#IM SO SORRY THIS IS LONG AS FUCK

[kentuckywrites]

Imperium 4: Chapter 5

Promissio ante horam ultimam. (A promise before the last hour.)

Nessa calls Elma after Pongo splits off from the group. Even though comm devices have the annoying tendency to pixelate when their batteries are low, she can pick out the clearly defined eyebags on Elma’s face. It dawns on her that it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since Telethia landed on BLADE Tower, alerting them all to the danger beneath the sea. Elma’s been awake all this time. Nessa and Pongo have been awake all this time. The fatigue, the exhaustion of it all - it weighs heavy, stacking and multiplying faster than any of them can comprehend. 

Elma updates her as briefly as she’s able. BLADE paperwork is a nightmare, and though HQ is doing their best to push everything forward, there’s only so much they can do in twenty-four hours. BLADEs are out on the field, unable to be recalled back to the city until their missions are complete. The ones still in the city are gearing up, preparing for what information they’ve been given. The Outfitters in particular are working on mass production of Skell frames, hoping to outfit every BLADE with a pilot’s license with a new, more powerful machine. The public’s being kept in the dark, and the Mediators have been working hard to silence any potential rumors, locking confidential information behind closed doors. 

As Elma takes a breath, it hits Nessa that they’re preparing for war. That’s what this is: war. They haven’t fought anything of this scale as a collective unit before, not even the Ganglion troops. Syriahnydra is a yggralith, a creature that could wrap around half the planet, intent on eating the planet. She’s thankful the civilians of NLA aren’t being told yet - there’s a time and a place for this kind of announcement. Let them live in bliss for a little while longer.

“I have something else,” Nessa says at the end of Elma’s debriefing. “After my last update with you, we found Pongo in Noctilum. Apparently he’d been sent with L on a mission to decipher some old Miran ruins.”

“I remember when he accepted the mission,” Elma nods. “What did he find?”

“He found murals about the fights with both yggraliths,” she summarizes, “and some weird drawings of us trying to save Mira. But most importantly, on their way out, Pongo said that L got possessed by Syriahnydra.”

“Possessed? How?”

“Wish I knew the specifics - all I know is that it happened, and Syriahnydra reanimated a ton of Ganglion corpses in the tunnel system too. Pongo and I theorized that it could be a way for Syriahnydra to harvest enough ether to reanimate its own body. Froyoyo seems to think it could be one of Syriahnydra’s mental tricks; he remembers it using them in their first fight.”

Elma hums, contemplative. “If Syriahnydra’s plan was to harvest ether, why would it pick corpses? There’s no life force to grab onto.”

“The body’s still composed of ether to a degree,” Nessa responds. “It’s not nearly as much as a soul would provide, but maybe it’s all Syriahnydra needs - or maybe, it’s all it has the strength to take.”

“It managed to take control of L, though.” A pause. “It could be like you and Mira. Needing an avatar to communicate intent.”

“Oh, it communicated intent alright,” she stiffens. “That being said, this means we might be working with a shorter timeline than I thought. I don’t know if Syriahnydra’s still controlling the corpses or L, and if it is, I don’t know what its plans are. But Pongo said there were hundreds of bodies down there. I can’t imagine Syriahnydra would’ve gone through the trouble of possessing them if it didn’t have a plan.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Elma confirms. “A swarm that size should be easily detected with our existing radar, and considering BLADE is on high alert already, there shouldn’t be any issues spotting their approach.”

“That’s reassuring,” Nessa grins. “Now, you’ve been awake a long time. Debrief the head honchos, then let one of them take over. Vandham, Nagi, Chausson, whoever. We’ll need you at full strength if a huge undead army is on the prowl.”

“The Commander’s been telling me the same,” Elma replies. “I suppose I have your brother to thank for my persistence.”

“Funny way to say ‘insomnia’,” she points out. “C’mon, Elma. You’re not the only one working on this. It’s not gonna hurt if you step back for a little bit.”

Elma’s shoulders slump, taking Nessa’s words to heart. “You’re right. The Commander and Secretary Nagi are pushing permissions along at a reasonable pace. I’ve been meaning to visit Lin and Tatsu and update them on our progress - perhaps I’ll step out to do that, after I’ve informed HQ of your findings.”

“Sounds good to me,” she says. “And we’ll keep you updated here, too. I’m going to spend more time with Froyoyo and Vanala, see if they have any insights to Syriahnydra’s tactics.”

“Of course. Good luck, Nessa. Be safe.”

They end the call, and Nessa stashes her comm device away for the time being. She’s parked herself outside of Froyoyo and Vanala’s tent; both Nopon had ducked inside, and she can make out the faint makings of a conversation beyond the blanketed tarp. She glances at Telethia’s form in the distance, making out Pongo’s silhouette standing next to them. She’s not sure how long he’ll be, but she doesn’t want to wait. He knows where she is. He’ll come when he’s ready.

Nessa ducks down, heading inside the tent. Small lanterns flicker with golden ether, illuminating the space with a warm sunlit glow. Snow becomes padded furs and fabrics, thick enough to capture the warmth the ether provides. Deeper inside, there’s a collection of blankets and pillows. The Nopon of the Desserta Caravan like to initiate sleeping piles to share their body heat, so Nessa assumes this must be where Froyoyo and Vanala sleep. Near the pile, there’s a few birch tables covered in all sorts of miscellaneous items. Froyoyo’s sword leans against one of them, gleaning in the lamplight.

