself a moment to revel in the feeling, moaning into Haldirs mouth. Having both of them so close, and being full of Legolas, was overwhelming in the best way. Haldir eagerly swallowed my noises of pleasure, took them in stride as he gave me a moment to adjust to the feeling of Legolas buried deep inside my core.

Legolas didn’t move, waiting for us to break our kiss. Slowly Haldir loosened my grip around his neck, wrapping my arms around the other elf instead. I wanted to argue, but the words I wanted to speak falling out of my head, when I felt Haldirs hands move. He started to stroke my sides, slowly making his way lower and down my back, gripping my ass tightly. I twitched in anticipation, my walls fluttering around Legolas cock, making him growl slightly. “Are you still sure about this?” Haldir asked and I nodded. “Words, nin ithil. I need you to say it.” He demanded, quickly dipping into his commanding voice.

“I am sure. Please. I want to feel you both.” I whimpered, clinging on to Legolas, split in fear and hot anticipation that run through my veins.

“Okey. Than stay like that. Its going to make things easier.” Haldir said and I could feel him move around. “Try to relax as much as possible. You are going to feel pressure. Just tell me, when its getting to much, or you want me to go slower, okey?”

“Okey.” I shut my eyes, searching for my safe place inside of me. Then I could feel the cold tip of his fingers press against my anus. Out of reflex I tensed up, whimpering. “Easy, little girl. We are here. Relax. Nothing is going to hurt you.” He murmured, kissing up and down my back, making me moan, when he bit into my shoulder. Before I even knew it, he had pushed one finger in and I was overwhelmed with the sudden fullness. “Fuck.” I breathed out, arching my back instinctively.

“Good?” He asked, lips still pressed against my skin.

“Yes… More please, Commander.” I whined, desperate to feel more.

He was going slower this time, pumping his finger in and out and when we reached a certain point, I knew why. A second finger putting slight pressure against my hole. “Breath, meleth. You are doing so good.” Taking his advice, I filled my lungs with air. “Hold your breath.” He ordered. “I am going to push, when you breath out, okey? When you are ready just do it.” I nodded, holding my breath a few second, before relaxing every muscle in my body and letting the air go. I could feel the next push to be wider, stretching me to a point that was just sharp for me to tap out, but then it was over. His two fingers sitting snugly inside of me and I couldn’t help but moan at the feeling.

Haldir was biting my neck in a split second to distract me from any pain, pressing me closer to Legolas, while smothering me with kisses and praises. “You did so good, nin galad. So, so good for us. I am proud of you.” Suddenly his fingers were moving once again, slowly fucking in and out of me.

“Yes… yes.” I mewled, arching into his movements, pressing my back against his chest. “Don’t stop, Commander. It feels so good.” He groaned at my words, capturing my lips with his, while he guided another finger to my hole. This time I was quicker to relax, making it easier for him to fill me up even more. Again, it shortly felt like it was too much, making me wince in pain. Both men stopped what they were doing, searching fear in my body language or my eyes, but there was none. Just pure lust and desire that were washing through my body.

I relaxed once more, allowing Haldir to move his fingers, stretching me and making me ready for his cock. Legolas tried his best to keep his face straight, but I could feel that the pressure Haldirs finger produced and the strokes he could feel through my wall made it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

“This feels even better than I imagined.” Legolas admission lingered on the edge of breathless, words nearly slurred. “Feels like heaven, bereth nin.” Him calling me his wife for the first time, made me rear up, a desperate yell on my lips. I nearly missed the possessive grin that formed on his lips. “Wife? That word is what makes you so needy? I thought us calling you a greedy little slut, made for only us to use and filled with our cum is what usually gets you going.” I whimpered even more, closing my eyes and falling back onto Haldirs chest, who just chuckled, keeping his act up on preparing my other hole for his cock.

“I think it still does, gwanur.” He growled. Legolas voice as smug as his, when he answered: “Oh I feel the same. So not only do you want to be a cock hungry slut, but a cock desperate wife? Is it that? Us possessing you not only by law but by the way we treat you? Use you to our pleasure only?”

“Yes!” I mewled, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. “I want you to own me. Mark me. I want to be used by you and nobody else.”

“That’s right, bereth.” Legolas kept on talking sinful words into my ear. “There will be only us who are fucking you. No man will ever be good enough to have you. Because there simply is no man capable of giving you what you need. Only your prince and your commander.”

“Oh god!” I cried out, my limps starting to shake with anticipation. “Please. I cant… Please take me. I need you to take me!”

“Hmmm you are begging so beautiful.” Legolas hummed, looking above me at an equally smug Haldir. “I think she deserves some relieve, doesn’t she mellon?”

“That she does.” I heard Haldir groan behind me, slowly pulling his fingers out of me and pressing the tip of his cock against my entrance. When I gave him the green light, he carefully pushed in and the unknown feeling had me seeing stars in seconds. Both of the men held still, letting me catch a breath and get used to the feeling of being fully stuffed. They waited until I gave my okey, setting a slow and sensual pace that soon turned into hot torture.

I didn’t know how they managed to hold and fuck me, but I wasn’t able to spent a thought on it anyways. My mind was way too fogged up with the tingly feeling that started to spread from my center towards every string in my body. I closed my eyes, my head lulling back onto Haldirs shoulders, nails gripping and scratching Legolas shoulders. “Oh god, please. This feels so good.” I moaned, my voice slurred and shaky. The only thing I could focus on was the searing warmth of their chests caging me in, the sting of Legolas fingers digging into my thighs, and Haldirs bruising grip on my hips.

Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but being filled to the brim, ceased to exist. One of Haldirs hands sneaking around my body, settling between my legs and on the bundle of nerves. Slowly he started to circle it, tugging a string of curses out of me, when the heat in my body started to rise even further.

I was tumbling closer to the edge, as my cries were reduced to nothing more than their names. They didn’t seem to mind, however, every cry that left my lips spurred them on. “We got you.” Haldir promised, pressing me impossibly closer to his chest. Legolas hips moved faster, sending water sloshing around us, matching the speed of Haldirs fingers on my clit. He pushed me higher and higher, not caring about anything else than my own pleasure. I could see it in his eyes. They were dark and blown with lust, trained on my face, taking in every twitch of my expression, feeding his arrogance with it.

And then it happened. I barreled over the edge, vision turning black at the edges and lips parting. Legolas mouth met mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure, noises he knew would alarm everyone close by. Haldir had his lips on my neck, sucking dark marks onto my skin, soothing the stinging pain with his soft tongue. Their actions drew a gasp from my lips, the warmth of my orgasm searing through me from within as I clenched around both of their cocks. That had Legolas nipping at my bottom lip in a warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, nin iell.” He teased. “You don’t want to end it that quickly do you?”

“No!” I yelped, tugging Haldirs hand away from my center as I could feel the overstimulation turning unbearable. “Good girl.” He growled behind me. “Because you take what we give you, like the good little slut you are, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Commander!” I cried out. “I will take whatever you give me.”

At my words Legolas growled deeply, the grasp on my thighs turning painful, as he tried his best to keep him from coming right then and there. “I will never get over the feeling of your tight little pussy gripping my cock so hard. Because you are doing it so good, like a forsaken vixen.” Grabbing my throat, he pulled me in for a harsh kiss, interrupting the things I wanted to say.

“Yes, nin ithil?” He asked, speeding up his tempo, riling me further into Haldir.

“I forgot.” I mumbled, fingers grabbing anything they could feel. He laughed out at my words, letting go of my throat. “Already forgetting yourself? And we haven’t even been going that long.”

“I don’t care.” I whined. Relishing in the fire in my core. “I want more. Please, give me more.”

“Of course, meleth. Everything you want.” He answered, now thrusting as deep into me as he could. I let myself completely go. Not spending one thought on anything else than being fucked. “Kiss your Commander!” Legolas ordered, and as quick as I could, I turned my head. Switching my arms from Legolas shoulders to Haldirs neck, I let myself fall into the harsh kiss of my first husband. He gripped my neck, cutting off the air from filling my lungs and I knew that he was close to coming, his actions set on tipping me over the edge one last time.

I relished in the feeling of how they filled me up to the brim.

How Legolas stretched me with every move, hitting my sweet spot over and over again.

How Haldir forced himself against the rhythm of Legolas, massaging me as well.

The lush sounds they drew from me filled the room, mixing with the water splashing around us. I was a goner. Theirs, the moment Legolas decided to kiss me. That little loss of self-control he had, leading to this incredible constellation. I tapped Haldirs hand, to signal him I needed air. Desperately I sucked a breath down my throat, the sudden allowance of blood to my head, making my vision spin around. “I love you. Both of you!” I cried out, my body shaking between them and I wondered how I was still upright.

And all of that possession they had over me, fueled the heat in my core to the point I wasn’t even sure if I wasn’t already burning alive. “Promise me to never leave me.” I whimpered, clenching and shivering around their cocks. “Never, nin galad. We are never going to leave you. You are our bereth and we will give you the world. By Valar, we would kill for you, if it meant you will stay safe.” Haldir growled, gripping my hair, and turning my head once more to kiss him.

I could feel Legolas bending down to suck on my breasts, a hand I couldn’t identify sneaking between my legs again, pinching my sensitive pearl softly between two fingers. I arched my back against Haldirs chest, clasping onto Legolas arms. The knot in my core now under so much tension, that he threatened to snap any moment. Of course, they knew. They always did. Holding me by my neck with a bruising grip, Haldir stopped the kiss, forcing me to look at the other man, growling in my ear: “Cum. Now!”

And I did. Screaming out in pure bliss, I shuddered in their arms. My walls rhythmically flickering around their cocks. I didn’t know if my eyes were open or not, because my vision just went black, causing me to slump against a hard chest. The last thing I felt was hot seed shooting up my holes.

The next thing I saw, was the ceiling and the bathroom faucets being painted in soft yellow lights from the torches on the wall. Slowly my senses came back to me and I could feel Haldir clean me up softly. Concentrating on the feeling between my legs, I noticed, that Legolas kneeled beside me, holding a glass of water. “Hello there, meleth.” He softly said, helping me sit up. Handing me the glass of water he watched me closely, ready to catch me again.

“You blacked out for a few moments. We cleaned you roughly and got you some water.” He filled me in, taking the empty glass from my hands, steadying my frame, when I tried to get up. But once he saw how I tried to get towards the bedroom on wobbly feet, he just picked me up, carrying me through the door and setting me down on the bed. Soon both of my husbands joined me under the sheets, securely wrapping me up between them.

#fem reader #smut #haldir of lorien #legolas greenleaf #haldir x reader #legolas x reader #haldir x reader x legolas #lotr #threes0me #haldir smut #legolas smut

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magicxc · 8 months ago

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Safe Word Ignored

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader

Word Count: 2606

Warnings: DUB CON, NON CON

A/N: As the name suggests this excerpt will be non con so do proceed with caution or not at all.

For a softer, consensual version of this, check out my aot x safe word headcannon.

Headcannons Masterlist

Safe word - sparrow

Eren - Eren strikes me as rather dismissive. He’s not necessarily nasty about it, but he’s also not too interested in opposing views, especially when he feels this good.

Face buried into your supple skin, Eren rocked his hips repeatedly into your warm walls, melting with each stroke he delivered. You smelled so soft and powdery - his favorite scent on you actually. He could stay like that forever, inhaling your hypnotic fragrance while your pussy squeezed him just right.

Your long nails slid down his back incessantly, stiletto shaped nails no doubt drawing blood from his tender skin. Eren was no stranger to scratches on his back, in fact he welcomed them, the marks an ego boost and a great addition to his battle scars. But these scratches signaled something else entirely, something a lot less elated.

Your strangled moans are music to his ears. But the record scratch comes in the form of the safe word, just barely audible enough for him to hear.

“Huh?”

“Sparrow.”

“Sparrow? Oh honey, no! Just hold out a little while longer for me, yeah?”

Face cradled into his fingertips, Eren swept away at your wet cheeks, pushing forward until he had reached his peak.

Do you really need the safe word? he thought to himself. It’s me. Safe words are meant for strangers or friends with benefits, testing the waters of what feels best. There’s no need for that in a committed relationship. Your partner should know exactly which buttons to press to get yours ticking and by the convulsing of your body, it’s safe to say that Eren’s found yours; yet again.

“Honey, I know what you want before you can even think it,” he boasted.

Why would he give you what you want when what he wants makes you both feel great?

Levi - Levi’s blunt can sometimes double as your mean. While you're used to his word choice, it feels very different to be on the receiving end of them.

Sweaty bodies molded into one, you couldn't tell where yours started and Levi ended. Your skin had begun to stick to the sheets and droplets of sweat gathered in dots littered around your forehead. Head sinking into the pillows, you couldn’t find the strength to raise it up if you wanted to, sad attempts to connect your lips to Levi’s long gone. Though the feeling was great, it had slowly started to take its toll, your body unable to keep up with Levi’s stamina.

“Sparrow,” is the safeword that so wearily tumbles from your lips, exhausted beyond comprehension.

