#I'm very fond of drawing frills

[cobaltash]

Lynesse Deara ~ Half Elf ~ Bard

Lynesse belongs to @serialephemera ! Thank you for playing!

[irregularbillcipher]

DO YOU KNOW WHAT SPAWNED YOUR EXISTENCE?

[ID: Two lineless, digital paintings, both with warm, dark gray backgrounds. Both canvases are shaped like exact squares.

Painting one shows an adult Bill Cipher, a bright yellow triangle with a top hat, bow tie, cane, singular eye, and long lashes, reaching out to shake hands with the Axolotl, a pink axolotl with an electric blue tail. Bill is looking at the Axolotl casually, and his outstretched hand is engulfed in blue flames, while the Axolotl is smiling at Bill gently, reaching out to take his hand. There are stylized stars, similar to sparkles, in the top right and bottom lefthand corners of the painting. The painting is textured so that you can see the gray of the canvas very faintly through the brush strokes.

Painting two consists mostly of a short passage from Edwin Abbott Abbot's Flatland, written in light gray over the dark background. The passage is the beginning of chapter 7, and reads as follows:

"7. Concerning Irregular Figures

I for my part have never known and Irregular who was not also what Nature evidently intended him to be-- a hypocrite, a misanthropist, and, up to the limits of his power, a perpetrator of all manner of mischief..."

Below the quote, near the very bottom of the page, is a tiny illustration of a very young Bill Cipher. He is drawn completely in grayscale, and is looking down at the ground angrily, fists clenched. He is wearing a pauper's cap and has bandages wrapped around his rightmost angle, which is noticeably longer and more acute than his other angles.

End ID]

[imthebadguyyy]

the bridgerton blues

pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader

fandom : bridgerton

synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff

a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)

anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.

the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.

but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.

his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.

"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.

"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.

he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.

"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.

"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.

when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.

ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.

it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"

"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.

"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.

"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.

"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.

brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.

and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.

at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.

she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.

but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.

a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.

the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.

the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.

as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.

a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.

his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.

a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.

"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.

smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.

"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.

"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.

"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.

"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.

"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.

slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.

anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.

"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.

"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.

"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.

"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.

anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.

"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.

"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"

you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.

they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.

as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.

yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.

your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.

the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.

anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.

"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.

"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.

his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.

"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.

then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.

"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.

"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.

"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.

luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.

the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.

"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.

around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.

you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.

you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.

anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.

as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.

much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.

"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.

"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.

"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.

"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.

you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.

you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.

to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.

your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.

stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.

anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.

"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.

"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.

the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.

"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.

"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.

he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.

to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.

his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.

deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.

anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.

you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.

his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.

he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.

he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.

he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.

he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.  

he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.

anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.

mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.

your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.

the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.

"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.

he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.

“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.

"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.

with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,

the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.

you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.

anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.

his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.

trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.

the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.

you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.

"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"

"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.

you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.

and then he stopped

he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming. 

there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out. 

and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.

his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.

he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.

sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.

"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.

"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.

"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.

without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.

then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.

anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.

he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.

"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.

with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.

he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.

panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.

"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.

you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.

"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.

"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.

"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.

who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️

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[krypticcafe]

How do you feel about CoD boys in a monster au? Whether they’re the monster or their s/o is the monster, I just think it would be neat. I’m partial towards werewolves but honestly I love anything that goes bump in the night. I LOVE the idea of a monster being afraid of hurting their partner but their partner knows that they could never hurt them. If you’re open to monster requests, I have so many ideas. Just… monsters, man

oooo are we spitballing bc I love throwing around ideas!!

I absolutely love monster AUs, one of my faves is @/bluegiragi's and I'm sure you all know that iconic one. I'm totally open to monster/hybrid requests, and a detailed list of what other things I write can be found in the cafe's Customer Service Policy aka rules :]

And monster-related plots? I'm a sucker for that shit, need more of that and monster!reader.

If I were to make a Monster Hybrid AU with my own specific ideas though, hmm...

