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lushrue · 7 days

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cold beer on a friday night

heard "a little bit of chicken fried" in a white people anthems compilation the other day and i immediately started thinking of everyone’s favorite southern boy, phillip graves! so have some good ol’ cowboy smut for your weekend! (also did not expect this to be almost 4k words, but here we are)

afab!reader (she/her pronouns used), nsfw, minors dni!!

cw: drinking, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, creampie, heavy praise kink

the bar was pretty packed, but you expected that it would be.

living in a military town, you’d learned when the busy times were. weekends, most evenings after 8 PM, and holidays. this one was the biggest one of all in your community, fourth of july looming around the corner and bringing star-spangled festivity with it. the bar itself was adorned with an american flag banner that people would occasionally toast to before taking a shot. the string lights above the patio had been changed from their pale yellow to shine red, white, and blue. occasionally, as you sat there drinking your cheap beer, someone would break out in a drunken rendition of the star-spangled banner, causing everyone to either sing along or raise their glass in solidarity.

it was entertaining for you, if nothing else. watching men who’d made their country their whole lives celebrate it was its own brand of inspiring. the town felt the same around memorial day and veteran’s day too. you’d been pretty staunchly anti-military for most of your adult life, holding the belief in world peace that only someone who hadn’t experienced war could. but seeing these men who wouldn’t have known each other if not for their brotherhood of service expressing their love for their country, it almost made you want to believe in their cause. still, despite the atmosphere, patriotism wasn’t the foremost thing in your mind tonight.

you weren’t expecting to find the love of your life, not in a place like this. it was hardly the fairytale castle you’d envisioned as a little girl and the men here were certainly no prince charming. all you could ask for was someone to treat you right for a night. focus on you a little bit, take his time. if you got real lucky, maybe he’d even make you cum. the proverbial bar wasn’t in hell, but it was close enough to feel the flames. it’d been months since your deadbeat of an ex-boyfriend dumped you, and despite how bad of an idea your friends had told you it was, you were looking for a rebound. nothing serious or long-term, just a good fuck to set you right and then you could be on your way. it was hard to get anywhere in the dating scene with this insatiable ache between your legs.

you nursed your budweiser, the condensation leaking between your fingertips as you took a drink from the bottle. it tasted like piss, but like everyone always says, you don’t drink for the taste. weary eyes scan the bar and its patrons, looking for anyone who isn’t already fall-on-their-face drunk. it was slim pickins; almost everyone here had started their evening of debauchery hours ago with no signs of stopping. the sober ones were mostly grizzled veterans, watching the younger soldiers with a glint of something akin to nostalgia. you supposed that must have been them once, disregarding their livers for a night of fun with buddies that they could lose in an instant. they certainly wouldn’t be scratching your itch for you anytime soon, so your gaze moved on.

finally, your eyes settled on a blond man sitting by himself at a high top. you’d seen him here before a couple of times. he was always alone, on the fringes of whatever drunken activity was going on. you’d never seen him so much as stumble while he was here, downing his couple of whiskeys in peace before closing out and heading home. he was handsome, you supposed. older than you, but not enough to make anyone clutch their pearls. muscular, scar on his cheek. still clearly military, but a bit more weathered than the twenty-somethings throwing back jaegerbombs.

little did you know, he’d seen you too. he’d seen how you came every weekend, like clockwork, looking like you were begging for company. it was sweet, he thought, how desperate you were for attention. you were like a puppy with those doe eyes of yours. just begging to be noticed, to be taken into someone’s arms and loved proper. he was sure you tasted as sweet as you looked. just as your eyes met his, you looked away with a blush. had he caught you staring? you couldn’t be sure. you cursed yourself for your bashfulness, clutching the neck of your beer bottle a little tighter. how were you ever going to get laid if you didn’t go for it?

luckily, your military man wasn’t one to wait around. he got up from his table, sauntering towards you with a confidence that was completely innate. this wasn’t born of liquid courage. no, he knew he had something you wanted. you clear your throat and look up as he lays his hand on the chair across from you. “this seat taken?” he asked, his voice slow and easy like he wasn’t in a hurry. nobody was around here, you supposed. you shake your head no and he takes it as an invitation. the chair pulled out with a squeaking noise drowned out by someone breaking out into “my country 'tis of thee.”

you take another swig of beer to loosen your tongue and give you some charisma that you wouldn’t have sober. the man held his hand out to you, his tumbler full of amber in the other. “i’m phillip. you can call me phil.” you take his hand without a second thought, shaking politely. god, how bad off were you if touching a man’s hand made you practically feral? you give your name in reply, withdrawing your hand before your mind runs off with unsavory images. the last thing you needed was to scare off the one eligible bachelor in the bar who’d seen fit to approach you. a cursory glance at his left hand revealed no wedding ring. you weren’t looking to add “homewrecker” to your long list of accomplishments.

“what’s a lovely lady like you doin’ all by herself?” he asked in a charming southern drawl that made your blood pump a little faster. it reminded you of those cheap cowboy romance novels that you sometimes indulged in. everyone had their guilty pleasures, after all. “enjoyin’ the atmosphere,” you quip back, sarcasm dripping from your words. you take another drink of beer. phil leans forward, his weight shifting to his muscular forearms. your eyes drop down, struggling not to salivate at the sight. it really had been too long. he tips a finger under your chin, guiding your gaze back up to him. “i think the atmosphere’d be better someplace else,” he said, his voice low so as not to be overheard. maybe it was just how pent up you were, but you could swear there was desire undercutting his words. “whaddya say, darlin’? how ‘bout you and me get on outta here?”

you have to stop yourself from replying too quickly. you didn’t want to show your hand and reveal your desperation just yet. he smirked when you nodded slowly, your muscles tense with the effort of holding back your excitement. didn’t you know he could smell it on you from across the bar? ever the gentleman, phil closed out both your tabs. there wasn’t much on yours anyways, just a couple of budweisers and one vodka cranberry that you’d stopped drinking halfway through. as you stood beside him at the bar, watching the bartender run his card, he wrapped his arm around your waist. his fingers dug into the plush of your hip with a subtle possessiveness meant to ward off any other interested parties. it sent a thrill through you, your panties getting more uncomfortable the longer you stood there.

thankfully, the cool night air outside the bar leveled your head a bit. not enough to make you think deeply about your decision to get into a strange man’s truck, but enough to keep you from jumping his bones the moment the door shut. you climbed up into the passenger seat, feeling for your pepper spray in your purse. just in case, you told yourself. handsome men could be creeps too. you barely noticed him getting into the driver’s seat, turning the engine over and pulling out of the gravel parking lot.

