#brown with tan points and white trim

[grison-in-space]

Dude. That Great Dane is not even red/liver/brown. It's a sable/fawn dog. The basset hound is the same, and both of them are base black--AKA not even holding the same gene OP is talking about. It's harder to tell on the cocker but I think that one is also based black ee yellow; either way, it's a yellow dog, not a brown one. (If it's bb ee brown, it's still a yellow dog, just like a Bb ee dog is still a yellow dog.)

It's not confusing if OP refers only to names that are specific to bb liver/chocolate/brown and completely bypasses the godawful morass of "red" and "tan" and "fawn" and "sable". And yes, all the rest of those dogs are brown.

My thoughts on dog colors

[alltheirdamn]

Dark!Preacher!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Caution/TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS, no outbreak AU, undisclosed age gap (joel is 56 and reader is in her late 20's), infidelity, religion!kink, degredation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, choking, slapping, forced oral (m receiving), deepthroating, rough hair pulling, boot licking, light fingering, pain!kink, noncon unprotected piv sex, pet names (little one, good girl), degrading terms (bitch, whore, slut), dirty/filthy language, rough sex, forced orgasm, noncon creampie, no aftercare A/N: this is WAYYY out of my comfort zone to write, but something about the idea of Preacher!Joel just did it for me. I figured I'd test out the waters & see where it gets me... anyway, enjoy and PLEASE READ THE TAGS/WARNINGS

Masterlist

You weren’t oblivious to Preacher Joel's sidelong glances and lingering stares. Every Sunday, you sat in the second row of the church, watching him preach the Lord’s gospel with a baleful smile only meant for you, while your husband, Adam, sat beside you blissfully unaware. So, when you proposed the idea of taking a pie over to his home—alone—Adam didn’t even bat an eye. 

“Are you taking over a cherry pie?” Adam had asked from the living room. 

You were bent over the oven, pulling the hot pie dish onto a trivet with shaky hands. Sunday service that morning had been your breaking point; the communion dish made its rounds through the pews, and you found Joel’s eyes tracking your mouth as you brought the grape wine to your lips. Your resolve snapped, and the desire to feed into temptation blurred any and all judgment you had since maintained. 

“Do you think he’ll like it?” You hollered back at Adam, wrapping the pie in a terrycloth. 

“I’m sure he will, honey.”

Untieing the canvas apron from around your waist, you smoothed down your white church dress and shuffled the pie dish into your arms. Crossing into the living room, you kissed the crown of Adam’s head softly before saying goodbye. He didn’t look up once. 

The benefit of living in a small town was that all the homes were fairly close together, meaning it was a short walk to the preacher’s home, which resided behind the town’s church. It was far past supper time, and most of the town had tucked into bed by now, leaving you alone with the wind between the trees and a man who could be your undoing. The only sounds echoing around you were your feet crunching along the dirt road and the howls of stray dogs in the distance. Clutching the pie closer to your chest, you continued walking toward his home with the Devil on your shoulder. 

Preacher Joel’s home was modest and small; the white paint on the wood structure chipped away from years of weathering. His black pickup truck was parked on the side of the house, the wheels dirty and the paint smeared with mud. The closer you got to his front porch steps, the more rapidly your heart pounded inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew every muscle drawing your body closer to his home was being fueled by the Devil. Under the flickering front porch light, you brushed your knuckles against the door and held your breath. 

Heavy footfall sounded on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing the man that plagued every thought in your mind. Joel stood before you with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the dark chest hair that spattered across his tan chest. His patchy grey beard was well-trimmed as if he had just refreshed it, and a lascivious grin broke across his face as his eyes raked over you. 

“This is a mighty nice surprise,” he whistled. 

“I—I wanted to bring over a pie,” you stuttered. “As a thank you.”

“For what?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his piercing brown eyes staring down at you. 

“It was just on my heart to do something nice,” you lied. 

Joel reached out for the pie dish, his warm hands brushing over yours as he took it. You weren’t sure what to do with your empty hands, so you found yourself fidgeting with the gold cross dangling around your neck. 

“Come in,” he said, sidestepping to welcome you in. 

The second your feet walked over the threshold, you knew temptation had sunk its teeth into you. 

“This is a lovely home,” you commented, following him to the kitchen. 

The living room was surrounded by dark wooden walls, with a beige loveseat in the center and a TV box pressed against the opposite wall. There were remnants of him in every corner of the room: a half-drank glass of whiskey, a newspaper folded on the coffee table, and his black leather Bible resting on the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was just as simple, with a gas stove and small white fridge nestled against wooden cabinetry. 

Joel set the pie dish on the granite countertop, turning to the cabinets to retrieve a small plate, a fork, and a knife. You fixated on the way he worked at rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms flexing with each fold of the fabric. He let out a small chuckle, forcing your eyes to tear away from his hands and back to his deep brown eyes. 

“Y’make this yourself?” He asked, cutting himself a slice. 

“I did,” you nodded. “It’s cherry.”

“Mmhm, my favorite,” he hummed. 

He dug his fork into the pie, the crust crumbling onto the plate as he lifted it to his mouth. You watched as his mouth wrapped around the utensil, a low groan escaping his throat as he tasted the cherry filling you had made by scratch. Under thick eyebrows, his eyes closed while he savored the taste, and you felt the swell of pride stirring inside you. 

“It’s good?” You asked. 

“S’delicious,” he mumbled, digging into it for a second bite. 

Instead of bringing the next bite to his lips, he offered it to you, urging you to lean over the countertop and meet him halfway. How were you to deny the preacher of something he wanted? Opening your mouth, you welcomed the sweet taste onto your tongue, meeting his eyes as you wrapped your lips around the fork. 

“Delicious, ain’t it?” 

“Yes,” you whispered as he pulled the fork from your mouth. 

Joel’s eyes dilated with a surge of lust. You never saw that look on your husband, but it was unmistakable when you looked into those dark eyes now. A sudden thrum of warmth ran through your body the longer studied you, forcing you to squirm in place. He must have taken notice of it when he decided to round the countertop and swarm you with his broad frame. His finger curled under the chain of your necklace, tugging at it until you lifted your eyes to his. 

“You’re a temptation, little one,” he drawled. “Just look at you.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me during your sermons,” you confessed.

He cocked his head to the side in amusement; his plush lips quirked up in a smile. His finger coiled around the chain tighter, pulling you a step closer. You inhaled the scent of whiskey and smoke that lingered on his shirt as it brushed against your chest. The thin fabric of your dress wasn’t enough to hide the shiver that ran over your spine. Joel tucked a stray hair behind your ear, bending down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear. 

“Y’sure you ain’t seein’ the Devil?”

His hand released your necklace, only to wrap around your throat in a tight grasp. You struggled for air under his grip, your nails raking down his bare forearms. There was an uncanny wildness lighting up his eyes as he watched you gasping under the forceful pressure of his fingers.

“Just a naughty thing lookin’ for corruption.”

“Please,” you choked.

“Ain’t this what you wanted, little one? Look at you, just drippin’ in sin,” he whispered.

“I—I can’t breathe,” you thrashed against him, tears pooling in your eyes.

He shoved you backward until you were doubled over and heaving for air. There was a deep laugh swirling through your fogged mind, and you blinked back tears before you attempted to make eye contact again. Something about this felt wrong. 

Joel stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for you to recompose yourself. You staggered back, your body hitting the wall of the kitchen, and you coughed violently, trying to grasp back onto reality. He curled a finger to beckon you forward, and despite your reluctance, your body moved on its own accord. With a fist full of your hair, he forced you to your knees, making you cry out at the impact of your knees hitting the tile floor. 

“I should make you pray for forgiveness before I ruin you,” he growled. 

You whimpered, humiliated at the way arousal pooled between your legs with every word he said. Adam never spoke to you in such a vile way; he only ever took you in the marital way, with you on your back and him above you. But something told you that the preacher would be far from that familiarity, and it electrified you. You wanted to know how far you could take it and how rough he could be. If the Devil was beckoning you, who were you to deny him the pleasure?

With defiance in your eyes and a proud grin on your face, you started to mouth a prayer to the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t be listening. Whatever you did in this small home was between you and the preacher. 

“Louder,” he ordered. 

You repeated the prayer, never breaking eye contact with him as his jaw clenched with each word you spoke. His hand was still twisted into your hair at the roots, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, settling on the growing bulge beneath his trousers. You wet your lips, imagining what his cock looked like and how it feel inside of you. Joel must have taken notice of your fixation and brought his other hand down to deliver a sharp slap against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, the sting of his hand lingering on your face as you gathered your bearings. 

“Filthy lil thing just beggin’ to be fucked, huh?” 

You worked your jaw open and closed, trying to relieve the pain that radiated down your neck. 

“Answer me, little one,” he snapped. 

“Y–Yes,” you muttered.

Another jarring hit came across your face, your ears ringing from the impact. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Satisfied with your answer, he worked at undoing his belt buckle, tugging his trousers and underwear down his hips. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock; the thickness of it was enough to wrack your already shaking nerves. Adam never asked you to pleasure him this way, but your body reacted differently when you were kneeling at the feet of a corrupt preacher. 

His fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, his hand pumping it slowly as it grazed over your parted lips. You wanted to take the plunge and wrap your lips around it; you wanted to savor every inch of it and watch him fall apart. 

“Droolin’ like a bitch in heat, fucking pathetic,” he taunted. 

He smacked the weeping head of his cock against your lips, precum smearing across your mouth and chin. You obediently opened your mouth for him, the immediate salty taste falling against your tongue. He gave you a moment to stretch your jaw to adjust to the girth of his cock before rocking deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock tapped the back of your throat, forcing you to sputter around him. Tears soaked your cheeks as he picked up a steady pace, each thrust reaching your soft palate. 

“That’s it, little one,” he groaned. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Can’t cry out for God when you're full of me.”

You moaned around him, the vibration sending him into a frenzy as he brutalized your throat. You could only bare your weight against the floor and take every inch he gave, the drool and tears mixing together as they rolled down your chin. Joel’s head tilted back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your gag reflex kicked in as he struck the back of your throat before he pulled out and leveled you with a heavy stare. 

“Such a good girl,” he praised, tapping your cheek lightly before unwinding his fingers from your scalp. 

He gathered the drool dripping from your chin and smeared it over your face, the taste of him invading your nostrils with each swipe of his hand. It was dehumanizing and disgusting…but some fucked up part of you loved it. 

“Thank you, sir,” you preened, smiling through the mess he had made of you. 

“Don’t go thankin’ me yet, little one. Better clean your drool off my fuckin’ boots.”

Your smile faded as your eyes flicked between him and his shoes, which were visibly covered in a pool of your saliva. You shook your head in protest, but he was quick to shove you down toward the floor. You thrashed against his grip on the back of your neck, your nose brushing against the worn work boots adorning his feet. 

“Lick,” he demanded. “Clean your fuckin’ mess.”

You swallowed thickly before you allowed your tongue to dart out and lap up the remnants of your saliva. You held back a retch as your tongue grazed over the leather material, the dryness under your mess painful against your throbbing tongue. You peered up at him in hopes that he was satisfied, but you were only met with a cocked brow and an unamused stare. 

“Missed a spot,” he huffed, toeing his boot against your mouth. 

You cringed as you continued working your tongue over his other shoe, the taste of it unbearable. He was shamelessly minimizing you down into the worst version of yourself, and there was no one to blame but you and your naivety. 

Joel slammed his shoe back against the tile with pursed lips, and he tsked at you. 

“Pathetic,” he mumbled.  “Bedroom s’down the hall. I want you in there and spread out on my bed.”

You nodded and wiped away the tears bursting from your eyes. A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you tried to rise to your feet, forcing you back down. You gave him a weary look, waiting for his next command. Crouching down to eye level, Joel took your chin into his hand with a forceful grip. 

“Crawl,” he ordered. “Go on.”

He straightened to his full height and loomed over you as you planted yourself on all fours. Turning toward the walkway of the kitchen, you started crawling, the heat of his stare on your backside enough to ignite another wave of pleasure inside your stomach. You could feel your dress hiking up over your thighs, putting your cotton underwear on display for him with each progressive move you made. The heat of his stare lingered on you as you scrapped your knees across the carpet, the bedroom door at the end of the hallway calling out to you through the voice of the Devil. He reached over your body to open the door, guiding you into the dark room. There was a wooden wardrobe propped against the wall and a matching side table next to the large bed that sat in the center. Flipping on the overhead light, he pointed to the bed, silently instructing you to climb onto the flannel bedspread. 

You laid back on the bed, your white dress pooled around your body as he crawled over you. Caging you between his muscular biceps, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and dragged his tongue against the pulse throbbing under your skin. The need growing between your legs was becoming too unbearable to handle, but you were afraid to beg him for release. He had made it apparent he controlled every second of this interaction, from how much you breathed to the way you moved. 

“Let’s see how soaked these pretty lil panties are,” he whispered, snaking his hand down your abdomen. 

Flipping your dress up, his fingers delved under the waistband of your cotton underwear, a hum of approval rumbling his chest as he found your thighs slick with arousal. Thick fingers worked their way through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he plunged two fingers in without warning. You arched into his touch, the curl of his fingers against the soft spot inside you jolting you upwards. 

“Fuck!” You cried, your fingers digging into his arms. 

His free hand shot out to cover your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours, rage simmering in his brown eyes as he stared you down. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, little one,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ peep, you understand?”

Your response was muffled under his hand, and he shifted his weight so that his fingers dug further inside you. You swallowed back pitiful moans as he worked his fingers in and out of you. A slow-burning sensation rolled through your stomach, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You were fluttering around him as it bubbled to the surface, only to be met by the absence of his fingers as he pulled them away at the last second. You wailed in protest, feeling a hollowness inside of you without them there. 

Ripping your underwear down your legs, Joel hauled you onto your stomach, positioning your hips upward in the way he desired. You had no choice but to take anything he gave you. The clanking sound of the belt around his pants was the only warning you were granted before wedged between your thinks and sunk into you. Your vision faded out at the blinding pain of him stretching you open, every inch of him tearing you apart beyond compare. 

“It’s too much. I—I can’t. It hurts!” you cried. 

His only response was to grind his hips harder against yours, the pain radiating up your spine. 

“Shut up,” he bit out, pulling out and driving back into you. “You’re gonna take my cock like the filthy lil slut I know you are, and you’re gonna thank me. Understand?”

Your face fell into the pillows as you muffled a scream. His hand wound around your neck, yanking you from the bed and forcing you to bend back and meet his vicious stare. With his teeth barred and cock buried inside you, there was nothing to do but give yourself fully to him. 

“Yes, sir!" You wailed. “ Thank you, sir.”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. 

He set a steady pace, the lewd sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing throughout the room. He was brutalizing you, defiling you, completely ruining you into oblivion. The voice of temptation had led you here, and now you were paying the price for your sins. No amount of prayer or forgiveness could wash you clean. 

“Such a perfect and obedient whore,” he grunted with his fingers bruising your hipbones. “You fuckin’ love havin’ this tight cunt wrecked by the preacher—shit—just dyin’ to have my cum inside you.”

The sobs wracked through your body as the need to climax tore you apart. He yanked your hips even higher, pistoning his cock into you at an angle that set your body alight. You had no control over the pleasure burning deep within you, and suddenly you were tensing around his cock with the name of God falling off your lips. 

“God can’t save you now, little one. This unholy cunt is mine.”

Fizzles of your ebbing climax simmered through your body, carrying you back down to the present, only to be met by another onslaught of violent thrusts from the man behind you. He was relentless as he took…and took…and took. By the time he was done with you, there would be nothing left. 

“Please—stop!” The words left your mouth broken and strained. 

You were clawing at the bedsheets, begging for him to release you. He only laughed at each one of your protests, his pace unrelenting and forceful with every drive of his cock inside you. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you felt the shift in his rhythm, alerting you that he was about to climax. 

“Don’t—God—please don’t!” You begged. 

“Quiet,” he snarled, pulling you by the throat so that you were flush against his chest. 

“Please,” you sobbed, barely choking out the word. 

“Gonna send you back to your husband with my cum leakin’ out of you,” he snarled. 

Before you could even attempt to escape his hold, Joel was slamming into you one final time, a carnal groan deafening your ears as he filled you with his release. He tossed you back onto the bed carelessly, leaving you aching and stretched open on the ruined sheets. You lay there motionless, staring at the chipping paint along the doors of his wardrobe. Joel rolled off the bed, muttering a slew of derogatory words your way, before vanishing into the bathroom down the hall. The silence swirling around you was the only comfort in the aftermath, the pain radiating inside you fading away the longer you sunk into the mattress. 