“Really?” Levi questions. “I didn’t peg you for such a weak brat”

The sentence stings and you find yourself too tired to retort, tears kissing the back of your eyelids at Levi’s harsh words. While you were ready to tap out, you supposed offering your body was the least you could do in support of humanity’s strongest soldier - opting instead to lie there until he was finished; hoping that sleep would find you soon after.

Erwin - Erwin isn’t much for the long talking, therefore radio silence is all you get from him.

Thighs clamping his face firmly between your legs didn’t quite give you the reprieve you were looking for; Erwins thick muscle relentless against your clit. He works his tongue to perfection, your pussy dripping its praises in the form of soaked sheets. But it’s not enough for Erwin, its never enough for him. Ever the achiever, it takes more than shaky legs to get him to ease up, your vision darkening on multiple occasions at the sensory overload.

Teeth scraping against tender lips, you’re hesitant to mutter the safe word, but the next rush of fluids has you screaming it before you can stop.

“SPARROW, UHNNNN SPARROW. FUCK!”

Tongue reattached to your pussy, you just about passed out at the discomfort; what once felt so heavenly now feels borderline sinister. Twist and turn as you might, Erwins heavy hands pressed firmly against your thighs to hold you still, intent on eating to his heart's content.

Black dots dance around your vision, relief filling you to the brim. It doesn’t take long for the next wave to hit, knocking you unconscious as you welcome the darkness with open arms.

Connie - Connie hates the idea of you using the safe word but he hates the idea of stopping even more; so he’ll pacify you with soft words of encouragement until he’s finished.

In the heated moment of roleplay you found yourself bent over Connie’s knee, a stinging sensation left behind after each slap to your ass. Hands clamped over your lips at first stifled light giggles, excited at the persona Connie had picked up - now they stifled your groans of discomfort, eagerly waiting for your 'punishment' to be finished.

thawck

Oh that seemed to do it. The final slap to your ass had tears sliding down your cheeks quicker than you could stop them, your feet shuffling about the floor to get a good balance. But Connie’s arm tightened around your waist, another crackling smack booming throughout the room without missing a beat.

“Not you running," Connie chided. “Bad girls don’t get to avoid punishment.”

“M’sorry Con, but it’s just too much."

thawk

“Sparrow,” you squeaked, lips quivering from the tingling ache.

“Awww buttercup,” he condescendingly cooed, rubbing soft circles on your butt. “You talked all that big talk earlier and now you’re calling it quits? C’mon just five more minutes, can you at least give me that?”

Hesitantly, you nod your head, lips tucked carefully between your teeth as you stared at him through wet lashes.

The eery grin that he sends your way is indication enough that his five more minutes will last anything but; and it did. For how long you couldn’t tell, but you’d definitely be sore as hell in the days to come.

Jean - Jean can get gaslighty for sure. It's to the point where you begin to question using the safe word in the first place.

The moisture that gathered between your thighs was the cherry on top of the pride that swelled within you for making Jean feel so good. His breathy moans, his heaving chest, his fluttering eyelids - it gave you such a dynamic feeling. And apparently it did the same to Jean, his high so good he intended to chase it.

Hands buried in your hair, he used it to guide your plump lips to the very bottom of his shaft, the spongy feeling of your throat he once described as ethereal. Jean was a big boi and by all means required some prep; prep you weren’t entirely done with.

So the unexpected intrusion hits your esophagus in all the wrong ways, the feeling pushing your gag reflexes past its limit. The gurgling of your words and the spit that eases you down his dick no doubt makes for a delightful experience only it has you feeling the opposite.

Fists tightly balled, you use them to beat against his legs, hitting just hard enough to catch his attention.

“Talk to me my love, what’s the problem?” he asked, hands still bobbing your head, only a little less vigorously.

Enough time goes by to where you realise he’s not letting up, so instead you try your best to mumble out the words around his dick.

“Sp- sparr- ow,” is the best you can manage under the circumstances.

And as muffled as it came out, there’s no doubt that Jean heard you, disappointment clear in the lengthy breath he blows past his lips. You’re sure he’s annoyed, but what's the point of the safe word if you can’t use it?!

“You do love me, don't you?” he asks in between bobs. “You are mine are you not?”

Fingers gathering your hair into a ponytail he pulled it back, just enough that the head of his dick rested on the tip of your tongue, steely eyes glaring into your soft ones.

“Uhh huh,” is your mumbled response.

“Then why would you put me in such a predicament? I’m so close already my love, couldn’t you stay put a little while longer?

Wide doe eyes meet his, trepidation keeping you from uttering the word once more; his shaft wasting no time in making a home at the very back of your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for Jean to loudly sing his praises, his boisterous moans dripping from his lips the same way his precum drips down your throat.

“There ya go. Good fucking girl,” he commends. “Besides, girlfriends can't say no.”

Onyankopon - Ony can come off snarky and sarcastic to mask his irritation.

Sex with Ony typically felt hot and sexy. The pure lust and raging desire usually made for a good time. It felt like a movie scene where the couple was so eager to be with one another that it got messy - missed kisses, sloppy hair, wet lovebites, tangled limbs.

You tended to be in lights, camera, action heaven but today felt unusual. Understandably prep was a must when it came to Ony and you hadn't have much of that in the heat of the moment. It wasn't until he was fully seated inside of you that you’d realise the wetness at the center of your core simply wasn't enough.

His thick fingers delve into the softness of your flesh, dragging your hips up and down to a fierce rhythm. Eyes clamped shut you bounced until the feeling had become too much; too intense to ignore.

“Sparrow,” is what you breathlessly pant through thrusts.

“The fact that youre not my wife bothers me at least once a day,” he confessed. “But how can you be when you pull shit like this.

“Ony I-“

“Do you really want me to stop?” he taunts between languid thrusts.

Ony had slowed down considerably from the overwhelming force that he once delivered to your pussy, reaching up to swirl his tongue around the lobe of your ear. It soon lands on the sweet spot beneath it as his thumb rubs figure eights on your clit.

“Is that what you want mamas? Hmm?”

Intellect had long since left you and now all your body could focus on was the mind numbing sensation. No matter how good it felt, a break was still in order but Ony wasn’t in the mood to be convinced.

Reaching up to the shell of your ear, his lips ghosts against the tip whispering, “yeah, that’s what I thought. The ‘a’ in my name stands for always right; now gone ahead and come for me.”

Reiner - Reiner can't think of a way to justify his lust over your comfort so he’ll opt for tuning you out, physically if he has to.

The squelching of your pussy made it clear that Reiner was putting in work. Your body would happily create the moisture it needed if meant that he could drive into you at the angle that made your eyes cross over. While you normally didn’t mind helping Reiner with a little stress relief, today he'd made you feel low.

Physically you felt euphoric, but mentally you felt degraded. You felt cheap; almost like someone he threw money at to remedy his frustrations. He’d treated your body so recklessly it brought tears to your eyes; scared to blink at the off chance that you wouldn’t be able stop them from flowing. So you settled for the safe word instead.

“Sparrow,” you whispered.

Face scrunching in confusion, it was the first emotion that you were able to clock aside from the blank stare he previously offered you. His thrusts never waivered and you briefly wondered if he had heard you. Lips parting to utter the word once more, Reiner planted his hand over your mouth, grunting out his disapproval.

Shock stiffened you to a standstill, feeling only the way that his hips drove into yours. You lied there, taking every thrust and listening to every moan. Reiner continued to touch you in all the ways that brought you pleasure, and when you finally found yourself tipping over there edge, there he hovered; a twisted smile curled onto his lips.

Armin - Armin is distraught, but somehow not enough to comply. He’ll apologise profoundly while still inside you.

Armin loved having sex with you. The feeling was immense, but it was the actions that brought him the greatest satisfaction of all, like how you would wildly writhe beneath his body when you were almost to the finish line. He enjoyed seeing you reach out for him when you wanted to feel close, moan his name after he'd made you so cock drunk that it was all you could muster up the strength to repeat, cum around his dick over and over again, sink your nails deep into the flesh of his skin - Armin looked forward to it all.

Hands tugging on the clamps attached to your nipples, he admired how sexy they looked. Swollen enough to seep through the clamps, it took everything in him not to dive down and add to the excitement, his thoughts racing with ideas on how to make you feel even better. Thrilled at the possibility that your lust would trickle down at the base his dick, he just about came right then and there.

But the enjoyment wouldn’t come this time around as the clamps added a layer of pain that felt far from blissful. If anything they hurt, and combined with the tugging you figured it best to cut the night short.

“Sparrow,” is what slips from the confines of your throat.

Ashamed is the emotion that you make out across Armins features, but not for the use of the safe word, rather it seems to be in response for his lack of concern.

"Ohh sweetheart, I'm so sorry," he repeatedly murmured.

Forehead pressed into your cheek, his tears mixed with yours as he rode himself to completion, apologies never ceasing even as he went flaccid inside you.

He could scream his regrets until he was blue in the face, but it meant very little when his body found pleasure at the expense of yours; especially considering that he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

Floch - Floch will outright blame you for feeling so good. Shame has no place in his house nor heart.

Floch was an ass man through and through. He loved claiming you in the forbidden hole. And you’d gladly comply; giving your heart and your body in service of him. It was one of those things where his pleasure intensified yours.

The grunts and growls, moaning and howling - you were always a soaking mess long before he could make you cum. However, this time felt a little different. You couldn’t place it exactly but you just weren’t feeling sex at the moment. You’d held out for as long as you could, hoping that maybe you needed to be warmed up a little more, that maybe Floch just needed to lay into you just right; but, nothing.

“Sparrow.”

“No can do sugar,” he scolded from above you. “You see I’m just getting started and I ain’t letting up until I’m done.”

You wanted to be shocked, to be disappointed, but unfortunately you weren’t the least bit surprised. Floch had this determination about him to see things through to the bitter end, even when all the odds were stacked high against him; even now when you strongly opposed his selfish desires.

But he somehow always managed to get what he wanted. And there he stayed, buried to the hilt as he continued to thrust into you from behind, smugly whispering about how good you squeezed him, as he kissed along your heated skin.

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apprenticestanheight · 1 year ago

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Could you write something platonic where reader is transmasc and an apprentice and the other apprentices help them with their dysphoria when it gets bad?

Platonic! Jigsaw Apprentices x transmasc! apprentice! reader dealing with dysphoria headcanons

hi! Thank you so much for sending this in--I haven't watched past saw four (however, I do know of Lawrences fate after he leaves the bathroom trap from many-a-boredom scrolls through both his wiki and the wiki for saw 3D, hence why I'm comfortable to write this and know, for what is only my second time writing for him and my first writing for him in this context, he might not be super ooc) so if there are any details from canon that I miss out on/gloss over with the regard to the three apprentices I know of, I apologize in advance!

Did this as headcanons, too, which I hope is all right!

Fic type- fluff!

Warnings- mentions of saw canon-typical violence and traps (nonspecific), mentions of guns, a couple of mentions of transphobes (in a context wherein I state that the apprentices included would be supportive and help you kill transphobes if you chose to)

okay! So! I feel like their reactions to your days of bad dysphoria are vastly different--Amanda picks up on it with the drop of a hat.

You walk in with your shoulders slouched, looking particularly grim, and she immediately is just like "I have a sweater I can lend him!" and then she runs to grab it and gives it to you because y'know--she's murderous and a liiiiiiittle unhinged but she still cares.

Lawrence exists in the same vein as Amanda to an extent--the vein diverges past the keen emotional awareness she has. He senses something is off with you right out the gate but doesn't grasp what it is until Amanda is giving you the sweater and you're beaming at her like she's the reason that the sun shines in America, at which point it dawns on him.

He's like "I wonder why Y/N seems off today," and then he watches Amanda give you the sweater while you're working on trap schematics or doing something apprentice-y (forgive me for the nonspecificity of this--I've been writing it since around 2:45 and it is currently three in the morning)

he sees you adjust the sleeves so that they're over your hands, adjust the hood so that it fits the way you want and adjust how it fits on your torso, double checking that it's big enough to actually fend off the dysphoria as you do, and Lawrence realizes it at that point.

from "I wonder why Y/N seems off today," to "oh SHIT. THE DYSPHORIA IS WHY HE'S OFF." in two seconds flat.

Hoffman watches Lawrence realize it and nearly puts his own hand in the chopping block while he tests a trap that would go on someones wrists because of how much it makes him laugh--Lawrence, on the other hand, does not find this particularly funny.

Hoffman knows it as quickly as Amanda does, but he's not really the touchy-feely-found-family type.

He looks at you and watches you sketch out a trap for a transphobe (I wholeheartedly believe Hoffman and Amanda would both help you absolutely brutalize these ones but that,, that is a different convo for a different time. Amanda Young and Mark Hoffman both would say trans rights with their chests! Lawrence would too but from what I've seen of him he's not as brutal as they are with their trapmaking, and c'mon. Amanda doesn't believe in second chances and transphobes?? undeserving.)

and there comes a point where he's just kind of... "How bad is it today?"

"Not as bad as it could be but worse than it has been in recent."

Hoffman goes off to find something to help you feel a bit in better spirits, finds a baggy enough pair of cargo pants and lets you swap them for the form-fitting joggers you'd worn, seeing as it had been laundry day and all of the clothes you'd wear when it got bad had been put into the washer when you'd left your apartment.