Froyoyo and Vanala are standing in front of his sword, and both turn their heads as Nessa enters. “How are efforts going with other flesh trees?”

“They’re working on gathering resources,” Nessa explains, sitting down next to Vanala. “They’re building more Skells, enlisting more BLADEs to join the fight. It all sounds promising.”

“Reassuring to know that friends, Froyoyo, and wifeypon won’t be fighting alone,” Froyoyo says. “Got lucky with Corvhesperikon in last battle. Froyoyo may be legendary heropon capable of felling gods, but Froyoyo also recognizes age. May not be as spritely as Froyoyo was in youth.”

“Hubbypon being humble,” Vanala jokes. “Having flesh trees��� help will make the fight easier for sure!”

“It’s humanity’s planet now, too,” Nessa adds. “They want to help protect their home, no matter the cost.”

As Nessa thinks about everything leading up to this point, she shifts in her spot, her hands folding in on each other. Everyone has been talking about war. A fight, according to those who know about Syriahnydra, is inevitable. The yggralith is awake, and it’ll only be a matter of time until it has enough strength to rise again. Its size alone is enough to warrant concern, but its hunger, its insatiability? This is what makes Syriahnydra one of the greatest threats to Mira’s safety.

And it suddenly occurs to Nessa that Mira’s been silent for a while. She digs into her subconscious, reaching for her connection with the planet. The ground beneath her grows warm with life, a sign that Mira’s heart still beats beneath the soil. But it remains silent all the same. 

Mira? She thinks. Pongo’s not your only avatar. We could use you right now in planning ahead. 

Silence. 

Damn, do I need to flirt with Solstice again to get your attention?

Silence.

You’re scaring me. C’mon, Mira, that’s enough. Say something.

Silence.

A wing drapes over Nessa’s arm. Nessa returns to the present, and only then does she realize that her hands are shaking. Vanala is careful in her ministrations, her wing rubbing comforting circles into her skin. 

“Nessa is shivering,” she observes. “Vanala wants you to know that it’s okay to be scared.”

“Me? Scared?” The lie comes easily. “I’m itching to fight that overgrown worm. I’m just trying to think about other ways we could prepare for it.”

“Nessa doesn’t have to lie.” Vanala responds just as easily, concern written across her face. “Should get some rest. Everyone will need it for when Syriahnydra wakes.”

“I’m okay, I promise!” Another lie, though Nessa tries to build up more bravado to go with it. “Actually, I have a question. We know Syriahnydra’s pulling from whatever sources it can to amass ether, enough to mobilize its body. Is there a way we could cut off its supply, or just limit its ability to collect it?”

Froyoyo hums, his wings folding inwards. “Impossible to cut off ether supply. Everything is made of ether - Syriahnydra could pull from any source it wants.”

“But inhibiting Syriahnydra’s ability to pull the ether?” Vanala says. “That is possibility. Something Vanala might be able to do since Vanala is ether entity, but may need help.”

“Perhaps friend Aidoneus could assist?” Froyoyo ventures. “If ether entities like wifeypon can control intake of ether, then look no further than the planet itself.”

Both Nopon turn to Nessa expectantly. She’d been able to lie before, yet the truth struggles to emerge in her chest, a metamorphosis of stress and anxiety clawing for recognition. She can’t give this monster a reason to thrive. “I’ll ask Mira about it later. I think it’s with Pongo right now.”

“Of course,” Vanala’s settled by this answer, her grin turning devious.“Nessa should rest in the meantime. Go find littlepon to play with to unwind. Vanala has idea in the meantime: a surprise for Aidoneus’s avatars.”

“Wifeypon up to no good,” Froyoyo rolls his eyes, amused. “Froyoyo loves when wifeypon is clever.”

“Vanala always clever,” she retorts, “and Vanala insulted that hubbypon thinks otherwise.”

“When did Froyoyo make implication? Froyoyo insulted that wifeypon would think so little of her!!”

Nessa rises from her seat, unable to suppress her smirk. Despite everything, being with Froyoyo and Vanala is a comfort. It helps that they’re keeping high spirits, and it gives Nessa the strength to mirror them. 

But deep down, she knows Vanala is right. She just has to do a better job of hiding her fear. There’s no place for it at a time like this.

~

Nessa and Pongo end up staying the night, and the night after that. A few days turns into a week with the caravan, and the vast majority of their time is spent talking strategy with Froyoyo and Vanala. Elma provides updates where she can, but it’s only by the end of the week that she’s able to report BLADE’s unanimous agreement to mobilize. Any BLADE with a Skell license had their loyal machines upgraded and tuned up, and any BLADE lacking a license was given temporary permission to operate a Skell for the duration of the emergency. Even if they’re not skilled, BLADE needs as many fighters in the sky as they can get. 

However, little progress was made on the aquatic combat systems. The Outfitters were at a loss on what materials would work best for a hydrophobic Skell, and progress on a compatible frame has been one step forward, two steps back. Nessa remains optimistic all the same. As long as everyone’s got a Skell, and as long as every Skell’s equipped with a flight module, they should have enough manpower to strike Syriahnydra down before it rises too much.

Pongo’s present for every update, engaged and attentive. His discomfort with Cocytios seems to fade the longer they stay, but there’s still times where she finds him on the edge of the caravan, staring out into the endless snow. There’s days where Cocytios is beautiful, an angelic expanse of possibility. But Nessa’s memories are frigid here, as frigid as the bitter winds. She pushes it down, making room for the warmth the caravan provides. 