you two make it maybe five miles down the road before you have to stop. you keep throwing glances at phil, watching his concentration while he drives. you’ve never been able to explain it, but there’s something so sexy about a man with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. he keeps kneading into the fat, fingertips brushing the muscle underneath with how hard he’s squeezing. you’re soft, he thinks. plush, pliant, perfect. the air is charged, the silence comfortable but tinged with the anticipation of what’s to come. it’s when he feels your thighs clench together that he pulls off onto a little dirt road, the tires kicking up dust. on some level, you’re grateful for his lack of restraint. you weren’t sure you were going to last much longer either.

you clamber into his backseat, careful not to mar the leather with your stiletto heels. he climbs back there with you, settling into the seat and patting his thigh. “c’mere, pretty girl,” he says sweetly, and you maneuver yourself to straddle his lap. the heat of your cunt is right against him now and his hands clench around your hips. he can practically smell how needy you are. you bite your lip to stifle a whine, the firmness of him through his jeans providing delicious pressure on your clit. suddenly, you’re thanking god for little red dresses. phillip’s eyes flutter shut as he bucks his hips, pressing his erection against you a little harder. that elicits the sound he wanted and he chuckles, his laugh like rolling thunder.

“it’s been too long since that pretty pussy’s had any attention, huh, sweetheart?” he asks. you can hear a tone of condescension, but you don’t care. not when there is a warm body beneath you about to soothe the ache that’s been there since your ex moved out. you nod in response and he hums, tugging the straps of your dress down. “in a minute, darlin’. i’ll get to her later. there’s other parts of you i’d like to get acquainted with first.” you’re putty in his hands, mindlessly nodding along with everything he says. he could tell you he’s taking you out in the woods to kill you and you’d be fine with it as long as he fucked you first. the top half of your dress falls away as he tugs at the zipper, pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest. you’d made a good choice of bra that night at least: your favorite black push-up with lace all over and a pretty bow in the center. he sucks air in through his teeth as he stares at you. he likes it too.

“as pretty as this little number is, i don’t wanna ruin it,” he says, his fingers ghosting down your spine to the clasp of your bra. your back arches, pushing your breasts forward. he smiles and unhooks it with practiced ease, sliding the straps all the way down your arms and easing them over your hands. fire blazes a trail down your skin behind his touch, your face flushing a pretty shade of pink. the bra hits the leather seat to the left of you, but you don’t have time to see where it went. phillip’s hands are on your chest, kneading into your tits the same way he did your thigh. you moan, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the euphoria of being touched. “that’s it, baby. god, these tits are so perfect. fit in my hands so nicely.” he brushes his thumb over one of your nipples, making it stiffen. your nose scrunches, the thrill from the contact going straight between your legs.

before you can say anything in reply, the warmth of his mouth is latched around your breast, his tongue teasing at the hardened bud in the center. you swear you could cry as relief washes over you. you’d found what you were looking for, finally. god was real, and he came in the form of phillip graves. while he sucked at one nipple, he teased the other with his fingers, rolling it and giving it the occasional flick. already you could feel the pleasure tightening in your core, threatening to push you over the edge if you thought too hard about everything he was doing. your hips start to rock of their own accord, chasing friction against his lap. one of his large hands moves down to hold you in place, his mouth releasing your breast with a pop. “all in due time, sweetness. you’re not in a rush, now, are ya?” you shake your head, eyes wide as you stare back at him.

“good. ‘cause i intend to take my time and enjoy ya.” thankfully, he moves on from your breasts to other, more neglected areas of your body. he unzips your dress like he’s unwrapping god’s gift to earth, reverent as his eyes rake across every inch of exposed flesh. the glint in his eyes is primal, animalistic. he’d devour you if given the chance. despite the awkwardness, you shimmy your dress off, your heels falling off your feet with it. it all falls to the floor in a heap, leaving you in nothing but your panties. always one for fairness, phillip unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the side before catching your lips. his hand snakes up your back to hold your head in place, the other winding around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. your chest presses against his and he moans into your mouth at the feeling.

slowly, that hand around your waist starts to sneak down, edging closer to the waistband of your underwear. you don’t notice, too enraptured by the taste of whiskey on his tongue. you feel it when his hand slides against you, though. the kiss is broken by your gasp, the simple proximity of his fingers enough to make your hips roll down in search of pleasure. the thunder in his chest rumbles again, the hand on the back of your head tightening. “that’s what you really wanted tonight, isn’t it? someone to give this pretty cunt what it’s been achin’ for.” words don’t come. your mind is too preoccupied with the warmth of his skin to string together syntax. phillip’s fingers wind around your hair, tugging at it roughly. your head jerks back and you whine. that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. “gotta use your words, baby girl. gotta tell me what you want or i’m gonna stop.” no, you didn’t want that. “t-touch me,” you manage to stutter out, your neck bent at an awkward angle by the force of his hand. he lets go, rubbing his thumb over the scalp he’d irritated. “good girl. you follow orders well.”

his fingers run along your slit, gathering your wetness on his digits. he smiles, his voice dropping a register as he leans in closer to you. “so desperate, baby. i can feel how needy you are. just a bitch in heat, ain’tcha?” you keen, your head nodding of its own accord. deep in your subconscious, you knew he was right. some part of you wanted to be ashamed, but it wasn’t strong enough to fight to the forefront. all you felt was burning need coursing through your veins and leaking out between your legs. he pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking your juices off of them. the sight of his face made you moan. he looked like a man enjoying his last meal, eyes shut and a content smile on his face. “delicious,” he said softly, bringing that same hand up to your face. he cups your cheek and runs his thumb over your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your skin under his calloused hand.

phillip guides your mouth towards his, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it’s all tongues and teeth, desperate, messy. you can taste yourself on him, the salty remnants of you left behind on his tongue. while he has you distracted with his mouth, he lowers his hand between your legs, tugging your panties to the side. black and lacy, just like the bra. he liked a girl with a sense of style. without warning, two of his fingers thrust into you, making you see stars. you moan into his mouth as he scissors you open, preparing you for him. his mouth leaves yours, leaning to the side to whisper in your ear. “gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you, baby? gonna take it like the whore you are. so fuckin’ needy.”