Lawrence tilts his head at you for a second--he understands dysphoria as a medical diagnosis, knows how to help it in medical terms, but you're one of the first trans people he meets and one of the few with whom he's in regular contact.

There comes a point where, after having spent a long time staring at trap sketches and a longer time going through police files and evidence to see if the police have caught onto any of you yet, he speaks up.

"I could steal testosterone for you," he offers.

You find it amusing--a doctor, usually so deadpan and restitute in his demeanour, telling you he'd do something that could cost him his job?

"You need an income," you'd say. "Tempting as I find it to take you up on that."

Lawrence waves it off, but he does know you're right. Eight years of medical school and all of the time he's devoted to working in his field shouldn't have gone down the drain for something as minute as a particularly dysphoric day for you.

Lawrence sighs. "I know I'm not really good at this type of thing," he says. "But--if you need someone, you at least have me."

"He's got me, too," Amanda says, going about putting bullets into the cylinder of a revolver one by one. "We sure are one fucked up support system."

You finish sketching a trap for a republican, anti-trans congressman and sigh. "Yeah, but a support system is still a support system, Ames. Thank you both--and Hoffman, thank you too!"

Hoffman is somewhere in the distance, testing trap schematics for Amanda, and all that you get back is a shout of appreciation from his end.

All in all, they have different ways of helping you, be it through the gift of an old but baggy sweater, baggy sweatpants from the trunk of their cars, or offers of theft and words of affirmation.

#platonic! saw apprentices x transmasc reader #platonic! amanda young x transmasc reader #platonic! lawrence gordon x transmasc! reader #platonic! mark hoffman x transmasc reader #saw franchise #sawposting

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mammonistheman · 2 years ago

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helloo, could i request a scenario of Lucifer comforting gn! reader who got a really low mark in an exam they put a lot of effort in? perhaps with reader saying they didnt want to disappoint him for a little bit of angst. uni's hard so, yeah

thank you so much!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING!! I haven't written for him in so long, I love the angst theme too 🤭🤭 to be honest this is so shit(I mean it when I say that I'm so sorry-) but I'm trying to get comfortable w requests (I hardly did them before this acc 😭😭)

Your lips slightly hung open from your usually relaxed position, your eyes that are usually wider than they are as they scanned the sheet over again. You look over the red pen stains crossing off all the wrong answers, desperately looking through for the right one's..

Your huffing to yourself, trying to inhale desperately to not cry out of frustration. You know you had barley passed human exams; at the very least, you still passed. Looking at this score, you doubt you will do so. You bring the paper down for it to be out of your vision, looking around the room your were provided for your stay.

Devildom; The House Of Lamentation.

The room had comfortable, almost gothic decor. But not so your room, just other places around this manor. You have come to love the tree growing the head of your bed, the texture as the bark surface growing leafy as it sat its years away. It's branches and further, bigger leaves hang over your bed and cover you in a shadow.. like a blanket.

You, aside from the tree, love all the extra excessive pillows. They layered around your main cushion, all an array of colours that always end up on the floor after a long night of tossing and turning in your sleep. Actually, you haven't been getting rest as you usually would the last couple days, the exhaustion ran thickly through your limbs and your eyelids.

It's just-! You've never had tried so hard to pass a exam before! You can feel a ache where your eyes are, muscle of your forehead tensing as you furrow your eyebrows. You hang over yourself, staring down at your lap, your exam sheet now crumpled in your tight grip between your fingers.

You double checked every topic of the test, understanding an average amount for a human suddenly thrown into a demon's world- but your mortal mind couldn't keep up with what you had grown to know is your fiction! Demons, angels, Devildom and witch beings- you still feel like you're in a dream some day's.

You sniff, exhaling everytime you did so as you thought of your actual reason of being so upset. You're not disheartened at the fact you didn't pass with an IQ of a mortal being compared to powerful creatures of the underworld, as you've lost sight of your reality you didn't lose sight of your common sense.

No; it was more the fact you didn't want to disappoint him.

You think back to the time you decided to really try on the test, the marking point to set you up for failure. You tilt your head up to lean on your hand, closing your eyes tightly to discipline any tears ducts trying to escape through the cracks. You sputter, chest now tightening, the overwhelming feeling of just feeling bad eating at you.

"[Name].." his dark, broody voice had been heard a few feet behind you. You stand only inches before him, looking up slightly at his taller/slightly taller figure, now that he stated your name. You're standing in the very room you woke up to when you were first brought to the Devildom, persuaded to continue with a exchange program you were unaware of at first.

You grew to like it, newfound information of magic and your peers, but more so of the reason, of the man, walking up to you.

You were sent by a teacher of your demon history class, to send out some sorts of files or paperwork to be brought to the council room, as you did so you find yourself talking to the handsome demon.

He had dark black hair, grey undertones to tell it from the dark moonglow, and fresh blood red eyes, half lidded, devilish glint seeping into your stare. But, it wasn't anywhere near deceiving or dishonest. More or a suggestive or flirtatious gaze other than something malicious, but either way he was an incredibly handsome man.

All colour had been robbed of his skin, you think, the always midnight sky had its moon look down at you through the higher window and put him in clear view. You smile at him, huffing slightly as you place the heavy box down. You move your arms to remove stiffness, bashful staring up at the first born.

"Lucifer.." you reply, a cheeky grin set on your face. He keeps smiling, slightly bowing his head at your presence. He holds eye contact, his face never changing as his parted lips speak to you. "I've noticed how good your scores on certain exams have been," his smile dropped, eyes casted down and shaking his head at the floor as he continued.

"Even better than some of my brothers.." he finished, crossing his arms and bowing his head, this time looking awfully embarrassed. You don't mean to laugh, but you let a chuckle slip, giving him a shrug dispute the fluttering feeling in your lower stomach. "Eh, I try the best I can!" You halfly lied to the male in front of you, gushing silently.

You watch him falter slightly, him giving that familiar characteristic smile again before raising a hand to his chest. In topic of your exams, you think of your current lesson, and how it had been relating to research for an upcoming test as well. You physically flinch, breathlessly giggling, before smoothly gliding past him.

"I have to get back to class, it's about research for another exam.." you trail off, the fluttering shifting up into your chest. It made you want to be sick from your nerves, but your instead settle to become fidgety. You shuffle the door to open, looking into the open hallways, only listening to the last thing Lucifer said before traveling through the old fashioned parts of the school.

"I know you'll do good on that one too.."

"I totally ruined it.." you huff, rocking the balls of your feet slightly in nerves, your throat dry and patchy. You bite down on your bottom lip, expecting the rest of the silence in your room to consume you fully yet you jump at the knock of your door. The door opens, unexpectedly, and you swiftly turn to see who it was.

Once your face relaxed in confusion, you feel the tear duct move from the corner of your eye to hallway down your cheek in a fast pace. You watch Lucifer announce his sudden appearance, easily making eye contact with you, yet his calm controlled smile turned into a state of shock.

"[Name]?" He questions, straightening out his posture to stand up straighter. He walks further into the room, rounding your bed to yet closer to you. You watch like an owl watching prey, twisting your neck to stalk his direction in movement. You sniff, a horrible feeling sinking into your chest, as you swallow and wipe the tear away.

"Why are you crying?" He asks again, voice sounding firm but caring, genuinely asking what had put you in such a state of stress. Careful about your facial emotions showing, you cover the score up strictly before offering the pages to him. He takes notice, trying to grab whatever you were offering, but there was a tug as he tried to take it off you.

You're reluctant about giving it over, but seeing his piercing look, you soon release the paper into the hands of his. "I;;" you start, looking down again and patting your face dry. "I didn't want you to be disappointed in me.." you look around the floor, at the carpet to try avoid all contact with him. "I don't know what went wrong.."

You were honestly annoyed with yourself above anything. You spent countless nights, studying, making sure to get the topics and dates right before continuing on with anything else! How could you get such a low score! It was embarrassing.. you bounce your leg in thought of it, spacing off in a pool of your own thoughts, a dip in the bed besides you pulling you from my thoughts.

"Why are you crying over this?" There was a awkward, slightly comforting laugh coming from him that made silence come straight after. You lift your head up in shock at the question, or was it the laugh?, turning to look at him. "You're on the right track with all your answers.." he states, flipping through the exam papers in slight firm form.

"I think phrasing and spelling is the biggest issue.." he side eyes you with a smile, placing the test sheet besides him. "Which you can learn in no time, did you have enough rest before the exam?" He questioned, in reply your eyes grew heavy. You gave him a slow shake of the head, the burning feeling in your chest lifted by the hands of the fallen angel.

He hums, leaning over to give you a side hug. "We can have you retake the test if you feel so badly about it.." he offers, smoothing your hair over with a gentle hand in contact. "But for now, I wouldn't even worry.." he says, feeling your own arms wrap around him in a tight embrace.

"It's time for dinner, we can rest you up to get ready for studying tomorrow. Remember, studying is not the only thing that makes correct answers." He pulls away to look at you, a softer gaze staring into your (eye colour) pupils. "It's balanced timing between everything.." he looks away, stating more things.

You could only catch a few of his words; "You could've just been having a unclear day", "getting better textbooks", "more rest", "theres more to the exam than the knowledge you have", "the help of him".. his voice beating on your eardrums made you completely melt into his chest, your nervous beating heartbeat racing slower as you fully leaned into his warm figure.

Your eyes close, although you found what he was saying important, the build up of sleepless nights had fully hit you with exhaustion. You find the comfort in his priority to help you, one of the things that made kept you leaning into him. The last thing your remember him saying happens to be before you drift away to sleep, his deep calming voice striking partially into your soul.

"How could I ever be disappointed in you?"

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baelpenrose · 3 months ago

Text

Project Praetorian 42: Adaptation

Jared learns about his new surroundings, Mia reads up on her situation. Beta read by @canyouhearthelight

Jared

As he was racking the rifle in the armory, Jared quietly reflected on what he’d seen during training. Tomorrow was supposed to be the much-dreaded “testing” - and he wasn’t excited, but was still interested to see how bad it was, see if all the hype was just some kind of hazing these pussies were talking up.

He had to quietly admit to himself, though, that the Jew who ran the show among the conscripts seemed to know what he was doing. He must have had advance training to take command, whatever everyone else said. He didn’t doubt Mark had been freely picked by the others, not anymore. It didn’t track with how controlled opposition worked, anyway. No. It made more sense that Mark had gotten some advance training as a tactician and a leader before ever arriving, been told to keep it secret, then his confidence and skill had won him the trust of the others.

He’d attempted to voice this to Jonathan and Vergil, who had both looked at him like he was insane. Vergil because Vergil was apparently a system brat who trusted everyone on this base who’d been here longer than him, and Jonathan because the giant had no concept of loyalty to anything higher than the people he was with.

Even as he began taking off the body armor, starting to change into the day wear clothing underneath, he noticed the muscles on almost everyone else - he wasn’t embarrassed of his own strength, he’d had to be constantly working out with his cousins and his uncles, staying in shape. He’d been able to keep up with these guys, which had been something to be proud of. These guys had gotten military training and Jared had kept up with most of them. Mark had a set of scars along his chest that had indicated some truly fucked up burns, and he’d seen the scars that the others had before.

He knew the stuff about superpowers wasn’t a joke when he saw the freak make the cripple start walking around, but…damn.

As they started walking out of the locker rooms, he waved at Casey and jogged closer to her, even as he saw Mark tense.

“Hey. What’s for dinner?”

“Don’t know, haven’t checked the mess board yet. Why?”

“I thought you cooked?”

“On special occasions, yes. I don’t have time to do it every day, and especially not on double-duty days when we train and then have school. Especially when we have testing the next day.”

Jared took that in, mildly disappointed. “Gotcha. I just figured with the look and all…”

Casey snorted. “Not really the Leave it to Beaver deal you were hoping for?”

“I gave up on that when I saw you with the shotgun. You’re still one of the few girls here who has any kind of traditional femininity and I know you’re the one who cooked last night, so I thought that’s what we did here.”

“We, already?” Casey raised an eyebrow. “You seem quick to jump on the bandwagon of this team. Done bitching about the entire leadership structure?”

Jared bit his tongue. Not even close, but fighting her wasn’t going to get anywhere. He’d wait til he could expose the sham to the rest of the team and then help them break out of this shitshow. Hell, even Xavier didn’t even seem half bad, and Jared figured the blacks of the world could definitely do worse for a leader if Xavier wanted the job of leading them all back to Africa instead of this diversity bullshit of keeping them all in the same country with him.

“Sure. But I’m also just kinda…resigned to it? Not much point fighting it, not yet.” He threw a look over his shoulder, at Mark. “Hey, any interest in a date, sometime?”

Casey doubled over laughing. “No, not a chance. I’m with Mark, actually. Even if I wasn’t, I’d still say no. I’m really…not into the white nationalist thing. Don’t want to be a tradwife, in love with a Jew, bestie is a black girl, math adding up?”