Every night, they feast on a collection of thermonanas and other flora the members of the Desserta Caravan scavenges up. Some nights, their hunters return with enough small game to feed them all. Nessa doesn’t hold back her admiration end even offers once or twice to go out and help. The littlepon all laughed at her for that, the first time she asked. “No way flesh tree could stay hidden,” Froyoyo’s eldest, Pecana, snickers. “Caribears would gobble up Nessa in seconds!”

Nessa takes clear offense, but her pouting is outweighed by the laughter - and outweighed by Pongo joining in. Sprinkle Sprinkle always sits on his lap during dinner, and his arms wrap around their little body as he tries to suppress his giggles.

“Not funny,” Nessa scoffs.

“Extremely funny,” Pongo grins. 

It’s easy, after that, to coax Pongo out of the fortress he’s built around himself. He spars with her during the day, keeping their minds sharp, their bodies on the move. At night, they go inside the tents, bury themselves beneath Nopon-quilted blankets, and pray they aren’t plagued by nightmares. Nessa’s not as prone to them as Pongo is, and he’s had his bouts of insomnia as a result. It was worse in the beginning of the week, when the memories clawed fresh wounds into his psyche. But somewhere along the way, Froyoyo’s littlepon took notice, and after a while, Nessa would wake to him smothered by nine furry little tufts. 

“What, I don’t get a snuggle pile?” Nessa jokes with Sprinkle Sprinkle one morning. 

“Nessa always welcome to join,” Sprinkle Sprinkle replies. Then, their smile fades. “Starr had very bad nightmares for long time. Sprinkle Sprinkle and siblings all know what makes them better. Just normal now.”

She’s not sure whether she should thank them or cry.

The end of the week comes quickly. Pongo and Nessa are by the caravan’s border, sparring once more. Vanala walks up to them, alone, and the two pause to acknowledge her. 

“Vanala’s surprise is ready,” she says. Pongo and Nessa exchange a quick glance before following her back to her tent. Nessa ducks inside first, the receiver of Vanala’s excited “Ta-daaa!”

Lying on the blankets are two sets of armor, similar and different in many ways. They’re both crafted from the same gray-blue leathers, outlined with the same cream-colored fur. The boots and gloves especially appear to be sewn together with the same patterns.

But the differences lie in the shape of them both. The set that Nessa believes - knows - is hers has gems adorning the belts and chestpiece in the shape of Solstice’s armor. Sword holsters on the back of the shirt, meant to mimic the Telethia’s wings. A horn headpiece, bent in the shape of Solstice’s horns. 

Pongo’s, meanwhile, has a waist-length fur cape, and a familiar silver brooch clipping it in place. The dark brown belt, salvaged from someone Pongo used to be a part of. His horn headpiece, in the shape of a man who wore a skull to conceal his pain.

She hears Pongo’s breath hitch as he lays eyes on the armor. Vanala stands beside them both, looking over her masterpieces. “Vanala believe friends are poorly dressed for Cocytios weather and wanted to make new armor before fight with Syriahnydra. And…Vanala thought it fitting to make outfits reflect journey up until now. Now, you’ll both have memories of love to use in battle.”

Nessa smiles, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Thank you, Vanala. It’s beautiful. Gods, I want to wear it every day.”

Pongo takes longer to respond. When Nessa turns to face him, his expression is oddly stoic, as if he’s lost inside himself. She reaches out, grabs his hand. He blinks, and he returns. 

“Do you think Starr would be proud?” He whispers. “Or do you think he would find this insulting? Me, wearing something inspired by him. Inspired by what he represented.”

“I think he loved you in the end,” Nessa tells him. “I think he’d be proud of how far you’ve come.”

Pongo sighs, bending down to address Vanala directly. “Thank you. This is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.”

“Vanala thinks you’ve had better gifts, but appreciate the compliment nonetheless.” Vanala winks, then looks up at Nessa. Pongo follows her gaze, and smiles.

“You might be right about that,” he says.

For the first time in a long time, Nessa finds herself blushing.

~

Later that night, when they’ve each changed into their new (and much warmer) clothes, Nessa tries - and fails - to fall asleep. She cracks an eye open, realizing that the pile of littlepon she’s grown accustomed to seeing is one Pongo-sized human short. She pries herself out of the pile, much to a disgruntled Chocola’s dismay, but she’s lucky that she doesn’t wake any of them. She exist the tent quietly, holding the flap so it doesn’t rustle in the wind. 

Outside, Nessa finds Telethia curled up in the snow close to the caravan, fast asleep. Solstice had left for a while, promising to survey the ocean for any additional signs of movement. They’d returned earlier in the day and huffed a quiet greeting, but Mira hadn’t translated it. They walked off when they realized Nessa couldn’t understand them. She’d been annoyed at first, then scared. Mira hadn’t spoken to her all week. 

Further in the distance, on a cliffside overlooking the vast white expanse of Cocytios, Pongo sits with his knees curled into his chest. She blows a quiet kiss to the sleeping Telethia before joining Pongo, sitting down and stretching her legs out in the snow. The new armor keeps her warm, something that her usual getup doesn’t afford. 