his words made you blush, heat rushing to your core. he starts pumping his fingers in and out, holding you in place by the scruff of your neck. you writhe as much as you’re able, your body overwhelmed by all the sensations he was providing you. he chuckles lowly in your ear, the sound sending a chill down your spine. “i know you will, darlin’. i know you will. that pretty cunt is just swallowin’ my fingers. she’s a greedy little thing, ain’t she?” you couldn’t respond. it was hard enough for your brain to convert the sounds into meaningful words, let alone formulate a response. you were practically mute, save for the whimpers and mewls that flowed unbidden. he picks up the pace and your eyes screw shut, pressure building in your belly. “phil! ‘m gonna-” he cuts you off with another brutal kiss, his tongue bullying its way into your mouth.

all the while, you’re rocking your hips, letting the pleasure build. he pulls away, tilting your head down so that you’re looking into his eyes. “i’m gonna make you come on my fingers, then you’re gonna come on my cock like a good girl. understand?” his tone was forceful enough that you registered the command and you nodded along. you’d do anything he wanted if it meant he didn’t stop. he nodded back and focused in on you, his fingers curling right against that spongy spot deep inside you. “c’mon, baby. give it to me,” he said, his voice ragged as he watched your face. he knew you’d look so pretty falling apart on his lap. and you really did. the pressure released, setting your whole body trembling. you cried out, back arching. your mouth fell open, moaning as you rode out the wave of pleasure. as soon as you’d caught your breath, he yanked his fingers away, leaving you empty and dripping all over the seat. you whined at the loss, but you weren’t empty long.

he freed himself from his jeans and underwear, giving himself a couple pumps before guiding his leaking cockhead to your warmth. you whine as he taps it against your clit, his ragged breathing the only reply. when you open your eyes and look at him, he looks just as debauched as you feel. feeling you clench around his fingers, watching your face, it had done something to him. without another word, he pushes himself inside. just a little bit at first, and you’re thankful for it. the tip of him is already stretching you wider than your biggest toy. he holds your chin in his thumb and forefinger, guiding your eyes down to his. “you’re doing so good, you pretty thing. need ya to give me one more. think you can do that for me?” you nod, letting gravity sink you a little further down on his cock. he hisses through clenched teeth, cheeks burning red.

phillip’s hands on your hips are steadying, easing you down until he’s bottomed out inside you. the moan you let out is a sound you’re wholly unfamiliar with. wanton, crass, loud to boot. he groans alongside you, his fingers digging into the plush of your ass. you give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness. he’s not longer than you can handle, but he’s thick, stretching your walls as much as they can take. the burn fades into something warmer, something softer, and that’s when you know you can give him another. you start to bounce up and down, slowly at first before picking up the pace. his head leans back against the seat, reveling in the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. “fuck, baby! you take me so well, knew you would. this pussy’s so good, so wet. all for me, all fuckin’ mine.”

his words are slurred, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he lets himself get drunk on the pleasure. you’re not far behind, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot every time you sink down onto his lap. he presses his hips into yours, thrusting into you to shove himself deeper. you moan into his ear, bracing yourself as your shaking thighs try desperately to keep up. that’s when he starts helping, lifting you up and spearing you on his cock over and over. your eyes roll back in your head and the pressure builds again before you even know what’s happening. all of a sudden, you’re hovering right over the edge, breath heavy and head fuzzy. you must have tightened around him because phil makes an absolutely unholy noise, his head falling back against the seat.

“god damn,” he breathes out, a hand leaving your hip to tug at your hair. it was so attractive, the way he lifted you on his lap like you weighed nothing. your head falls back as he yanks at the roots of your hair, the jolt of pain threatening to push you over the edge. he’s moaning right alongside you, watching the way your tits bounce and your body jiggles as you bounce on his cock. “need you to come again, sweetness,” he says, tilting your head so you’re looking at him. “look me in the eye, don’t you stop lookin’ at me.” you obey, letting the pleasure build in you as he pushes himself impossibly deeper. his gaze is intense, unwavering. the pressure, the fullness is all too much and you tip over, your walls gripping him in a vice as you come.

that turns him into an animal, rutting into you with abandon as you ride out your orgasm. just when it gets to be too much, when you’re about to tap out, the warmth of his spend floods into you. you whine at the sensation, too lost in your own head to relish in the sounds he made. some men liked to talk through it, mumble out some incoherent praise or compliments. not phil. no, he moaned. the sounds fell from his lips as his hips stuttered, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. the hand in your hair tightens as well, causing you to hiss in pain. he doesn’t even register the sound, too lost in his own pleasure.

when his eyes finally meet yours again, they look much like your own. blissed out blues meet your cumdrunk gaze. his chest heaves as he slides himself out of you, pulling you down to lay against him. his spend drips out of you and you begin to protest, but he shushes you. “‘s alright, darlin’. i’m gettin’ the truck detailed tomorrow.” you settle, catching your breath as your ear presses against his chest. you can hear his heart thundering in his chest, threatening to beat right out of his skin. “you did so good for me,” he says, raking his fingers through your hair. “such a good, obedient girl.”

you smile at the praise, his words warming something deep within you. “same time next week?” he asks, and you nod. finally, you’d found what you were looking for.

#this is so self indulgent oh my god #i think if he called me “darlin” i would melt #call of duty #call of duty smut #cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #cod fic #reader insert #phillip graves #commander graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut

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deadboy-edwin · 21 days

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I have this idea for payneland:

Both of them get hit with some kind of spell of sorts that makes them "human" for 24 hours (basically like when they were alive: people can see them, hear them, touch them, they can taste and feel things again, the works)

What do you think they'd do in that time? Maybe taste their fav foods again?

So please bear with me as this will be more of brainrot than an actual fic because I just want to yap- but in my head, it would be kinda funny if the gang was able to get Tragic Mick to turn back into a walrus. The goddess Sedna would then "punish" the boys for daring to defy her- since she had said that Mick would never return to the sea if he chose to leave.

I feel like Sedna would lowkey have a soft spot for abused children, and would also see Mick's love for the sea, and on the inside not really be that mad tbh. Hence the "punishment". She'd "curse" Edwin and Charles to be alive once more.

They don't really know if it's permanent or whatever, but can you imagine the hilarity of Edwin being so used to phasing through walls and doors, then him just walking straight into a door and smacking into it because he's solid- Crystal would have a field day ribbing him for it.

I think, them being human would make them quite unable to take on cases, since admittedly them being regular humans (not everyone can be Crystal Palace Surname Von Hoverkraft okay) makes them vulnerable to beings like demons. So they'd have some downtime. That gives Charles time to think.