He felt a flash of anger. “Why’d you lead me on then? With the giggling, the flirting and the…” He took a step back as a point in the grass in front of him caught fire and for just a moment a static burst crackled through his belt and set his teeth on edge.

Casey snarled. “I didn’t! That wasn’t flirting! I was asking a question! I thought it was weird how quickly you’d come around, and honestly I was hopeful that you’d gotten your shit together. I don’t think you realize how bad your situation is. I’m gonna tell you this now. We had to work really, really hard to get the housing we have now. To get any of the things we have now instead of being in the horrible situation we were in when we first came here. A part of it is that we have to be believed as a team that works together, cohesively. If you start contradicting Mark or Xavier or Echo in front of the adults on base, if you start showing friction, you are putting all of us in danger.” Her voice was quiet, desperate. He thought, for a moment, she was being vulnerable, then she added. “We’ll kill you. I don’t know you, and I don’t like you. But I’m not wild about seeing someone my age die - even less if I have to do it.”

Jared grunted, thinking. That was actually good information - not worth using, though. At least, not yet. He figured he’d get through the testing and make his own judgments before he decided if he’d make agreements with the staff here over Mark. He didn’t have enough information to figure out, yet, if Mark was in with the staff or was some kind of defector from the globalist government or if something else was going on. If nothing else, Jared figured he should know what was going on before he made a play.

Still, on the subject of dating, since Casey was taken and he’d only get hurt pushing it. “Any chance with the tall redhead with the rosary?”

Casey glared at him and he felt the temperature around him elevate.

“She’s thirteen. On the topic of things that will make me kill you.”

“Oh, fuck.” He back-pedaled rapidly. He hadn’t known that - he’d thought she was older, she looked older, she was almost as tall as he was. “Okay, okay. Never mind. Way too young for me. I can wait. FOR ANOTHER CONSERVATIVE WHITE GIRL TO BE CONSCRIPTED HERE, NOT FOR HER TO GET OLDER!” He rapidly added, hands raised. “Jesus, I’m not that bad. Swear, I thought she was older, and in my defense, she is tall and at that age where people do just kinda look anywhere from ten to our age depending on when the growth spurt comes in.”

Casey almost. Almost smiled at that. “I can believe that even you draw the line at that, sure. Side note, you find it pathetic that you’re hoping someone else winds up here?”

“Not really ‘hoping’ as much as ‘I know it’s gonna happen.’ And it’s the only way any of our dating pools expand, apparently.” Come on, no one could blame him for just rolling with THAT inevitability and being prepared to cope with the fact that no one outside the team would be close enough to their lives to date, right?

Echo started approaching Casey, and Jared turned away from the conversation as the two hugged and started glaring at him.

Mark looked at him, coldly, imperiously, as he rejoined the boys. “So, here’s the thing. Don’t like you. Really, don’t like you. Vergil was impressive - he eavesdropped that whole conversation and repeated it to me as it happened. Offhand - Casey wasn’t kidding. Our situation is delicate. I can’t have you causing problems, not now, not ever. You’ve been here a day and a half, and already, you’ve called Shiloh something you only survived because Jonathan didn’t hear it and you didn’t sign it.”

It had been during training, and only one person had heard what he’d said about the magic retard - Vergil, specifically, who must have relayed it to Mark. For that matter, what kind of a cuck was this guy that he wasn’t pissed Jared had made moves on his girl? Wait, no…that shock. Mark simply didn’t need to press the point when he had already demonstrated that he could do that without speaking.

Jared kept the irritation off his face at being alpha’d successfully. “Alright, long as I’m stuck here, can I have permission to be honest, oh Lieutenant?” The acid in his voice was obvious and Mark’s posture went stiff.

“Go for it.”

“I know we’re up against aliens. I know this shit’s real. But come on. I got grabbed up by the deep state, who are running a super soldier program that makes use of child conscripts, and put at the command of a Jewish CO who just HAPPENS to have been selected by his peers for command AND who is collaborating with our captors, even if he swears its not by choice, AND that deep state organization has ties to the UN and may or may not be puppeteering things in the US and other governments. All things that people in my circles have been screaming about for years, and now I’m supposed to believe the rest of it is all bullshit?”

Mark blinked. Opened his mouth, then closed it. “You know. I’ll admit. From your perspective. This does look. Remarkably. Like a confirmation of what you believe, or would if Franklin, Stricken, Gideon, and all of the staff were not, to the best of my knowledge, goyim. I have no idea why you’re acting like this shit was my idea.” Mark sighed.

Then Mark snapped up his gaze and glared at Jared. “Okay, since Imperator has decided to piss me off by making your arguments almost valid regarding every non-demographic element of your beliefs, tell you what. You watch me go into the tube tomorrow, then go in yourself. If you still believe I’m in on it after Koleth’s Wacky Sci-Fi Torture Special, or indeed that ANYONE would sign up for this, you and I can honor duel, no powers.”

Jared blinked. The sheer confidence of that statement chilled him, just a little. As did the cavalier disdain behind the admission, the implication that Mark knew he had nothing to worry about. “What do they do?”

“I’ll leave that as a surprise. Hey, isn’t Leon supposed to be talking to the newbies after training?”

“No, after class.”

“Fuck…”

****

Mia

She’d finally sat down and stopped crying in frustration when she’d managed to communicate to Echo that she needed some sort of explanation of everything that the team knew, in Spanish. Instead of speaking to her, Echo had plopped her down in front of a computer, opened a document that was titled something in English, and then pulled up a translation matrix - way better than Google Translate, like for government work - and ran it for Spanish.

The title read, “Fast Track Introduction for Newbie Praetorians. (We are adding as we go)”

Mia almost giggled as she saw it. Then she started reading. Experiments - mutations. She’d grabbed her rosary at that part. The organization that had done this was called Imperator, and was a Special Task Force for the UN Security Council, formed in reaction to a threat from some kind of alien empire. They’d recently learned more about the alien empire - it was called the Ascendency. She only had to read about it for a little while, the caste system, the brutality - to recognize aspects of history from her own country when the Spanish had arrived.

The document took time to explain who everyone was: Dr. Leon, Sgt. Curtis, the deceased Volkov, every other Praetorian, Director Franklin, Financial Officer Stricken, Operations Officer Gideon, all of them. And then, at the bottom, a note. “Mia, and any other English-second-language Praetorian who reads this. English is harder to learn as a second language than ASL, and all of us ‘speak’ ASL - so learn ASL first if you’re going to learn one. You’ll pick it up much faster, and that way we can all communicate. Conveniently, none of the on-base opposition speak it. There’s a link here to a training video we found, one that Imperator doesn’t fuck with, to start teaching basics.”

She clicked the link, set the subtitles to Spanish, and started thinking. Okay, okay. This was a lot less annoying to figure out than she remembered English being, back when she was in school. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, if this document was out there, was ASL really a secure way of talking? At least some of their opposition would probably have bothered picking it up.

Okay, working with these people wasn’t going to be terrible. The physical training hadn’t been bad, even if she’d mostly stuck to talking to Echo, she had a feeling most of these people would be pretty easy to talk to once she could actually fucking talk to them. If nothing else, the general tone of the document indicated they weren’t any happier with being here than she was, and their description of an escape indicated that they’d already fought and tried it only to be forced to come back.

All of which endeared them more to her than she’d expected, even being stuck on that plane with the mostly-nice-but-incomprehensible Kimmy and Micah.

Still. There were words in the document that didn’t have Spanish equivalents, and it noted that a lot of what Echo had learned hacking the Ascendency computer was probably incomplete because, as best anyone could tell, there were only very rough equivalents in any human language for the concepts involved.

Would she still speak anything that would be recognizable to anyone outside this little group by the time the war ended? If she even saw it end?

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #science fiction #original science fiction #original fiction #my writing #project praetorian #traumatized characters #found family

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nothorses · 1 year ago

Note

Ahhhh help! I just got some TransTape from a friend, and while it worked well as I was wearing it, it was a nightmare to remove. Took about 40 minutes and I was still peeling it off painfully rather than gently rubbing away. Oof ouch my skin. Where did I go wrong? (To be clear, I’m using their oil, and about half the bottle at that. I know baby oil is probably the cheaper idea in the *future*, but I got this for free.)

Oh man, I'm sorry! Removal was always the worst part for me, too, tbh- and it's what I hear people having trouble with most often.

I think the basic advice is to test it on a small bit of your skin, somewhere on your arm maybe, so you can just double check that it's not the adhesive or something causing a reaction or being incompatible with your skin somehow.

The other advice I tend to give is: check the instructions from TransTape, including their website. I know they recommend showering first so the steam can loosen it, and I used to apply the oil all over the tape, and make sure it was all dark-colored and thoroughly saturated before hopping in the shower, so the water didn't repel the oil (and try not to get it wet; you just want the steam, not the water itself!).

I also really recommend rubbing the tape, not peeling; it takes some time, but if you rub at it for a few minutes the edges will start to come up. Start at one end and working your way to the other as it peels up and off, and it'll come off easier and sort of on its own. This took me some time to try and then figure out, but once I gave it a shot, it always worked way better! Plus I never got any funky marks from the tape peeling off too fast that way.

iirc they recommend letting the oil sit for a full five minutes before you even start working on it, and that's also not a bad idea if you're having a hard time. Give it a chance to soak through and into your skin, and loosen the adhesive, before you start working on it. If you have the time, you might even just let the oil soak in and leave it alone until you notice it peeling up on its own- could be a good idea for your next try, so you can get a feel for how it works for you.

Some folks also just have really sensitive and delicate skin, and have found that tape doesn't work for them for that reason. Whatever the case, go slow, triple-check instructions, and definitely stop and wait a while if you notice any pain/discomfort.

#transtape

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wirewitchviolet · 10 months ago

Text

Wire Witch Hex - Wearing Many Hats (Font Design)

Lately most of the traffic I'm getting on this blog has been people stumbling onto my multipart series on how a computer works. Glad people are enjoying that as much as they seem to be. My reason for teaching myself all of that (besides just the joy of learning) is I'm very slowly working on designing a new video game console that anyone sufficiently motivated can build for themselves as a neat little DIY project. There are so many moving parts to this project that for now I'm focusing mainly on just the controller and its unique features. To avoid having to make a whole working console, with software, to test it, and make sure I have something to show for all this if the rest doesn't pan out, I'm designing the controller to also be more or less compatible with the NES and SNES (which secretly use the same input standard, just differently shaped plugs at the end of the cord).

This means all I'll need to test and demo my controller is an SNES ROM that knows what to do with my scroll-wheel outputs, a setup where an emulator accurately handles those signals, and later a cart I can slap a couple EEPROMs into and test on real hardware. Oh and I also need to teach myself enough about SNES development to actually create every demo I want to run, do all the art, code it up, and compile it. This is a big job, and I'm not getting paid, so maybe consider throwing me a little money before we dig into this?

Since... really the last time I reported in on this, I've been studying away trying to learn all this, and hey, have a compiled ROM image that'll display a blank screen in any color I want, and a third party program that IN THEORY with a bit of massaging will convert a 256x256 image into an SNES character ROM image. AKA the file with all the graphics. My ultimate goal for this demo cart is to cycle through several very simple games, showcasing how my controller works with each. So I need to cram every image any of these are going to need into my one big image file, which I'm slowly picking away at, but the one thing I knew from the start that I'd definitely need is to throw some text on screen explaining the controls for each demo. And since it's not like there's a built in font in in the system, I had to make my own.

This is not my first font-making rodeo. For this one, my thinking was, I'm going to be in a fixed 16x16 resolution per character (because I forgot the specifics of how the SNES actually tiles graphics), some built in spacing so I can slap them all right up against each other or some border and still be readable, and I wanted a nice little shadow built into every character in case they end up on a low contrast background. Let's zoom in on what I have here so far, in case you don't feel like downloading the file and blowing it up to something more readable.

The first thing I want to note is that after finishing the first 4 rows of characters here, I double checked, and while the SNES CAN break backgrounds into 16x16 tiles, the absolute minimum is 8x8. If I were really trying to be space efficient, I should have designed around that. Several of these characters would easily fit into a 16x8 space, that level of compression would also let me have just the period and comma and be able to build a colon, semicolon, or apostrophe from those, and most importantly, I rendered this with all of the lowercase letters exactly 1 pixel too tall to fit into a 16x8 space and let me double up there. Since I'm rather happy with this font so far and I'd eventually like to make some version of it available for, if nothing else, other people writing software for my eventual console here, I will likely, at some point, make a more space-optimized variation. I'd also like to cover a wider range of characters. At the very least, have some accent marks, wouldn't be too hard to add support for Cyrillic. Pretty sure I can get Japanese and Korean text in keeping with this look. Maybe some other languages. Anyway though, let's talk about what I've got.

My general design rule here was, where possible, make lines 2 pixels thick, and have each white pixel cast a black pixel shadow immediately below, to the right, and the diagonal between them. This gives a pretty convincing relief effect in my opinion, and keeping the shadows this thick keeps a nice firm edge there so it's even generally readable on a pure white background. Within each 16x16 tile, I was extremely strict about keeping a 1 pixel margin clear at the top and bottom of each image, and 2 or 3 on the sides (often 3 on the left, 2 on the right. With capital letters, I went with a generally rigid and blocky style, trying to stretch things to my arbitrary margins. Lowercase letters I restricted to just 8 pixels tall, and those featuring tails are given special permission to drop down an extra pixel, leaving the shadow right on the edge of their true bounding box.