The sound of footsteps flooded the room, and you flinched away as Joel’s hand roamed up your bare thigh. His fingers prodded against your throbbing entrance, teasing you until you squirmed out of reach. 

“Take yourself home, little one,” he instructed. 

You winced as you rose from the bed, not daring to make eye contact as you gathered your underwear and fled down the hallway. The slap of the cross necklace against your chest was a burning reminder of the sins you had committed. You staggered out the front door, barely making it down the first step of the porch before you burst into tears. Joel’s presence loomed behind you, and you looked back one final time to see him watching you leave with a sinister smile breaking across his face. With scuffed knees and his cum trickling down your thighs, you barreled home, knowing you had just met the Devil.

[jam3sacaster]

Every Breath You Take.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Synopsis: Rupert pops the biggest question of his life…

Title derived from Every Breath You Take by The Police.

Prologue: 18+ FANFIC / Just some super cute, soppy Rupert 🥺 Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🩷

Spring — your favourite month — had officially engulfed the entirety of Rutshire, with vivid daffodils rising from the ground in droves, and a plethora of tulips lined the garden of Penscombe Court, vibrant pinks, indigos and scarlet reds. The gardeners were occupied outside, shearing the hedges into the most fantastic shapes. The lawn was freshly trimmed, the nostalgic aroma of the clippings clinging to Penscombe Court. From the hanging baskets surrounding the mahogany back door, a blissful cloud of sweet alyssums and cyclamens. Dressed in his Sunday best, Rupert was sporting a rather suave navy blue jumper with white lining around the waistband and neckline, brown corduroy trousers and tan leather brogues, his ink black hair gelled flawlessly. “You’re pulling out all the stops this season, Mr Campbell-Black.” The portly gardener chirped, holding his shears mid-air. “All for good reason, Dennis. You’ll soon see. Can you ask Edith to plant a few lilacs there? They’re angel’s favourite.” He announced, pointing towards an empty flowerbed. The man nodded in response and returned to shearing the hedge.

Pottering back inside, Rupert sloped into the kitchen, his smile immediately brightening as he saw you, freshly awake from your slumber. You were dressed only in one of his Venturer t-shirts, that hung down to your knees — your cappuccino-brown hair tangled across your shoulders. “You’ve been outside for a while, what are you doing?” You questioned suspiciously, flicking on the kettle. “Nothing. Just… go and get ready, will you?” Rupert snapped, anxiously adjusting his watch. Furrowing your brow in astonishment at his miniature outburst, you barged past him and marched upstairs. “Properly ready, we’re going out!” He called up after you, sighing.

-

Rupert was all too aware that it took you a while to get ready, but wow, you were taking your sweet time today. Almost two hours later, as the grandfather clock struck 12pm, you were finally dressed, and howled at Rupert to wait by the stairs. Obliging like the obedient man he was, Rupert stood at the foot of the winding staircase, his jaw instantaneously dropping in adoration as you began your descent. Your curvaceous figure was wrapped tightly in a black silk dress cut to your knees, cleavage on show with a plunging neckline, alongside black kitten heels and accessorised with a pearl necklace and earrings. Coffee-coloured hair was draped across your back, tied neatly with a black satin bow, and your makeup was subtle and elegant. In other words, you looked phenomenally glamorous and utterly irresistible. “Wow, angel… you look incredible.” Rupert chuckled, offering his hand to guide you down the last few steps. “Thank you.” You muttered, still partially irritated by his snapping. “Come with me.” He winked, beginning to lead you out into the garden.

Penscombe’s garden had been entirely transformed overnight. Spring - and the gardeners - had transformed the dreary, overgrown disarray into Eden. “Rupert! It’s… it’s beautiful” You weeped, heart fluttering at the arrangement of lilacs. Thank God, thought Rupert. Atop the freshly-trimmed lawn sat a tartan picnic blanket filled with fresh treats, helpfully provided by Taggie O’Hara the night afore. Unbeknownst to you, the large topiary bushes lining the lawn were methodically sheared to spell out ‘Marry me?’ The hired orchestra of five musicians began to play Every Breath You Take by The Police, your favourite song, as you both sauntered onto the grass. Blissfully unaware of the sheared topiary, you gasped in delight, clapping your hands together in time to the music. “Oh Rupert, you shouldn’t have!” You joyfully exclaimed, unable to remove your gaze from the violin.

Wrapped up in your harmonious euphoria, you hadn’t noticed Rupert had gotten down on one knee, yielding a small red leather box. Within the plush cushioning of the box sat a silver banded engagement ring, an immense diamond proudly glinting on top. “Angel…” He prompted, gazing up at the woman he so loved. Slowly, you began to read the words sheared into the topiary, jaw dropping rapidly. A dumbfounded gasp parted from your lips as you spun round to meet him. “Rupert…” You managed to breathe out.

“My darling, any attempt I make to tell you just how much you’ve illuminated my life… not just with your vivid flowers or your awful music, but with your beautiful, caring heart, will never be enough.” He began, hand trembling slightly. Tears had already begun their descent across your cheeks. “You haven’t had the easiest job in taming me, but you made it look effortless. Whenever you are gone, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t breathe. I can’t live without you. I wonder if you’d take on the awful burden of becoming Mrs Campbell-Black?” He asked, that awfully heart-wrenching nervous look overtaking his features. “Rupert… yes! Of course I will! My God.” You stutter, grinning widely as he hoisted himself up and enveloped you in his arms.

[this-insidious-dawn]

This Insidious Dawn is a dark fantasy IF wherein you play as a vampire, employed under the clandestine League of the Third God to hunt down anything -- everything - that does not belong in this world. But you do not belong here either, Warden. Demo tba.

☼ SYNOPSIS

The League saved you. Rewrote your life- gave you a chance to be more than a bloodstarved vampyr. Or did they?

You remember nothing of your past before the League; nothing but blood and indescribable agony, nothing but the thrumming of your heart stilling- and then beginning again, stilted and wrong. That was over a decade ago, the memories now faint and the connection quivering. They've been replaced, overwritten by years of blades clashing, body aches, and hollow hunger.

You started out weak. Starving, skin-and-bones, desperate for any reprieve you could get your hands on. Now, you're strong, each hunt -- each cut - giving you just enough energy to keep your worn body going. Some people would call it cruel, to keep a sentient being on the edge of death. Most people, though, would say that you're a vampire, so you hardly count as sentient.

Regardless of the morality of it, the method was effective. You were one of -- no, the most - efficient Warden the League had to offer.

And then a hunt went wrong. And now you're dead. But- a vampire (no, not a vampire; a vampyr) can never truly die. So you're back. But is it really you?

☼ FEATURES

↠ Customize your Warden. Appearance, gender, pronouns, and personality are all up to your choices as the player.

↠ This is a psychological horror first and foremost. It will have themes of dehumanization and derealization, amongst others. CWs will be offered.

↠ A character-driven plot where your choices impact the story.

↠ A cast of four consisting of The Acolyte, The Commander, The Savior, and The Forgotten, any of which you can optionally romance no matter your Warden's gender.

☼ CAST

↠ THE ACOLYTE

As with any vampire, you are accompanied by an acolyte to keep you in check and ensure that your hunts go well- as well as to mend any Gorges that riftspawn might crawl out of. Constantine Nimecidus fills this role, in your case (ae/aer). Ae is sharp-tongued, with a chronic lack of patience towards the people and world around aer, and can come across as snappy or rude. In other instances still, aer sarcastic, dry, and often untimely humor can offer a quick relief from the tension of any situation- or make it several times worse. Despite aer casual, laidback nature in the face of most events, ae places utmost importance on aer job, and quickly becomes intense whenever ae feels as if ae or aer position are being in any way threatened. You've spent years going on hunts with aer at this point, but the connection has never transcended the necessary 'I save you, you save me' exchange. Ae seems wary of you.

Constantine is a bit shorter than most, standing at 5'3. Ae has broad shoulders and hips, and is thickset with both muscle and fat. Aer amber skin is dappled with symmetrical pale patches, especially prevalent around aer eyes and mouth, and the lack of pigmentation has bled into aer hair in some spots, giving the dark auburn eye-catching streaks of white. Said hair is curly and cut shorter along the sides than the back is, and ae spends an awful lot of time preening it. Aer eyes are a striking, slightly luminescent bronze, and aer pupils appear instead of black as molten gold, shifting slightly in color to match aer emotions at any given moment. Ae has full lips and slightly upturned, monolid eyes. Ae favors shades of brown, tan, and orange in aer outfit, and ae near-constantly dons a rich red capelet with fur trimming around the hood.

↠ THE COMMANDER

Ex-commander of the Serpent's Guard-turned vampire. You'd personally never had a run-in with Alvaros Vepir until just recently (he/him). He's gruff, jaded, and withdrawn- exactly what you'd expect out of the man who gave his life for his queen only to nearly die (again) for it. It's hard to say, though, how much of his time as the commander he truly remembers. Alvaros is a poet's dream, the hero in an epic-turned-tragedy. He keeps everybody at arm's length, never allowing them to learn more than what the stories and theatrics tell of him. This is especially true of you- the vampire who was sent to reign him in, turn him from a rogue vampyr into a soldier of the League. Despite his emotional avoidance of you, though, he seems quite interested in you. Maybe it's the fact you're one of the few to have bested him in combat. Maybe it's just that 'vampiric charm' that old legends tell about (but that never seems to work outside of fights). Maybe it's because he remembers you.

Alvaros is intimidating in every manner. He stands at 6'4, his whole body is lean and scarred, and the black sclerae encircling dark green irises certainly does him no favors in lessening the effect. Before you were dispatched to retrieve him, you couldn't have said what he looked like; as the commander, he'd worn the veil regular of high-ranking members of the Serpent's Ring, leaving nothing but the back of his head exposed. Now, you know of his face well enough that you could probably recognize him in a crowd. With fawn skin dotted by freckles, hooded eyes, and a distinctive hooked nose, Alvaros is exactly what one would expect of a native of southern Ghel- save for his hair. Instead of the expected brown or black, his hair is a muddy blonde, and it has slight waves that turn into full curls at the tips. He maintains it short, never reaching past his chin. His face is scarred (his everything is, really), with a particularly nasty gash reaching from his left eyebrow down to his right jaw. It just barely misses his right eye.

↠ THE SAVIOR

An acolyte? You think so, anyways. Suri Revlece is the woman who saved you (she/her). You don't know whether or not she's even with the League, but she certainly looks like an acolyte. You don't know what she was doing there, either, but she seems willing to answer any of your questions while you recover- as long as they aren't personal. She's kind enough, but seems a little...off. She's finicky, always looking over her shoulder. She's running from something, but she doesn't seem to know what. She appears to believe that she and you have some type of camaraderie, although you've never met. But there's something to be said for the sheer strength of her magic- you've never seen an acolyte's shimmer burn a riftspawn like that. Never seen one with an eye glowing that bright, either. She's an anomaly- one that you're sure the headman at your partner's spire would be more than glad to have amongst their ranks, but then the mere idea of it had her denying it with vehemence. It seems like she has a history with it.

Suri has a mesmerizing look to her. The deep brown of her skin, near-black of her hair, and dark garb are contrasted with bright pops of color. One eye is a brightly glowing orange, the pupil nearly white, and the other is a misty grey, its almond shape deformed by the burn scars warping the left side of her face. That dark hair, braided and reaching down to about her hips, is decorated by light brown and gold beads engraved with runes that seem to serve to channel her magic. Her frame is lanky and she's long-limbed, reaching just above what most would think of as an 'average height', at 5'8. Below a brown leather cloak, more runed jewelry decorates her wrists and fingers, and her hands are tattooed in shades of bronze. The burn upon her face is not the only such injury she has suffered; her palms are burnt the slightest bit, and similar scars wrap around her arms. She has a broad nose and thick heart-shaped lips, and light stubble sits above the top lip.

↠ THE FORGOTTEN

You don't know who they are anymore. Who are they? (he/they/she)

A shadowy form, the silhouette of a memory. There's something not quite right about them. What have they become?

☼ LINKS

Demo - tba

Other blogs - @azraels-bad-choices (main IF blog) and @a-firsthand-murder-ballad (other project)

[two-red-lungs]

I Can’t Hardly Stand It

BFF!Eddie/Fem!Reader NSFW

Summary: College guys, despite your best attempts, have been leaving you high and dry and desperate in the bedroom. Now, with you back in Hawkins for winter break? Let’s just say your six-foot-something best friend is looking like a real good way to relieve some of that long-standing sexual tension. 

That is, if you don’t ruin your friendship in the process. 

Word Count: 5.5k

How do you ask a friend to be more than a friend? To lift a foot and place it, however tentative and skittish over the well-established boundary? To enter into a realm of unknown, unfamiliar feelings that, in all likelihood, could destroy that friendship? Crumble it to dust? How the hell does one do that, exactly?

It was a question you had been turning over and over in your head for days, hoping that contemplating it enough would bring you a sudden enlightened answer. But nope. It was still the same agonizing question. You thought it, and in your mind you saw Eddie’s eyes. Big, brown, wet and wide. 

How do you ask your friend to fuck you?

When the idea first came to mind you discarded it like a deer stumbling away from a car on a highway. The thought was obscene. Way outta line. You and Eds… you went back years. Maybe a decade at this point. You and him in fifth grade, goofin’ it up out on the playground in the Indiana winter cold, play-fighting with sticks as swords. And now, him calling you once or twice a month: the connection long and expensive and only affordable if all you said was hi, how are you, that’s great, talk to you later. But NYU was your dream school. He knew that. He’d encouraged you to take the scholarship, to get the fuck out of the sleepy town that too often trapped people in little lives that went nowhere. 

And you did. You did it. Packed your shit and left, moved into a freshman dorm buzzing with excitement and academia and dirty laundry. It was fun. New York was big and loud and alive and full of cute boys to meet. Oh, meet them you did. Date after date, smiling faces, clumsy, heated kisses. 

That’s where the problem really was, see. 

You wanted it. The big sin. La petite mort. And without fucking fail, every single skinny-legged eighteen-nineteen-twenty year old you collapsed into bed with was baaaaad. Like, painfully, stupidly, unbelievably bad. Their breath stank or they sweat too much or they popped off like bottle rockets against your bare thigh after just a minute or two of naked squirming and sloppy makeouts. And that left you alone, buzzing with a deep, red hunger. Unfulfilled, day after day. Month after month. It made you realize you needed something more. Someone you could talk to, tell what to do, share information and words with without it feeling awkward or dictatorial or rude. Someone who wasn’t, by and large, a stranger. 

Your mind went to one person and now you just couldn’t fucking shake the idea. Kept seeing it in your head. Kept thinking what if.

The plane from JFK landed back in Indianapolis for winter break. Snow was high outside, brilliant diamond-white against cerulean sky, icicles trimming the roof over the pick-up zone in great crystal stalactites. Your breath was fog in the air. And, right on time, god bless him, the familiar brown-and-tan Chevy Nomad van came rolling up with tire chains that growled against the heavy ice. 

Your heart jumped directly from your chest into your mouth. Eddie rolled down the passenger window. 

“Lookin’ to hitchhike, hot stuff?” He was grinning ear-to-ear, brown eyes crinkling. Ever the comedian. When you muddled through the dirty snow and tugged on the locked handle a few times, that grin got bigger. “Gas, grass, or ass. Can’t let you ride for free.”

“You let me outta the cold right now, Munson, or I’ll have to resort to violence.”

“Oooh, scary. Fine. Get in here.”

 He’d driven three hours out to get you, through a small snowstorm and over miles of ice, and three hours back. Not a single complaint. Not a peep. No, instead, Eddie was all sunshine smiles and wicked, warm cackles, asking about your adventures in the city and pulling animated reactions. His rings winked in the cold winter light slanting through the van’s dirty windshield, and his hair was just slightly longer (and drier) than when you’d left four months ago. But he was the same old Eddie, really. Taller than you by a million miles. Soft, broad lips with a sprinkle of new-growing mustache. Bitten fingernails, long eyelashes. A voice like tire rubber and tobacco smoke, which he reeked of. 

Funny. It was easy to downplay how much you missed him when you were sequestered in the warrenous dorms at NYU. Now, with him a foot away, watching his veiny hands tap tap tap on the wheel to the rhythm of ‘Rattlehead’? There was heat in your bones. Lapping across your skin, over your cheeks when you glanced down at his narrow thighs, the way they flexed when he accelerated. You hadn’t considered the what if throughout the years of being friends with him. Now it wouldn’t leave your brain. Now that what if brought new thoughts. New need-soaked mental imagery. 

Christ, you were hopeless. A single thought about Eddie’s legs flitted through your mind and it brought that roaring wall of unfulfilled heat back with a vengeance. You needed a drink, or several. Or maybe a mallet to the head.