Being fully corporeal also allows Crystal to hang out with them like she would with living people. It also allows Crystal to notice things about them that would not have been possible when they were ghosts- like Charles blushing when Edwin adjusts his collar so it's up. Or how the two boys are so tactile. Sure, they'd always been tactile, but why does it seem Charles is extra touchy, now that both boys can feel physical touch?

I think Edwin, bitchy little nerd that he is (and we love him for it) would have a field day with Google. He'd struggle with whatever the fuck a laptop is, and how LED screens strain his poor eyes, and probs get those anti-blue light glasses, and Charles would have a bisexual awakening because Edwin in glasses???

Charles, on the other hand. I feel like boy would want to party. He strikes me as the kind of guy who would be fun at parties, and he'd probably drag the gang to a nightclub after spending the entire day eating different kinds of food (I think he'd enjoy cookie dough ice cream- but that's just me projecting my own cravings).

At the club, Charles might be a bit sulky because Edwin had spent a lot of the day on Crystal's laptop, despite them switching restaurants so that they could try everything- and he's thankful that the laptop is not present at the club.

Unfortunately, Edwin is Edwin, and his brand of anti-rizz also works on the living. You have living people coming up to him left and right, and Charles wonders why this hasn't happened much in death.

Crystal is fast to point out that it's because ghosts are invisible to regular humans. Edwin is not a ghost at the moment, so he's not invisible. She also makes it a point to tell Charles about exactly how many people had simped for Edwin in the afterlife (Monty, the Cat King, hello????)

I think Charles would then get drunk. One, because he's been a ghost for some thirty-odd years. Dude has no fucking clue what his alcohol tolerance levels are. Two, because he gets annoyed that Edwin is getting hit on so much.

There is a third reason that comes to mind once he's fully inebriated, and it's the fact that the following thoughts aren't exactly heterosexual

Getting pouty when your best mate isn't paying attention to you while you are having a meal together

Staring and practically drooling when your best mate is wearing glasses

Getting upset when guys and girls (despite Edwin's lack of interest in the latter) keep flirting with Edwin

Wanting to feel Edwin's touch while he has all his senses at full blast

The plot twist here is that since Edwin is also alive and fully corporeal, our repressed Edwardian boy has actually been icing Charles out because as a human, he does not have the luxury of willing erections away.

I think though, because it seems like immortal beings in the DBDA universe have a sense of humor (hi, Cat King and Esther- wicked as her sense of humor is), when Charles finally makes a move and pulls Edwin away from the admittedly gorgeous guy that had been chatting him up with a "He's in love with me, and vice versa, I'm afraid" and kissing Edwin in the middle of the dance floor, is when they turn back into ghosts.

Even though they're now invisible to most humans once more, Edwin is still quick to berate Charles on the PDA- though there's a softness to his berating.

They end up discovering that as ghosts, they can still feel physical sensations if there's enough emotion involved.

That is a fortunate discovery for all parties involved, especially for our girl Crystal Palace Surname Von Hoverkraft, who walks into the office a few days after the club debacle, and sees Edwin pressing Charles up against a bookcase, snogging him with a fervor, his thigh working its way in between Charles' legs---

"Hot," Crystal comments with a smirk, causing the two boys to jump apart with matching sheepish grins on their faces. "If I'd known Edwin kissed like that, I would've gotten it on with him instead."

#j writes #charles rowland #dbda #dead boy detective agency #edwin x charles #payneland #edwin paine #edwin payne #payneland fic #j speaks #asks #j's brainrot

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bright-side20 · 2 months

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Antis Logic

Do you guys remember acofas special edition where Elain is holding a tulips bouquet?

Or remember when her sister feyre painted tulips on Elain's drawer:

I slung off my outer clothes onto the sagging dresser—frowning at the violets and roses I’d painted around the knobs of Elain’s drawer.

Or Remember when Elain was compared to a tulip bloom :

But Elain wrapped her own blue cloak around herself, averting her eyes from all of those towering, muscled warriors, the army camp bustling toward the horizon … She was a rose bloom in a mud field. Filled with galloping horses.

Do you remember when she missed flowers, and her father, with whom she was close, out of all the species, carved her a wooden tulip? Yeah, I remember:

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

But wait, can you imagine what Azriel gifted her?

It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

A tulip necklace. Yes, he doesn't know Elain well, he doesn't even know her favorite flower.

which is a rose because one time she heard about a roses field in the continent and wanted to visit it with Feyre :

“These bulbs,” Elain said, pointing with a gloved hand to a cluster of purple-and-white flowers, “came all the way from the tulip fields of the continent. Father promised that next spring he’ll take me to see them."

They sound like this 🙂

#pro elriel #elriel #pro elain #elain archeron #elriel supremacy #anti elucien #anti gwynriel

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the-hydroxian-artblog · 3 months

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I love your animatronic toy OC guys so much, they have so much personality to them and their colours are really good (especially umbra)

Thank you! The funny thing about Umbra's design was that while I was developing it about two years ago and had some colors in mind, I described in text what I already came up with to an image generator for fun (shitty unconvincing old kind, vs now where it looks like shit but in a somewhat more convincing way) and it produced something so silly that I made her design better than what I would've settled with out of spite.

More details of my process and anti-AI ranting below the cut, so the examples given won't show up on search results. Google Images is getting polluted too much with slop to begin with.

Let's begin.

In 2022 I was drafting up Umbra's design with mostly concrete details. At this time image generators were newer and much less convincing, and I was a bit less aware of just how unethical they were, so I fed one a text description of what I had drafted for her design out of curiosity. Something along the lines of, "doll of an anthropomorphic owl librarian in glasses, blazer/suit jacket, skirt, corset, high heels, sitting on a bookshelf" and probably a few more terms. Really specific, lengthy prompt.

I try to be open-minded and give new things a shot, but the results were Not Great. Ideally, I'd want to not share the AI pictures at all on-principle, but I feel like it's useful, transparent, and necessary to show them. Both as a means of not hiding anything, but also just to appreciate where the design is at in spite of it.

Outside of this particular collage of Weird Owls, no other pictures on this blog are AI-generated. AI Image Generation is harmful, and I am against its usage.

But hey, two of the generated pictures look close, right? The top left is the closest, and bottom right is second.

That's because they started out worse, and I had to actually erase chunks of them and have the generator fill in the blanks to get anything remotely close to what I wanted. Misshapen limbs, unrecognizable anatomy, fever-dream clothing details, etc. They didn't even have a corset or proper legs until I slapped the generator in the face enough times to make it produce them. I was just using it to photobash, which was such an annoying process, I just went "this is dumb" and stopped. They're literally posed like that because I kept erasing and regnerating their limbs until they looked vaguely in-character. It literally only looks passable thanks to STRANGLING it with human input.

