#c'mon Shadow-muse

[aparticularbandit]

meanwhile sonic x shadow generations will probably be my birthday present to myself.

specifically i plan to preorder this because what do you mean i can get gerald robotnik's notebook on creating shadow and the ark

[oculusxcaro]

👫

Send a 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship

First and foremost, Khare is super fucking attentive when it comes to people's allergies??? She might not be the sharpest pin in the cushion but you better believe this girl is adamant af about her customer's health and well-being. There will not be ANY nuts going anywhere near Lupin and his food should he become a regular at Pauli's Diner and Khare will always keep him up to date regarding any changes to the menu. Even if he's a dick to her, Khare is a firm believer that nobody deserves to die of anaphylactic shock!

If Lupin flirts with her, she is not going to pick up on any of what he says. Compliments about her eyes or how nicely she's done her hair? Khare will simply smile and say "Thanks!" which'll probably leave Lupin cold. How dare she. Honestly, she'll just accept his compliments at face value and her actions will be equally honest in turn, not flirting for a bigger tip but simply treating him as a valued customer because... well, he is!

Mutual disdain of dogs, or rather dogs behaving negatively towards them? They can smell the weird on these two, Lupin being a fox demon and Khare being a pseudomutant. While Lupin has a phobia of canines, Khare does not, making her an excellent deterrent should inquisitive noses get too close else they'll end up on the receiving end of a nasty shock. Fortunately for Lupin, his immunity to electricity makes it safe for him to hang around an agitated Khare.

Even if Lupin's not the nicest guy around, Khare will -melt- if she sees him being nice to animals. Saving frogs and reptiles from getting squished? Feeding the pigeons and stray cats? Gasp, she does it too! Khare firmly believes that anybody who treats animals nicely can't be all that bad of a person. Would absolutely love listening to him play on the piano.

[savi0rr]

Crystal Skies

Viktor x Fem! Reader

In which, the skies remained you of the Hextech gem. But Viktor’s eyes are locked on you.

a/n: i forgot to make the little summary part gradient and cute! also this is kinda short cuz i wanted to go play dress to impress…

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⊹ ˖────⊹ ˖

"You're still awake?" you called out softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the lab as the door creaked open. You stepped inside, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. Viktor sat hunched over his cluttered desk, absorbed in his work, his pen moving in smooth, deliberate strokes across the paper. He merely nodded in response, his eyes glued to the dense text he was composing.

You frowned slightly, concern etching your features, and approached him. "C'mon, Viktor," you urged gently, your tone echoing in the quiet space that was filled only with the faint scratching of his pen and the occasional rustle of parchment.

"I can't. I'm almost done," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, still not breaking his concentration to glance at you. You sighed audibly, leaning against the edge of his desk, your eyes drifting over the sprawling documents littered with intricate diagrams and notes, before settling on the lone window. Through the glass, the night sky unveiled itself, a vast canvas of deep indigo strewn with shimmering stars. You noticed the clouds, soft and billowy, as they danced slowly with the wind.

"The sky looks just like the Hextech gem," you mused, tilting your head to capture the view better, the corners of your lips hinting at a smile. Viktor's attention momentarily shifted to the window, his brow arching slightly as he contemplated your words.

"I suppose they do," he murmured, his voice still low and contemplative, before returning to his meticulous writing, the pen gliding effortlessly across the paper.

"You have a unique imagination," he remarked without looking up, his focus firmly entrenched in his task.

"You say that quite often," you replied, keeping your gaze locked on the celestial display outside, enraptured by the beauty of the night. 

Viktor let out a tired, weighed-down sigh. Finally leaning back in his chair, he glanced at you, the shadows under his eyes revealing his fatigue. "Did you need anything else?" he asked, his stern expression faltering just slightly as he met your gaze for the first time, his sharp features softened in the dim light.