While it wasn't an intentional move at first, several lowercase letters ended up with a decidedly rounded, squashed look, particularly g and q. I found that to be both kind of cute, giving the whole font a real unique character, and eventually started to actively lean into it (which may not be super obvious, I started with W as it's kinda the letter than needs the most breathing room and worked outward from there), and did my best to distort all the rounder shapes and in particular the highly mirrorable b d p q set, as I seem to recall once reading the more you avoid identical shapes with those, the more legible the font becomes for people with dyslexia. Similarly, I made a point of distinguishing the shapes of the Ms and Ws, and added a little whimsy to the numerals. Overall I'm super happy with all the lowercase letters (except for e and s being too thin, but that was an inevitable compromise), and if I ever have the time to kill it's very likely I'll revisit this someday and apply this squishy rounded aesthetic to the capitals too.

Your eyes were probably drawn really quickly to the parentheses here, where for at least the moment I'm breaking my rules about blank space and shifting them inward quite a bit rather than centering them. That's going to look really bad if I use them in a sentence (like this), but the main reason I'm including them right now is so I can list button prompts with both the icons representing what's actually going to be on my controller, and the SNES buttons sharing the same signals. So something like: "GO (A) Jump" and I think the half-spacing and closeness to what they enclose will look pretty nice in this one specific case.

As a final note, the particular hardware I'm working with absolutely supports the ability to mirror any image horizontally or vertically, as well as change the palette. If I truly wanted to cram letters in as efficiently as possible at this font size, I could, for instance, have an 8x8 right-angle segment, build a whole H just from mirroring that, also use it for the legs of the A, P, F, the left side of the D, etc. This however is incompatible with the shadows I'm using for extra readability. And of course for other projects I HAVE made a perfectly legible 8x8 font before.

I'm pointing this out because hey, if you do the math, JUST these characters I've set aside for having arbitrary on-screen text, as is, are consuming 5/16ths of my total graphical memory, and I'm probably never even going to display most of these anywhere. Again, not a huge problem for the simple demo pack I'm making, and that 256x256 drawing space isn't a hard limit. Spending an extra processor cycle to change an index value and access a whole other page of image data is a pretty common practice on the hardware, but especially with older computers and racing to get things ready to draw before a screen refreshes, it's good to at least be mindful of the tradeoffs with that sort of thing.

And again, my sole source of income at the moment is patreon donations, so if you're excited about seeing updates to this weird project of mine or you're learning useful things from any of it, maybe consider throwing me a little support?

#wire witch hex #console design #programming #fonts #art #tutorial #SNES

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ghostlycandlefairy · 6 months ago

Video

youtube

Simple Steps To Finding The Right Mattress

Buying a new mattress can be a hassle. But with these simple steps, it doesn't have to be!

According to “Better Homes and Gardens,” most of us replace our mattresses every 8 to 10 years. Trying to pick the right mattress for you, one that you want to sleep visit site here on for the next 10 years, can seem like a daunting task. You spend 1/3 of your life sleeping, make it a comfortable 1/3.

As we're about to show you, it can be as easy as choosing the next show to TiVo.

The first question you may be having is, “do I need a new mattress?” This one is probably the easiest. Ask yourself if you are sleeping well at night. Do you feel rested in the morning or do you need five cups of coffee before even thinking about getting ready for your day? If so, chances are you do need a new mattress.

The age of your mattress could also be a factor. Chances are you have dust mites, and dust mites can actually double the weight of your mattress in ten years. We won't go into detail about that here, but you get the point. This along with mold and mildew can create havoc on allergies and asthma.

Some of the most common indicators of needing a new mattress are:

mattress is too lumpy

mattress is too soft/hard

mattress is too old

mattress is just not comfortable

Ok, so you decided that you do need or want a new mattress. The first thing you need to do is decide on what size you want. If it's the same size as you already have, you're ahead of the game. If you have decided to move up in size, a simple way to see how your new mattress will fit is to move the old bedding and mark the area where the new bed will sit. You can do this using towels, sheets, or even an outline in string.

If you want to really get creative, buy yourself some graph paper and organize all of your bedroom furniture. Draw out your bedroom dimensions and on another sheet cut out your furniture to scale. Then you can organize your whole bedroom without lifting anything heavy.

Here are some of the more popular mattress dimensions to help get you started.

Twin: 38" x 75"

Extra-Long Twin: 38" X 80"

Double/Standard/Full Size: 53" x 75"

Queen: 60" x 80"

King: 76" X 80"

California King: 72" x 84" (Recommended for people over 6'4")

Important Tip: Remember these sizes can vary by manufacturer and don't forget headboards and foot boards can add several inches to these dimensions.

When it comes to beds and mattresses, the softest are not always the best. This almost always comes down to personal preference. Your going to have to “test drive” your mattress. Don't be shy, and don't be afraid t ask the sales staff to leave you alone while you try out the mattresses.

If someone will be sleeping with you, bring them along. Above all, the mattress should support your spine and should not interfere with your pressure points.

Check the number of coils the mattresses has. The higher number of coils the better the mattress will wear. Generally, 300 coils for a double and 350-800 for a queen. A king size mattress can range from 400 to 900 coils. You'll also want a few fabric and padding layers and a pillow top.

Many recommend going to a local mattress store and test the ones you like, then go online to stores like GreatPricedFurniture.com were you can find better deals.

#youtube

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roxtron · 7 months ago

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Replaying through KH BBS again and naturally that brings me to the inevitable essay about Terra. I will forever be annoyed at people who treat him like an idiot for being manipulated by Xehanort, or literally just victim blame him and act like everything is his fault. So.. I wanted to write a bit of an analysis on who’s actually at fault here, going through notable cutscenes/reports in order to help show my points.

Starting off at the beginning of the game, we all know how it goes. Terra fails the Mark of Mastery exam, supposedly due to showing a glimpse of darkness. But I think it’s notable he never actually used darkness in that fight. Sure, you could see the particles around his arm during that cutscene, but he was able to get it to fade away before continuing to fight back. The darkness was there, but he WAS keeping it in check, he was fighting against it. He could’ve given into it to win the fight, as he does later in the game, but he didn’t. It was under control at this point, even if it emerged for a moment, he was still able to control himself.

Yet Eraqus finds this as enough of a reason to justify him failing the test, claiming he failed to keep the darkness in check. I already explained why I disagree with that idea but if you’ve played the games you’ll know Xehanort does kind of have a point about Eraqus, he’s too stuck in his belief that light is pure good and darkness is pure evil, he doesn’t understand there can be balance, shown with Riku later in the series.

Which leads me to the scene after that failure, Terra says he needs to be alone, and while he is, Xehanort shows up to talk to him about what just happened with Eraqus.

“Why, you could train with him forever, and still..”

“You’d never be a Master in his eyes.”

He directly tells him what he thinks. If there’s even a glimpse of darkness in Terra, Eraqus is never going to see him as worthy. It’s never going to be enough. Xehanort tries to keep this message more subtle here than when he repeats it later, but he’s still getting across the same point. Eraqus is wrong. I’m sure that’d give Terra some doubt of trust in him, the only other person that could reassure him he is worthy is the one talking to him now.

While there is reason to doubt him as well, Eraqus has sort of undone that. Ventus already seems cautious around Xehanort due to his past, (although I find that a bit odd, since Ventus hasn’t regained those memories yet. Maybe he just gets the sense it’s familiar? Regardless–) to my memory Aqua doesn’t seem to show any obvious signs of distrust until after Xehanort revealed his nature. I’d have to rewatch her cutscenes to be sure, but either way, Aqua and Terra don’t have the history Ventus does, they don’t have any view of Xehanort besides what Eraqus told them. And what did Eraqus tell them?

He told them Xehanort was his good friend, a guest, another Keyblade Master. It seems he’s only given the man praise, with little to no acknowledgement of what he’s really capable of.

“Considering how we had parted ways, I expected friction– but if anything, Eraqus seemed delighted to see me again.” (There’s more to the quote but the rest isn’t relevant to my point so I’m not gonna type it out.) - Xehanort’s Report 11.

Based on this report, it seems like Eraqus may not have had much doubt about Xehanort at the time either. A lot of the cutscenes referring to Xehanort before the events of the Mark of Mastery exam seem to indicate he convinced Eraqus he’d changed. While Eraqus may have been manipulated by Xehanort as well because of this.. I don’t think it excuses the role Eraqus plays in allowing Terra to fall into the same trap. Xehanort’s probably around his 80’s-90’s at this point, depending on the timeline.

(I’d have to double check but I’m too lazy to do it as it doesn’t really matter, even if 90 is older than 80 it’s really not enough of a difference that it’d change the point I’m trying to make.)

Eraqus seems to be around the same age as Xehanort, considering they’re both in the same class during the events of Dark Road, so obviously Eraqus is an adult, and has been for a long fucking time now. He’s old enough to have learned, and it was his responsibility to warn them about Xehanort, which he failed to do. Even if he fully believed Xehanort, he knew Xehanort’s past. He could’ve said something like “yeah, this is my good old friend, he’s just here for the exam, if he tries to talk to you about darkness don’t listen to him.” lol. Okay, jokes aside though, he could’ve given a vague warning like that, he can still tell them Xehanort is untrustworthy without going through everything he’s done. But nope, he decided to tell them only good things, what a great idea. Anyway, getting back to the cutscene I was talking about before..

“You’re fine as you are.”

“Darkness cannot be destroyed, it can only be channeled.”

He tells Terra what helps him feel better while also furthering his own plan. That he isn’t a failure, he’s fine the way he is. That darkness within him isn’t a flaw, it’s just something he needs to learn how to control. It doesn’t seem to sink in yet, but it’s still planting the seeds for Terra to follow that thought process later down the line.

Anyway, moving forward onto someone who is DEFINITELY at fault here, Yen Sid. When Terra goes to this world, they have the following conversation. I’ve cut out a few lines of dialogue because I want to focus on specific lines.

“I thought it best to seek the counsel of one wiser than myself.” The next lines mention Yen Sid no longer being a Keyblade Master, implying what Terra meant by this is that he trusted Yen Sid because of that title, even if it is now former. It further feeds into why Terra trusted Xehanort, he clearly looked up to other Keyblade Masters, and obviously wanted to become one. Since Terra feels the need to introduce his name here, it doesn’t seem like they’ve ever met, meaning he trusts Yen Sid solely because of that title and connection to Eraqus. If that’s enough to earn Terra’s trust, it makes sense that’d be his reasoning for trusting Xehanort too, right?

“And, like you, he is eager to use his Keyblade to set things right.” (referring to Mickey here but the way he’s directly compared to Terra makes this line accurate to both, so I’m using it.) I don’t have too much to say about this, I just find it interesting for what it says about his character, especially the word choice..

And oh look, someone else who’s aware of Xehanort’s past, and what does he do? He tells Terra to look for him. What the hell. Eraqus, you could at least give some benefit of the doubt for being manipulated due to their history as friends, but what kind of excuse can you give for Yen Sid? He doesn’t seem to have been directly spoken to at all, so I doubt Xehanort manipulated him too, and even if he did, how? There doesn’t seem to be any friendly history Xehanort could exploit to get him to feel sympathy or anything like that. Like I mentioned before with Eraqus, he should’ve said something. He knows Xehanort is up to no good, and he purposefully withholds that information. And if you think I’m joking, he literally says this in the next scene after Terra leaves the room.

“I had hoped, Xehanort, your heart would no longer lead you astray.” So he knows. He knows something’s wrong. He knows Xehanort’s history. Yet he actively chose to let everything unfold, he could’ve made some effort to prevent this, to warn Terra, and he didn’t. He just goes “damn Xehanort I can’t believe you’re still doing evil shit, that’s crazy.” to himself. Like, what?? Why would you wait until Terra leaves to say this? You’re not even gonna whisper it in front of him or anything? You didn’t find this relevant information for him to know? You see no problems with what’s happening here??? Anyway, moving on to the next scene.. Xehanort tells Terra his version of events, what he did to Ventus. (Ugh.. Unfortunately tumblr's image limit means I have to split this into pieces, so.. (Part 1/5) I'll just add tags on the reblog with all the pieces so I can keep it 1 post.)

#if you're seeing this before i post the other pieces. no u didn't shhh #if you're following me and you don't know anything about kh.. i'm sorry and this probably isn't going to make any sense to you so #you're welcome to scroll <3

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devil-doll13 · 2 years ago

Text

Stay Clean

Tw: Mentions of Death/Murder, maybe eating people ig lol

(I just wanna preface this by saying I know basically next to nothing about fixing cars or motorcycles lol so if there are any inaccuracies I apologise for that!)