Before I used the image generator, I already drafted her to be night-themed with yellow eyes and something like purple, dark blue, or sky-blue as her main color; the generator making one owl yellow-eyed and purple was a happy coincidence, and the only thing the generative AI "came up with" that I didn't already have in mind or included in the prompt was the light blue shirt, which I did adapt into her cyan shirt and stockings/socks as well. That was a good call. You get One Point, Mr. AI.

...Which still meant that at its absolute best, it was a largely redundant step in the creative process if its contribution was worse than what a randomized palette generator or character creator could come up with.

That's already putting the ethics of it aside, like carbon emissions, data pollution, using artists' and photographers' work without credit or permission, the incentive to plagiarize, flooding sites like deviantart with slop, Willy Wonka Shit, etc etc etc. When people say "you can use AI as a tool though", this ordeal was enough to convince me that it's more trouble than its worth, even in its most ethical usage. I feel gross for having even tried. I wish I knew what sources went into the creation of those Weird Owls. It'd be better for research if the right people could be credited.

Nothing else on this blog is AI-generated or ever will be. The art below is purely my own (2022 vs a few weeks ago)):

Actually drawing Umbra and solidifying her design was far more rewarding than having an image generator vaguely approximate my own ideas. I wanted her to look really special, so I used a black cape and pants, gold highlights and buttons, and blue undertones to make something more distinct. Also, neck floof. Very important. I wanted the head in particular to look distinct and original, going with bold black streaks to really help her look distinguished.

I also have certain inevitable Hydroisms for Fancy characters like her; most apparent in these designs for Chasey and Kaita from even longer ago, which were more of an influence than anything else. (Old art of mine from like 2021, Kaita ref looks wonky but Chasey still holds up nicely):

Most of Umbra's other design elements were already commonly used with established ocs like Kaita, like her shape language, corset, skirt, heels, etc. It was my previous work with Chasey that inspired the use of gold buttons and highlights.

Umbra is also now a bluer shade of purple partly to distance the current design from that ordeal. All things considered, I'll probably make her more indigo next time. I already wanted her to have a wide color range from the get-go (Featured below is, again, purely my art from 2022:)

I may use a different colored shirt and stockings in the future. I like to think she has many different shirts and clothes based on the different stages of the night sky, from dusk to dawn, and the painting I made in the top right there was an exploration of her range in different lighting.

All in all, it's frustrating. I'm proud of her design, but explaining all of this is annoying, because it's technically all relevant to showing how her colors were picked and how the design was made. I still technically have AI to """Thank""", in the way you thank a bad experience for encouraging you to make things better out of spite.

#Umbra Beatrix

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bfpnola · 10 months

Text

ID by our volunteer Wren: all slides have a background of a pale green-yellow to light blue gradient. The first slide is titled "who are we?" in light blue text with a thin dark blue outline. The title follows the curve of a large white ring in the center of the slide, which circles BFP's logo. Inside the ring and below the logo, blue text reads "building a better future worldwide for youth. by youth." End ID.

ID: all slides except the first have a dashed-line white border around the slide. the second slide is titled "welcome!" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on a white background that reads, "hey! we're better future program (BFP)! founded in 2016 in bulbancha (so-called new orleans, louisiana, usa), we are an entirely youth-run registered nonprofit [globe emoji]

our mission is to globally expand peer-led political education, support, and imagination for marginalized youth!

we actually achieve this goal through offering 3,000+ free resources through our liberation library, providing 60+ youth with the leadership roles and tools to host their very own social justice teach-ins, 24/7 peer support through our discord server, mutual aid-based fundraising campaigns, and so much more to come! [speaking emoji].” in the bottom right corner, the number 1 is circled. End ID.

ID: the third slide is titled "guiding principles" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "what sort of values guide our work?" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "[chick emojil youth-centricity [arrow] we understand youth as an oppressed class and thus we center the voices of youth in everything that we do!

[fist emoji] self-liberation [arrow] all volunteers should be at the forefront of their own liberation. allies are meant to uplift, not overstep

[window emoji] transparency [arrow] staying open and honest about all BFP-related actions and intentions

[check emoji] accountability [arrow] holding ourselves and our peers responsible, with an eye to fairness regarding capabilities and knowledge". in the bottom right corner, the number 2 is circled. End ID.

ID: the fourth slide is titled "guiding principles" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "just a few more! keep going!" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "[equal sign emoji] horizontality [arrow] valuing the decision-making abilities of our volunteers and thus, fostering power alongside one another rather than over each other

[hug emoji] community [arrow] valuing the impact of a shared story, collaboration, and an effective, non-carceral support system

[woman emoji] intersectionality [arrow] recognizing how various aspects of a person's social and political identities combine to create different modes of discrimination and privilege". in the bottom right corner, the number 3 is circled. End ID.

ID: the fifth slide is titled "core beliefs" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "we wholeheartedly believe in and support:" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide's text is a list, starting with red text at the top, with each list item changing to another colour of the rainbow until the list ends with red again.

The list reads: "the right to organize, youth liberation, religious liberty, climate action, gender equity, bodily autonomy, abolition, anti-authoritarianism, educational equity, anti-racism, disability justice, decolonization, queer/lgbtq+ liberation, fat liberation, caste abolition, anti capitalism.”

at the bottom of the slide, blue text on a white background reads "[magnifying glass emoji] betterfutureprogram.org/about-bfp". in the bottom right corner, the number 4 is circled. End ID.

ID: the sixth slide is titled "our structure" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "BFP reinforces our principle of horizontality through committees! each committee forms its own interdependent goals and initiatives to fulfill which are discussed during international, weekly meetings via zoom [film camera emoji].

additionally, we use 'consensus-based decision making', in which every concern is acknowledged before moving forward

this horizontal structure also allows for more flexibility and adaptability in terms of our roles! this doesn't mean there aren't challenges, of course, but we think those challenges are worth the benefits! [green heart emoji]”. in the bottom right corner, the number 5 is circled. End ID.