It’s one of Cocytios’s rare nights where the skies aren’t clouded over, where the only snow they need to worry about is beneath them. From this high up, Nessa has a great view of the rings embedded in the mountainsides, the frozen lake surrounded by winter flora. The moonlight from Mira’s several moons is enough to provide her with that. But from here, she can also see the Grave of the Undying Starr, the massive pit that swallows the white expanse. A lone bridge connects two sides, rickety and battered by the frigid wind. The Nopon must’ve built that recently, she thinks, because I don’t remember that being there last time.

She looks at Pongo and tracks his gaze. His attention never wavers from the Grave.

“If you’re out here for too long, the littlepon will notice,” she says, realizing that Pongo won’t be the one starting the conversation. “Starr was lucky to have them. I wish I could always wake up to a fluff pile.”

Pongo tucks his knees closer to his chest, heaving a muffled sigh. Nessa lets the silence take them for a while. She won’t force him to speak, not when the air around them is infused with tension, bitter and cold on the inhale. 

When he finally speaks, it’s level and calm. Not what Nessa was expecting, but a welcome sound nonetheless. 

“I have not been able to speak to Mira recently. I think something is wrong.”

“Shit,” she curses softly. “Me neither. Here I was, thinking it would rather talk to its favorite child.”

“Favorite child? That is not true.”

“Oh, please.” Something in Nessa starts to fracture, finally splintering under the weight of her own thoughts. “We both know it prefers you over me. Eldest child privileges and all.”

Pongo frowns, his legs relaxing away from his body. His arms come to rest on the tops of his knees. “Nessa. Whatever you are thinking, stop thinking it.”

“You know I’m right,” Nessa says, “C’mon, Pon. You know I’m right. Why else do I look like you, but with better tits?”

“Nessa.”

“Fuck, I was made to save you. And need we both forget, I shot you. I killed you. Mira’s never going to forgive me for that, not when the sole reason for my creation was to -”

“NESSA.”

Pongo slams the snow next to Nessa and she flinches back, knocked out of her rambling. She doesn’t know what came over her. It all spilled out without warning. Pongo’s eyes are ablaze, the stars trapped inside burning with his rage. 

“Do you realize how much it hurts when you say things like that?” He cries, “Do you know how many times I have thought the same thing about myself? I do not think I can ever forgive myself for becoming a Ganglion weapon, but my failure does not mean you are a failure. You are a gift, Nessa. I wake up every morning and think about how awesome you are, how confident and easygoing you are. I keep wishing for even a fraction of your strength, and you have the audacity to call yourself lesser than me.”

“A fraction of my strength? I wasn’t strong enough to save you back then. That’s a failure that’s always going to follow me, no matter what I do. I just - I hide. I hide from it all. Whenever it comes up, I hide, because that’s easier than confronting the truth. That’s not strength, that’s me being a fucking coward.”

“You think I am any better than that? I was so afraid to believe the truth that I pushed away the trauma and became a different person. I created a life that was so weighed down by guilt that he grew to hate me and all I symbolized. I failed you, Nessa. I failed everyone.”

Nessa swallows hard, forcing herself not to cry. Pongo isn’t nearly as lucky, tears streaming down his cheeks. His headpiece gleans in the moonlight, like his tears have brought it life. 

“I don’t want to do this,” she ends up mumbling, unable to look him in the eye. “We’re close to fighting the biggest fucking threat Mira’s ever seen. Last thing I want to do is have an argument about who’s been shittier.”

“Have we both been shitty, then?” Pongo asks. “Can we agree that we each failed, somehow? And…and can we agree that after Syriahnydra is dead, we can be kinder?”

“Kinder,” Nessa echoes. This sentiment is the final straw. Everything she’d been holding back cascades, and she curls into herself, burying her sobs. “I don’t know what that means. Kinder.”

“Me neither,” Pongo replies, barely audible. “But I want to figure that out, together. Starr would want that, too.”

It takes Nessa a moment to respond, letting the waterfall escape her. She rebuilds the dam around her heart and roughly wipes away the snot and tears staining her face. Can’t have them ruining her good looks, but sometimes, spilling over can’t be helped. Maybe that’s what kindness is - recognizing she’s allowed to overflow, that she’s allowed to break down her defenses and be vulnerable. A hard thing to learn. Impossible, alone.

“Sounds like a promise,” Nessa ends up saying. “We’ll keep each other in check. If one of us slips, we’ll pick each other back up again. Gods know I’ll fall a lot, but I like knowing you’ll be there for me.”

“Nessa.”

“Oh come on, I’m not being self-depreciating right now -”

“I know. Did you hear that?”

Pongo stands, on alert. Nessa doesn’t respond; she can’t claim to know what Pongo’s referring to, but she trusts his instincts. The wind rises, drumming against her ears, and for a moment she wonders if that’s what he was hearing. 

But she picks it out, in the end. The rustling. 

They’re no longer alone.

Nessa draws her dual swords, bracing herself for an indigen attack. Scanning their immediate surroundings, she sees no other signs of life, but Cocytios’s indigens are experts at camouflage. They have to be, to survive such an inhospitable ecosystem. 

Pongo’s also on the defense, but he’s not as quick to draw his photon saber or his dual guns. Instead, he remains alert, gazing out at the endless white horizon. Snow crunches beneath their feet, and she tries to silence her footsteps, trying to sense what could be out there.

Pongo stops.

“Nessa.”

She turns, hoping he’s found something.

Snow dances around their ankles, and the wind blows them towards a figure a few yards away. 

A figure dressed in blue, a hood obscuring their features. 