"What if I said I needed you?" you teased, allowing a playful smirk to cross your face as you shifted to fully face him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Viktor tensed visibly, his expression shifting to one of concern and confusion, brows knitting together tightly. "Don't say such things," he muttered, his eyes darting away from your gaze as if unwilling to confront the weight of your words.

You let out a soft chuckle, the sound light and carefree in contrast to Viktor’s solemn demeanor. "Just teasing," you reassured him, your attention returning to the wistful sight of the sky beyond the window.

He continued to watch you, an intense look in his eyes as he assessed your features illuminated by the soft glow of the lab’s lights. The warm light wrapped around you, creating an almost ethereal aura that made you appear otherworldly. His expression softened, though an unsettling mix of emotion battled within him. He glanced back at his desk, biting his tongue, unsure of how to process what was unfolding.

Just then, your voice broke the silence again, filled with excitement. "Did you see that?" you exclaimed, your eyes brightening as you watched the stars shimmering in waves as clouds floated by. "A shooting star!" you gasped, beaming with delight.

"Yeah…" Viktor replied, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, though he hadn’t seen any shooting stars; his vision was solely fixated on you. 

"Beautiful," he murmured almost absentmindedly, his voice thick with a mix of admiration and something deeper.

"I know, right?" you replied, enthusiasm radiating from you as you gazed adoringly at the window, missing the way Viktor's eyes traced your form, endlessly captivated by the light dancing in your eyes, his attention unwavering and utterly consumed by you.

[selenezq]

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

After a long wait, (thanks depression) my fic where Alastor rails you in a sundress is finally here.

Alastor x Reader

Reader is AFAB

CW: dub con, stalking, rough sex, explicit content, porn no plot, plot where, plot who

Sundress Summer

It was a hot, but not unpleasantly so day in hell. 

The perfect time for wearing a sundress to the picnic Charlie had organized for the bonding exercise of the day. The first thing you noticed as you came to the end of the well-maintained stone walkway was the large red and white checkered tablecloths which covered two sizeable wooden picnic tables to your right. The pleasant breeze caused the edges of the fabric to flutter against the sides of the tables. 

A massive spread of food covered both surface areas; it was more than they could all eat truly but it was clear Charlie had tried her best to create another memorable experience for her guests. You smiled from ear to ear with joy at the sight of all your friends together enjoying a day at the park. Husk and Angel Dust were seated on one of the benches lining the massive spread, the spider demon trying his best to get Husk to eat the grape he was attempting to feed him. 

"C'mon, just let me feed ya one." Angel whined at the former overlord pushing the piece of fruit towards him. 

"Cut that shit out, I can feed myself." Husk growled gruffly, as he swatted half-heartedly at Angel's hand before relenting. "Just one, and then leave it alone alright?"

Husk took a surveying glance around to ensure no one was watching the two of them. You quickly looked in the opposite direction to your left, faining interest in a passing butterfly so as not to intrude on their moment. You tried your best to hide a delighted smile. 

With a resigned sigh, Husk let Angel gently feed him a lone grape. "Ah yeah, you like that in ya mouth daddy?" Angel says salaciously with a flirtatious grin. 

"Fucking hell, you just had to go and make it weird didn't you," Husk scolded, before giving the tall demon a small shove. You did your best to hold in a laugh, ensuring not to make eye contact with the duo. Your ocular muscles searched for the rest of the group, coming to a stop when you spotted Charlie, excitedly pointing to something in the distance. 

"Ohmygosh Vaggie look!!" She exclaimed excitedly, her words strung all together in exuberance. "I can't believe this Infernenta plant is flowering!" Charlie said before skipping joyfully over towards the flowering bush. 

She skipped joyfully over towards the flowering bush, her girlfriend watching with a loving expression. Eyes which were usually fierce and full of rage softened before she followed after Charlie. “Yeah, that’s really cool babe.” She said, her voice beginning to fade as she walked further away from you. 

You smiled fondly as you watched them go—the two of them were very sweet together. Niffty quickly took over your vision as she dashed around, pulling your attention away from the two lovebirds. She held her needle high in the air with her little hand; she was on the hunt, chasing a particularly large bug. 