ID: the seventh slide is titled "upcoming" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "what we've been working on lately [hand clapping emoji]" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "we're in the process of starting global liberation schools, inspired by Paulo Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed, the Black Panther Party's Oakland Community School, and Huey P. Newton's theory of ractionary and revolutionary intercommunalism.

and we've already got 3 schools in the making! look out for BFP in washington, dcand new orleans, la in the united states as well as sydney, nsw in australia! [australian flag emoji]

if you're confused about any of those names/titles/theories above or want to start political education classes near you, join us (& bring a friend!) [smiling covering mouth emoji]". in the bottom right corner, the number 6 is circled. End ID.

the eighth slide is titled "getting involved" in blue text on a white rectangle. the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "1) BFP is always looking for new youth volunteers to uplift and empower. if you're 25 or younger, you may be eligible for a leadership position! application in our bio!

2) if you still want to get involved but with fewer responsibilities, we've also got a general volunteers committee just for you! same application, same bio [hand holding pencil emoji]

3) if you don't have the time or capacity? don't worry! we'll still be here. instead, you can interact with our international community via discord! we've got game nights, cultural presentations, study sessions, and more, so feel free to join us! ([link emoji] in bio. again. lol)". in the bottom right corner, the number 7 is circled. End ID.

ID: the ninth slide is titled "donate" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "feeling a lil generous? [looking eyes emoji]" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "we're now accepting donations! your gift will go towards promotional and material resources for our teach-ins, supporting artists of color, our mutual aid network, and even creating paid internships in the future!"

below, blue text with a dark blue outline reads "scan the qr code.” it's beside a qr code.

below, blue text on a white background reads "EIN: 88-2043966.”

[magnifying glass emoji] betterfutureprogram.org/donate". in the bottom right corner, the number 8 is circled. End ID.

Welcome, welcome! We'd like to reintroduce ourselves, especially with such an exciting initiative on the way! BFP (@bfpnola) is starting GLOBAL liberation schools and we'd love your support. Get the word out! And if anyone ever asks, "Oh, what's BFP? What are they working on?," just send them this post! 🤍

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tripleglitchwriting · 6 months

Text

Ignition (Part 2)

GN human reader, Ratchet-centric

CW: Graphic injury, getting burned by water, unintentional fearplay, mild language, a solid block of angst, referring to a person as “it” (unintentionally)

You’d made pretty good time all things considered. The lightheadedness and constant nausea were a mere annoyance now. You were going to find where that noise came from and you were going to get help and you were going to survive this. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Trying to get places with a broken leg and a dwindling supply of adrenaline was not your best idea. To be fair, neither was agreeing to go on a hike alone in an unfamiliar forest. For hours you clawed your way through the leaf padded forest floor (thank god for autumn), but as the sun began to set a familiar sense of dread crept into your psyche.

You could die here.

Keyword: Could. You’re too stubborn to sit in place and wait for a rescue or call for help in dense, unpopulated woods. Bursts of perseverance refused to let you lay down. Not long after your thirteenth short spout of energy, you began to regret your bullheaded pursuit. Not because you were tired or losing hope, but because you may have just found what you were looking for. And it was fucking huge. At least that’s what you could tell from the earth splitting footsteps and overarching shadow beginning to cast itself over you.

The thing towered above your already crumpled body. It didn’t even seem to notice you at first… until you involuntarily screamed very, very loudly. Then it looked directly at you. Shit.

Bright blue lights beamed down at you like the sun through a stained glass window. Not like a beautiful sunset, of course not, it was like the kind of light that blinded you and only you when you went to sit down. Its eyes alone pinned you in place, but once you regained your vision its face came into view. A realization came to mind, it was decidedly not a giant. That would be too easy. It was a giant ROBOT. Because normal mystical creatures were apparently too last century so you were stuck with this. And all that adrenaline you had so badly needed earlier came flooding back.

First, you screamed again. Then, in your frenzy, you tired to run away, immediately remembering why you hadn’t done so before. You kept trying though, and you kept failing. Its hand, which was bigger than your entire body, began to descend down on you. Before it could get halfway though, a very helpful bought of more screaming and one-legged kicking seemed to deter it. Good news! You weren’t dead. Bad news! It was making awful metal grinding noises now.

You could feel your heart pick up in speed and your breathing quicken to dangerous levels. Attempting to back away again you noticed its face scrunch up into a weird shape which was not what you expected for something made out of metal.

Inside you something snapped when it reached out again. Some primal fear ignited by pain and panic. More screaming lurched its way out of you, this time with an animalistic undertone you didn’t even know was possible. You tried to claw and fight against its fingers as they eased their way under your back, but they were too strong. Or you were too weak. Either way, the thing was lifting you up, images of kids with dolls flashed in your mind as you got closer to its face. You felt scrutinized, but it didn’t last long as another hand was placed on top of the one you laid on, sealing your fate in darkness.

Well, at least if you survive you’ll have one hell of a story to tell. Unfortunately that didn’t seem very likely, because you felt gravity abandon you as the thing walked away.

——————————

Ratchet felt horrible about the way it struggled and cried, but there wasn’t much he could do for comfort. He just needed to get back to the pod, maybe he could find some sort of anti-bacterial spray or something to seal the wounds, maybe a splint for that limb. Pit, he’d even just take some fresh water to clean it up.

Thing is he didn’t know much about treating organics, especially not ones he was unfamiliar with. In this case “unfamiliar” was putting it lightly. Eventually he stumbled back upon the pod, immediately looking around for something to help. There didn’t seem to be anything of much use, not if these things couldn’t withstand intense welding, and he highly doubted they could.

Quickly he looked back at his scans. There was some sort of water source nearby, if he could purify it maybe he could at least wash out its injuries. With no other option he strode off toward a small creek. He took a medical blowtorch with him to kill off any harmful bacteria that might be in the water.

Once there he got to work. Well, he would have if he had the hands for it. Very carefully he set the thing down on the ground, creating a quick storage container out of scrap from the ship and his blowtorch. Soon after the water was boiling, and he was ready.

The thing, in fact, was not ready. As evident by the painted screams it let out when he tried to wash out the wounds. He would just ignore this as more struggling, but its skin turned a shade of pink where the water had touched it.

Of course, the heat! This thing didn’t have the metal to protect its squishy body, he was burning it! Luckily he hadn’t done much, only a drop of the water really. Ratchet got to cooling the liquid off immediately, but when he went back to check on the thing its little optics were closed and it wasn’t moving. Frag, frag, frag. He did a scan of its body- and to his intense relief it was only unconscious. He had a lot to learn about this species, but for now he’d have to focus on making sure this one didn’t offline.