When the Hawkins town sign blew past on the frosted asphalt road to town and Eddie offered you a beer, you leapt at the chance. Especially when he’d enthused about his uncle already booking it to his shift at the plant by now. It wasn’t until you were stomping snow off your boots on his stoop in the late afternoon sun, walking into his shared trailer and getting hit by that unequivocally Eddie smell that you realized the error of your ways. Maybe, just maybe, hanging out alone with the guy you’d been sexually fixating on for weeks in the place you imagined him in the most at night, a hand between your thighs in the dark, wasn’t a good idea. 

Eddie popped the top off a heineken in the narrow kitchen and handed it to you. His fingers were icy from the winter chill, smooth against yours. You hid the way your hand jerked a bit by bringing the drink up to your mouth, not even bothering to set down your carry-on before taking a hefty pull. 

“Two more months and I can buy these babies on my own. Twenty-one, here I come.” He boasted warmly. His mane of hair shimmied and shook as he fought with the cap on his own bottle: it popped off, plinking against the cabinet before escaping to the linoleum ground, and he scurried after it. You got a long lecherous view of his broad, lithely muscled back under his tight Megadeth shirt before he stood up again, blowing hair away from his mouth. “Won’t even need to use the shitty fake ID ol’ Ricky had made for me.”

“It is pretty crappy.” You agreed. Your mouth was dry. God, you two were so alone right now.

“Yeah. I’m, like, genuinely surprised nobody’s called me on it yet.”

“Is Charles still manning the gas station? That guy’s ancient. He probably doesn’t have the energy to call the cops on you when you’re buying a six-pack.”

Eddie snickered and fuck, it was like liquid sunlight, all soft and good. Another thing you hadn’t realized you’d missed, its effects diminished over the phone. “That’s totally it. Hadn’t even crossed my mind.” He leaned on the counter and sipped his beer, looking down at you and tilting his head to the side. His hair followed like water. “Damn. I kinda missed you, Agatha Christie.”

You swallowed, hard. It was difficult to be under his gaze, now. Knowing the fantasies you’d had. Those brown eyes dredged up every sweaty, slick-fingered moment of imagination between your sheets. “You expect me to be surprised by that?” You replied with a plastered-on smile. “The six-hour commute and free beer kind of gave it away.”

He thunked a hand against his chest. “Foiled again. You see right through me. C’mon.” His beer bottle clinked on the fridge as he passed you, swaggering to him room like he was king of the world. “I got a new strain shipment and a ‘lil freebee along with it. You’re gonna dig it, for sure.” He turned around in his bedroom doorway with dramatic fury, a hand clutching each side. “Two words: Purple haze.”

“Lead the way, king ditchweed.”

“It’s not ditchweed!”

It wasn’t ditchweed. It was, in fact, a nice, smooth smoke. That’s what you elected to focus on, passing the blunt between you and Eddie on his bed, the window cracked just enough to circulate the air but not enough to turn his cramped, messy room into a freezer. 

He was leaned up against the headboard, all relaxed, that smile-crinkle under his eyes near-permanent. Eddie took the blunt from you and took a hit, exhaling through his nose: vapors curled up the sides of it and into his curtain of dark hair. 

You remembered your fantasy from a week ago, about the ball of that thick nose pressed hard against your clit while his broad, flat tongue punched deep into your— you cleared your throat and shifted around, working sensation back into your buzzing cross-faded limbs. 

Well, the sun's gone down, and you're uptown. And you're just out runnin' around: I can't hardly stand it, you're troublin' me! Lux Interior was whining, Elvis-esque, on the record lazily spinning on Eddie’s player. “Okay.” You conceded. “This is good.”

“The song, or the weed?” He brought up a sock-clad foot to deflect your attempt at hitting him, laughing. “What? New York mighta changed your taste in music. Mighta made you forget how good the Cramps were, and shit.”

“You know I was talking about the weed, dummy.” Soft, sentimental affection in your voice was as unmistakable as anything. You just couldn’t help it. Eddie smiled, pressing his lips together and looking away: your eyes drifted to the tendons in his long neck. Beautiful. You wondered how they’d feel under your tongue. 

“So. Tell me about the city boys.” He said after a few moments of comfortable silence. When you groaned and put your face in your hands he chortled. “Seriously! Are they cool? Do they do slam poetry? I bet they’ve got you just hooked, huh. Ridin’ the subway and shit.”

“We don’t have to talk about boys, Eds. I can’t imagine that’s entertaining for you.” 

The metalhead shrugged and took another drag. “Can you blame me for wanting to keep tabs on your bodice-ripping paperback escapades?” He cupped his face, mimicking a cherub. “That’s just how good of a friend I am.”

“Alright, alright! You ham.” You turned that what if over again in your mind. “It’s been. Weird. I’ve met a lot of guys, sure, but. I dunno. They’re not… great?”

“Define not-great. Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

“How honest do you want me to be?”

“Uhh, mega-honest. Obviously.”

“Eddie, they’re shit in bed.”

Eddie exploded into a cacophony of coughs, thumping his chest and bending away from the headboard. Only when he was done, eyes watering, did he speak, giving a disbelieving shake of his head. “Wow, that was… honest.”

“Hey, you asked.” The ragged hem of your comfy travel shirt was looking really interesting right now. You chose to focus on it. “I’ve, uh. Been with a couple guys, now, and each time, they’re just…” You sucked on your teeth, trying to phrase it tactfully. “Selfish. Like I’m not even there. Like they don’t care at all about me. And I’m half the fucking equation in that— that goddamn horizontal tango, you know?”

“That sounds pretty frustrating.” Eddie, for once in his life, sounded serious. His voice was soft, like he cared. 

“Trust me, it is. I thought about calling it quits a couple of times, y’know? But I’m human! I got… wants. And needs, and stuff.” The silence after your words was deafening, and the record switched softly-playing tracks. The what if came back. And fuck it, you were a little high and a little tipsy and hey, if bringing this up ruined everything, you’d be on a plane to New York in a few days anyway. “You know how you used to, like… joke? When we were high? That it was just you and me, whining about being lonely, and we should just.” You struggled. “Help each other out. Let off steam.”

Eddie stared. And stared. His eyebrows lifted. For a moment you were worried he would be frozen for eternity. “Uh. Okay. I, hah.” A laugh of disbelief jumped out. He pinched his nose and shook his head. “Okay, uh. If I’m, uhh… misinterpreting this, feel free to, like, punch me. Just… full force. You, uh…” God, how many interjections could this man use? “You wanna. Have sex with me?”

“It’s so weird, I know.” Your words were a blurting, flushed, panicked tumble. You hadn’t really registered it until he said it out loud. “It’s so totally weird, and I shouldn’t have said anything, seriously, just forget it—”

“No, no.” He wetted his lips nervously, that pink tongue darting out. Eddie’s eyes were wide. “No, uh. It’s— I get it. We all, like. Get a little backed up sometimes, right? Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“God, you did not just say backed up—”

“You know what I mean!” He ran a hand down his pink-flushed face, hunched forward and cross-legged, close enough to touch. Close enough to feel his body heat. “Jesus. Jesus shitfuck.”

“Eds, let’s just pretend I didn’t say—”

“We could. We could do it.” He interjected. That tongue between his lips again, trapped, a little slice of wet, shining pink. “Um. I, uh. If it’s something you wanted to do.”

Your stupid betrayer heart was drumming double time, making your palms clammy and face red. “You don’t have to say yes because of me.”

“Hey. You’re a chick, and I’m a dude, and that’s like, basic biology 101 so… I wanna.” His gaze, skittish, like he was a timid fawn, met yours for a second and it was like steel against flintstone. It sent a zing up your spine. “It’d just be like… helpin’ each other out, and shit, right?”

“Yeah.” God, your mouth was dry. You hadn’t felt like this, shaking like a virgin, since you were sixteen. You’d laid yourself emotionally bare in front of him. Told him you needed to be touched. Loved. And he’d said yes. “Just helping.”

A beat of silence. Then another. Then another. Eddie leaned forward and then you were kissing.

It was a wet, searing thing. Like a current of electricity was passing between you, hot and bright and so, so unlike anything you’d felt at fucking NYU. He grunted against your mouth, leaning forward into you. Then there was a hand on your knee and god, fuck, fuck your life, that wasn’t supposed to feel good. That wasn’t supposed to feel like your skin was lighting up gold under his palm, and yet here you were. Illuminated by his touch like a celibate. 

“You gotta,” Eddie spoke in breaths, crowding you against the thin wall of the trailer, heat bleeding from his chest through his shirt, “tell me what you need, ‘kay? Promise?”

“More.” You replied immediately. You grabbed at him on instinct, getting a fistful of his shirt, tugging it up, up over his head: he moved with you immediately, pulling it off like it offended him, and oh. His nipples were dusky-dark pink, his pectorals small hills. The skullish demon head over his heart was staring you down. 

Eddie pressed a sloppy kiss with searing lips to your upper cheek, eyes centimeters from yours. Looking at you all gentle and needy. “Can I take your shirt off? Please, I wanna—” He swallowed and his adam’s apple bobbed. “Wanna see you.”

“Yeah.” Your voice trembled like an autumn leaf. “You can see me, Eds.”

His hands were so broad and firm. They rolled your shirt up over your head: Eddie hissed through his teeth. “God, fuck. Fuck me, man. Look at you.” That dark brown gaze was locked on your tits, the way your bra cupped them together. “Those New Yorkers have no idea what they’re missing, man.”

“Eddie.” You said softly. His gaze snapped back up to you, framed by dark curls of hair. “Touch me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can, uh. I can do that.” His lips parted as he touched you, hot palms traveling up your ribs, over your shoulders. He dipped his head, planting kiss to your collarbones: it was like you’d been shot, a slow, scalding heat spreading from that point. Eddie held one of your hips and slowly, ever so slowly, eased you onto your back. You knew he could see your jackrabbit heart racing in the veins on your neck, see the way your shallow breaths were so fucking fast. 

When you pawed between you two, sticking an arm against his burning-hot stomach to fumble with the fly of his jeans, he made a choked noise and grabbed your wrist. Eddie was breathing heavily against your face, holding himself over you with one arm braced by your head. “Wait, wait.” He took a deep breath. Hairs tickled your face. “Uh, just. Just wait.”

“I wanna touch to you too, Eds.”

He looked like the words falling from your lips were as good as head. “Jesus— not yet. Not— I don’t wanna end this too fast, and if you keep, haah—” another expletive when you pressed fingers blindly to his fly, down against his dick, “— doing that, that’s where we’re gonna end up.”

With a hum of frustration at being denied, you tilted your chin up in a demand for another kiss: he conceded without a fight, saliva-slick lips heady and addictive. You felt like you could kiss him forever, like this: the curtains drawn, early dusk darkening the room, his skin against yours sending frissons from your head to your toes. You pawed like an animal. Fingers clutching his back, feeling his shoulder blades move under his skin, his ribs expand and contract. 

When you brought a thigh out, knee bending to hook a leg around his narrow hips, he seemed to make up his mind. “Fuck, okay.” He broke the kiss again. “D’ya think— can I take your pants off?”

“Yeah. Yeah, god, Eddie, please.”

Like it was a goddamn race Eddie had your buttons undone and you were helping him shuffle your pants down and throwing them to the floor. He made another noise in the back of his throat and rested himself at your side, up on one elbow. Eddie put a hand on your sternum and slowly, agonizingly slowly, dragged it down. His face turned up to you every once in a while: checking in. Making sure you were still here with him. His fingers caught on the hem of your underwear for a second and you sucked in a breath, but he kept going. 

Feather-light pads landed on the lips of your pussy over your underwear. So light you could barely feel it. They traced up and down in slow, careful circles. Eddie looked almost hypnotized by the fact that he was even touching you: he watched his own hand like it was a magic show. 

“Tease.” You huffed out, bucking up slightly against his fingers. 

That crooked smile returned. “Nah.” He looked at you with affection. “Just tryin’ to make it good.” Those finger pads went up, up, up. Eddie tracked your expression, lips parting gently when your eyes bulged because oh, yep, that was your clit he’d caught for a second. He focused in on that little stiffening nub, snug under damp fabric, and the muscles in your stomach curled. “Ohhh, fuck. You like that, huh? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You barely eked it out. “Feels nice.”

“Bet nobody gave her any attention at your college, huh?” His words hit you like thunderbolts, and you swore you felt yourself clench around nothing. Eddie’s tongue was trapped between his teeth again. He thumbed your clit round and round in circles. 

“Eds.” Your voice was a warning, desperate though it was. “More, c’mon.”

“Tell me what you need.” Maybe with someone else the words would have come out commanding, domineering. But Eddie was looking down at you with those big wet eyes like you’d hung the moon, like he’d do anything to please you, lips parted all rosebud-soft. 

“Get inside me. Please. Just— your fingers, put them in, please.”

Still laid out long beside you, his fingers crept underneath the hem of your underwear, rasping against your trimmed bush as he slowly pulled the fabric down, down, down, till it pooled around your knees. “Fuck.” He said again, intelligently. “Fuck. Fuck. Can’t believe you’re letting me do this.” A finger ran down the parting line of your folds as he spoke and you jerked like a woman possessed. “Can’t believe you’re letting me touch you, god.”

His finger hooked at your soft, sopping, willing entrance. “Wait.” You blurted. His veiny hand froze. “Two. Two, uh, fingers, Eds.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay.” His voice shook. And then those long, calloused, beautiful fucking fingers were delving into your flesh, just thick enough for a little stretch, a little delicious addictive burn: if you weren’t so hyper turned-on by the sight you’d be embarrassed about how absolutely sopping you were. 

Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he looked like he’d died and gone to heaven. “So warm.” Was all he got out unevenly. There was no warning before he was slowly and rhythmically fucking you with his fingers, the slick squelch loud as thunder. The sight of his broad hand disappearing between your gently parted thighs was... addictive. You held his forearm tight as he fingered you, your grip moving with each slow thrust. 

This was fantasy. This was perfect fucking gratification. Sweating nearly-naked on his messy duvet, surrounded by his quintessential smell, Eddie inches away from you all laid out with a tent in his jeans so hard it looked like it hurt. This was just like your daydreams. Better, even.

You let your head fall to the side, where he was laid out all long next to you. It rested against his chest. You could feel the hum of his hummingbird heart behind the flesh and bone. “Eddie...” the word was a breathy sigh, but it earned him dropping his head over yours, pressing a wild, wet kiss to the crown of your head, leaving his mouth there. He groaned into your hair when you squirmed, thighs shifting, clenching around his fingers. 

“Shit— sorry, hold on, thing is fuckin— killin’ me, hurts so bad.” He muttered hoarsely, pulling fingers from your heat to fumble with his fly. His digits were too slick to get a grip on the zipper and oh man if that didn’t do something for you. You reached across your stomach without a second thought and pulled it open, and hello.

Eddie was so hard it looked like it ached. The head of this fat cock peeked out from the top of his briefs, so red it was nearly purple. It was shiny, smeared with drooling precum that slicked up the turtleneck skin around it. 

You thumbed the shaft over the fabric. Eddie sounded like he’d been socked in the gut. “Ohhhhkay.” He wheezed out. You crept upwards, dragging down his underwear and popping his bobbing cock out. It twitched, kissing his hair-dusted abdomen for a moment. God. You’d never wanted anything in your mouth so badly. You bet he tasted good: like salt and skin and Eddie.

The noises he made when you cupped him, running a loose grip up and down his shaft in lazy pumps, should have been illegal. They made the soft, wanton and slick heat between your legs feel like a bonfire, like an ancient calling demanding you do what humans had been doing for centuries before you. 

You wanted to swallow him to the base. Wanted to stay there for eternity, feeling him throb under your fingers and feeling his fingers in you. But poor Eds was on a timer. And you wanted as much as you could get. 

“Eds...” You trailed off, looking at him, how he held himself coiled-up tight while you touched his dick, like he was focusing so hard on not cumming. His wide eyes glittered in the low light. You kissed him again: quick and messy. “Can we...”

“Yeah.” His reply came out as a squeak and he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Please.” 

“We need a condom.” 

“Right.”

He was off the bed like a shot, shaking the mattress, flinging open bedside table drawers like a mob croney coming to collect debt money. He rifled through their contents with extreme (almost desperate) prejudice. The prize was found: a shiny gold-foil-wrapped Trojan. Seeing him stand at the foot of the bed, framed between your knees in front of you, dick twitching in the air and foil between his teeth? That was a sight that was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life. 

Eddie tore open the condom with his teeth and spat out the corner. He fumbled to roll it on with shaking hands. “Shit.” He hissed, the condom springing off several times. It was like someone had set him to vibrate. 

Your hand closed over his bigger one. Slowly, together, you got the condom on: shiny and off-white on his cock. 