Powerful and stoic, Price would make a great minotaur (lower half of a bull). Sure, maybe his back isn't what it used to be, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have the strength to send you back to your maker. Every step he takes on base acknowledges his presence, a posture that demands respect from its witnesses. The horns on his head aren't something to mess with either, though it takes him ages to scrape out the dried blood from the cracks and tailor his bucket hats.

On the other hand, the canine hybrid for Soap is oddly charming. Similarly to a werewolf, he would have the senses of one, but as a just hybrid, he's unable to fully transform. Instead, he's equipped with features like ears, tail, fangs, some fur on his arms and legs, and a longer tongue. I can see him being a border collie, the Scottish sheepdog just makes sense. But a kelpie/merfolk would also work with his callsign. Soap, a mischievous water spirit known for "cleaning out" rooms of enemies? A body with slick scales, gills, and a frilled mohawk when in monster form? Yeah, I can definitely see that.

For someone with a Queen's honor, a phoenix feels right for Gaz. Bright and burning wings and tail—a light that feels regal and elegant, yet so youthful and lively at the same time. With him in the sky, you're guaranteed to be safe under his watch. Or maybe a cervitaur with those doe eyes of his, gorgeous as ever. Yet equipped with a kick that's sure to shatter the ribs of those who mock him for being just a faun with a pretty face.

Undeniably, with such a specific callsign, Ghost can't be anything other than a wraith. Maybe mix in a bit of demonic blood, soul-eater tendencies, or even marks of an incubus for a little extra kick. His scars look more like shadowy cracks in his skin, smoke pours from the concerningly realistic skull he wears, he looks more like a reaper than a spirit. Regardless, this man is a shadowy phantom that provokes the fear of gods in whoever he sets his target as.

Roach, sure maybe his energy is fitting of a satyr or something more fitting and urban for our token American, like a roach version of Mothman. Bug wings and scales similar to the structure of an exoskeleton, But Roach came to be for being nearly indestructible, like the bug. In fact, it would be more accurate to call Roach, Roaches, as a bogeyman with a human body that can crumble into a swarm of those insects would explain why gunshots and explosions can hardly stop him.

Like Ghost, we can't deny who Hound is, either. Werewolf. Anything less would be criminal. For fun, mix it in with a bit of hellhound hybrid biology, so that he has to either go as a full hellhound or a human with hellhound features. Eyes that burn like Tartarus and a fanged snarl that even Cerberus would shudder at. Maybe even make him in charge of a hellhound K-9 unit, forced to face the very thing he fears.

As for the Reader? Well, that's up to you. Personally, I'm a little fond of shapeshifters. Might need to draw some of these ideas sometime...

Ah well, just some thoughts I had. Any other spitballs you guys have?

[outeremissary]

1, 9, and 11 for both balthazar and carmen for the oc ask game!!

It's like a mirror ask... exciting! From this list

Balthazar

1. are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

In my mind, there's a strong association between Balthazar and blue. His eyes are an icy pale blue, and that's really the theme color in a lot of ways. Cold and distant no matter what else he may seem to be. Not someone easily moved by compassion or affection, but more readily motivated by cruelty or self-interest. The washed out color also feels like it speaks to a lack of richness or vibrancy in his life. In a broader sense, blue is a color that's often associated with intellect and coolheadedness. It's heroic as well, if not as bold as red. Clever and acting in guise of someone trustworthy- it fits him.

It's hard to pin down what color he wears the most. I would like to believe that my sadly unvaried art does not represent the limits of his wardrobe, and he's very fond of lively colors of all types. I'm certain it must be a cool color- he favors things which are mostly cool colors, reserving warm ones for accents.

9. favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

Balthazar's favorite food is portokalópita, a type of orange cake. He's not hugely fond of sweets, but he enjoys citrus and has fond memories of a favorite coffeehouse that served it with cinnamon. In general he prefers tart or spicy flavors. His new least favorite food is an absolutely wretched trout and hydra paté, which by virtue of containing eyes has displaced spider legs as the worst culinary nightmare of northern Avistan. He strongly dislikes the food in the Stolen Lands- so much of it is bland, and then the adventurous dishes seem adventurous in all the worst ways.