Some time later it looked a bit better- at least with all that grime off. He didn’t remove the coverings it wore, for all he knew that could offline it. Though, he did scan the things skeletal structure. It was… strange, and honestly quite impractical. Its denta showed it was most likely an omnivore, which would be helpful in getting it refueled later. The back molars were flat yet it still had sharp incisors, Wheeljack would be enamored. But Wheeljack wasn’t here, he remembered, and neither was anyone else he had ever known.

His spark dropped, but was subsequently interrupted by the things stirring. Its optics opened in a dazed confusion, at least that’s what he assumed anyway. Scrap, he hadn’t had the time to make a splint! When it fully woke up it seemed awfully aware of that fact, again attempting to move away but falling back all the same. He realized words weren’t going to help, so maybe actions would.

Ratchet knelt down lower to make himself look smaller- a behavior he’d observed in other wild creatures. He was a bit disappointed by the lack of a positive reaction but soon caught it glancing at his servos. It must not want to be grabbed again, and he couldn’t blame the thing for it. He only raised his servos up slowly with open palms, and placed them behind his back. This seemed to get a reaction, as it stopped trying to back away. Instead it tilted its helm and finally tore its optics off him.

It looked down at itself, noticing the lack of dirt and red energon. If its expressions were to be compared to that of a cybertronian, he’d say its face softened. It looked up at him again, still very hesitant but progress had been made. And right now, progress was all he could ask for.

#transformers #tripleglitchwrites #transformers first contact #transformers g/t #ratchet #gn human reader #gn reader #human reader #WHOOHOO IM ON A ROLL #sorry if the readers pronouns are weird #in the second bit #I have trouble with tense #and ended up changing you to it #anyway I may not update for a couple days #or I will #who knows

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stars-at-5pm · 1 year

Text

Watch out.

Pairing : Mafia!Stucky x mafia!reader

Summary : Reader finds a camera, thinking that Steve and Bucky were recording them without their consent and reader confronts them about it.

Warnings : Swearing, stalking, confrontation, mafia, toxic ex

Type : Angst

It was about noon, you were about to go get dressed for the day as you entered your wardrobe closet. You were humming a silly song that was stuck in your head when you suddenly noticed a red light pocking at you from behind your pile of swimwear.

" wtf ? "

" is that.. ? You gotta be shitting me. I can’t believe them !! A camera ?? Christ. " you took the little camera in your hands, looking at it, searching for details. " A Loki Factory one too ? They’re disgusting. "

" Filming me ? Like that ? Ew. What a bunch of pervs."

Loki was also in the mob, you used to date him a while ago, but he was very toxic and your break up didn’t go, great.

You walked down to your kitchen where you found your two boyfriends talking and working on their computers. Steve was standing up, snacking on a sandwich while Bucky was sitting down, wearing his anti-blue light glasses (what an old man lol).

"Guys we need to talk. Now. " you said, coldly. Steve and Bucky’s gaze meet yours immediately, they tensed up feeling their jaw clenching.

" Care to explain this ? "You showed the camera in your hand " I can’t believe you guys. What about trust ? Boundaries? This is disgusting!! I thought I could trust you !! “ your face was hot and your hands shook.

" Wow wow, what’s that doll ?? I don’t know about this what- "

" Oh don’t you play dumb now !! It’s too late. I don’t want to hear any of it. I thought you guys were more than this."

" Okay let’s take a deep breath. I don’t know about this and neither does Bucky apparently. Darling, you know that we would never record you like this right ? I mean if we did, we would have gotten your consent beforehand. "

" Where did you find it anyway? "

" In my wardrobe. At the perfect angle for filming every.little.details. Guys be honest, do you really know NOTHING about THIS ? Because I swear to god I’m about to go feral. "

" Doll. " He said standing up, he was walked to you slowly, careful to not make you flinch or react badly. " We would never, and I mean NEVER do this. We love you so much. Look at me, he cupped your cheeks with his hands, we didn’t do this. we respect you. I love you. "

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a single tear roll down your cheek. This was very comforting but also very worrying, who was filming you, how long as it been, what do they do with the recordings ??

" You know, I felt even more betrayed when I realized that this little camera right here, happened to be a Loki Factory camera. I mean come on ! Buying from the enemy is a little over the limit in my opinion, I know that he isn’t a direct enemy because he hasn’t done anything against you but he’s still my ex and- "

Before you could go on longer about your rumbles, you felt two strong pairs of arms hugging you tightly. Bucky was in front of you while Steve held you from behind.

What you couldn’t see though, was the absolute anger that was burning in their eyes. They stayed calm, not wanting to make you panic, but deep inside ? They were freaking out. They felt so angry to know that they’re girl was behind literally stalked by the enemy. Especially by Loki, they hated that fucker to their core.

" Darling, I don’t want to worry you but, if you found one, there’s probably more and if it’s from Loki.. he’s probably the one stalking you. " Steve said, feeling rage filling his body.

" I dont like this, at all. We need to get out of here as fast as possible. NOW. Steve get all the security on full watch out, doll let’s get you out of here. "

" It’s okay sweetheart, you’re okay. " Steve said, as he kissed tenderly your forehead.

" See you tonight love, be safe " you were filled with anxious thoughts. Why was this happening to you, and how were the boys so.. chill about it ?..

#mafia bucky x you #mafia steve rogers #mafia stucky #mob stucky #stucky x reader #stucky #mafia au #mafia bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #steve rogers #steve x bucky x reader #poly

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thebibliosphere · 8 months

Note

Have you found any replacement fashionable blue light glasses yet? I got a cheap pair but they look like welding glasses.

No, but I haven't been looking since I got my red-tinted prescription glasses that block blue light better than the typical yellow-ish anti-blue light lenses.

If you don't mind wearing shades indoors, you might find some cool looking red tinted UV rated sunglasses, just make sure they're also rated for UVA and UVB protection.

I got my brother this pair a while ago (link), and he really likes them for preventing his problems with blue light.

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sevenop · 12 hours

Text

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: I'm your Ilo, will you Milo?

A/n: Preferring the original source in the person of Billie herself, you ask her a question one day about one of her old songs.

"Wait, what did you just say...?"

Eilish's face is a continuous bewilderment, woven from many details. By asking just one question, you were able to hit the best possible jackpot in LA: soft lips parted in surprise (you even manage to catch a silver glint of grillz), eyebrows that shot almost to the ceiling of your parents' house and dumbfounded eyes that resemble white jade in the light of the sun with their translucency. You, on the other hand, are a total embarrassment - a smile that rides on a slope, a nervous chuckle you let out more by reflex than consciously and, the cherry on the cake - a hand rubbing your neck in slight embarrassment.