He was still huffing like a racehorse. You couldn’t blame him: your body was alight, all active like you’d run a marathon. You didn’t know what it was: it was never like this with other guys. Little touches didn’t set you on fire. Gentle, caring fingers didn’t make you gush. 

With Eddie’s help you laid flat onto your back once more and eased your hips to the edge of the mattress. He stood between them, thighs pressed against mattress cover. His hands were warm on your thighs: kneading them, drifting up and down a few times while he looked down at you, his chest patchy with blush. 

“You sure?” He asked. There was anxiety in his voice. This wasn’t just being handsy. This was all the way. 

“Yeah. ‘M sure.” When he let his cock rest on your pelvis, hefty and scalding, you swallowed hard. “It’s you, Eds. I trust you.”

Eddie bit down on his lower lip, hard, and lined himself up with you. It was only when the head of his cock nudged your slick entrance and your pussy clenched rhythmically in reply, in excited hopefulness, that you realized how true that statement was. 

That’s why this was taking you apart. Not because it was sex. Or good sex. Because it was Eddie. 

He pushed into you slow with a hand clamped down on each thigh and it was like seeing god. The breach was fat and full, heat on heat, no resistance. You both made noises. He fit you like a goddamn glove. 

Eddie swore, over and over, when he got up to the hilt. His eyes clenched shut, face screwed up, steeling himself against the overwhelming pleasure. And for you, that was agony.

“Eds, c’mon, please, please move.” You weren’t above begging. 

“Fuuuuuck me, man.” He groaned out all high and breathless, and then he was clenching his teeth and snapping forward, hips bumping against you so hard it made the fucking bed sway. He fucked you like he was trying to keep you, like he was trying to make this the best you’d ever had: he even canted his hips up, hunting for that spot inside you that he’d read made girls go mad. 

“So good, so wet, god, so good,” Eddie rambled like a lunatic, a drop of drool falling free from his red lips. “So fucking warm, huh, aren’t you? Yeah you are. So nice and warm, warm on my dick, fuck, love how fucking soaked you are.”

You were in heaven. No, somewhere better. Somewhere where sex wasn’t a sin and you were getting your guts rearranged by your best friend, the guy who knew you the best, who saw you, the real you. “Eddieeeee.” You almost couldn’t get it out, breath punched out of you so deliciously with each thrust. “My clit, Eds, touch it.”

He brought a hand to it instantly, fingers sliding through the wet where his cock spread you open and dragging it up in rough, wild circles around your clit. You could see all his dark-eyed focus was on you: fucking you, filling you, giving it to you exactly how you had needed it for so long. Taking care of you. 

Fuck, that thought was gonna make you cum.  

“More, please,” You begged, “so close, Eds, so—”

“God, fuck me man, you— you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you cum, oh my god.” Eddie spoke like he couldn’t stop himself, all disjointed and panting over the pornographic slap of his balls on your ass. “Wanted to see it for so long, please, please, lemme see it, lemme see you—”

His begging, his disclosure, his desperation— you went careening off the edge into the abyss while he rubbed frantically at your clit, and you swore your eyes rolled up into the back of your skull.

There it was. The thing you’d been craving, bone-deep, for months. 

The perfect orgasm. 

Drifting back to earth, you had a body made of melted butter. A body made of summer sun and amber. Pure contentment radiated through every single immaculate cell. 

Eddie was still fucking you. Short, uneven thrusts, sweat beads rolling down his chest, long, wild hair sticking to his face. His brows were down in focus, lost in sensation. You lifted two shaking legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking him into your snug cunt. He looked up at you in hazy, pleasure-drunk shock, and then you squeezed down on him as hard as you could. 

“Fuck!” Was all he barked out, and then he was doubling over, staggering forward against your hips, pelvis stuttering. Gripping your thighs like lifelines. He thrust once, twice, three times more, and then Eddie— your exhausted, beanstalk-tall, wild-child Eddie— collapsed on top of you, heavy as all hell. The crown of his head was right under your nose, and you could feel his ribs against yours. 

He couldn’t see you right now. You let yourself smile fondly, satedly, into his hair. 

Together you breathed raggedly, radiating body heat. The clock in the kitchen, past the ajar door, continued to tick. The silence was no longer charged: it was honest, relaxed. Fulfilled. 

“You’re so heavy.” You said eventually. 

“Thanks. I’ve been working out.” Eddie’s voice was muffled in your tits. After a time, though, he raised his head. Propped himself up a bit on his elbows over you. Spat hair out of his mouth. “So, uh.” His lips opened and closed like a fish, awkward and unsure. “Was that, um. Good for you, or...?”

“Of course it was good, Eddie. Obviously! Don’t ask stupid questions.” You replied with mock seriousness: an age-old bit you’d always done with him. A sign that hey, no camaraderie lost, right?

He played along, looking mock wounded. “Well, I didn’t want to assume. It’s not like it went on for an hour, or ended with a squirt, or—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You laughed. He was staring at you in that fond way again. The guitar pick on his necklace tickled your clavicle. “I mean... we have the rest of the night, right?”

He looked stunned. He blinked a few times. “I mean— yeah, like, if that’s something you want to—”

“I want to.”

Another blink. The tongue made its reappearance. “Okay. We can... okay. Yeah.” The slow grin began its climb onto his broad face. “We can totally do that. All-nighter.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

The Munson landline was a little ragged, but it worked. “Yeah, mom, I can’t wait to see you too.” You said into the phone tucked between your ear and bare shoulder as you leaned against the kitchenette counter, hand in a bag of chips. You watched Eddie fight a box of waffles for their delicious cargo and pop four into the toaster. “The snow’s just real bad right now. You know how it is. I’ll get in tomorrow, I swear.”

Eddie slowly shook his head, hands on his hips, hitting the disapproving church-mom pose. He mouthed for shame and wagged a finger. You threw a chip at him. It plunked ineffectually off his bare chest. 

“Love your too, mom. Yeah, I’ll sleep warmly tonight. Bye.”

“Oh, you’ll be sleepin’ warm, alright.” 

“I knew you were gonna say that!”

“How could you possibly know what I was gonna say?”

The two of you returned to amicability, trading jabs and scoffs and sparkling smiles: but in your mind, somewhere in the far back, you held on to what he’d divulged in the heat and fervor of the moment. That he’d wanted to see you cum. Wanted to see it for ages. 

He’d thought about you. Like you’d thought about him. You tucked that away for later. Now, though? Now you were laughing your ass off while Eddie juggled burning-hot waffles with his bare hands before dumping them onto a plate and flapping his singed palms about like a bird. 

So. How do you ask your friend to fuck you? Turns out, sometimes, you just ask.

[insirisarts]

Origins of Olympus - Reimagined

Chapter 1: Welcome to Camp Oasis!

The sun beamed down onto the sand; the sky was clear of any clouds. The heat of the desert would’ve been unbearable for any human unlucky enough to be caught in its never-ending expanses. After all, mortals could not find their way to a place like this, especially not to its oasis. Even if they did, the gods would smite them for trespassing onto the sacred land. A place where the finest of greenery and produce grew; food was abundant, the water was so clean, you could drink it from the source, and filled with fauna so docile, even tigers could have been considered house pets. However, these individuals are by no means ‘mortals’. For these people are children of the gods. Blessed to walk the lands of Gaia with the grand powers of their parents. Striking the earth with powerful volts, bringing the motions of the tides, guiding souls to their final resting place, and even becoming the light of the sun themself.

An echidna stood tall on the entrance platform, backlit by the magic doorway behind her. Orange scales shining in the mid-afternoon sun. Her large wings sat solidly on her back, accentuating her posture. The woman's human upper half was covered with a red-orange dress, which was trimmed and decorated with gold. Gold bracelets were also placed on her upper and lower arms, and on the end of her serpent tail. Each of these bracelets were jeweled with three bright orange stones which matched her fiery irises. Scales traveled up the young woman’s body, spotting her shoulders, ears and face with the same burnt orange as the asymmetrical horns buried in her dark brown hair. Her heavy-lidded eyes surveyed over the slowly building group. Demi-gods to be specific.

“Hello everyone, I am Kaykrea and welcome to the Oasis of Demeter.” Kaykrea introduced, catching the attention of the present demi-gods. She had situated herself on the marble steps leading to the entryway of the camp, which was blocked by a form of powerful magic that none of the others could quite figure out. 

Beside her was a girl who had arrived earlier that day, a harpy named Marshie. She was white winged harpy, in a dark crop top with a long striped light purple shawl that fell past her shoulders. Her laurel was decorated with small golden sunflowers and sat atop her long strawberry blond hair, some of which had been pulled back to make a cute loose ponytail. Her outfit was finished off with some jean shorts that stopped above her more eagle shaped legs and taloned feet. They had taken time to chat during the wait and already found that they got along rather well.

“I will be your designated camp counselor.” Kaykrea's large, scaled wings spread to frame her sculpted body; her lower serpent body raising the human half to stand tall over all of the campers. “Today will just be a simple meet-and-greet with a tour of the campgrounds. Then we will have a short session with The Oracle later this evening.” 

Many already had looks of admiration or excitement on their faces; except for a man with long shaggy white and red hair off to the side, who simply rolled his eyes at her. She figured that this one may eventually become a problem and mentally noted to keep an eye on him. “First will be introductions, we will start with you.” She stated, pointing at a man with black hair and yellow highlights, frizzed by what appeared to be static. 

The man stood a bit straighter now that the attention was on him, his black eyes widening slightly from being singled out, “I am Mario, son of Zeus, God of storms and lightning!” Mario proclaimed. His looks only pushed the idea. His toga was black and yellow with hints of white under the garment and light blue accents. Lightning motifs could be found in his laurel, arm armor and his white sash in the form of a lightning shaped fibula brooch. Throughout his arms and legs, his veins seemed to glow an electric yellow on his sun-tanned skin. He stood with confidence, almost looking like he was about to burst with unstoppable energy.

The Echidna nodded in approval; a child of Zeus was sure to bring some excitement. “Thank you, Mario. Now you, the one in blue.” She moved on, gesturing to a man with a much shyer demeanor, as he sat much more hunched over compared to the rest of the group.

“Uhm… Jakey, one of the sons of Poseidon.” Jakey mumbled, just loud enough for Kaykrea to glean. Besides the small, high collard coverup on his shoulders, he was shirtless, showing off his swimmer's body. The armor over his left pec was layered and traveled over to part of his back, with large light blue inset jewels glittering in the light. At his hips sat a blue 5-layered skirt-like bottom that split at his right hip, the exposed part of which was covered by a cloth tied to the skirt. His arms and legs were protected by silver armor shaped like fish and similarly jeweled like the rest of his armor; his hands were covered in dark blue fingerless gloves. A tasteful crown was planted in his brown and blue hair with the same light blue gem, his hair had been put into a french-styled braid on both sides of his head that then came together into a long skinny braid in the back. On his back, sat a long bident with jewels spotted on the head, and the end had a shark fin shape.

Kaykrea nodded in satisfaction and was about to move on to the next camper when a new voice joined the group.

Distant shuffling sand could be heard from the distance. “I’m sorry, I’m here, hold on-!” Shouted a young man with short white hair. His ears were pierced with round red earrings and accompanied by golden ear clips covered in rose leaves. His neck was adorned with a red choker. A cropped himation draped over his right shoulder which was pinned by a sort-of star shaped fibula brooch. His two-layered red skirt with gold trim swayed with the movement of his legs. He had shoulder pads that appeared to have rose designs that matched the rose on his dark gray belt, which matched the leather armor on his arms. Small white wings flared from the shoulder pads and his golden shoes. Two hooked swords were connected at the hilts which gave the shape of an S sat on his back along with a small satchel, assumedly a physical god pocket, likely it had all of his other essentials in its magic confines. He skidded to a stop with the rest of the group; bending over to catch his breath, using his knees as support.

“I, huf, apologize, hrff, I was distracted, hooh…” He rushed between labored breaths; his body lightly shook from overexertion.

“And… who might you be?” The orange serpent inquired, drawing out her sentence. 

With one last deep gasp of air, the white-haired man responded, “I’m Bryan, the son of Aphrodite; the goddess of love, beauty and passion herself!” Bryan flicked his hair back haughtily and stood with his head held high. The motion made him look back and lock his eyes onto Jakey. This made him freeze in the middle of his display; a light pink softy grazed his face, and he awkwardly took a few steps back to get a proper look at the other man, honey brown eyes holding an intense stare.

‘…Poor guy…’ Kaykrea sympathized, even though the boy in blue didn't even seem to notice Bryan. However, she quickly corrected herself and went back to the meet-and-greet. “Thank you, Bryan. Now then, let's move on to… you.” She brought attention to a man with ashy skin.

The man with the sides of his head shaved and a braid going down the back of his scalp, a chunk of which was bronze. Thick sideburns lead to a scruffy but well-trimmed beard. He awkwardly lifted his hand in a wave. 

“Ah, Xylo. Son of Apollo.” Xylo greeted. His laurel also had a bronze color, sporting, strangely enough, pomegranate leaves. Bronze spartan armor on his torso and lower legs, along with a layer of leather pteruges at his waist along with shoulder pads that had sun designs glazed on. Over his protective layer there was a bright multi-colored sash, going from a dark purplish blue to a bright sunny yellow curving around his body to also become his belt and dangling the leftover fabric in the front. The cloth was pinned down by bronze peronai on his right shoulder and where the cloth hung off at the belt, they were in the shape of the sun with four points, inside being bright yellow glaze. He had single point claw gauntlets in a similar sun shape attached to thick fingerless leather gloves. At his hips, an open hip cape hung to his knees, a bright pattern depicting a sun in a wavy sky adorned the garment. Another odd part of his look were his dark purple eyes, it almost looked like they didn’t belong, or that he didn’t belong.

Kaykrea had scrunched her nose in frustration, heavy lidded eyes glaring aggressively, bowing her head to show off her dark orange horns at the ashen man. Apollo… Apollo… Mother…

“Ah… thanks.” She bluntly stated.

Xylo had an expression of mild offense but decided to leave it be for the time being.

As the rest of the meeting went on, more of the godly children introduced themselves. A second son of Poseidon named Mitch. He too, lacked a shirt and wore a coverup on the upper part of his torso and wore a far more gaudy golden crown. Although, his face was half covered in black scales. He was much darker than Jakey, with a more deep sea/ocean look to match with his black and blue clothing, with small bioluminescent adornments. He also held the trident, at this mention, Jakey made his own snide remark about poor choices in part on their father. 

The man KayKrea had taken note of earlier was named Brandeen, who was a son of Ares. His style leaned towards more human than Olympian it appeared, not that it was any concern to her as plenty of gods and demi-gods had spent at least some time around mortals and their ever-expanding culture. His overall appearance was dark, his disheveled black and white striped shirt and ripped black pants made up part of his look. A dark red pleather biker jacket with the sleeves measly ripped off, which was accented with smaller bits of a brighter red, brought it all together. Around his arms were bandages with blades tied at the ends that pulsed with divine energy; those must be his weapons.

Further back was a Satyr woman named Relena, the adopted child of Artemis. Her hair was a subtle mix of light and dark brown and subtly blended into the fur on her ears and face; which were both rather animal-like. She was dressed in much more casual human clothing, having a halfway split turquoise and light pink short jacket over a plain white crop top, the pink matching her horns. The jacket had its sleeves ripped off, showing her strong arms. Her jeans were intentionally ripped at her knees, keeping it out of the way of her more animalistic legs and hooved feet. An attempt was made to paint her hooves the same pink as her horns. Slung across her hips sat an ornate silver bow with a quiver of arrows.

At the end of the lineup stood a man almost completely clad in black, battle armor being placed over his original clothing. His name was Brick, one of the very few children of Hades. He had a black war helmet with the holes for the face covered by a bright purple energy. His speech was short and abrupt, only giving his name and heritage in a sharply cold manner.

Kaykrea knew there were other campers yet to arrive, but she had to start with the tour before it got too late in the day. So, with a large flap of her orange wings, she instructed the present campers to follow her for the tour of the grounds. With an expert waver of her hand, she dispelled the magic that blocked off the entrance to the camp.

Entering through the enchanted doors of Camp Oasis, guarded by large spear-wielding statues, they followed a small path. The path led to a sort-of roundabout, which had small sections of path that lead away to other parts of the camp. Surrounding the group was a quaint little garden, and at the roundabout’s center was a marble fountain that poured water as blue as the sky. Many flowers covered the area surrounding the outer rim of the path around the fountain. However, Bryan took particular interest in the Rose bushes.

“Oh, I heard about the nature here!” He exclaimed with adoration and fondness, earning him odd stares from the others. “About how it all seems to live or even thrive! These roses are beautiful, what do you do to make them grow like this?” He would have continued to fawn over the red flowers if he weren't interrupted.