Horror/Slasher Oc writing for Maxwell “Max” Holt

Dividers by firefly-graphics

“… missing case last night has been reported to local law enforcement. Identified as North Carolina-born Mark Fisher, the 33 year old was last seen drinking at a bar in Downings before he disappeared without a trace. This again marks another in a series of disappearances that has concerned the public, with some expressing worries that it is the work of a serial killer or a human trafficking ring. Police are still investigating if these cases are conne-“

Max groaned and fiddled with the knob of the radio, a dusty yellow rag over his hand to prevent the grease from staining it. Switching over to the local rock station, he smiled as Motörhead’s ‘Stay Clean’ replaced the uncomfortable chatter of the news; Lemmy’s thundering bass was always more reassuring to hear.

Especially now, the small voice in his head whispered to him. He was reminded of exactly what he did last night; an impulse brought on at least in part by his victim’s poor treatment of Debbie, the waitress at his favourite diner. It might not have been the wisest idea to kill again after the last time, but at least now his hunger pangs had subsided. With Mark he’d sated them till’ the next month.

Shaking his head to disperse those thoughts, Max’s hands came to rest again on the shiny bronze chrome of the Chevrolet in front of him. She’d come in with a nasty dent in her bumper from a collision. Thankfully nothing serious, but the guy had mentioned she just up and stopped on him. Not a problem you’d really want to ignore either way. His boss Jerry had her first, mentioned ‘some issue with the fan-belt’ he’d sorted out. She just needed some little fixes and then she’d be good to go, he’d said.

Max gave her engine another look over, wanting to be sure he’d gotten everything. Any other issues would probably show up when he started her up in a test-drive later. His keen ears picked up everything, so he knew when a car didn’t sound right. It was something Jerry had no idea Max got from his lycanthropy; he only knew it was another helpful addition to his toolkit when he hired him.

“… Max!” For a second he thought he heard a voice shouting over the din and he raised his head. By the office door of the workshop was his coworker, Leo, leaning against a cluttered tool cabinet. Max turned down the radio a tad.

“Oh, yeah, Leo. What’s up?” Max perked up a bit at the appearance of his work buddy, the only other person employed at the shop aside from him.

The younger man seemed to be preparing himself to ask him a question. Leo was a bit of a nervous type, so Max was used to the way he tended to need reassurance now and again. He seemed to try and wring his hands out on an oil-stained tank top, a futile endeavour.

“Hey man, just double-checking to be sure… You’re still free for our campaign on Saturday night, right?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed with a toothy grin, sharp canines on display.

The subject of D&D had come up in a conversation over drinks the other night. He had reminisced over playing with his friends back in highschool and Leo expressed a desire to learn more about the game. Max was excited at the prospect of playing again, and gladly offered to teach him and his two younger sisters the joys of D&D. In all honesty, he really missed it. It had been years since he properly sat down and played at a real table. Although he’d probably be the DM so he could guide them in their first campaign, the thought still made him giddy inside.

“I got somethin’ brewing up that’s more beginner friendly” Max continued, blue eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. He took his hands off the car to gesture wildly, an old habit “I’m a bit rusty myself after so long not havin’ played, so I could probably use a good refresher too.” He admitted with a wry quirk of the lip.

“Thanks for letting me know… Joan an’ Jessie are real excited about the whole thing. Wouldn’t stop badgerin’ me about it an’ asking me if you were still comin.’” Leo scratched the back of his neck, seeming eager to shift the blame onto the twins.

“Not that I’m not lookin’ forward to it too!” He added hastily, big brown eyes as wide as saucers.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna miss something like that.” Max assured him, chuckling. Leo nodded bashfully, then cast his gaze over to inspect the Chevrolet still docked in the workshop lift.

“…Front tire on that’s gonna need a bit of pumpin.’ I’ll go get er.’” Then he ducked back in to look for the necessary equipment.

That was Leo: real shy, but good with cars.

After work Max peeled off his grimy coveralls, replacing them with his usual washed out denim jeans and a black leather jacket. It was approaching Summer, and the warm sun beat down on the cracked pavement. Still, a cool spring breeze necessitated extra layers. Especially with his ride…

He rounded the corner toward where he’d left her, and he smiled as she came into view; his beloved Harley Davidson. Her glossy red paint was unmistakable, metal exhaust pipes gleaming in the sunlight.

He felt no shame in admitting she was his pride and joy; he had fixed her up himself, and she’d been with him for years now. Feeling the wind whip past him as he went 20 over the speed limit on the back of her was exhilarating beyond all words could express.

Max jogged over and fished his keys out of his pocket, resting his palm on the black leathered handlebar. A dark-visored helmet rested on the seat. Snatching it up, he shook his hair out of his ponytail, his tousled blond curls still damp from sweat.

He kicked his leg over to start the girl up, and soon the fierce growl of her engine reverberated through his bones. She purred mightily, spitting fumes all the way down the road as he headed back home.

As he came up to his house Max was pleasantly surprised to see Jack’s rusty blue pickup truck parked in the driveway. He definitely hadn’t been expecting him. Of course, Jack wasn’t the type to give prior notice before he called in, (Maybe that would dampen his mysterious appeal) so Max just gave him his own key so he could come and go as he pleased. Now he was used to receiving random visits from the elder lycan.

Max could see the dim light of his television through the window as he parked beside Jack’s truck, so he hurried to unlock the door and catch up with him.

“Hey, Jack!” He called out cheerfully as he hung up his jacket. There was no answer from the taciturn Jack. Max was used to that too.

Entering the kitchen, he saw the silver-haired man standing in the doorway to his living room. He was watching Judge Judy with a beer in his hand, technicolour light reflecting off his wolfish golden eyes.

“How are ya?” He tried again.

No response. Jack kept his eyes on the TV as he took a swig of the bottle.

Max shrugged and opened the door to his mini fridge, pulling out a cold beer of his own. A sharp hiss cut through the air as he pried off the bottle cap. He tried to ignore the tension in the air as he gulped down a mouthful. It tasted less refreshing than it should have.

Jack swivelled his head around, slowly, to look at him from out of the corner of his eye. There was an old scar on his face, one he never spoke about.

“Heard what ya did on the news…” He finally said.

Max froze. He felt his whole body tense up instinctively before he forced himself to relax. Jack knew. Jack understood; he wrestled with the same urges. All lycanthropes did. Still, they’d had a silent agreement never to speak of what he did.

“...Yeah?” His voice came out quietly, treading carefully.

Jack turned his attention back to the TV again, leaving him to stare down at the floor

Max resisted the urge to sigh. This is what he hated the most: the long, drawn out scoldings.

“… I don’t disagree with the choice you made. If anything, that man probably had it comin.’” That made Max look back up again, hopefully.

“But kiddo, there are consequences to livin’ like we do. Don’t forget that.”

Jack sent a pointed look his way, “Jus’ don’t get caught… Keep your nose clean, ya hear me?” He reached out a rough, calloused hand to pat Max on the shoulder. A little harder than necessary, perhaps for emphasis.

Max nodded obediently, swallowing the lump of beer in his throat. He supposed that wasn’t so much of a scolding as it was advice. Jack seemed to feel some responsibility for any mistakes Max made. Compared to him, he was only a pup, after all. And he had lived a long life, longer than any human could hope to live.

The rest of the night there was no more talk of the killings, which Max was grateful for. He offered to cook dinner for the two of them, and they ended up reminiscing again about the silly things he used to do when Jack first met him. Max grew lively again, recounting older stories from his childhood when he was even more of an idiot. This amused Jack greatly, even drawing out a rare chuckle from the older man.

Later he watched Jack’s truck kick dirt up on its way out of his driveway and down the road, waving goodbye as his words from earlier echoed in his mind.

Keep your nose clean, he’d said. He knew that he was just trying to tell him to be careful, and not attract too much attention with his meals.

He knew he wouldn’t stop doing it. He couldn’t. The world would be better off in the end, he convinced himself. But it was his accursed hunger that really controlled him in the end. He decided he’d continue to kill and feast on assholes like Mark, but after that he’d lick his chops and leave no evidence; otherwise his peaceful life in Downings would be over. Just like before.

Max wasn’t given to brooding over his problems either way, so he resolved to think no more of it for now. Instead he set himself about a far more appealing pastime: setting up his new campaign for Saturday…

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @goldrose-star, @the-pinstriped-hood, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better)

#I hope ya’ll enjoy this lil introduction to him #he is fun and easier than Abigail to write tbh #I wanted to make the town feel alive will lots of people in it #Maxwell Holt #Max #Maxwell Holt oc #fanfic #my writing #my stuff

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 2 years ago

Text

Regrowth

Four years after the good end, Aubrey helps Basil dye his hair. 9k words of wholesome timeskip photobomb, AKA the most sapphic-coded het ship of all time. Link after the preview!

Basil’s been daydreaming about dyeing his hair for years. Not that he’s ever actually said so. He’s just… obvious. Every time Aubrey shows up with her hair in a new shade of pink, his whole face lights up.

The next time the gang rolls out for one of Kel’s games, she finally pops the question. “So, when are you gonna let me dye your hair?”

Basil’s big blue eyes get even bigger. “Y–You want to??”

“Hell yeah I do! C’mon, what's the worst that could happen?"

He swallows. “Well. I could mess up the ratio on the bleach and lose all my hair… Or they might have mislabeled the d-dyes, so I’d end up looking like a clown… Or my professors might think I was, um, f-frivolous, or… unprofessional… Or they might not even recognize me! And when they tried to throw me out of lecture, I’d get so p-panicked I couldn’t even explain, so it’d get marked as an unexcused absence, and then—”

“Damn, dude, you’re really serious about this.”

He startles and stares.

“Sorry,” she snickers. “I just mean… Look, no one can say you haven’t done your research. But, hey! The good news is, everything you’re scared about is stupid.”

Basil gives her a reproachful look. “You only get three unexcused absences before they dock your grade.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Okay, dude, I gotchu. Check this out.” She counts on her fingers as she rattles off each reply. “You’re blonde enough that you can probably skip the bleach. We can do a test strip before we do your whole head. You’re a fucking literature major, half your professors have more tattoos than I do. And… Uh. What am I missing?”

His frown is twitching at the edges, like it’s fighting with a smile. “Unexcused absence.”

“—And no one in all of history has ever been turned into a stranger by a little hair dye, but if you’re really worried, I’ll walk you to class after. That way, if you go all deer-in-the-headlights, I can talk for you.”

“Y-You’d really do that?”

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” she yawns. “I guess I'm just, like, an insanely good guy.”

A snuffling little laugh slips out of him. “Well… If you really wouldn’t mind…”

“Hah!! Fuck yeah, dude! Look at you, being all brave and shit. When d’you wanna do this?”

“Well…” He looks sideways at her. “Um… Are you doing anything after this?”

After saying bye to the others, Aubrey has to double back to unlock her bike.

“Oh,” Basil says, frowning at it. “Hm.”

“What? You don’t think you can keep up?”

His eyes widen. “Um—!!”

“I’m kidding,” she snorts. “Anyway, you definitely could not. Don’t stress, dude, I was always gonna walk it. Unless you wanna ride on my handlebars?”

Basil looks down the hill and shudders. “D-Definitely not. Um. No offense.”

“Naw, that’s fair. I’d feel really bad if I had to brake and launched you into traffic.”

He chokes on a laugh. “...I could maybe try to stand on the back tires?”

“Ooh, very Ghibli. But I gotta pass. Great way to break an axle, unfortunately. It’s cool,” she reassures him. “It’s a nice walk.”

At the first crosswalk, Aubrey frowns and slows to a stop, nodding at Basil to keep walking. “Here, get on my left. I don’t wanna whack you with the handlebars.”

And if it also puts Basil on the inside of the sidewalk, further from the street, well. What about it? The gutters are still puddled with last night’s rain, and Basil’s outfit is way too cute to get splashed.

Basil tends to dress down for Kel’s community basketball games. (Kel might be the nicest nerd ever to dribble a ball, but jocks are still jocks.) So there’s no shimmer in the creases of his eyes, and only a couple of those silly little hairclips he likes. But his knitted sweater is covered with fuzzy white sheep, and the pale pink of his swishy wide-legged pants doesn’t look very mud-friendly.

Right on cue, a city bus screams past, spraying Aubrey with a spatter of grade-A grime.

“Oh!!” Basil gasps. “Are you okay?”

“No. I’m melting. Guess you’re gonna have to get Sunny to do your hair. Just, please… Tell my story…”

“Hmph! Then I guess you don’t want the Tide-to-Go pen I’ve got in my backpack!!”

“Pfffw,” she sputters. “Oh, my god, it’ll come off in the wash, you nerd. Anyway, these shorts have definitely seen worse.”

They take a quick detour to shop around for dye, and then they’re back on track. Outside of the CVS, Basil excuses himself to glance at his phone. He frowns.

“...Sunny?” Like she even has to ask.

Basil nods distractedly. “I’m a little worried…”

Basil is basically always a little worried, but this time, he’s got a point. “Yeah, I guess he was a little off today. He’s all worked up about this Kel thing, huh?”

“Oh my gosh, thank god you guys already talked about it—Yes!! They’re being so silly about this!! It’s—I mean—I don’t think I’m just making assumptions; of course I can’t see inside anyone else’s head, but it’s… From an outside perspective, it certainly seems like…”

“...They want the same thing, and they’re just being dumbshits about it?”