It was touched on in another ask once, but he can be a very picky eater (and was even before leaving Absalom) and has a tendency to eat less than he probably should. His appetite tends to be small as well. He doesn't have any dietary restrictions from allergies or religion or personal code, but it's hard to get him to take even a bite of something it he really hates it.

11. what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

Hm, I feel like in many ways Balthazar and I aren't very similar. I suppose we have similar aesthetic taste. It's an excuse for me to be self indulgent with things, really... I need someone to love pointless frills and ribbons so I can draw them. Both have a tendency to sleep in? Similarly restless spirits? Hm, what else, what else... Both have gone through a few names, and both have complicated relationships with a well-meaning parental figure. A partially self-imposed exile from home as well. Those are backstory details that were set well before they happened to me in real life... so eerily predictive that sometimes I think "are other unpleasant things I put in that backstory going to happen to me too?" How ominous... Oh, and we both have pale blue eyes.

I really dislike lying and can't hold most things in for long. I've got no poker face at all either. Obviously that runs quite counter to the core of Balthazar's skillset (and his indulgent satisfaction with using it). He's all around much more socially savvy than I am, and more outgoing as well. I think he's just a more adventurous person, even if he's certainly a less pleasant one. In many ways he represents something of a fantasy of being cool, charismatic, and able to act without fear of consequence. He's also far more stylish (and invested in being stylish)- I feel woefully ill equipped to represent that aspect of him!

As much as I'm fond of Balthazar, I'm not really sure I'd get along with him. Fun to think about, maybe not so fun to be around (at least not for long). I feel like he wouldn't be very nice to me... Besides, our interests are pretty different. I feel very anxious trying to connect with people I don't have much in common with who find my nerd shit Not At All Charming.

Carmen

1. are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

To me, Carmen is associated with the color red- I pretty much always depict her in red as well. There are a few reasons for this. The first is that red is a very classically heroic color, like primary colors tend to be. It conjures up the image of valiant knights in crimson cloaks and benevolent kings with ruby studded crowns, of Superman or Wonder Woman or Spiderman. Her image is supposed to be of a classic heroic knight. So she's in full armor, she's on horseback, she's clad in brilliant scarlet, and she bears a rose as her emblem- a romantic symbol if there ever was one. It fits that concept of a knight and flatters her heroic self-image as well. But there are other meanings red suggests as well. First of all, red is the primary color most often associated with villainy. If something is red vs. blue, you can be confident that red will be the less heroic of the two. Red also suggests blood: despite her chivalrous demeanor, Carmen is a very violent person and feels very little remorse for the blood she's spilled. Red also speaks to passion. On the surface her personality is quite cold and detached, but there's intense feeling bubbling beneath the surface, carefully contained. At times it leaks out in manic rage against favored foes or as violent fury leveled against her allies. She's lost touch with the better part of herself- and perhaps something or someone helped her along the way. And of course, the in-universe reason for the strong preference is that it's the color associated with a chivalric order she was (and in tabletop still is) a part of- the same order whose rose she bears.

As a side note aeon being blue is wreaking havoc on the aesthetic.

9. favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

Her favorite food is rabbit pottage. Rabbit is her favorite meat, and there's something very homey about a rabbit pottage. She can remember the childhood excitement of gathering around when hunters came home to see the catch or of going out and checking the traps herself, and she fondly remembers the stew that was made afterwards. It's a good thing to eat with friends and comrades, especially with a fresh rabbit you caught yourself. Her least favorite food is cabbage chowder. She doesn't like to admit this because she feels it's an immature thing to dislike, and indeed she's disliked it since childhood. She finds the texture of cabbage slimy and unpleasant and the aftertaste foul.

Carmen was the type of kid to fuss about things she didn't like (onions and cabbage high on the list), but she's long since grown out of that. She's a pragmatist about food. If it's the meal, it's the meal. She'll always try to finish her plate even if she dislikes something on it. She has a mild allergy to mustard

.11. what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

Carmen and I have somewhat similar backgrounds. We both grew up in small farm communities which were largely conservative. I was much more adventurous as a child than I am now, a trajectory that also plays out over Carmen's life as she goes from a vibrant, irrepressible ringleader of village troublemakers as a kid to being a very reserved adult. We have the same fondness for nature and feel homesick in similar ways when separated from it.