“Bet you sure know a lot about this junk, huh?” Mario taunted. It sounded playful, but that didn’t stop Bryan from shooting the other with a sharp glare.

“Sure do…” The white-haired man mumbled. Mario sucked in his lips, like how one would with something sour, he figured that he shouldn’t have spoken up.

“Alright!” Kaykrea interjected, clapping her hands together to catch the two boys' attention. “Let's get a move on up the path!” She ushered, wanting to avoid a first day conflict.

Up the path was the training area. Fully packed with dummies, targets and even a small sparring ring with a little viewing area. A good handful of campers took potshots at the targets, using either their weapons or godly powers, with varying rates of success and accuracy. Further down was a sports area, consisting of both old Olympic sports and modern human sports. Next to the sports fields were the cabins. They were charming, being made in a rustic style and crafted from the same wood as the surrounding towering trees. She said that cabins would be assigned after the tour, during dinner. Most were able to house two or so people and stood overlooking the surprisingly close gulf that led out into the ocean. Nearby, a dock sat with fishing boats stranded on the shoreline. Fishing equipment had been provided on the dock, along with some outdoor cooking equipment in a small shed nearby. Next was the camp hall, for campers to meet and socialize. A bonfire circle sat just beside the mess hall, it had yet to be lit, although it seemed to have been recently stocked with firewood. 

“This is where we will have our rendezvous after you settle in and have dinner this evening.” She explained, letting everyone gather before continuing. “Then The Oracle will come and give us a free prophecy. Afterwards, you will earn the right to meet with them eventually, but that is a discussion for later throughout your stay.”

Then the mess hall. The Hall was very large, it would have no trouble fitting the entirety of the camp once they were all there. A heavenly smell came from the building, a mixture of sweet and savory that caused the campers mouths to water with anticipation. Finally, was the shower and bathroom area, having both separate and unisex washrooms, and a small bath house.

She pointed to a distant building. It was a small temple, with a securely locked door. So secure in fact that there was no lock, only magic.

“That is where The Oracle resides. You are not to bother them unless you are given passage, or they decide to summon you.” She declared with finality. Asserting that the building was fully off-limits otherwise. 

  With that the campers were released and left to their own devices. Some had gone to chat by the cabins and others went to either look around the camp or to use the training area. Kaykrea herself went to the mess hall to finish preparing for that night's feast.

Soon enough, they were brought back to the mess hall, where an entire buffet was set up. Different tables had different types of food. Fruits and vegetables were set to one side of the buffet. Large fruit bowls held exotic fruits not even native to their part of the world, and the veggies had been grown right on camp property and harvested that day. A range of different meats sat in the middle of the arrangement, from the finest steaks to moist and well-seasoned fowl and poultry, to fish from both fresh and saltwater. At the other end were deserts and drinks. Pies, cakes and pastries alongside juices, nectar and ambrosia. It was now bustling; some others had arrived at the camp over time and joined in on the festive atmosphere.

During this time, Kaykrea went around telling campers to take a card from a small deck. The cards were in pairs of colors and a cabin number, and those with matching pairs would bunk together. On occasion, some did not get a cabin mate, not that any of them seemed to mind, like Mitch. However, most did have two people. Xylo and Jakey, Relena and Brick, even Brandeen had a cabin buddy. Although, she had not learned his roommate's name yet. Glancing around, she could see the Demi-gods socializing, looking for anyone who had a matching card or simply enjoying the food. Bryan approached her to receive his card, fittingly, red. Not that she knew if anyone else had a red card, but she had caught a glimpse at his. She internally chuckled at the mild irony.

“Did anyone else get red?” He inquired over the crowd, causing a brief awkward silence as everyone else double checked their cards.

“Over here!” A voice replied, a hand darting up over the crowd to display their card.

Bryan made his way over to his roommate for the summer. Only to come face-to-face with Mario. He could hardly hide his disappointment. Obviously still salty about the comment made earlier that day. Mario held a poorly disguised expression of awkwardness, not knowing how to tackle the subject. Kaykrea was about to confront the two about perhaps changing cabins before the man in black and yellow asked if the shorter boy would be willing to meet with him outside. With a stiff nod, Bryan followed the fellow demi-god out the door. Just to be safe, the serpent woman discreetly accompanied the two.

The full moon hung at the edge of the sky, the final dim glow of the setting sun moments from vanishing. Cool night breezes chilled the earth from the heat of the summer day. The pair stood in silence, not sure how to begin the conversation. The tension was thick enough to be sliced by any blade. Which Mario dared to do.

“Listen, I’m sorry about earlier… I thought it sounded joking enough, but I could tell it flumped entirely.” He kept his warm black eyes on the ground, not really wanting to see the look the other man was possibly giving him.

“Yeah, I get that.” Bryan spoke blankly, staring off in a random direction. “But it still hit a cord… kinda sounded like my mom…” This came out far more dejected.

“Really? Why would Aphrodite, of all gods, judge flower stuff?” The raven-haired man replied in mild shock.

Kaykrea was inclined to agree, very odd for the goddess of love.

Bryan continued, waving his hand in circles to sort his thoughts. “Not so much the flower thing, more so just not really understanding or accepting my interests…” The other supplied, “Me not being like my siblings… or her.”

“Whoof, I feel you there, my dad doesn’t really give me much thought. Given that he has so many other kids.” Mario chuckled at his little jab at his father; he was right after all, Zeus wasn’t known for his… marital devotion.

Kaykrea had to quickly stifle laughter at the thought. She couldn’t risk getting caught.

“Not to mention that a lot of them have become either legendary heroes or have impacted history in some major way.” Mario ended his sentence with a light huff of amusement and an awkward lean “Those kinds of expectations can make someone pretty awkward huh?” he asked rhetorically, obviously trying to railroad to find common ground. 

Quickly, under his breath the black-eyed man added on, “and dad can’t keep his clothes on so-”. The smug smirk that plastered his face made the other demi-god snerk a little, a light red came to his cheeks and ears in embarrassment as his lips scrunched to a futile attempt to hide his amusement.

“Gross-“ the man in red shot back with a humorous sly grin, gently shoving the other. “-but… same… only with my mom.” He amended, “Anyways, no one likes to think of the goddess of love and beauty being a violent god, despite her history. I just can’t help but wonder about it.” This came in a more soft-spoken cadence, walls starting to fully drop.

“Yeah?” Mario tentatively eased. “I’m sure it must make things awkward?” He raised an eyebrow. Although drama in the Aphrodite family was not surprising, nor unheard of, seeing that outward facade be shelved for honesty and openness took Kaykrea aback slightly. Maybe she shouldn’t have eavesdropped on this conversation. It was beginning to become a little too personal and raw.

Bryan began to lean in, speaking both softer and with sincerity, the haughty persona being fully abandoned before responding.  “Mhm.” He started with a small nod. “You see, I’m a huge fan of the legendary wars and heroes of the past. That led to me digging, especially since my mother was one of the main causes for the biggest war in our history…” his eyes seemed to shine excitedly, passion bleeding from his slight movements and the small grin on his face.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Bryan continued, “I just wanted to understand why we had to throw that part of our past away. Just because our family represents the many forms of love doesn’t mean we couldn't enjoy combat or sparring. Heck, I even got a gift recently that-”.

All of a sudden, Bryan trailed off, his eyes becoming listless, losing that excited bright shine. The feeling of discomfort filled the still air, and his muscles tensed.

“What?” Mario cocked his head, “Something else on your mind?” He pushed.

Bryan backed off, glancing to the side in embarrassment. “Sorry, shouldn’t have said anything…” he muttered under his breath, shoulders sinking subconsciously.

The black clothed man quickly waved his hands, trying to brush off the others embarrassment. “No, no! I was just… uh.” He took a pause; he was ruining this again.

“It’s ok. Not many people know about my mother’s past with war. Especially after The Iliad was published.” The shorter man chuckled, starting to backtrack “But I want to know… even if she doesn't really like me digging into it.” Bryan was standing normally now, a lot more bashful and uncomfortable talking about his family.

Mario planted his hand on the other in a comforting gesture, rubbing small circles into his back. In return, Bryan leaned into the touch slightly, the muscles near his shoulders flexing oddly. It was like he wasn't used to touch, or at least it had been a while since he's been comforted. Although, from what Kaykrea had observed, and her prior experience with the Olympian gods. The awkward nature of the white-haired man seemed to suggest the former.

Bryan lifted his head to look at Mario, taking a small calming breath before speaking again. “To be honest, I don’t think I know much anyway. A lot of my own memories are fuzzy…” This earned him an odd look from Mario, and Kaykrea couldn’t help but do the same. It is rather strange that he would have a bad memory. Was this what the smaller was trying to talk about before? Well, whatever the case may be, the black-haired man let it be and merely nodded in acknowledgment.

It seemed the two had spoken their peace. Overall, a little more comfort had been built between the two. Mario stuck out his hand, offering an apology and a truce to their minor conflict, which Bryan accepted with a small smile. Kaykrea huffed a small sigh of relief, glad that a fight hadn’t broken out on the first day, nor that any enemies were made. She made a quick escape back into the mess hall, moments before the other two made their reentry. It was felt in the room, everyone could tell that whatever issue was happening between the two, it had been sorted out. They went off to join the others again, starting to take far more enjoyment in each other's company than before. At least that was resolved.

About two hours had passed at this point, Kaykrea taking the time to clean up as the festivities came to a close. Many campers had joined together into small groups or cliques and every once in a while, there would be thunderous laughter that would trail back into a comfortable buzz and light chatter. She was frankly quite surprised; no fights, mild and quickly resolved conflicts, and not a single misunderstanding! It was almost as if they were in a normal human camp and not a camp full of physical embodiments of natural concepts. Although she knew that it all had to come to an end soon, it was almost time to meet with The Oracle and she needed to pick up the mess hall before then.

“Okay, everyone!” Kaykrea called, waiting for the campers' conversations to end before she announced, “It is almost time to meet The Oracle, I would like all of you to go to your cabins and drop off your things, decide who wants what bed and such. We will meet back at the bond fire, I will move on with the night whether you make it or not, so be there if you wish to listen to The Oracles’ predictions.” With that, she went to clean the tables of the leftover dishes and scraps of food.

The campers had left for their cabins to drop off their things and to get sorted before heading to the large bonfire. When it seemed that all had arrived, Kaykrea used her flaming blade to ignite the kindling, and soon enough, a fire was brought to life. The flame was large and danced with the slight breeze of the night. Cracks and pops from the wood soon followed, allowing the meeting to officially begin. Xylo, with hardly any regard for the current evening event, suddenly pulled out a large bag of marshmallows, announcing a query of whether anyone wanted some. Most around the fire whooped at the human treat, receiving their share from the armored man.

Mitch had grabbed two and offered one to Jakey, who had taken it upon himself to grab his own from the son of Apollo rather than accepting one from his brother, Mitch practically looked scandalized. Mario had done the same with Relena, who happily accepted the offer, and Bryan, who simply denied the sugar pillow after giving it a questioning glance of uncertainty. Brandeen seemed all too eager to receive the food from the violet-eyed man. The two had been talking a lot earlier and appeared to have hit it off in some fashion, although Xylo did give him a standoffish look. Kaykrea was far from amused, seeing how all began to disregard what this meeting was about. She simply rolled her eyes and slithered away when Xylo attempted to offer her the bag's contents. In return, he merely shrugged and received a plush confectionary for himself.

The fire in the center of the gathering began fully burning in a bright blend of reds, oranges and yellows. Accenting the woman's appearance and making her look just as bright as the flames. With a faux clearing of her throat, she called to attention all of the present campers for the night's announcements.

“I’m sure some of you all are anticipating the reason as to why we are out so late.” She began, more so wanting to give a reminder to the campers. She continued “First, I do have a few announcements. Starting off, in a few days we will be having the Trial of Ares, which will be a sort of… death match.” This statement brought a few panicked faces and alarmed exclamations to the campers “However, with less… death involved. Close to death, I should say.” Her amendment melted some tension, but the atmosphere still weighed heavy in the group. “It will allow us to see who is at the top, and where others' experiences lie before we get into the real training.” Uncertainty followed the final word of the first announcement, nervous glances were shared between the others.

“Will we get anything?” Was a quick question from Xylo.

“Excuse me?” Came the indigent reply from the camp counselor.

“If one of us wins the trial. Do we get anything?” He clarified.

“That will be discussed at a later time” Was the firm response from the brunette woman.

“Now then. Secondly, as you all know, there is a special guest for you all tonight. They would like to pay a visit to all of you.” Suddenly the meeting area was filled with gasps of awe and excited mermers at Kaykrea’s reveal, some nodding that they did, in fact, remember the prior mention. “There is a message that they would like to give you all, a prophecy.” Her voice suddenly hardened as she followed up with a demand. “I do ask that as a way to show respect to The Oracle, you must stay completely silent, and to not have… snacks, while they are here…” This prompted Xylo to quickly hide the bag of marshmallows and for everyone else to swiftly finish their part of the treat. “Are we clear?” The serpent finished, allowing for any present questions.

Xylo ended up asking another query, the primary one on everyone’s minds. “What if we have questions about what they say?” Soon pipings of agreements followed and Kaykrea was quick to respond.

“There will be no questions for The Oracle at this time.” she asserted. “Although, perhaps in the future, but not today. Am I clear?” She took a pause so the campers could give their affirmation, albeit tentatively. “Alright. Introducing… The Oracle.” The winged woman slithered back as the flames of the bonfire began to grow unnaturally, responding to the approaching powerful presence. The once gentle breeze started to pick up and blow back locks of hair. Even the moon appeared to shine brighter as a soft flapping of wings could be heard just over the cracking and popping of the fire. A small shadow formed in the glowing space above the flames, and as it came closer to the light, The Oracle was revealed.

They were small, looking no bigger than the length of an arm vertically and horizontally if the wings and tail were fully stretched out. Right, they had a tail, covered in small iridescent scales that transitioned from black to a deep blue to a bright green, speckled throughout were small white spots, it’s unclear if those were the scales shining or just part of the pattern. Underneath was a black belly with long smooth scales that came up to the main ‘head’. The bat-like wings shared similar traits to the tail, with the black, blue, green with white speckles, pattern. Their head could hardly be considered a ‘head’, since it was just a single large eyeball. The unnerving sight was only enhanced by the odd shaped iris and pupil, which had the shapes of diamonds. The iris itself shared the previous color pattern of the tail and wings. The eyelashes themselves didn’t help either, being large and thick. The top half was long and had two protruding chunks on either side that enhanced the bat-like look. The bottom came to multiple sharp points. Large openings where the eyelids met showed the connective corners. It all was so disproportionate and unnatural, yet here they were, right in front of the small crowd.

A voice, as soft and smooth as the nearby ocean waves, whispered through the open air. Despite not having a mouth, The Oracle spoke as though projecting their message straight into the minds of the camp's inhabitants. “Ah, and so arrive the children of the gods…” Like a knife through butter, the voice cut through the silence, demanding the attention of all those present. The single eye glanced with a piercing gaze over the group, barely stopping on anyone specific. But still, The Oracle already was seeing the future of the campers. “How interesting… hmh… very interesting.” The eye began to glow in rings, looking like the flaring of the sun when looked at through a window or from a recording. The fire began to build, and the smoke rose in large plumes as the small bat-serpent form took to hovering over the pit. Finally, they spoke of what they were seeing. “Darkness looms over the future for one of you, and with it will come terror and destruction. Greatness follows another, a coming day where you will become a great hero. But, not without great loss of those who you love and believe to be close friends. And one of you will assist to break open the earth, and free The Titans from Tartarus. The Future is filled with bloodshed.”

With the final declaration from The Oracle, the fire suddenly is extinguished, leaving all to be shrouded in the darkness of night. The Prophecy held very few good omens it seemed. An unnerving silence filled the air as the small eyeball-bat disappeared into the star-filled sky, swiftly blending in and vanishing from the scene. Soon hushed whispers filled the area as uncertainty and fright began to grow. Kaykrea was quick to initiate the ending statements for the night and sent the campers back to their designated cabins to rest. Although, it would best be assumed that not many got much rest, whether if it was discussing the words of the Oracle, concerns on the upcoming trial, finishing unpacking, or ponderings on how the summer may be more interesting than at first predicted.

Kaykrea stood at the shoreline straddling the camp, nearby was The Oracle’s abode, where the small creature was resting. She didn’t want the others to see, but the prophecy frightened her. She knew that the lives of gods and demi-gods could get dangerous, but… bloodshed… terror… The Titans. What would this mean? Was everyone here doomed right as they crossed the threshold? Perhaps even before they arrived? Not only that, but nothing said that The Oracle was safe either. It appears that maybe She has bitten more than she could chew. But she would do anything for the camp, anything for The Oracle.