“Death,” is all Nessa manages to whisper because the ground shakes, a deafening roar shaking the continent. In the distance, the ocean folds in on itself, and a long, serpentine body erupts from the water, rising high enough to block out Mira’s largest moon. Its ink black scales fling water across the world, its mouth cavernous and full of teeth. There’s no end to its body, an eternity of famine given form. It turns its head towards Nessa and Pongo, and even from such distance, Nessa can tell by the curl of its maw that it’s smiling.

Syriahnydra is alive.

And despite their planning, despite everything they’ve done to prepare - it’s too late.

~

I tend not to reveal myself in the mortal planes. Forgive my curiosity, but I was intrigued by Vanala’s new outfits for them. 

This world is beautiful. There are infinite possibilities in the process of creation, and some possibilities present as more…appealing…than others. It is rare that I make such observations, as my duty is not tied to these phases of existence. 

I apologize if this is not straightforward. Nothing tends to be, I’ve observed. All I ask is that you have hope. We must face the end before we can forge the beginning. You must die before you can be reborn.

[remxedmoon]

your friends don’t know what to do.

so!! i redrew every single enemy in the game. in the span of like 9 days (excluding the king i made him right after the last update). that’s abbbout 79* drawings total, with only 3 custom ones for once!! i’m so normal. as always, these are free to use with credit!! go nuts!! spritesheets are included <3

got some notes under the cut, along with As Many Enemies As I Could Fit without making this post obnoxiously long. and i failed. i had to swap between the app and browser several times and i still couldn’t fit every drawing. open this post at your own risk (silly).

okay so first of all. what’s with the asterisk. well. I Drew A Lot More Than 79 Assets Actually. they’re getting posted separately, because this post is ABSURDLY long. you can find most of them in the miscellaneous folder, but for a bit of clarity, i added the teleport map and a bunch of ui elements that reference sprites from the icon sheet. and also the game over and loop back animations but i haven’t finished the spritesheets for those because they’re a pain in the ass so they’re not in the drive yet

if you missed my complaining a few days ago, a few enemies might look a bit crunchy in the actual game? specifically, calamité and désespoir were drawn at the wrong size, because their images in the files do not match the spritesheets! i avoided the issue with most of the other enemies, those two just blindsided me. sorry about that!

^sadnesses having inconsistent designs was actually a running theme with these. détresse rock has an unused design in the files (which i managed to catch before having to redo it thankfully), anxiété has extra spikes that don’t appear on the spritesheet (sorry i was too lazy to fix that one), even the version of the friend rescue in the files doesn’t match any of the frames in the spritesheet. hfjfhfj. sorry about the quality issues.

tangentially related to that, massive thank you to @riggedbones for grabbing the individual frames for the animations for me!! they made my life so much easier. vs friends would’ve been so annoying…

speaking of the animations! hi can you tell i’m not an animator. these were my first time doing Anything animation related since, like, middle school. super sorry for the Jank in some of these! the friend rescue looked way better when i drew it 💔💔.

bourdon’s hands also might act a bit odd, my apologies. the sizing ingame is SUPER inconsistent (why is one of the hands SMALLER than the other????). once i’m able to actually test the mod, i’ll try to fix it wauaua.

the 3 custom sprites are for the triplets! i ended up making two versions for each, one that follows the ingame art, and one with my personal designs for them. i like my own designs for them, but they’re a lot easier to tell apart? so if you want to use the ones that fit the gimmick better, they’re also in the drive 👍

this update. was originally going to have way more custom art. i’ve actually got an act 6 siffrin enemy asset in my art program! but school started and i decided it’d be better to just get the normal stuff done. so the mod can actually come out in a reasonable timeframe. promise that’ll all come out Later! sorry about the wait 😓😓😓

also adding this because i almost forgot: no i don’t know if these are compatible with sasasaap. i don’t have the game still and it’s not my main priority atm, apologies!

okay! that was a lot! and there’s a ton of art down here! thank you for reading all this, i’ll be back with the game over animations and teleport map pretty soon! like. within the weekend. enjoy!!!

[tubbytarchia]

so ranchers huh

[methoughtsphantom]

Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.

Still, the scene was ridiculous.

On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.

Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.

Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.

Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.

Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.

Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)

And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,

Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:

Danny: Just don’t let them in

Jason: ??

Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.

Jason: …I can?

Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.

Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?

Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.

Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)

Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.

(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)

Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.

Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)

Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.

Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.

It’s literally just Bruce.

Time to call Constantine, i guess.

[yourlocalabomination]

Tick Tock, Teddy-Bear.

[vero-niche]

overall i really liked the first episode of delico's nursery but. but. as someone who knows nothing. about the theatre plays. i couldnt quite take the plot seriously when. the god of vampires/first vampire ever. has the most unfortunate abriviation of our time.

resulting in lines such as:

[answermywearyquery]

great 😳 + dr. tyme's large equipment 😏

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.

Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.

Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.

Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.

---

Tim Drake is having a horrible day.

He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.

Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.

They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.

"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.

Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.

The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.

"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.

"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."

"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"

"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."

"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"

"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."

"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.

---

Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.

Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.

And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.

Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.

But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.

The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.

[elkkiel]

for @veilchenkopfelfe <3

[artuurle]

I find I'm still stuck in place after so long.

[tangledinink]

Hello sorry for tagging. I am very sick, my asthma is at its maximum level, my nose freezes, I have no medicine or food. I am in bad shape financially, I am a black disabled, who uses multiple medications, I pay for my food and lodging

Unfortunately I do not have all the resources to keep me safe, that is why I need your help, whatever you can contribute to me will be of great help.