Carmen's a very personally orderly person in a way I have never been and do not enjoy attempting to be; I can tolerate routine up to a point, but I chafe under monotony in a way she just doesn't. She's far less talkative than I am, and quiet for different reasons: while I'm very anxious around new people, she's simply uninterested in carrying on extended conversations. She's an early riser, I'm not. She's got a fairly spartan lifestyle, I have probably more silly little things in my room than I really should for how big it is. I graduated from my edgy teen atheism to a more chill and cool adult atheism, while Wrath Carmen seems like a champion of Not That. And of course I fear and dislike horses.

I would absolutely not get along with Carmen. I already don't get along with Carmen, and I'm the one who created her and played her in a tabletop campaign for like... two years? I find her black and white morality and unwillingness to interact with new ideas deeply disturbing. Among my evil RPG characters she is uniquely horrifying to me. Something about an evil driven not by selfish caprice or directed malice but cold, zealous ideology... She's the queen of bad vibes. Could I be in a room with her for an hour? Yes, the same way I could be in the room with a relative I really don't want to be around. Would I enjoy being in that room? Absolutely fucking not.

[minaslittleone]

Fission & Fusion (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story “And I failed to climb the mountain”.

Word count: ~2500

Professor Thompson was not surprised that she had to go searching for Wilhemina the following evening. Part of her had hoped that the young woman would have been waiting for her, a sign that she was allowing herself to accept the genuine support proferred to her. That was not to be. It was only natural, she supposed, as she made her way through the concrete wasteland that served as the hotel's parking lot, that after a lifetime of being belittled and dismissed, of being told she was nothing but a burden, that Wilhemina would find it difficult to accept help. To even believe that the offer of help was genuine.

The older woman shook her head as she raised her her hand to knock on the door indicated by the disinterested girl working reception. The world, and people, really could be so cruel.

When her initial knock went unanswered, she tried again slightly louder this time. Again she was greeted by only silence.

"Wilhemina." she called out, as she knocked for a third time. "Wilhemina, it's Professor Thompson. Can you let me in dear?"

In the beat of silence that followed, she could feel Wilhemina's indecision - her pride balking at the idea of reaching out to accept the tender care that her heart so dearly yearned for. For now, pride relented.

There was a jangle of keys as nervous fingers fought against the lock and deadbolt. The door eased open a crack to reveal Wilhemina, shoulders curled in on themselves, head bowed, face obscured by a curtain of red hair and supporting a significant portion of her weight on her cane. Her form fitting dress from the previous day had been replaced by black leggings and a loose fitting faun jumper which dwarfed her slender frame, sleeves extending well past her wrists where her fingers toyed anxiously with the cuffs. As the older woman eased the door slightly further ajar she couldn't miss the way Wilhemina flinched, obviously uncomfortable with any kind of physical proximity.

"Wilhemina?" the older woman coaxed. Glassy brown eyes peaked from beneath swollen lids, tentatively meeting her gaze. As she did her long hair shifted just enough to reveal the array of grazes decorating her right cheek and temple, chronicalling the previous night's events like braille across her skin. Wilhemina fought against the instinct the pull away as the older woman gently lifted her hair to inspect the damage. And as much as she hated allowing anyone to bear witness to her weakness she couldn't help but wonder when she had last been touched with such tenderness.

And maybe that was what gave her the courage to recount the events of the night before, those soft, caring touches that spoke more than words ever could, that whispered insistently that she deserved so much more. From the grinding weight against her fingers to the sickening crunch of her skull on the concrete, the smell of stale alcohol and tobacco, and the taste of dispair as calloused fingers rifled through her book bag and located the money that was supposed to be her lifeline. And more than all of that, the shame of laying sprawled out on the concrete unable to move.

Eventually the sound of the steal capped boots had disappeared into the distance, apparently deciding she wasn't worth any further humiliation. You're too ugly even for that, her mother's voice cooed. Slowly, she had managed to lever herself from the ground, bracing herself between her cane and the wall. Her trembling fingers had finally managed to overcome the lock but all too late. She stumbled across the threshold, collapsing onto the bed, curling in on herself in a futile attempt to prevent any further pain.