Next chapter

Previous chapter

First chapter

Please watch the original Origins of Olympus series, while this story does make major changes; the series made by the Origins MCRP crew is important to understanding the Reimagining, and it's good to support the original material if you can. It's free on YouTube with multiple perspectives. If you see any way that I can improve my writing, or any grammar/spelling mistakes please let me know!

[ellieloves2draw]

elytra headcanons i doodled a while back! feat. my favorite joe ive ever drawn

(ID: five colored marker drawings of various hermits and their elytras. each drawing is labeled with what kind of elytra each character has. in order, these are “cloak”, “vex”, “boxelder bug”, “grasshopper”, and “spooky halloween cape thing”.

first is grian. he’s a fae with birdlike hands and feet and a whiplike tail which has feathers at the end, pointed ears, dishwater blond hair, black dot eyes, and freckles. he is wearing a red sweater, black cargo shorts, and reading glasses with small, circular lenses. his elytra is a cloak that has been cut and sewn to resemble simplified wings. the base of the wings are red and the false feathers are gold, with small buttons at each crease. grian is sitting with his elytra half unfurled around him.

next is scar. he’s a human with green eyes, brown hair, and scarred skin. he is wearing a brown brimmed hat, jacket, and pants, a white buttoned shirt, and he is holding a cane in his right hand, and gesturing with his left hand while smiling. his elytra are a pair of vex wings. they resemble simplified bat wings with moth-eaten holes and are a pale blue color.

next is tango. he’s a pale netherborn with messy, swept-back blond hair, pointed ears, sharp cheekbones, and stubble. he’s wearing a red shirt with grey circles on the biceps, gold-framed goggles with red lenses, oversized red work gloves, and black overalls. he has his back mostly turned to the camera and has his arms spread out. his smile is visible, but his eyes are obscured. there are two small, empty speech bubbles around him. his elytra are a pair of boxelder bug wings. they’re folded on his back, showing only the shell, which is black with red outlines.

next is joe hills. he’s a human with long brown hair with green tips, cat eye glasses, and a handlebar mustache. he is wearing and oversized blue t-shirt with a white ‘at’ symbol on it and blue pants with patches sewn on. he’s hovering in the air and smiling at the camera. his elytra are grasshopper wings. the top pair are long and thin, and are tan. the bottom pair are triangular and are mostly brown with a green bottom edge.

the final drawing is cleo. they’re a tall, fat zombie with orange snake hair, grey-green skin that has been stitched together, and white eyes with black sclera. she is walking toward the xamera and is wearing a long, flowing, low-cut dark blue dress with gold trim, a split skirt, and gathered sleeves just below the shoulders, black and white striped stockings, blue flowers in her hair, and gold flat shoes. their elytra is a large, tattered, dark blue cloak that resembles huge wings. they are spread up and out behind cleo in an awe-inspiring but menacing manner. end ID.)

[theocannibalistic]

Aaaand NPC gala fits part 2!

ID: five digital drawings of original characters, described top to bottom and left to right. 1. Bluebell, a lanky firbolg woman with freckled pale blue furry skin, cow hooves and a cow tail, fluffy ears, brown eyes and long dark red hair in a braid crown at her hairline. She is wearing a cream gown embroidered with pink, lavender and white flowers and pale green vines. The dress has a plunging neckline that shows a white patch of fur on her chest. She also has pale green vine earrings and bracelets and flowers in her hair that match the dress. 2. Agnazar, an older elven person with black hair pulled into a bun with two long white strands that hang past her ears and end in lightning shapes. She is wearing big star earrings, purple goggles pushed up to her forehead, black boots and gloves, and an indigo coat with white buttons and trimming. She is holding a dark brown cane with a purple orb grip in her right hand. 3. Moxie, a broad tiefling orc with freckled seafoam green skin that blushes purple, asymmetrical upright horns, a long tail with a curly blond tip, brown eyes and fluffy pale blond hair shaved light brown at the sides of his head. He is wearing red dragon earrings, gold bracelets and gold rings on his horns, a red cape in the shape of dragon wings, a layered terra-cotta scale skirt, a purple tabard with a black dragon embroidered on it and dark teal leggings and brown boots. 4. Juniper, a wood elf woman with tan freckled skin that blushes green, dark forest green hair with braids and wrapped sections and brown eyes. She is wearing a green gown with three-quarters sleeves, a square neckline split at the center and bright green and blue botanical pattern on the skirt and sleeve hems. She also has a gold crown with five blunt spikes decorated with circular gems and a necklace with multi-colored beads and a stone pendant. 5. Sirocco, a young summer eladrin girl with a warm skintone, frilled pointed ears, orange yellow and red eyes reminiscent of targets and long pale blond hair with straight-across bangs. She is wearing a red gown with puff sleeves, a curlicue pattern and white gem at the heart-shaped neckline, full skirts and a pink tabard with white and yellow accents.

Player Characters NPCs Part 1 NPCs Part 2 (you are here)

[diamondcrownacademy]

DCA Info Part 66: Dorm Leader 3rd Edition Redesigns (Part 2)

View Part 1

Much like their Dorm Fairy companions, the girls also got redesigned! The reason being is that Phoenix felt she was making them look to simple. So she chose to once again redesign them, only this time, designing them to cater more to their preferences and personalities, as well as matching the aesthetics of each Disney Princesses' respective movies.

📚 Rozeline Pierrette

Rozeline's new ensemble was created to represent both Belle and Beast. As well as being an ensemble that looks conservative or old school, not caring for aesthetic outfits and just picked an old pattern from the dress book. Her now unkempt hair is dark brown with a single white streak.

Rozeline's ensemble consists of a muted navy blue long puff sleeve bolero jacket with gold trim with the collar having gold circular roses and the sleeves having white cuffs. She also wears a yellow maxi skirt with muted navy blue and gold trim. For footwear, Rozeline wears a pair of black and white heeled Oxford shoes with gray leggings.

Rozeline accessorizes with a black veil that covers her eyes attached to a muted navy blue bonnet with gold trim, pale yellow roses and black horns, a white ruffle tie, a pale yellow rose brooch with a muted yellow gem brooch in the center and pale tan ribbon with gold trim, a gold belt with ribbon detailing, black gloves and a muted gold crown ring with a yellow jewel on her right index finger.

🏝️ Vidya Nazari

Vidya's ensemble is meant to be a fusion of both Aladdin and Jasmine's respective ensembles, with the top portion taking inspiration from Aladdin's Prince Ali persona. The purple sash was a gift from Kalim and not only serves as a reference to the Magic Carpet, but also reference Kalim's hometown.

Vidya's ensemble consists of a black tunic worn underneath a bedlah top with off-the-shoulder straps with gold accents and matching salwar pants with a gold V-shaped waistline with an opening below the knees and gold trim. For footwear, Vidya wears a pair of curled shoes that are muted navy and feature gold soles and accents.

Vidya accessorizes with a pale gold tiara with a blue diamond-shaped jewel in the center, a pair of blue diamond shaped jewel earrings, a gold choker with blue diamonds, gold shoulder pads with hanging gold threads with a blue diamond brooch in the center, a gold bracelet with blue diamond jewels, a purple sash with floral and swirl designs and gold trim, a gold waist chain with blue diamonds, gold rings above her shoes and a pale gold crown ring with a blue jewel on her left index finger.

🐲 Jinlong Esi

Jinlong received a very notable redesign, now resembling more of an eastern dragon while also possessing turquoise horns, off red nails, three pointed toes with red claws, and a red tail with teal spikes and gold underbelly, the tail also has copper colored fluff at the tip. Jinlong's hair is now in a single ponytail.

Jinlong's ensemble consists of a navy blue martial arts tunic with gold trim, a maroon collar with teal circular gems attached to gold tassels and maroon cuffs with gold detailing. Underneath the tunic is a pair of blue-green pants with gold trim. For footwear, Jinlong sports a pair of navy blue sandals with maroon detailing and straps.

Jinlong accessorizes with a teal earring on her left ear, a pair of oversized turquoise bracelets, a maroon belt with gold trim and designs with a large circular gold brooch with a turquoise gem embedded in the center, and a gold crown ring with a maroon jewel on her right index finger.

🐻 Elu Sorrel

Elu has a slightly more muscular physique due to being a hunter while her ensemble looking more modern and much like Allison and Jinlong, offering more mobility. To avoid making her look to similar to Leona, Elu's braids were moved to be around her ears (though not shown in the picture above).

Elu's ensemble consists of a tan sleeveless turtleneck tunic with baggy pants that include fringes worn underneath what appears to be a brown corset with the bottom having fringes and a dark teal corset with various pale red diamond details and pale red threads. For footwear, Elu wears a pair of light tan boots with teal and white straps and fringes near one of the ends.

Elu accessorizes with a brown cloak with a white trimmed fur hood with the bottom featuring a teal and red diamond design and fringes, a pair of gold goggles, pale red arm bands with teal beads, a brown necklace with red and teal beads with a brown brooch with an orange gem embedded inside and teal, white, red feathers with red beads, brown gloves and a pale gold crown ring with an orange jewel on her left index finger.

🐸 Perrine Bousquet

Perrine ensemble bears some resemblance to the flapper dress that Tiana wears at the end of The Princess and the Frog, while also wanting to match the aesthetics of the 1920s. Perrine's hair is now a golden blonde curly bob cut and she now has green eyeshadow.

Perrine's ensemble consists of an off white green tinted blouse worn underneath a pastel green dress with the top portion resembling a blazer, with green lapels and cuffs. For footwear, Perrine wears a pair of green pumps, a style popular with working women in the 1920s as they featured minimal decorations and were less expensive than trendy strap shoes or lattice pumps.

Perrine accessorizes with a green cloche hat with a light green satin ribbon with a yellow flower with green leaves and a green circular gem in the center, a silver necklace with a green gem pendant, a yellow flower brooch with green leaves and a vine as well as a silver circular brooch with floral detailing and a circular green gem in the center, a pair of pastel green gloves and a silver crown ring with a green jewel on her left index finger.

[jakkon-and-rose-topic]

Character Descriptions - for @ashthedrawer and any other artists

Jak (Before the major trauma)

He stood a good head and a half taller than her with curly black hair held back in a short ponytail. He waved, the smile crossing his lips warm and comforting despite his sharp teeth. Three claw-like scars scored the left side of his face, ending just under his eye. His freckles and tanned skin suggested too many hours in the sun. Darker, thicker skin covered his hands, fading from black at the tips of his fingers to the normal tan at his wrists. Cream-colored horns spiked through his hair, curling out around his pointed ears so that the sharp ends pointed behind him.

Well-toned muscles stretched beneath his skin and he was always all smiles, even though his eyes always held a hint of worry alongside the hopeful spark of optimism. Though they matched the wine Eveny's family was famous for, a deep merlot color which perfectly contrasted the pitch black of his hair. Dark fur covered his goat-like legs, but it only grew a little less than an inch, shortening as it reached his hooves.

He wore a crisp black suit, posture perfect and intentional as he faced the crowd, a short, well-trimmed beard giving him a more mature look that made Eveny smile every time she saw him.

Jak (AFTER THE TRAUMA)

He was different than so many remembered, shoulders slumped arms crossed as if he were trying to shrink and hide behind himself at every moment. His rough dark hands gripped the sleeves of a formal white button-up dress shirt, a deep red tie haphazardly looped around his neck, the fabric of both pieces rumpled and messy.

Three new jagged scars scored his face, one over the bridge of his nose, one though his eye and lips, and the final one crossing his jaw on the opposite side of the claw-marks. Dark shadows crossed under his dull eyes, which just watched the world pass by with nothing more than a brief moment of anger, fear, or grief every now and then.

Both his hair and beard had grown longer and wilder, frizzy black curls now held in a ponytail that reached his mid-back. Fur just like the rest of his hair looked messy and longer, though it was almost better, not able to grow long enough to do any real damage to his appearance.

Instead of the smile that made him so appealing, his sharp teeth twisted his face into something bitter and tired. Burn scars peeked out from the half-buttoned folded-over collar of his shirt, and his frame seemed less stable. He was thinner, though from the sort of work he'd decided to do, he'd kept most of the muscle.

Horns Ref:

Picrew, that is entirely accurate other than the scars, and the facial hair and horns being a bit off:

In case you need more straightforward info:

Eye color: Dark Reddish Brown, More Red than Brown

Hair Color: Pitch Black

Skin Color: Honey/Dark tan

He's got a sort of half-rectangular Pupil shape if you wanna add that detail... (because Goat) but it's more square-ish so he looks more human

INTENSE dark circles because Stress and la k of sleep

[mamamittens]

*unhinged screaming* your follower event, omgomgomgomg!!! Okay, now that I've gotten my excitement out of the way, do you think I could put in a request for Sabo (one piece)? I'm a F! With short brown hair, brown eyes and lightly tan skin. A little chubby and about a head shorter than Sabo. (Actually, I'm about Koala's height). I'm generally optimistic and nice, though I don't put up with people's bs. I'm caring and enjoy having a good time within reason (though I don't like *real* alcohol) and would like to wear lolita clothing. If Sabo and I could get a.... chocolate milkshake with caramel syrup and cherries, add shots of white Russian (cream pie), Jell-O shot, Jager bomb, pink schnapps, black jack, afterburner, brain hemorrhage, and motor oil for me. (Just in case, I'd like to be the sub being edged, restrained, lightly choked, overstimulated and marked.) Yes I know it's a lot, I'm sorry. If you can, thank you! And congratulations!!!!

Welp! Order up! Hope you like it~!

This is an order for my 500+ follower event "Date Shake"! It's running through my ask box until 9/19/23, please refer to this post for context!

Warnings: edging, marking, unprotected sex/creampie, rough sex, choking, and overstimulation.

Word count: 2,899

They looked so good together.

That’s the one thing Sabo heard endlessly whenever he went out with Astra. And he never got tired of hearing it, though it flustered his friend to no end. They were right and they should say it, honestly. It wasn’t just a matter of style and looks.

Though Sabo’s tendency towards posh button ups from his affluent childhood certainly paired well with the sweet lace dresses and blouses Astra so favored. Bows and ribbons adorned her short, soft brown hair that he put in himself every morning upon request. And she always requested. Complaining that he made it look so effortless to weave the fabric into her locks when all he needs to do is tousle his hair a bit.

Their relationship went deeper than ribbons and ribbing, though. All the way back to kindergarten, in fact. When Sabo saw a pretty little girl struggling to buckle her polished shoes and insisted he help her. Dark brown eyes wide with appreciation as she smiled and… well, that was that. He was her staunch friend from that moment onward.

Far past the point of failure most childhood friends fall out during. Sweet and easy summer days all the way to harsh, bitter winters. They alone remained, though never truly alone. And Sabo appreciated it more than he could ever bear to admit. His brothers rambunctious and wild while Astra was just so… sweet and sincere.

He was especially fond of today’s ensemble. Unwittingly matching, they strolled through a new addition to the local art gallery. Rich blue lace ribbon tied around her hair and dress collar. The darker blue fabric of her dress swaying around her knees with every click of her heels, sleeves brushing her wrists in lace trim. Sabo wore his favorite blue silk shirt that nearly matched her dress and couldn’t help but wonder if it was on purpose.

Sabo had known for a while that he was quite attached to Astra. Hard to deny when he had to restrain himself from taking up every moment of her time and sneering at the idiots who tried to get her number. He had two brothers—he knew the feeling of being protective. But this was… a fair bit beyond that. Sabo certainly never felt this way when his brothers dressed up—although it would be a miracle if Dadan managed to ever make Ace wear a shirt again after the incident with Newgate.

He was getting off track. Luckily, Astra didn’t notice as she admired an old oil painting of the sea. It was quite bewitching to gaze into the painted depths but Sabo found his eyes slipping elsewhere, regardless of the artwork quality. In the carefully curated light of the gallery, Astra was pretty enough to frame on the wall. Soft, warm skin bright against the jewel blue fabric. A study in life and color Sabo found difficult to look away from.

But he simply must!

Huffing to himself, Sabo looked back at the artwork with a soft smile.

Current troubles aside, he was glad Astra was enjoying the exhibit. Shame it was nearly over. The exit mere feet away and three paintings left to admire. It was probably for the best, though. Sabo had gotten distracted enough thinking about pinning her to one of the artworks to see if she would outshine a masterwork of the ages under his hands. More likely to end in an indecency charge of some kind thinking like that.

And he did not want to have that conversation with Gramps.

Sabo sighed, walking close to Astra as they left the art gallery. She paused, steady rhythm of her heels on pavement interrupted with a questioning glance.