Okay kids, are you ready for a lesson in SPOTTING ONLINE SCAMS????

*please don't message this person or harass them-- i do recommend that you report and block them, however.

right now it's incredibly important to give time, attention, and money to online fundraisers. but it's also incredibly important not to let scammers take advantage of that and steal money that could actually save lives right now.

firstly-- if we go to this person's blog, and navigate to "archive--"

this person's blog has only existed for a few days, only has a handful of generic posts (many reblogged multiple times,) and made their first reblog the same day that they posted their "fundraiser" post. this is a MASSIVE red flag.

please also note that neither their ask nor post actually mention palestine or gaza at all, but it's still tagged with "free palestine" and "gaza."

though this one should obviously be taken with a grain of salt, it is also worth noting the poor grammar here, because this can be (but isn't always!!!) another red flag. Note also that all the details are really vague and don't quite make sense... user describes "enduring cold" and their "nose freezing" though it's the middle of the summer. This user says that they're "sick," but doesn't really offer any further details about this. This user says that they need money for "resources," but don't elaborate on what exactly they need. They vaguely elude to a need for lodging, caretakers, and medicine, but don't actually give us any details-- despite this they have a "$1200" goal. What is this specific goal of $1200 for? Is that the cost of their medication? Overdue medical bills? Cost for rent this month?... They also apologize in their ask for "tagging" me... but they didn't tag me. They sent me an ask.

Another red flag is that their link labeled "Fundraiser link" leads directly to a Paypal donation page rather than a gofundme or anything else. If someone chooses to collect aid through paypal, venmo, etc. instead of through a gofundme, that's not a huge issue in and of itself... but it is fishy that it's mislabeled like this.

And if we GOOGLE this user's tumblr name or paypal name, we can find results like this:

This also led me to find them on @/kyra45's blog on their list of current scam accounts.

Despite all this, they have close to 100 reblogs from well-meaning people trying to signal boost and ask for donations on their behalf.

With the current situation in Palestine and the amount of actual, legitimate fundraisers and donations being circulated right now, for Palestine, Sudan, the Congo, or otherwise, it is more important than ever to be aware of people who are trying to take advantage of the situation for their own personal gain. Whenever possible, please take the time to do some due diligence when you receive messages like this and check to see if a fundraiser is legitimate! It always sucks for someone to be the victim of a scam and lose money to someone playing pretend on the internet... but it sucks even more when that money could have gone to people in actual, acute, dire need.

Here's some more information about spotting scams on tumblr! Shoutout to tumblr user kyra45 for compiling this, and for all the other hard work they do-- thanks.

Here's an actual, vetted, and legitimate campaign that could use your support. After receiving this ask, I went and donated. If you have the means to do so, it would be amazing if you did so, too.

[ see ALL gaza funds campaigns here ]

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

[Yes this is a reference to that one superman pic]

Transcript:

*sniff sniff* Is-is that a boy I smell?

*sniff sniff* Mmh yes, I smell it! Boy Smell!

I smell a boy!

Ah! what is a boy doing here?!

Oh my gosh. What am I gonna do? There's a boy here!

I'm freaking out so much!

Calm down, calm down! Calm down and take a nice deep breath.

*sniff sniff* Mmph it smells so good. I love boy smell so much!

It makes me feel so amazing~

I'm getting tingles all over from the delicious boy scent!

IT'S DRIVING ME BOY CRAZY.

Audio source

[remxedmoon]

You should tell us about color psychology that sounds cool as hell

YES… HA HA HA… YES!

GGGOD I WISH I WASN’T OUT OF THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW. but i’ve been thinking about colors literally all day so you all get to be subject to my madness! sorry this is long and rambly wauaua. nightmarishly long post under the cut.

okay. first things first, a few basics. color theory and color psychology tend to get confused a lot in discussions, but they usually refer to different things. color theory is more about we physically perceive colors (color wheels and color schemes the like), while color psychology focuses on our emotional response to colors. if you’re familiar with the children’s hospital color theory post, that poster wasn’t actually talking about color theory, but color psychology (and also it’s incredibly surface level and heavily misunderstands the subject because in what fucking universe does the quantity of positive associations with a color matter more than the context it’s used in and sorry i have personal beef with this tumblr post).

color theory is also a special interest of mine but i’m not gonna touch on it too much here because it’s not entirely important. mmmaybe another time…

essentially, certain colors (and color combinations) have associations in our brains and that affect our behavior and emotions. these associations are also very much affected by the context a color is used in. colors don’t exist in a vacuum! so while red can symbolize passion and love when used in something like a dress or a bouquet of flowers, it has a very different connotation when it’s, say, splattered on the walls or smeared on the ground in a snail trail.

or for a less Children’s Hospital Themed example, i’ll put my euphrasie and king designs here!

(of course the saturation and brightness of these blues play a massive part in how they’re perceived but this is not a post about color theory this is n)

and, of course, combining colors in a piece can also change their meanings!! i’m about to get real fucking normal.

i’m gonna be focusing on the color combo of red and yellow here because it’s the one that’s most relevant to my art (and also it’s really interesting.) basically, seeing these two colors together activates the part of our brain that controls our appetite, making us actually feel hungry. this is why so many food companies use red and yellow in their branding! it’s neat stuff!!

also, if you’re familiar with it, this is why the mv for butcher vanity uses this color palette!! along with red’s general associations with danger and blood, the color combo also physically induces hunger. pretty fitting for a song about cannibalism!