“Exactly!!!” Basil hesitates. “Well. Maybe not that last part. But Kel came over yesterday and oh my gosh, Aubrey, you would not believe how much they were—Ugh!! Okay, let me paint you a picture.”

Some people might call it gossip, but their friends have always loved nothing more than talking about their friends. Knowing everything about each other is just another way to love someone.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” she says, when she’s finished laughing her ass off. “Kel’s headed to your place later, right?” Basil and Sunny are the only ones who actually live there, but all five of them have the keys.

Basil nods.

“So, why don’t you crash at mine?” Nice. Totally casual. “Give Sunny a little space to sort his shit out, instead of just whining to us about it. Let’s be honest, those nerds need all the help they can get.”

Basil’s eyes widen. “You… wouldn’t mind?”

“Hey, c’mon! Why would I! It’s been way too long, anyway. When’s the last time we had a sleepover?”

“Probably, um.” He hesitates. “P-Probably after the psych ward.”

…Right. Obviously. Wow, she’s an asshole.

***

The last time Aubrey slept over at Basil’s house is also the first time in at least four years. (Assuming you don’t count the night she spent in his living room while, just down the hall, Basil was busy gouging out Sunny’s eye. Which Aubrey doesn’t. Basil wasn’t even there.)

It’s been exactly two weeks since Sunny moved away. Two weeks since Basil took Sunny’s eye, and Sunny clawed Basil’s face to bloody pulp. Two weeks since Sunny finally told the truth behind the lie that broke Hero’s heart and Basil’s mind and Aubrey’s ability to be a decent fucking person.

It was too much. Way too fucking much. Aubrey had only just found the strength to look at herself, at all the things she’d said and done and didn’t do. The way she’d let grief make her into a monster. And before she even got the chance to properly apologize, the whole picture got flipped on its head. How is she supposed to feel about Basil now that she knows what he did? How is she supposed to apologize when she’s still so fucking angry?

She needs answers. She needs answers, or she'll never sleep through the night for the rest of her life. Where the fuck else is she supposed to get them?

The doctors at the psych ward don’t want to send Basil home. But he’s following the rules, giving the right answers to all their leading questions. And they need his room for kids that are still actively trying to shoot up their school or set fire to their step-dad’s trailer or whatever.

The doctors know that Basil is all messed up. Unstable. Dangerous. But the victim refuses to press charges, so, technically, there is no crime. At a certain point, their hands are tied. There’s nowhere else to put him. As usual, nobody wants him.

They did put him on antipsychotics, though. And sedatives. And anti-anxiety pills that make him feel like he’s floating underwater. All the drugs wrap his brain up in a soft blanket of fog, insulating him from the things he can’t stop remembering. The dark behind his eyes is still red with Sunny’s blood but it’s like a memory of a dream, a fairy tale he only half remembers. Once upon a time there were two boys, one made of poison and one made of blood. Rivers of blood. So thick that it runs almost black.

Basil floats home and floats down the hall and floats into his room. Someone’s diligently removed everything sharp, the bonsai trimmer and the pruning shears and even all the pencils on his desk. And his carpet is gone. There’s a spot on the floor where the wood’s bleached white. That must be where he did it.

Something rattles against his window. Outside, it’s already dark. On the other side of the glass, Mari swings from the tree.

Basil blinks and the picture rearranges itself. Not Mari. Too alive. And too... pink. Aubrey. But why would Aubrey be hanging from the tree? Aubrey isn’t even dead.

“Basil,” Aubrey’s voice hisses. It sounds real enough. But then, the voices always did.

Basil frowns. Weren’t the drugs supposed to fix him? It feels like they made him worse.

“Basil. Basil!! I know you’re in there, man, we are literally making eye contact. Will you open up already? I’m losing my grip.”

Basil blinks again. Is the actual Aubrey actually hanging from the tree? He can’t make it make sense but he can’t connect any thoughts with any other thoughts, so maybe it does make sense, and it’s just his mind that’s wrong. Just in case, he lurches to his feet and fumbles with the lock.

The floor feels like jello. He misses the window-lock three times before it clicks. Then the window rattles open, and Aubrey swings through it.

The picture warps. When Basil opens his eyes he’s on his bed again, slumped back against the headboard. But Aubrey is still there. She looks real. And strangely panicked.

“...Aubrrrr…? Why’re…”

His tongue fumbles the rest. He’s out of practice, talking. Even when he wasn’t, he was never any good.

Basil’s eyes won’t focus. His pupils are wildly dilated, as round as two dimes. Aubrey managed to wrestle him back into bed before he could crack his skull on the floor, but he’s still slipping in and out of consciousness. He keeps looking at her like he’s not sure she’s real. Shit. What kind of fucked-up shit did they dose him with?

“What‘rrr,” he mumbles. What are you doing here, probably. It’s a reasonable question.

Aubrey came here for answers.

She knows what happened. Sunny isn’t much for talking, but when he does, he’s always very clear. But she still can’t understand how, or why. And she can’t stop feeling angry. She feels just as sorry as she feels angry, but that only makes the anger louder. Her anger is an alive thing inside her and it won’t stop burning in her chest, clawing at her throat. It feels like it won’t stop until she understands.

But it doesn’t look like Basil is in any condition to help with that. Does he even know who she is?

“Aubrrrr,” he slurs, tilting over sideways. So that’s probably a yes. “What’s. What???”

She huffs a breath. “Sorry. I just, uh. I heard you got discharged, and…” Her hands curl to fists. “Look, I think we need to talk.”

To her horror, Basil bursts into tears.

“H-Hey, come on. It’s not like—” Muscle memory makes her reach for him. Actual memory reminds her to keep her hands to herself. “I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

It only makes him cry harder. Basil curls into himself like he’s trying to disappear. He’s trying to say something but it’s just noise. The keen of an animal in pain.

Shit. She is fucking this up.

She shouldn’t be here. It’s so fucked up that she’s even here. The bully who made his life hell for the past four years—the psycho who tried to drown him—just forced her way into his bedroom. Of course he’s fucking scared.

She lets out her breath. “Sorry. This was stupid. I'll get out of your hair.”

“W-Wait,” Basil gasps. “Please wait, I’m s-sorry, I can s-st-stop crying, I— If you j-just g-give me a second I p-p-promise I’ll stop.”

Jesus. “That’s not… What the fuck are you even—" He’s shaking like a leaf, shuddering with the effort of holding it in. “Jesus christ, Basil, I don’t care if you cry! I just thought you’d want me out of here!!”

Basil shakes his head, pathetically fast.

Christ. How alone do you have to feel to beg for the company of someone who treats you like dirt? Jesus fucking christ, this kid has been so fucking lonely.

(And whose fault is that?)

The knife in her gut twists.

—Fuck. Okay. No. She's going about this all wrong.

When they were kids, Basil never liked getting doted on. When he cried, he wanted to be touched, but not looked at. Obviously the touch thing is a non-starter, given... everything. But he didn’t used to mind getting talked at. It helped break him out of it, sometimes. Otherwise, he could get stuck like that for hours.

Aubrey sits on the floor, deliberately nonthreatening. “...Do you want a minute? Or should I just talk at you?”

“P-P, Pl—“ He grimaces through his tears, makes a fumbling gesture. Go ahead.

His stutter is worse than she remembers. Almost as bad as when they first met. That’s probably her fault, too. The shrapnel in her stomach crunches and grinds.

“I’m sorry I shouted,” she says quietly.

Basil’s forehead scrunches. The motion wrinkles the scabs feathering his face, making him wince.

“Sorry. I mean, uh. In the hospital. After Sunny—Um.” Stupid. He knows what she means. “I didn’t mean to, uh.” She clears her throat. “I was just. Overwhelmed.”

Basil’s head tilts. His eyes are clouded, uncomprehending.

“I—” Aubrey huffs impatiently. “Have you heard from Sunny?”

He shakes his head. “They didn’t let me keep my phone.”

Of course not. “Sorry. I, uh. I still need to talk to you. If that’s okay. But honestly, dude, you look like shit. You should probably, like… rest? I can come back in the—”

“No,” he gasps, lurching forward so violently that would have toppled out of bed, if she didn’t fling an arm in the way. “P-P-Pl, p-p-please—”

“Hey, woah!! Careful! Jesus fuckin… I’m not going anywhere, okay? I don’t really get it… But, I dunno. I guess I could… stay… over?” It’s almost unfathomable. Aubrey hasn’t slept in Basil’s room since they were stupid little kids. Just a couple of unwanted brats who’d got lucky enough to worm their way into someone else’s family.

Immediately, she wants to take it back. Because, honestly, what the fuck is Basil going to think when he wakes up to find Aubrey on his floor? The monster under his bed, crawled out of his nightmares and into his waking world? But he looks so relieved that she can’t bring herself to do it.

A moment later, a pillow falls onto the ground beside her. It’s followed by a blanket.

Aubrey sits up a little, frowning. “Hey, c’mon. What are you—”

“Y’ll be cold,” Basil mumbles, semi-conscious.

…Christ.

Whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for her at home. Aubrey will just wait until he falls asleep and then slip out the way she came, like she was never even here. Then once the sun’s up, she can knock on the front door like a normal fucking person.

But when she opens her eyes, it’s already morning.

The scars on Basil’s face healed beautifully. Four years on, all that remains is a scatter of splintered white, like when you press your heel against a half-frozen puddle but only gently, not hard enough to crunch through to the mud. Or like those Japanese ceramics you make by smashing a pot and then painting it back together.

Not that she’s ever told him that. She wouldn’t know how to do it without hurting him. Basil is very good at hearing the worst possible version of whatever-it-is you actually said.

Anyway, those wounds are already healed. No reason to cut into the scar.

#omori photobomb #omori bushfire #omori basil #omori aubrey #getting together #sleepovers #hair braiding #reconciliation #hurt/comfort #but it's just a tiny pinch of hurt and a bathtub full of comfort #big buff aubrey #soft flower boy basil #offscreen suntan #omori timeskip

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longeyelashedtragedy · 1 year ago

Note

ok for the fanfic ask game: "city", "call" and "mouth"! (I am hopeful)

yesss thank you! here we go:

city:

Mikel didn’t stay to hear the rest. He bolted, sweating from his curls down to his toes and uncomfortable in his wool coat, and walked around the darkening city for an hour until the streetlamps came on, and then huddled in a McDonald’s with some bad coffee for warmth. (dangerous AU mikel after storming out of pep's apartment)

He gives a couple of the young lads a ride back into the city and lets them choose the music. He knows what they listen to normally, and they don’t choose it—he thinks out of respect for him being their locker room grandpa. One of them puts on Oasis, which Frank has never heard them listening to before. (10022)

But personally? He's alone as long as nobody is visiting, and being alone in New York will be different from London. He's looked it up. London is the slightly bigger city, in terms of the population, but New York has a firm culture of mind your own damn business and if you saw something no you didn't. (10022)

Somewhere in a parking garage at the farthest edge of the city, the man sprawls in the backseat of a grey car, his jeans unzipped. (vanja and luka are bank robbers AU! the man is luka!)

“Hey, Dejan,” Ivan murmurs as the Vatreni’s crew turns away, all muttering and cursing. Most of Dejan’s friends have grown uncomfortable in this rainy city. They all want the sameness of the ocean, the storms you can see coming. (mare liberum <3)

call:

“Well. I guess I should…I’m sorry, Mason, I…” He holds his finger to his lips and then picks up the call. He stays inside Mason and everything. He strokes Mason’s ankle gently, like an I’m still here baby kind of thing, but Mason’s heart is sinking. ("Bitter Mutual Cheating" fic)

Tonight he rinses his mouth, showers in water as hot as he can stand, scrubs under his nails, tosses his clothes in the tiny washing machine he’s not supposed to have in the apartment. He fingers the keys around his neck and calls the number.

A yawn. “Fucking hell, man. You can’t sleep at a normal time?” (a dangerous AU chapter that i haven't fully fleshed out yet)

Jamie played this song in his car, where Frank would always defer to sitting in the back seat when anyone else was there, and where Jamie would drive a bit too fast with the windows down so that the wind would whip Frank's hair into his face and eyes. Chauffeur to the Hollywood star, is what Mark would say about Jamie and Frank when he was in the car, and Jamie always warned, Uncle Frank will shit his pants if he hears you call Franko that.

Yeah but with the hair blowing in the wind like that and those eyes?

You're his cousin, Mark, keep it in your pants. (10022)

Frank doesn’t really like video chatting, and yet he looks forward to this all day. Maybe Jamie will call. He’ll look so handsome even on the video. He’ll be so happy to see you. What if he knew? Would he still smile then? (10022)

He leaves a comment on Xhaka’s instagram. If any situation calls for a personal touch, it’s this one. He heads to the lad’s profile and leaves a comment. Get the jab Granit and be safe. He calls him Granit right there on his Instagram. The world will probably guess some things, now, and he doesn’t think he cares. This personal touch will mean something to Xhaka. His stubborn heart will melt, and as soon as he’s gotten his negative test, he’ll go get the vaccine. That’s when José will call him, and he’ll take the flight to Rome and José will lock his study door, double check, triple check the lock, then finally, finally, he and the captain of the Swiss national team will fall into each other’s arms. For it’s been so long, so long since he held his precious Granit. (the mourinho/granit fic which fun fact was the first time i ever tried to write granit!)