“Did you not like the art, Bo?” Astra asked softly with a worried frown. “You look kinda pissed.” She noted. Sabo smiled back down at her and shrugged.

“Oh, no it was good! A nice way to spend a night out. But it still feels too early to call it quits.” Sabo pulled the excuse from his ass, not wanting to admit where his mind was going. He’d long since put his hands in his pockets to refrain from teasing her skirt to feel the soft line of her thighs under ruffles and lace. It felt like a crime to know the socks she was wearing actually went up to her thighs and wasn’t actually stockings.

He should know. He bought them for her birthday.

“You’re right!” Astra laughed, looking up past the peaks of the sky scrappers where the clear sky was still a soft purple from the setting sun. “Way too early to stop here. How about… we have dinner at my place? Pizza maybe?” Sabo snorted.

“What, don’t want to cook?” Sabo teased.

“Nope! And just for the sass, you can pay.” Astra sniffed, much to Sabo’s amusement.

Sabo hadn’t let her pay for a single outing since the third grade when she bought him a very disfigured character ice cream… of what was maybe a dog? Certainly didn’t look like it by the time he got it. Still, point remains standing that she wasn’t going to pay even if he didn’t have ‘sass’.

“Alright, fine.” Sabo sighed dramatically, reaching out to gently pull her closer to him as they passed by another couple going the opposite way. “Pizza it is!”

Sabo dropped the box onto the coffee table and plopped down on the overly stuffed couch cushion. Astra kicking off her shoes in the entryway.

This was their normal Saturday night. They’d go out somewhere, get food, come back to one of their homes, watch a movie, and leave.

But… Sabo didn’t want to do that tonight. He wanted to stay. The restless heat in his chest reaching a fever pitch as he watched her grab two sodas from the fridge. Bending over in the process as the dress flared around her knees. Excess fabric draping over her ass and hips. Not enough to see everything, but enough to remind him of how easy it would be to look. Really, actually see her.

Not startled glances when someone forgot to knock or the polite once-over when they went swimming in the summer. His hands twitched and he grit his teeth, attempting to release the tension.

But the tension remained in his shoulders anyway the entire time they ate. Every movie scene barely glossed over as Sabo found his eyes drawn to Astra tucked under his arm. Dress skirt pooling out and obscuring her legs.

All it would take is to drop his arm and sweep it up her folded legs. She’d probably be a bit cold but he wouldn’t let her freeze for long.

“You feel like a rock, Sabo. What’s got you so tense?” Astra asked during what sounded like an action scene. “We’ve seen this before. You know they don’t die in this battle.” She pointed out with an amused glance.

Sabo smiled back, a little pained at losing track of his thoughts so quickly.

Clearly, this wasn’t something he could just pretend to not feel.

Just like a band aid.

“We’re friends. Right?” Sabo asked, causing Astra to sit up in alarm and look at him with concern.

“Sabo? What’s wrong?!” She asked with wide eyes, glancing around as though the answer was on her shelves. And in a way, it kind of was. Countless pictures of them growing up together lined the walls, collecting dust. And over time, more and more photos caught him gazing fondly down at her. “Of course we are!”

“What if I want more than that? Would you want the same thing?” Sabo spilled, too late to turn back now. No amount of covering his ass would explain away the strangeness of his original question.

“…More? Like what? Sabo, you’re freaking me out.” Astra commented nervously.

Sabo moved, turning towards her and cupping her cheek. Slowly, painfully slowly, Sabo leaned in close. Watching her eyes widen as thoughts raced through her head. Realization, doubt, and confirmation clear in her brown eyes as he got closer.

Sabo’s lips quirked up as he noted she wasn’t stopping him despite the glacial pace he was setting. In fact, she gasped, tipping her chin up and meeting his lips in a soft brush.

That faint slide of her lips across his set his heart alight.

“Like this.” Sabo whispered, pressing hard against her lips in a deep kiss. His hand curling back to support her head as she fell backwards slowly. A low moan tickling his skin as he lapped at her bottom lip. Sucking it between his teeth to nip as she gasped. The moment capitalized on by his tongue sliding across her own.

Astra was laying down beneath him, battle cries fading in the background as Sabo finally rested his hand over her knee and slipped under her skirt. Following the soft fabric until it dipped into her thick thighs. Palm and fingers hot as he stroked the hidden treat, slipping under the hem to snap the band. She moaned, panting as he pulled away to look at her.

Seeing her wide, flustered look as he pressed his fingertips to her damp panties. Mouth falling open with a moan as he rubbed her slick across her clit. Circling the bud slowly as he kissed her neck. Biting and marking the pale column of her throat as she began to squirm, hands fisting his shirt with building shudders. He listened as her breath quickened, heart thundering as he nosed the collar of her dress away from her shoulders to make room for his teeth.

He bit down hard and she keened, the sound curling into a cry as Sabo pulled away his hand before she could truly peak.

Flushed and wanting, Astra swallowed hard and glared at him.

“O-Oi!” Astra whined.

“Answer the question.” Sabo commanded bluntly, smirking as she blinked in confusion. “Tell me you want this.”

“I-I do.” Astra admitted breathlessly. Sabo immediately shot up, slinging her over his shoulder as he stalked to her room. Tossing her onto the bed and closing the door before she could even sit up. Sabo grinned over his shoulder.

“Trust me?” he purred, drinking in the excitement on her face.

“Yes.”

Sabo turned, unbuttoning his shirt before tossing it on the floor alongside his undershirt. Confident steps carrying him to the edge of her bed as he grabbed her legs and pulled her further down. She reached back, probably to deal with her dress, but Sabo stopped her with a soft click of his tongue.

“Oh no, let me. I’ve been dying to take this dress off all day~” Sabo hummed, delicately pushing up her dress until her thighs and wet panties were exposed. He pushed open her legs and kneeled for a closer look. Teasingly blowing across the wet fabric. He hooked his fingers into the white lace trim and slowly pulled them down her thighs, pocketing them once they slipped past her feet. “What a pretty cunt for a pretty lady.” He sighed, biting her thigh hard as he watched her clench on nothing.

He sucked on the soft skin, digging in his teeth just shy of drawing blood as his cock ached.

Suddenly, his hair was pulled. Hard.

“Sabo! S-Stop teasing me when I need you!” Astra growled.

Sabo let go of her thigh and grinned, pressing his bared teeth into the darkened mark on her soft skin. He nearly snapped his teeth into a fresh spot as punishment.

But he had a much better idea.

“Alright, alright! I’ll get to it, already.” Sabo acquiesced, moving quickly before she grew suspicious of his sudden change of tone. He sat up and kissed her lips, bracing himself over her as he tugged her hands up into his. Pulling them together before reaching into his pocket.

He tied up her hands in the lacy panties with a grin, flipping her over to reach the buttons up the back of her dress.

“Hey! You can’t take off my dress with my hands tied—did you use my panties?!” Astra huffed as he flicked open the back with practiced hands. Grabbing her skirt and shoving it up her body, laughing as he forced the fabric over her head where it bunched around her hands.

Astra panted, looking over her shoulder in confusion as Sabo leaned down and kissed her again, drinking in her slow submission as she relaxed beneath him. His hands fondling her curves greedily. Twisting and pulling her soft breasts as she sighed.

“S-Sabo~ You’re still teasing me!” Astra whined, ass grinding into his cock.

Huffing, Sabo reached down to his pants, loosening them just enough to free himself as he bit down into her shoulder. The tip of his cock slipping against her wet cunt in a slow grind.

“You keep trying to rush me, baby. You should quit while your ahead~” Sabo warned, gripping her waist as he kept grinding against her pussy. Her breathing picked up when his free hand slipped down her soft belly to pinch her clit. Toying with her roughly as he kept his rhythm. “That’s it. No more talking~” Sabo cooed, still teasing her body.

Her thighs trembled, squeezing his cock as she dripped over him freely. Closer and closer to the edge as he considered if it would be more satisfying to eat her out bent over until she screamed or—

“Sabo~! A-Aaahhn! O-Oh! Oh fuck, s’bo! Sabo!” Astra moaned, shaking as her cute pussy dripped down her thighs, clit pulsing beneath his fingers.

Sabo hissed, removing his hand from her clit and gripping her throat. Pinning her between his hand and chest against the bed. Almost burying her face into the pool of lacy fabric.

“Shut! Up!” Sabo slammed into the hilt, feeling her breathless scream against his palm as he squeezed. She was so fucking tight, he nearly couldn’t make it. Her cunt clenching as he pulled out just to slam back in. “Just take what I give you!”

Sabo pulled her under him further, tilting up her hips to his heavy thrusts as he railed into her cunt. Balls slapping with a wet thud against her pussy as she quivered around him. Strained moans slipping free despite his grip on her throat that only grew more desperate when he squeezed harder.

“You like that, huh? You like finally being fucked? Finally shut you up, didn’t I?” Sabo hissed, driving her into the bed hard enough to rattle the frame with a steady beat.

“A-Ah! Aaaahhhhh!” Astra keened, pussy clenching down. Sabo slammed in as deep as he could go and stayed there, laughing as she whined. Her high dying down slowly as he eased up on her throat. Desperate gasps audible, though muffled in the fabric of her dress. “S-Saaaa~! Oooooooooh!”

Sabo pulled out and started back up again.

Then stopping before she could cum and waiting until she cried out.

Pushing her closer each time with a smile and a sweet kiss despite the growing bruises on her throat.

He did this six times until she was crying, desperately rocking her hips back to try and ride his cock.

“Are you ready to be good, baby?” Sabo asked sweetly, squeezing her throat to cut off a whine as he pulled out of her drenched pussy. After a moment, he eased up.

“Y-Yes! Please! Sabo~oooooooooh~!” Sabo pulled her up against his chest by her throat, slipping his cock back into her hot cunt.

Sabo bounced her on his cock hard and fast. Lips smearing over her cheek as he sought her lips. Despite desperately panting for what little air she was allowed, she kissed him eagerly. Tongues tangling as she started to shake. The sound of her dripping cunt sucking in his cock mixing with the headboard slamming into the wall and the mattress squeaking. Her own moans nothing but pathetic pants around his tongue.

She came with a cry, drenching their thighs as she squirted around his cock still drilling into her. Legs shaking hard as he kept going, her face turning colors as she came again.

“A-Ah-bo~!” Astra swallowed hard when finally let her breath, panting hard as she shook, tears streaming down her face. The coil in his balls snapped, his hips slamming against her ass as he filled her cunt.

The excess dripped down her thighs as he panted, letting go of her throat to pet her hair, kissing her cheeks softly.

When they both calmed down a little, Sabo rubbed his hand up her spine, slotting his palm over the back of her neck.

Slamming her down into the bed with her ass raised. She yelped as he started fucking her again, shaking violently as another orgasm rapidly approached.

“Oh, pretty baby, I’m not through with you yet~” Sabo cooed, leaning back to admire how her socks were now stained with cum and slowly sliding down her thighs. “You wanted me to stop teasing you, didn’t you?” Sabo laughed, palming her ass to admire the thick white ring around his cock that grew with every thrust.

She cried out into her dress, creaming on his cock again. But it wasn’t enough.

“A-Ahhhn~ ‘bo! Bo-oh~!”

It wouldn’t be until she lost her voice and her pretty dress was ruined for good. A shame, but he’d just buy her another one to ruin all over again later.

[untracked]

about.

NAME: Kenan N. Shaw A.K.A.: "Shaw" GENDER: Cis male BIRTHDATE: 13th April SPECIES: Human OCCUPATION: Search and rescue officer (wilderness team; national park level)

HEIGHT: 186cm (~6'1") HAIR: Dark brown EYES: Brown BUILD: Fit

SEXUALITY: Bisexual RELIGION: Protestant (non-practising) FAMILY:

Douglas Eugene Shaw -- father, alive

Katherine Isabelle Shaw -- mother, deceased

Dorothy Jacqueline Shaw -- older sister, missing (presumed dead)

impressions.

VISUAL: Standing at six feet, Shaw is tall but not excessively wide. He doesn't invest in physical aesthetics, and is lean, toned, and wiry, with surprisingly firm and dense muscle beneath his skin. His cheekbones and jaw are defined, contributing to the sharp profile created by the striking line of his nose, and more often than not a well-kept, trimmed beard covers his face (with some grey in it, too, depending on age). Shaw's hair is dark and thick, and long enough that having it disrupted from its usual pushed back style has strands curling over his forehead. His lashes are long, his eyes are dark brown, and he has a light tan from all the time he spends outside. ATTIRE: Outside his uniform, Shaw favours comfortable sweaters, plaid buttoned shirts, and t-shirts of the grey and white variety. He wears pants that fit well without being tight, and usually opts for casual ankle boots for a regular day outside. He wears a standard digital watch at work, but outside it wears a Seiko Presage SARX029 (with a black crocodile leather strap to match its black dial). DEMEANOUR: Shaw stands confidently without any intention of intimidation. He doesn't really smile unless spoken to, at which point he always makes it a point to pay close attention to who's speaking to him. He's a good listener-- we have two ears and one mouth for a reason-- but this doesn't necessarily mean he's easy to sway out of his own opinions. Shaw knows politeness, but it doesn't take a lot for him to grow disinterested in anyone too invested in simple pleasantries. AURAL: Shaw's voice is crisp and comes from his chest. He's great at modulation-- his clear voice makes him a favourite for announcements or calling out during searches-- but in personal situations, it's often difficult for him to keep any emotional affect out of his tone. OLFACTORY: Clean; Shaw also tends to carry notes of sandalwood and other earthy tones, if caught outside of work. When he's fresh from duty, he does carry the scents of nature with him-- grass and leaves, the air that's carried by the wind, or the scent of the sun after it's been on his hair all day.

personality.

FOR ONCE I'M WRITING SOMEONE WITH HOBBIES

background.

content warnings: death, mentions of suicide, mild child neglect.

FIRST, YOU ARE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER. In an absurd, almost comical way (even if he'll claim this more or less set the tone of his life forever), Shaw's life only began after a tragedy. He has no significant memory of anything before his sister disappeared, but he was also so young there wasn't any reason for him to experience significance to begin with. The day she was taken into the wilderness, Shaw's otherwise nondescript life changed enough to be considered abnormal: the house felt emptier (especially after his mother burned all the pictures they had of his sister), his parents spoke less, and despite his overall rambunctious, troublesome behaviour, nobody paid attention to him any more. After hours spent playing outside at varying levels of danger, Shaw had to take care of his own cuts and bruises, and the only one left to kiss his band-aids was his stuffed puppy, Captain.

Most kids might have clocked that something was wrong with their family, and a fewer percentage of that subgroup might have even figured out that the whole thing was unfixable. Shaw was none the wiser-- as clueless and naive as he had been when he watched his sister get taken away-- until he found his mother dead in his parents' bathtub after school one day.

As clueless as ever, Shaw did not call the authorities. Instead, his father came home to his son sitting on the bathroom floor, temple to the tub and his mother's cold hand held against his cheek.

SECOND, LOVE IS CONDITIONAL. It's a truth no-one wants to believe, but a truth nonetheless. Shaw came to terms with it sometime in tenth grade, over a decade since his sister disappeared and a little less than since his mother died. Driving his friends home from a party that was only "good" because there was free-flowing alcohol, it occurred to him that his friends got in trouble with their parents way more than he did. They called him lucky for it, saying they wished their dads didn't care if they were home after three in the morning, and all Shaw did in turn was grin and blow cigarette smoke in their faces. Cry about it, losers, he'd teased, only to get shoved around and noogied for being an asshole.

When Shaw was very little, on his father's birthday he would smile as he kissed each of his family member's foreheads: his wife's, his daughter's, and his son's. I love that you all have the same eyes, he said once, so full of affection and gratitude. And thank goodness for that, because your mother's definitely the pretty one.

With all his friends in their houses-- the one who owned the car was the last to be dropped off, car and all-- Shaw walked the rest of the way home. It was cold that night, so his hands never left his pockets the entire thirty minute duration, and every breath he exhaled fogged the air. His house, much unlike his friends' houses, was dark when he arrived-- not even the outside lights were on. Shaw was used to this, though: to unlocking the door with his key, locking it behind him, and navigating the pitch black halls until he crashed in his sister's old room.

But that night he stopped in front of his father's shut door, and when Shaw tried the knob, it was locked like he expected. He crawled into bed feeling heavy in his chest after, but accepted there were just some things he couldn't change.

"Do you still like my eyes, Dad?" "Where's this coming from?" "When I was little you used to call them pretty." "Oh, well... you're handsome, if that's what you mean." "It isn't. I was asking about my eyes." "Why?" "Because you don't kiss me on your birthday any more." "What does my birthday have to do with anything?" "It's just what I remember. You used to look at me more back then, too. Why don't you look at me now?" "I... I'm going to be late for work, Kenan. I'm sorry. Maybe we can talk about this later?" "Yeah. Maybe. See you later, Dad."