(there is also red’s association with lust and passion and how that intersects with the double meaning in the lyrics but i cannot derail this post into being an analysis of butcher vanity i’m sorry. we’d be here all week. maybe another day... wipes a tear from my eye)

and i think this might be the reason why some people feel hungry when they see my art, even when i’m not drawing food. while i don’t tend to use red outright, most of my art has very warm undertones (red-oranges and yellows especially), which could be activating that hunger response??

(ah fuck color theory managed to weasel its way into this post again)

admittedly this part is just speculation on my end. i think my rendering style and Shapes also play a role in it, but it’s interesting for me to think about!!

this is only scratching the surface of how complicated colors can get. i was going to go on an entire tangent about color grading and how green lighting can make a scene feel unnerving but this post is already Too Fucking Long. aaaa super sorry if this is Rambly or hard to understand!! i’m not Entirely sure how much the average person knows about color theory and psychology so if there’s any confusing terms here i’m fine with adding stuff for clarity!

wauauuaa thank you so much for asking!!!! i love talking about colors.

tl;dr colors have a bunch of different emotions and meanings tied to them, but you’ve gotta pay attention to the context in which it’s being used. so maybe take a step back before you put that thick red trail on the floor of your children’s hospital.

[yikesb3rg]

mkx johnshi maybe?

mrow

[romatito]

finally sat down and cranked this shit Out on my day off lmfao CAST LIST GO!!

new additions: francis as hermes, and feliks and natalya joining emma as the two other fates! plus the. chorus of olya, elise, alfred, matthew, and arthur.

i didnt draw the orchestra but we have: roderich on piano, tolys on trombone, heracles on guitar, vash on bass, joão (portugal) on cello, henri (luxembourg) on violin, and abel on percussion! ludwig isnt playing anyone, he's in charge of backstage and making sure everyone is ready for their cues 👍👍

[dehydrated-turtle]

Champagne and Marble

//warnings// +16, mdni

//contents// Bruce wayne x transmasc!reader, vaginal sex, squirting, semi public ig??

//synopsis// Bruce had not seen his husband in too long, his lewd thoughts lingered around in his head during one of the Wayne galas and he couldn't contain himself when he saw you. based off this ask from @blueberrymori <3 - wc: 1.9k

//on ao3//

The infamous Wayne gala charity event where Gotham’s elite have an excuse to flaunt their riches and pretend to be good people by donating to a cause they couldn’t care less about. Bruce only hosts these things to continue on a tradition that is older than himself and to please his conscience which always tells him to continue on his parents’ legacy. Normally, Bruce is better at these things, faking smiles and pretending to have rousing conversation with his guests and the press. This night was different however, his answers were short and pithy and he didn’t start a single conversation because his mind was elsewhere. On you. He had not seen his husband in so long, being away on “business” for weeks and not being able to touch you drove him up the wall. He wondered the first hour of the party where you were, looking among the crowds for you and soon giving up, assuming you hadn’t gotten there yet. This was his first chance to see you since before he left and he was going to make the most of it. 

He let his mind wander as he sipped his champagne, thinking about what he could do to you once the guests had left. He thought about how you would look underneath him, his tie in your mouth muffling the sounds of your moans, his hand around your neck, keeping you down as he slammed into you. His lewd thoughts were rudely interrupted by a twitching feeling in his restricting dress pants. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed then frantically walked away. On his way, he saw you standing on the grandiose stairs, talking with another socialite, smiling and laughing gently. His mind started to wander again once he noticed how you looked in your suit, the jacket hugging your arms and laying flat on your chest, the dress pants laying gently along the skin of your thighs. He saw that you were gleaming as always and he couldn’t help but smile. Bruce sauntered his way toward you and this nondescript socialite and butted into the conversation. 

“I’m so sorry but I am afraid I’m going to have to steal him from you, Mrs. Henning,” he said, voice smooth as velvet and placing his hand on the small of your back, “Honey, would you help me find some more glasses in the back?” 

“Of course, my love. My apologies, Mrs. Henning.” you apologized and walked through the crowd with your husband. “What a lame excuse, you must be desperate.” 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, darling, of course I’m desperate.” he remarked, looking at you with a certain glint in his eye. You entered the kitchen as promised but instead of looking for glasses, “ALRIGHT EVERYONE OUT, CLEAR OUT I NEED THE KITCHEN CLEAR, YOU ALL CAN GO JOIN THE PARTY IF YOU WANT YOU JUST CAN’T BE HERE. THANK YOU.” 

He held you close as he waited for the last of the cooks and wait staff to leave before pushing you against one of the cold marble countertops with a heated kiss. He lifted you from the back of your thighs so you were seated on the counter, legs wrapped around Bruce’s waist, pulling his hips closer so you could feel his throbbing cock against your swollen clit. He started to grind into you, pulling you as close to the edge as possible without falling off. His hands trailed up and down your back, stopping only to take off your tux jacket and throw it somewhere in the kitchen. He broke the kiss with a soft moan to hastily undo your shirt buttons. His speed and agility at undoing your buttons turned you on just a little bit more, but it was the eye contact that made it even better. You moved your focus to the front of your shirt, looking at Bruce’s fingers work your buttons but before you could, one of his hands moved up to your chin and lifted it so you were looking back at him. 