Professor Thompson's fingers were back at her cheek, tenderly chronically the array of scrapes and bruises that were beginning to blossom across her pale skin. How hard had she hit her head? Did she lose consciousness? Does it hurt if I push here? Any blurred or double vision? Any other injuries? Her hands? Her knees? Her back? No. All just bruised, like her ego, and her heart.

Wilhemina remained fascinated by the cuffs of her sweater throughout Professor Thompson's assessment, fingers picking at small imperfections in the fabric. By the time she raised her eyes the older woman was already moving busily around the room collecting her meagre possessions into her discarded book bag. "Have I missed anything dear?" Wilhemina could only shake her head dumbly in response though her confusion must have permeated her features for Professor Thompson quickly added "If you think for one moment I am letting you stay here on your own Wilhemina, after what happened, you are very, very mistaken".

The older woman slung the sum total of Wilhemina's possessions easily over her shoulder, before extending her hands to the younger woman to help her to her feet. And for once Wilhemina felt no pity or judgement in the gesture, only genuine care.

It felt good to let go for a moment, she thought, as she allowed herself to be escorted to the older woman's car. To hand over the reins, even if momentarily, to someone who genuinely had her best interests at heart. She had always been independent, self-sufficient, mature; garnering praise from countless adults for how grown up she was ever since she was tiny. There had been other words too - bossy, control freak, frigid bitch - a need for order and precision in the small parts of her life that she could control. But she was so tired after trying to hold it all together on her own for so long. Because in reality she wasn't in control at all.

Wilhemina jumped as the driver's side door opened, having not really registered that Professor Thompson had disappeared, let alone returned. The older woman shot her a sympathetic glance in apology for having startled her before starting the car and pulling out of that god damn parking lot.

Not long after she found herself seated at her professor's kitchen table, a warm mug of sweetened tea once again pushed into her hands whilst the older woman cooked. She managed to only feel slightly guilty about that. The room reminded her a lot of the woman herself, no frills and practical but with an undeniable warmth, full of mismatched crockery rather than complete sets, as if each piece had been hand picked for its bawdy colour or intricate pattern. Like her office, Professor Thompson's home seemed a little worn around the edges in the best of ways, it spoke of memories and a life well lived. From the rings on the wooden table from endless hours of conversation over tea, to the dings in the plaster from exhuberant grandchildren the house could not be further from the modernist sterility Wilhemina had become accustomed to.

The next thing she knew a steaming bowl of stew was being placed in front of her and the older woman was joining her at the table. "I hope you don't mind, dear, I know it's nothing very fancy" the older woman added as Wilhemina stared fixatedly at the bowl in front of her. Don't be so rude you ungrateful idiot. "No of course not, it's smells wonderful, it's just that I don't think anyone has ever cooked anything for me before. Thank you."

The older woman paused at that, spoon left resting against the side of her bowl. "Surely your mother did, at least?" Wilhemina scoffed at that, the very idea of Fleur Venable undertaking a task a menial as cooking was almost amusing. "No, my mother never had much interest in cooking, especially when she could pay someone to do it for her." A wry smile passed over the older woman's face "Maybe I should have listened when everyone told me to go into private practice rather than academia, it certainly seems to have worked out well enough for your father. Though I don't think I would have found much contentment in commercial law, I don't think I would have been particularly fond of spending my professional life making rich people richer."

"I don't think it brought my father much contentment either, though that might have been living with my mother" Wilhemina muttered, drawing unapologetic laughter from the older woman. After that the meal was finished in comfortable silence.

Wilhemina was about offer to help with clearing the table when something fuzzy brushed against her leg drawing an embarrassing squeak from her, which she quickly clamped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle. "Oh it's alright, my dear, it's just Miko. Hello my sweet boy" the older woman cooed to the grey tabby cat rubbing affectionately at her ankles. "Oh I know sweetheart, I missed you too."