It comes for Aaron in the evening on Rob's sofa where they always seem to be. Aaron takes the call out of the room, and Ben stretches his legs out in the space Aaron's left between them and puts them on Rob's lap. Aaron's body heat has left the sofa warm. He's always here with them. (sad arsenal drabble about the transfer window)

He calls Jamie and pleads with God, who really shouldn’t be involved with him and Jamie at all. Please let him answer, please, please let Jamie answer, I am losing my fucking mind. He pleads as his fingers speed across the phone, tapping each key with a certainty that goes deeper than his shaking hands. He has Jamie on speed-dial—he’s number 4, but number 1 he can no longer speak to, number 2 he hardly wants to speak to, and as for number 3, every day he’s watching himself piss their seven years together away. So in a sense, Jamie is number 1. He’s always been. ('you rearrange me till i'm sane' - jamie and frank do Unhealthy things in 2009)

“It’s pool o’clock,” he murmurs as the call connects and all he can see is a forest of black curls. There’s nothing he wants to do more right now than twirl one around his finger. Nothing in the whole world.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, this is the wrong number.”

Dejan sighs. “Come on, Mo. Come on. You’re going to say that every time?” (the recent movren i'm working on)

Suddenly there’s the sounds of a fight in the hall. What the fuck? That’s not supposed to be happening in here. And it’s getting closer. Whoever’s pissed off is trying to find him. Of fucking course.

“That’s a private room, Mr. Xhaka. We’re going to call security.” (dangerous AU flashback chapter 2 - the shit that goes down to make the xhakas have to leave home)

“Do not call the cops on me. You will regret it. You will not have a single moment of peace again, for the rest of your life. And your life will be short.”

“I understand,” Pep says, nearly spitting. He looks back to Mikel with a disgusted and frightened expression on his face. (dangerous AU: xhakarteta run into ex bf pep at the store and pep recognizes granit from the news of course!)

He’s about to nestle into his side of the bed and get back to sleep when his phone lights up with a…video chat request? But it’s about two in the morning. And it’s not a number he recognizes, nor, in fact, is it even a Spanish number. It starts with +33… That’s France, right? He picks up, curious to see who could be video-calling him from France at this hour. Sure, he knows he’s stupid, but it’s part of his charm.

The image on the screen is blurry and shadowy, almost like the call is by accident. He sees sheets, rumpled, tacky as fuck leopard-print sheets that somehow remind him of Sergio. He sees the blur of someone’s tanned skin. And there’s a bed creaking. Moans… (the shakira revenge pegging fic)

mouth:

They’re staring and staring. One of them twitches the corner of his mouth up, just a bit, and then grins with those shark-teeth on proud display. (mare liberum-- "mouth" appears 35 times in the fic so far so i just chose 1 hahaha)

Oh, Mason hates this. “Can you hang up?” he mouths at Frank.

“Just a minute,” Frank mouths back. “What are you wearing to your professional dinner?” He traces over the outlines of Mason’s abs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. When’s the last time you’ve even noticed what I wear?”

“I do notice. You’ve got lots of nice things, and I compliment you. Don’t start that.”

and

He bites at one of Mason’s ankles and then grabs it and moves it so he can run his mouth over the bottom of Mason’s foot. (bitter mutual cheating--the part with the football socks hahaha

He answers the call with pasta hanging out of his mouth. Why not let Jamie see?

“Frankoooooooo,” Jamie says. “You are looking good.”

“Thanks,” Frank says. “So are you, Jamie.” His beard is always trimmed to a perfect length and his hair looks nice and thick—Frank worries his is thinning.

“Just pasta tonight?”

“I’ve got meatballs too, look.”

“Some protein, too? A nice balanced meal. Good job, Franko.” Frank can’t tell if Jamie is being serious or not. (10022)

There’s a pause, and oh, it’s too much. They both start laughing and can’t stop. José forgets his own age; he’s almost giddy. When Granit is truly happy he starts to giggle and Mourinho defies anyone to resist it.

“Oh, Granit Xhaka,” José says. Xhaka is still giggling. “Oh Granit, Granit, Granit.” He tugs the lad’s head onto his lap, and stares down into his handsome face and his constantly-open mouth. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

His eyes lock with Frank’s and he mouths. Wow! He’s impressed that Frank has two Girls. Frank impressed Jamie. Okay. He can do this. So he turns to the girl who he thinks said was a Chelsea fan and kisses her fully on the mouth. It’s okay, it’s okay. She just tastes like alcohol, it’s fine. And if he thinks about Jamie watching him, maybe he’ll even be able to get hard and get with these girls like a real Man, the way John would, and just be normal instead of being Frank Lampard. (the 2009 fic) (ugh the way i have to have OFCs in this...but it's for the greater good!)

Taulant opens his mouth but his lips too are shaking. And Agon talks instead. (dangerous AU flashback chapter 2 etc)

“Leo,” Ben says suddenly. Leandro turns. His eyes go where they always do, every time—to the fang-marks tattooed on Ben’s neck.

“When your shift’s up. Fancy coming back for a little—” He holds his fist near his mouth and makes a sucking motion.

Rob blows air out through his closed lips. “I’m not good enough for you anymore, then?”

“It’s not that. I get bored in here. Need constant entertainment.” (the arsenal criminals au...rob is a sniper with Leo (there's a whole backstory), and ben is Leo's sleazy ex and in charge of the lil sniper hit squad, who ultimately take orders from the xhakas)

Our girl? Okay, then. He leaves them to it, but leaving them to it is fucking boring. He wants to get started on their plan. He feels twitchy, full of too much energy. So he calls Lukita because if anyone knows how to be chill and keep their mouth shut about gossip, it’s him. (the revenge pegging)

#thank youuu #protect-daniel-james #answered #fic saga #there were probably more mouth ones but

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whennnow · 1 year ago

Text

Late 1890s Corset Part 3 - Construction

July 1, 2021

[Image ID: a neck-to-hips photo of the back of a light blue corset with silver grommets and an off-white lacing cord worn over a shift.]

Ok, so my corset quietly slipped from being a "work in progress" to an "unfinished object" sometime during March and April, mostly because I did NOT want to thread mark my panels. But in May I finally got back to work!

Previously, I had finished my mockups and cut out the final pieces for my late 1890s corset, and once the panels were thread marked (and I figured out my way around a new-to-me sewing machine), I could really get to work.

Practice Runs

I did tests of all my seams, finishes, and bone casings first, then tested the seam finishes on curvy test panels. I combined panels 1 & 3 and panels 2 & 4 of my corset so that I had a panel with both bust and hip curves. The seam finish I intended to use did just fine on the hip curves, but I should have clipped the bust curve to make the seam less lumpy. Lesson learned! (I'll go over my seam method below.)

Lacing Panels

With that prep work done, I could prepare the back lacing panels. Each panel has a quarter-inch bone casing on either side of the grommet strip. The grommets I have are about a half-inch wide at the outer edges, so I made the grommet strip three quarters of an inch wide to give them some extra space. For this area of the back panels, I cut an extra wide seam allowance along the back edge (about 2.5") so that I could fold it over twice to create the bone casings and reinforce the grommet strip.

Busk

Then it was on to the busk. I cut two 2" strips the length of the front panels. For the "loop" side of the busk, I traced the busk onto the strip and sewed it to one front panel, taking care not to sew over where the loops would stick out. I could then slot the busk into the openings and carefully use a zipper foot to sew around the busk, keeping it in place.

For the "peg" side of the busk, I sewed the 2" wide strip to the front edge like normal, then ironed the seam, folding the strip toward the back of the front panel. I used the looped part of the busk as a template to mark where the pegs should be, poked holes in the front panel there with an awl, and poked the pegs through. Once I had double checked that both sides of the busk lined up properly (according to the marked bust, waist, and hip lines) I carefully sewed around the busk to hold it in place.

Seaming

After doing up all the seams and agonizing how to best describe them, I realized that they're just machine-sewn felled seams. You sew up the seam itself the way you would any seam, then trim your seam allowances so that one wider side can wrap around the thinner seam allowance and be sewn down. To allow these seams to double as boning channels (therefore they needed to be wide enough for bones to go through) I trimmed one seam allowance to a little over a quarter-inch, and the other to a bit over half an inch. Then the half-inch allowance was folded around the quarter-inch and pressed down to cover all the raw edges. I top stitched this down a quarter inch away from the seam itself.

In an attempt to batch things, I pinned, seamed, and finished the seams between panels 1&2, 3&4, and 5&6 all at once, then did the seam between 2&3, then 3&4 last. That order isn't at all necessary, though, it's just how I did it.

The hip seams on my corset aren't super dramatic, so I had no problems using this seam finish in most places. The bust section of the 1&2 seam was the exception to this. It's a very curved area, so I had to clip onto the wider seam allowance a bit to allow it to lay flat, but also not clip so far that it would show on the outside or let the boning out. I mostly succeeded, but the seam finish is a little bit lumpy. Thankfully I intend to have lace over that area, so you won't really be able to see it!

My felled seams are technically inside out. I thought that to match the bone casings, it would look better to have both lines of stitching visible from the outside (so when I did the seam stitching, wrong sides were together, with the raw edges on the outside of the corset). It doesn't look bad, but doing it the other way around, so only one line of stitching is visible, looks a bit better, I think, especially if your stitches are a bit messy or in very curved places like the bust seam I had issues with above.

Grommets

Looking at extant corsets and the corsets other historical costumers have made, I decided to put my grommets 1" apart (from the center of each), making sure there was a grommet directly on the waist line of the pattern.

I got a grommet setting kit (because the punches are expensive) and it did come with all the necessary things and more than enough grommets, but punching the holes and setting the grommets takes a few hours. Things were slow-going on the first few, but sped up as I got the hang of it. (It should be noted that it's considered best practice to use an awl to make holes for your grommets, as it will be stronger than punching holes. Unfortunately, my awl doesn't get wide enough, so I just went with the punch.)

I laced the corset up immediately after I was done with the grommets, following this diagram. By putting the ties at the waist, you can have more tension on the waistline, without affecting the rest of the fit too much. I, personally, also find it easy to reach.

Boning Part 1 & Waist Tape Prep

With the lacing done, I was excited that my corset was finally wearable! I wanted the (almost) full effect though, so I inserted the boning. I used 1/4" synthetic whalebone on most of the seams, except the outer lacing bone and the seam closest to being a side seam (the panel 3/panel 4 seam, in my case). Those bones were 1/4" spiral steel, which I bought pre-cut and -tipped. The synthetic whalebone, however, I needed to cut to length. I used scissors to cut the bones and a nail file to round off the corners.

With that all in place, I could finally try it on! I thought it looked great, and there wasn't too much wrinkling. The bust area, though, is somehow too large and too small all at once. Very strange.

After wearing the corset as it was for a full day to ensure that it was comfortable, I took an evening to baste in the waist tape, following the waistline I had thread marked on the panels. Then I took it over to my sewing machine to anchor one end of each tape to the bask, using the extra fabric I had left in for precisely this purpose. That panel got folded under itself and topstitched down to look like another boning channel. There isn't a bone in it though, since it's right next to the busk.

External Boning Channels & Boning Part 2

I attached a total of six external casings - one each on panels 3, 4, and 6. I measured and marked a line running down the center of each panel, pinned strips of fabric (cut on the cross-grain) along the line, and top-stitched carefully along both edges of the strip.

Because I had basted the waist tape in before doing the external casings, the topstitching I did served as an anchor to keep the waist tape in place on the inside.

I had just enough synthetic whalebone to bone those six casings, so I couldn't do an additional casing on panel 5 like I originally intended.

Binding

I also cut strips on the cross-grain a bit over an inch wide to bind the upper and lower edges of the corset. I think bias strips are usually the way to go, but I'm lazy and my corset doesn't have any wild curves to bind.

I sewed the strip slightly less than a quarter-inch away from the top edge of the right side of the corset, ironed the strip over to get a crisp edge, ironed the 'loose' edge down, wrapped it around the top edge of the corset, and used binder clips to hold it in place. Then I carefully stitched in the ditch from the right side, which (mostly) caught the binding on the inside. I did have to go back over a few places, but I was pleased with my work, especially considering I haven't 'stitched in the ditch' since high school.

Then I repeated the binding process on the lower edge of the corset, and the corset was done!!

Well, not done done, of course. I still intend to floss and add lace to the corset, BUT I can wear it as is, in its current, utilitarian state, and that's what matters! There will (eventually) be a part four to this corset series, where I go over all that. But until then,

Stay warm. Stay safe. Stay healthy.

[Image ID: a photo of the thread-marked corset pieces laid flat in two rows representing the left and right half of the corset.]

#wnn projects #wnn 1890s corset #1890s wardrobe #1890s sewing #1890s fashion #corset making

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