“Ah-ah, look at me… good boy.” You could feel your cheeks go red as the words processed in your head and you looked directly into his piercingly blue eyes and adoringly dilated pupils. He untucked the rest of your shirt and pulled it back over your shoulders, exposing your chest. Bruce’s hands traveled up your back before bowing his head to the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against your newly cold skin. You held the back of his head and let out a breathy moan into his ear as you felt his tongue graze your collarbone. His lips left wet and sloppy kisses along your chest and down your sternum, trailing all the way down to where your waistband lay against your skin. He looked back up at you before breaking a sly smile and working on undoing your fly. 

“Lift.” He less than asked, instructing you to lift your hips off the counter so he could slip your pants under them, which is exactly what you did and exactly what happened. He slipped your boxers along with your pants so when your ass hit the marble, you flinched, not thinking it would be that cold and let a gasp escape your lips. 

“Shh shh, It’s ok…” there was an obvious and titillating contrast between the chill of the counter top and the welcoming warmth of Bruce’s hands, drawing pretty patterns along your neck and jawline. 

You just now realized that you were stark naked on a countertop in a kitchen where anyone could enter from the bustling party going on just a single door away. You glanced quickly at said door with some slight concern on your face until you realized that your clit was throbbing at the thought. Bruce saw where you were looking and reassured you that ‘no one would think to come in here’ and ‘all the cooks left’ with soft whispers against your skin. 

His lips trailed along your skin, moving ever downwards and looking up at you occasionally with those piercing blue eyes. His hands settled on the inside of your thighs, keeping them open as he admired your dripping cunt for a couple of moments before resting his head on your thigh with a soft moan. Your fingers interlaced themselves in his hair, scratching his scalp gently as he closed his eyes briefly. Once he lifted his head back up, he left some peppered kisses along your inner thigh before softly placing a kiss on your clit making your breath hitch. The very minimal contact was driving you up the wall. His tongue licked a sling stripe through your folds and to your clit, taking none of the salty taste for granted before pushing his tongue into your hole. Reaching all the right spots, you let out a loud moan and pulled at his raven hair. He lapped quickly and vigorously, moaning into your cunt, the vibrations sending a shiver throughout your whole body. 

His hands kneaded the flesh of your ass and your thighs, making you feel somehow calmer and more aroused at the same time. His three day old stubble scratched gently on your skin as he buried his face into you, smacking his lips and sucking your clit. Two of his fingers found their way to your cunt, slowly pushing in and curling up into you, ensuring maximum pleasure. As his fingers grazed the walls of your pussy continuously, you felt a familiar sort of pressure build up in your lower abdomen. You could barely get out a coherent sentence but you said enough blabbering gibberish that Bruce understood what you were getting at. He sped up the pace with his fingers while still being diligent and skillful, trying to tip you over the edge. You let go with a high whimper, spraying rivers of clear liquid onto Bruce’s face and clothed chest, some dripping down his chin, some falling into his mouth. He lapped up the remains of your orgasm from your pussy before standing back up and gripping your jaw then pulling you in for a heated kiss. You could taste the salty remains of your juices on his lips as he kissed you sloppily. 

“You always taste so fucking good.” he whispered against your lips, still groping your thighs and holding you close. 

Your own hands started to meddle with his fly, unzipping it and pulling down his pants and taking his briefs with them so they rested just under his ass. His red, throbbing, and hard cock sprang free with a slap against his abs leaving a string of precum connecting the two. You ran your thumb over the tip, sliding the slick around a little bit, earning a low moan from the large man. With one hand gripping the fabric of his shirt and the other on his cock, you pulled him closer to you, sliding his tip along your slick. He got the hint and slid gently into your cunt, making sure you were comfortable before starting to thrust. The girth of his cock definitely made a stretch in your pussy but it was nothing if not pleasurable, the tingling sensation put a layer of added lust to it. You felt his cock reach your cervix as his hips met yours repeatedly, a perfect fit. 

The once bustling kitchen was now only filled with the sounds of skin slapping and gentle moans along with the faint sound of the party still going on outside, sans host. Every time his balls smacked against your ass, you could feel yourself coming closer and closer to another orgasm, still sensitive from the last one. Bruce’s pelvic bone hit your clit repeatedly as his hands wandered along your back, gripping whatever flesh he could and moaning into your ear, his hot breath tingling against your skin and whispering sweet nothings with his low gravelly voice. 

“Mm, my husband, so good for me… taking all of this, all of me. Such a good boy.” You clenched around his words, getting somehow more wet, gripping and clawing at his back. “Getting close, honey?” your head lolled back and your eyes rolled, he took that as an answer, “Cum on my cock, baby boy… Hm, just like that.” His hips thrusting faster, brows furrowed and about to cum as well. 

Your climax came with no surprise but an unexpected intensity, your moans became loud and shaky as you tipped over the edge and your juices trickled down Bruce’s cock and soon after, his thighs. He kept fucking into you as he was so close, balls slapping against the wet skin and cock still pushing into all the right spots. His cock twitched before the hot cum poured into you in long white streams ebbing and flowing along your walls, filling you up proficiently. Your head rested on his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and kissing it ever so gently as he slowly gave a couple more thrusts before pulling out and watching his cum drip out of your folds. The thought of his cum sitting in your boxers for the rest of this party flooded his mind, so he grabbed your pants and slid them back on to your legs. 

“All that cum just sitting in there, no one will know but us, darling.” he remarked as he buttoned your shirt back up, “It might keep you lubed for later tonight too.” 

Just the thought of it got you wet again and eager for what he had in store for after the party.