Miko, seemingly satisfied that he had greeted his mistress appropriately, took that moment to return his attention to Wilhemina, who's anxious gaze flicked between the cat and his owner. "Oh I'm sorry my dear, you're not allergic are you?" the older woman asked in response to Wilhemina's obvious apprehension. "No, I'm just not very good with animals" Wilhemina replied as Miko began sniffing at her ankles.

"He likes it if you scratch behind his ears" the older woman suggested.

So, slowly, Wilhemina allowed her right hand to unfurl from it's safe home in her lap downwards towards the inquisitive feline, or at least as far as her spine would allow. Miko craned his neck upwards to bridge the gap, first sniffing at her fingers before quickly beginning to nuzzle against them. Hesitantly Wilhemina began to trail her nails along the cats scalp, concentrating her ministrations behind his ears as his owner had suggested. She was rewarded by purrs of contentment, as Miko nuzzled into her hand with increased vigour. She couldn't help but smile at that.

Soon after Miko raised his front paws onto the bottom railing of the chair in an effort to get closer to Wilhemina, and began nuzzling into her thigh in earnest.

"What is he doing?"

"Oh don't worry, dear" the older woman replied. "He's just saying that he likes you. Well I suppose to be more correct he's transferring his scent onto to you to claim you as his, just in case any other cats get any ideas."

"I don't think anyone has ever claimed me as theirs before" Wilhemina whispered, fingers still threading tenderly through Miko's fur.

"Well Miko certainly has and so have I" the older woman replied, "and we both happen to have excellent taste."

Wilhemina could only reply with a small, trembling smile.

"Now come on dear, you've had quite an eventful few days and I doubt you slept much last night"

Wilhemina nodded and allowed herself to be escorted up the stairs towards the guest room, Miko following closely on her heals.

The room which Professor Thompson showed her to was already bathed in warm light from the bedside lamp and her book bag had been placed upon the quilt covered bed.

"Now the bathroom is just across the hall, dear, and I've put out fresh towels for you. If you need anything during the night my room is just down the hall, ok?"

"I'll be ok, but thank you" Wilhemina offered the older woman a shy smile.

Professor Thompson made to leave for the night before turning back unable to stop herself. "Forgive me asking dear, but haven't you heard from your parents? Surely they must be worried where you are?"

Wilhemina did not share her certainty. "I haven't checked my phone." Perhaps childishly she didn't want to check, because until she did she could cling onto the slim hope that maybe her parents did want to know where she was.

"You should check, my dear" the older woman coaxed. "I'll give you some privacy, but I'll be downstairs if you need me"

"Actually" Wilhemina blurted before the courage abandoned her, "would you stay?"

Professor Thompson took a seat on the bed beside her as she rifled through her book bag for her cell phone. One missed call. She almost couldn't believe it when her father's cell phone number blinked back at her on the LCD screen. With trembling fingers she retrieved the voicemail.

"Wilhemina, I understand that your mother can be difficult but surely all this fuss isn't necessary. If this was about making a point, you've made it, you can stop with this childish fit and the two of you can discuss this like adults. Honestly Wilhemina, you know I don't have time for this right now, the McMahon case goes to trial in less than a week, I have better things to be doing with my time than be refereeing some petty squabble between you and your mother. Just sorted it out."

Professor Thompson killed the voicemail halfway through the pre-recorded list of options, they certainly didn't want to listen to the message again.

"I'm so sorry, dear, I shouldn't have pushed you to check."

Wilhemina shrugged. "If I'm honest with myself, I didn't really expect anything different. I just hoped that maybe, I don't know..." she sighed. She did know, she had hoped that for once her parents would show ounce of love and affection, or even just anything more than apathy. Anything to indicate she was more than a burden or the fulfillment of a tickbox in the game of life.

"You would have thought that by now I would have stopped getting my hopes up" Wilhemina muttered, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.

"Never" the older woman asserted. "You get your hopes up because you care and you have such a capacity for love, which makes you so much more than either of them will ever be."

She reached up tenderly to wipe the tears from the younger woman's cheeks, careful to avoid to avoid the dark purple bruising now staining her right cheek.

"Besides, their loss is my gain and you have a place here for as long as you need it"