THIRD, NO MAN IS AN ISLAND. Opting not to go to college, Shaw spent his first year out of high school following U2 on their Elevation tour. He went into trade school for construction after that, and got a job as soon as he finished. He lived with his father until he was twenty-six, then moved to a house he built with his own hands (and some hired help) in a quaint little neighbourhood where everyone knew his name.

Shaw was a pretty sociable person in general. He made friends at his trade school, then made friends with people he met at all the eclectic hobby-adjacent classes he took after that. He made friends with people at the bars he and his band (named "Judgment Crisis") played at, and made friends with the familiar faces he saw at the movie theatre. The friends he had in high school visited him often when they came home, and Shaw made efforts to stay in contact with them even after everyone entered the real world, attending birthdays, bachelor (and bachelorette) parties, weddings, baptisms, and every other event under the sun.

Contrary to all this, however, Shaw was never a sentimental person. If he really stopped to think about it, he'd recognise that he had some sort of issue connecting with people-- not because he couldn't make and keep any friends, but because he couldn't care about them the way people were supposed to. He was always present when needed, and he'd drive anyone to the airport or the hospital if they called, but this was less because he loved them and more because he knew it was what friends were supposed to do. He enjoyed that his friends were loyal to him, and in fact thrived knowing that they'd do most anything for him. He was hypocritical, though, as far as feeling loyal to them were concerned. Whatever deep emotion a person is supposed to feel for other people just doesn't exist in him, and Shaw feels nothing towards family or community besides knowing he needs them to survive. Shaw isn't delusional enough to believe he's "above" needing other people in his life; he isn't pompous or arrogant in this respect at all. He is, however, completely content in knowing his definition of "love" will never be enough for anybody. FOURTH, THERE'S A WHOLE WORLD OUT THERE. Shaw started volunteering with the local search and rescue the year before he turned thirty, spurred on by a story on the news about a death out in the nature site his sister disappeared from. He started out only working on weekends, then appeared thrice a week, four times, even five. When he wasn't busy with carpentry work, he found himself drifting towards the wilderness, and ended up so fascinated by the whole thing that he was working sixteen hour days: eight hours at his regular job, and then eight on the trail.

Shaw was thirty-two when he stopped working in carpentry entirely. His search and rescue mentor was retiring, and when the man said he wanted Shaw to take his place, he was hard-pressed to refuse getting paid for what he'd already been doing.

As a serial class taker, Shaw had a fascination with learning and entertaining himself with an eclectic collection of hobbies. But with classes came mastery, and with mastery came the reality that if a hobby wasn't your passion, then you would simply plateau. Most of his endeavours ended this way: Shaw became good at it, and then he became too bored to become great. Search and rescue, though, was full of surprises. It was without a doubt the most interesting thing he'd ever done, even more than the whole "joining a rock band and getting some CDs out" experience that defined his mid-to-late twenties.

Even if he'd stumbled across it, there was a measure of fulfilment in the search and rescue job that Shaw didn't get elsewhere. As far as he's concerned, that's as good a reason as any to keep pursuing it.

FIFTH, LIFE IS MEANT TO BE LIVED.

Danger, of course, lurks for everyone. Shaw just traded the mundane experience of being concerned about things like his blood pressure for concern towards the well-being of total strangers.

[the-golden-comet]

✨Find The Word Tag✨

Thank you so very much for tagging me, @fortunatetragedy and @gioiaalbanoart ! I’ll combine your words for the Peter Hart word hunt! ✨

OUR words: corybantic, petrichor, gold, sky, Bride, fork, coin, snack

For Peter Hart:

corybantic and petrichor: 0. Nice words, by the way! ✨

gold (x6) (could you tell it’s my favorite color? ✨)

A chipper crew aboard The renovated Golden Phoenix vessel laughed and sang as they manned the rigs and hoisted the black, golden-trimmed sails. The deckhands swabbed and sang, clicking their mops down to a rhythmic, upbeat shanty. Victor polished a cannon with a rag as he whistled to the tune, scrubbing the grime and mold from the mortar as his sleeves blackened with soot. At the helm, a 26-year old Captain Peter Hart; His hair, still golden like the sun above and the insignia on the sails that carried the crew, shimmered underneath his inherited black tricorn.

His haircut was short, resting just below the ears as a few strands swept across his forehead in flat bangs. Peter’s jaw, chiseled and refined with his coming of age, was only gently stubbled. He was wearing his father’s old trenchcoat, which fit perfectly over his broad shoulders, black and buttoned down in gold trim. A white, lightweight shirt rested beneath the heavy coat, soaked and stained in seawater, with a splash of blood from his past fallen foes. The black-leathered boots, scuffed and scum-laiden, fit snugly to the knees as his white and heavily-stained cotton pant legs tucked in the straps.

The captain’s fingers tapped on the spokes of his wheel as he hummed in tune with his hearty crewmates, the hands covered in tanned-hide gloves that tied at the elbows, resting under the arms of the coat and stopping at the rolled-up shirt sleeves. He tapped his foot as he tilted the wheel clockwise, the golden rings adorning his exposed fingers clanking against the steel supports of the axle and glinting to match the buckle on his brown leather belt. Once a cabin boy, now a fine young captain, this was the tale of Peter Hart, the Golden.

sky

The captain yawned up at the speckled sky. “You think the bounty’s gonna be greater than ten-thousand?”

“Easily, m’boy.” Davey rolled his eyes equal to his shoulders. “At least a hundred thousand on your head.”

Wonder what that brings my total up to now~?” Peter chuckled.

“I can’t even count that high, laddie.” Davey shook his head slowly in disappointment.

bride (x2)

“But you have to marry SOMEONE soon, Benjamin!!” Matthias huffed in indignance. “You are my only son, and therefore the only one who can produce an heir. I’ll be damned if I let another year go on without so much as a bride.”

“Father, please— ” Benjamin sighed roughly, yet was cut off again by his father’s raging temper.

“—ENOUGH. Benjamin Bartholomew, you will pick out a bride tonight, or I will choose for you.”

Fork (x2)

Benjamin stared down at his plate, as pale as the ivory itself. He couldn’t even touch the food, let alone stomach it. His heart had been beating hard all morning, and the thought of eating anything would make the food violently come back up. Peter, on the other hand, nearly finished his portion as he pointed a silver fork at the forlorn prince.

“Eat it, before it gets cold.” He spoke in between mouthfuls. “I got the silver out for you and everything.”

“I-I’m not hungry….” Benjamin muttered.

Peter caught the lie. “I heard your stomach growling.”

The prince corrected himself. “I c-can’t stomach anything right n-now….”

“Ahhh….” The captain finished his meal, wiped his lips on a napkin, then leaned back in his chair. “….well, you need to eat. I’m not having you faint on my floor.”

Benjamin gulped hard, grabbing a fork as it shook in his grasp. He successfully managed to shear off a piece of fish meat, bringing it to his mouth as he carefully felt around the flesh for bones. Satisfied, Peter resumed: “So, Benji. Heard you were going to get married…”

coin (x5)

“Is that what it’s all about to you?!” Benji yanked away from Alexander’s grasp. “The worthless coin?!”

“WORTHLESS COIN?! ” Alex chided. “That coin could build an empire tenfold. THAT COIN could fix a falling nation. That coin….” He took in a shaky, fire-fueled inhale. “….is worth far more than your stupid, fucking heart.”

Benjamin’s body was tense as Prince Alexander tried to apprehend him again. “Get your hands OFF of me!!”

snack (only one. Nice. ✨)

The First Mate scoffed. “Aye, but how are we going to sneak our boats back to her without becoming Kraken snacks?!”

I’ll tag (no pressure): @wyked-ao3 , @sunglasses-in-the-bentley , @autism-purgatory , @alinacapellabooks , +open tag! ✨

[puppyluver256]

[Image Description: Six drawings featuring human interpretations of different Pokemon performing various attacks.

The first image features a human interpretation of Hisuian Decidueye, taking the form of a black man with short white hair and amber eyes. He is wearing an old-fashioned Japanese straw hat dyed orange and red with white fibers at the top, orange glasses, a tan shirt with brown and orange accents and a Galaxy Team insignia on one arm, a white wrap-style belt, a red cape with the Galaxy Team’s Survey Corps badge attached, white pants with red trim, and black shoes with white soles. He is holding a red bow and leaping into the air as he fires three powerful arrows from it, his eyebrows furrowed and his teeth gritted as he does so. The background is a spiral of green and maroon, smeared around as though using an old calligraphy brush.

The second image features a human interpretation of Luxray, taking the form of a woman with light skin, black hair in a fluffy ponytail held with a blue hair needle with a yellow four-pointed star decoration, and yellow eyes with red sclera. She is wearing old-fashioned Japanese-style attire consisting of a blue shirt, a black jacket with yellow collar and cuffs, a blue belt with a four-pointed star decoration, loose black pants, and blue shoes with yellow accents. Attached to her jacket are Galaxy Team emblems along the sleeves and a silver Galaxy Team Security Corps badge on her chest. She is charging upward with lightning arcing all around her, most of it originating from her outstretched fist. The background is a spiral of yellow and gold, smeared around as though using an old calligraphy brush.

The third image features a human interpretation of Floatzel, taking the form of a woman with light skin and long orange and pale yellow hair in twin pigtails. She is wearing the Gingko Guild uniform as seen in Pokemon Legends Arceus, along with a blue undershirt and baggy orange pants. She is rushing upward, a powerful burst of water surrounding her. The background is a spiral of blue and dark blue, smeared around as though using an old calligraphy brush.

The fourth image features a human interpretation of Ursaluna, taking the form of a large woman with light skin and short brown hair with yellow bangs resembling a full moon. A grey bandage is on the bridge of her nose. She is wearing a brown kimono with a grey cloud design and light brown fringe at the bottom, a grey fluffy shawl with matching fingerless gloves, grey pants, and a yellow belt with a blue Diamond Clan insignia acting as a buckle. She is rushing toward an unseen target with her arms crossed in front of her, her eyes shut and her teeth clenched tight, surrounded by an orange aura while large dirt clods scatter about before her. The background is a spiral of dull brown and cream, smeared around as though using an old calligraphy brush.

The fifth image features a human interpretation of Hisuian Arcanine, taking the form of a woman light skin, loosely curled shoulder-length black hair, and grey eyes. She is wearing an orange and black top over a grey undershirt, a grey shawl with orange designwork and a large Pearl Clan insignia clasp, maroon pants, and orange boots with black cuffs. She is surrounded by flames, letting out a furious roar with a look of absolute rage in her eyes. The background is a spiral of orange and tan, smeared around as though using an old calligraphy brush.

The sixth and final image features a human interpretation of Hisuian Goodra, taking the form of a young woman with light skin, long lavender hair in a ponytail, grey eyes, and no arms. She is wearing grey disc-like hair ornaments, a casual style lavender kimono top with purple trim and grey and silver accents (the sleeves tied closed at roughly where the elbows would be) over silver sarashi wrappings, a purple satchel with a silver flap worn around the waist with the Pearl Clan insignia attached to the front strap, purple pants with silver ring accessories, grey leg wraps, and purple tabi-style sandals with lavender split-toe socks. She is surrounded by a swirl of semi-transparent metallic mucus and her skin is being coated in protective metal. The background is a spiral of silver and dark blue, smeared around as though using an old calligraphy brush.

End ID.]

-----

Yup, it's time for that thing I do for all my Pokejinka teams--everyone showing off what they can do! We've got Rice Pilaf using Triple Arrows, Electra using Wild Charge, River using Aqua Jet, Ursula using Headlong Rush, Amaterasu using Raging Fury, and Smoosh using Shelter :D And I didn't realize this at first, but apparently I've hit my first repeat move in this series, specifically Wild Charge having been used for Manny back with Team Hoenn Braves. Ah well, they show it off in different enough ways so I'm not too fussed hehe.

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~Likes are appreciated, but reblogs are preferred as they let more people see my artwork! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

Decidueye (any variant), Luxray, Floatzel, Ursaluna, Arcanine (any variant), Goodra (any variant), and other Pokemon concepts © Nintendo / GameFreak Reese "Rice Pilaf" Pierson, Hoshiko "Electra" Kuroda, Aoi "River" Nishikawa, Tsukiko "Ursula" Kumagai, Amaterasu Miyajima, Rin "Smoosh" Kaneko, and artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

[sanctified-sanctuary]

I won’t have time to add them to my carrd for a while so quick reference for the old new goon squad 🤪

Liam “Jekyll” Hyde- hellhound shifter demon, he’s in his late-mid 20s, He/Him, big idiot who rushes into situations head first but is also the first to laugh at the consequences. Long dark red hair that’s pulled half up usually but still in his face, light tan with dark freckles all over his body and long claw scars from his chest over his shoulder down his back and a supernaturally large bite scar on his shoulder. His eyes are green into gold toward the iris, the gold takes over the more he shifts eventually also darkening his sclera. He grew up on the infernal plane with other hellhounds until he was summoned by Hunter, at which point he agreed to be their familiar and spent his time split between earth and infernal planes from his early teens. He’s the largest personality and the leader of the pack if you will, but he’s also the bleeding heart always taking in strays it’s in his nature

Hunter (WIP last name)- infernal witch 3/4 human 1/4 incubus on their mother’s side, they’re half a year older than Jekyll, They/Them, a bit heavy on the sarcasm but very approachable/caring. Shorter light hair, they tend to dye it vibrant hues but it is naturally a whitish color, somewhat pale with no noticeable blemishes save for hidden enchanted tattoos. Their eyes are a light blue with a violet shift, more prominent when they’re practicing magic or using their demonic influence. They grew up with their dad as a single parent, summoned Jekyll when they realized they had bloodline magic and wanted to have a friend around that would understand since other kids saw them as weird with their mom’s mysterious background. Definitely an enabler and sarcastic best friend type, a bit more parental of the group but will encourage dumbass behavior too

Adora “D” Nova- succubus, she’s the youngest though only by a few months and still in her late-mid 20’s, She/Her, a ray of sunshine guaranteed to lighten the mood when she steps into the room she’s also the most emotionally intelligent/developed. Split color hair falls past her shoulders in a shag cut, one side a deep copper and the other a medium warm blonde dyed or natural she’ll never tell, her light skin has a few beauty marks and a dark gothic winged heart tattoo on her lower stomach. (She’ll tell you it’s a “succubus birth mark” but she got it tattooed on a dare on Earth when she was 19) Her eyes tend to shift color depending on the environment and if she’s exerting any influence, they’re normally a deep burnt maroon red that lighten to a brighter raspberry pink when using her talents. She also grew up on the infernal plane and made friends with Jekyll when they were late teens, eventually sparked up a romantic relationship in their young adult into early 20s that’s more or less on again off again because the lines between friends and lovers has already been blurred. She hangs out with the pack as often as possible, though she does pop back and forth between the planes more than anyone else she makes plenty of time to drag the crew along to seedy dive bars for post punk shows on the regular and they all blend right in

Zeke (WIP last name)- ((more of a secondary muse if you have good rp ideas it helps to bring his muse out!)) demon? (He refuses to disclose), he says he’s the oldest by a year but he’s cagey about the exact numbers late 20s, He/Him, unsettling and occasionally uncanny yet he’s the comic relief of any tense situation. He also frequently dyes his hair, typically shades of muted blues and greens, it’s trimmed tight on the sides and loose on top purposefully messy, he sports a tan that comes and goes with the seasons when he isn’t pasty white. His eyes are a light brown with metallic flakes that catch in the light, it doesn’t seem they glow or change at all with talent use but there is a sharpness to them that’s otherworldly even among hellhounds and other-planar beasts. He met the group on earth when they were all 19-21 ish at a house show and they clicked instantly, he mostly hangs out with the group and prefers to not be on his own unless he’s set on a mission (usually it’s a snack run- this man can eat). He’s dodgy about personal information and can be generally unsettling to be around if you’re unfamiliar with him, but he does his best to quell those feelings in other people when he speaks to them.

[deramin2]

I truly appreciate that Travis and Matt brought this Christmas story parody energy to Chetney's entire backstory.

Alt text: "Travis Willingham with his usual beard wearing a pointy red Christmas hat with a green pompom, green triangle crown trim, and stuffed pointed elf ears. He says, "It's a new world order, motherfucker!" He's wearing an ugly Christmas sweater a with tan, brown, and red basket weave pattern with brown leaves. A chartreuse Christmas package bow is stuck to his left tit and red and white one on his right tit. He mimics hailing a large bag over his shoulder. Behind him is a red and white trim Christmas stocking and large colored lights." End text.