"Can you explain to me what ilomilo is, please?", - you duplicate again, and Billie almost has an Internet connection loss icon on her forehead from the ridiculousness of the question, so you tactfully clarify, - "I just decided to ask you right away, as the author of your own song, and not to prowl in on the Internet."

A couple of seconds of immutability, and then Eilish bursts into laughter, reminding you of a geyser with its suddenness and loudness. Whether you feel even more interested after this "maneuver" or a little more embarrassed is still unclear. Billie stops talking, returning to her former state of harmony, and gestures for you to sit down next to her. She crosses her legs and rests the elbow of her left arm on the soft back of the sofa, propping her head on the same arm. Being as close to you as possible, Eilish now looks like she wants to tell you her most important secret.

"It's more correct to call them separatly" - Billie chuckles, her right hand stroking your knee lightly, - "The song itself is about a man losing someone he loves and trying to find them again. We wrote it with Finn, based on the game of the same name."

Even though Billie was wiggling her foot unobtrusively and lazily to the beat of the music coming from the kitchen, the dreamy smile on her face suggested that she was slowly drifting into a special nostalgia. Blue eyes looks at you affectionately and trustingly - she certainly likes your interest. You smile, conspiratorially moving even a little closer. Billie's hand on your knee begins to lovingly "draw" spirals. A lover of tactile contact, what can you do.

"I used to play ilomilo a lot. I loved ilomilo, it was my favorite game in the world. It's the kind of game where there are these two little creatures - one called Ilo and the other called Milo. It's kind of an anti-gravity world where there are all these little blocks, and they start off separate from each other. The idea is that you just make your way towards each other, and when they get close to each other, they just hug and there's no prize. The whole idea of the game is to just lose a loved one and then find them again."

Billie stops using your knee as a canvas, a small silver sparkle in her eyes. Gently cupping her palms around your face, she whispers childishly and mysteriously into your ear with a sly grin:

"You didn't play ilomilo, did you?"

Just one negative nod and you're already securely grabbed by the arm for a speedy trip up the stairs to the second floor, straight to her former room.

×××

Thinking in six planes at once is difficult. Two-colored sweet couple sticks to steep surfaces, crawls on the ceiling and walls, and the whole stage at such moments is turned upside down and back. The first few levels are all kind of simple and without nerves, there are almost no problems with finding the right path, but further on the real brainteaser begins.

While your blue Ilo hangs upside down on the plush cube waiting for you, you furtively glance at Eilish: extremely focused face and neat glasses slowly sliding down to the tip of her nose (the effect of a long night sitting in front of the screen). Milo quickly shuffles his short, plush legs, changed planes, and along with him puffs O'Connell herself, but not tiredly, but irritated. At stake for the singer is not the conquest of the world, but something more serious - to show how good she is at the game of her childhood.

"That's fucking impossible!" - The Xbox joystick slumps to the soft carpet, and Billie throws her head up and growls in anger at the "failure" that had befallen her.

"Do you give up, Eilish?" - Not teasing her verbally now equals the truest crime, and you're a law-abiding girl, aren't you?

The two whipping blue lightning bolts that flickered from her eyes toward you and a raised middle finger are more eloquent than any possible words. Trying to hold back, you only chuckle even louder, and Billie gets angrier and angrier.

"Fuck you, bitch!"

She deftly snatches the second joystick out of your hands, shoving you in the side, which is already sore from laughing. A couple of movements of the stick and your little blue Ilo dies, returning to the same checkpoint from tothe finish line, at which you spent a good half an hour. Eilish pouts and retreats to the old bed with a red curtain from Louis Vuitton (of course, she demonstratively loudly drapes it), and you only gasp from a new attack of laughter, your back falling on the carpet from helplessness.

When you can finally take a full and free breath of air, your gaze lazily moves from the white ceiling of the room to the window - the sun is slowly beginning to roll over the horizon, taking its warm and blinding orange rays with it. The dark blue curtain, stretched halfway out, sways in the flow of the wind, as if anticipating its imminent uselessness with the appearance of darkness. Dark blue... A sudden idea shoots into your head.

"Billie?" - you quickly roll over from back to stomach, gazing expectantly into her hiding place. Except to no avail. The queen of the scarlet "fort" maintains her surprisingly deafening silence. Well, it looks like you'll have to go it alone.

The plastic hinges on the curtain rod barely audibly knock against each other while you remove the thick fabric from them, you stubbornly standing on toes. A chair standing in the opposite corner of the room is unnecessary attention and noise, you don't need it now. A minute, and the cherished fabric is already in your hands, a few more seconds and it is already on your shoulders. It seems that now you are ready to try to talk to your Queen again.

"Billie-e-e!" - You stretch your vowels deliberately, a playful smile on your lips. Getting into the 'fort' doesn't quite work yet - Eilish is on the other side with her hands holding onto the edges of the red canopy, blocking the passage you're creating. - "Please, my love."

The last word seemed to be some sort of magic spell that made the canopy immediately freeze, losing all tension. You easily scramble onto the bed, dragging the blue curtain dragging across the floor with you. Success! Her lips immediately twitch into a smile when she sees your homely, disheveled appearance and your blue "outfit". The only thing that helps her hold it together is the experience of many red carpets. Her smile immediately fades to indifference and her blue eyes catch up with the blizzard.

"Why do you need a curtain?" - coldly and indifferently. It's as fake and unnatural as possible, which both of you admit. If she wasn't interested, Eilish wouldn't have asked at all.

"So that you and I can win," - scratch your nose on purpose, grabbing a corner of the fabric for comicality. The lips opposite are trembling again in a restrained smile.

"And how will Mom's dusty curtain help us with this?"

"You... Will you be my Milo?

And no matter how much Billie bites her lip, she eventually bursts into laughter, looking at you with a gaze so trusting and loving that your heart flutters in your chest. The blue eyes are the calmest lake in the world, devoid of any resentment. You help her remove half of the canopy from its fasteners and she hurriedly wraps herself in it, "dressed" in red.

"Are you ready to complete this last level?"

"Where did you go? I should know, but it's cold..." - instead of answering, you hum, looking expectantly at your Milo. Billie is a raking scarlet embrace that immediately envelops you.

"And I don't wanna be lonely, was hoping you'd come home." - her soft soprano response. All you have to do is smile and bury your nose in her collarbone, breathing in her favorite scent. No words are needed now.

Ilo and Milo embrace. The level is passed.

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish

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