With a small shudder, you turned around and headed towards an opening in the woods, determined to explore. The thoughts in your busy mind dwelled on the members of your unorthodox group of friends until it occurred to you that had not yet seen Alastor. You wondered what he could be up to—though he rarely joined in on bonding activities. 

You pondered deeply on how glad you were to have met them all as your feet took you down a slightly overgrown path, large weeds sprouting between the cracks on the deteriorated stone passage. Lost in your internal musing, you failed to notice a pair of glowing red eyes watching you from the distance; the hunter was tracking your every move. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Radio Demon watched you from the shadows, hidden behind massive amounts of lush, green, foliage. It was a position most familiar to him from his time alive, hiding from plain sight while he waited for the perfect moment to approach his prey. He watched you with an ill-intended gaze, as the short patterned material of your sundress highlighted the beautiful curves of your body. An unfamiliar feeling of desire coursed through him as he feasted his eyes on the sight of you wandering, helplessly alone. You were completely unaware of the danger that lurked behind you—the perfect, irresistible prey. 

Alastor was more than well-adjusted to the way the others at the hotel viewed his presence. He was infamous for the danger he posed, but you seemed content to naively ignore the threat he posed. Perhaps that was why he now found himself obsessed with you, needing to be constantly closer to you. No amount of effort could dissuade his need to be close to you; any amount of distance was simply unacceptable. The very lack of your presence had become most intolerable, to the point he found himself stalking you through the shadows, unable to look away from your gentle form. 

At first, these feelings had angered him. Alastor had tried his best to make you fear him, unused to all of the new sensations you evoked in him. Popping up from the shadows, scaring you when you were alone in the dimmed hallways of the hotel. You had always laughed in response, slapping his chest playfully as you laughed at his joke and were it anyone he would skin them alive for the unwanted touch. He found it most irritating when you would pull away as if your hand should ever be anywhere but on him. 

He started going out of his way to touch you—to make you uncomfortable. It was certainly not because he craved the feeling of your soft, warm, skin under his hand. It became a game he’d play, a way to see how far he could go, how long you would let his hand linger on you. Could he rouse a blush to those beautiful cheeks of yours? Somehow, he rather felt as though he might be losing the game you weren’t even aware you were playing. 

Many nights he spent time thinking about how your soft, shiny, hair would feel when he pulled your head back, locks wound around his claws. What noises your sweet, little, lips might let slip, the sight of your kind eyes widening. 

Would you let him ruin you if he tried? 

The question consumed him as he brought himself back to the sight of his beautiful prey: you. His eyes focused on your radiant presence while your face lit up in delight. You had stumbled upon a beautiful abandoned structure. It appeared this was once a grand gazebo, but time had eroded the marble away. Faint cracks could be seen amongst the vines and foliage that almost concealed it completely from view. 

He watched as you were unable to resist the urge to explore, pushing aside some of the greenery covering the entrance. You stepped inside, your graceful form illuminated by slivers of Heaven’s light, shining like sunlight through the thick canopy surrounding the structure. 

You were almost completely obstructed from the view of anyone who might come along and it sent a shiver down his back—what a delightful thought, to always have you to himself. 

He stalked forward slowly, careful to remain quiet so you would not ruin his little game too early. Hunting for sport was second nature to the demon; hiding amidst the shadows was something Alastor had become quite familiar with. The sight of you blissfully unaware of the potential danger you were in was almost too much to bare; he needed to start the next round of his manipulative little game lest you broke him before he got the chance to break you. 

He materialized behind you, his form becoming more corporeal until he was a solid mass that you bumped into when you took a step back. You let out a most exquisite scream of fear as he startled you and a wide, malicious grin spread across his face. You turned quickly to face him, and he watched as your facial expression melted into relief. He was unsure how he felt about the sensation bubbling in his stomach—he brought you ease. Alastor lived to strike fear into the hearts of others, but he could make an exception—just this once.  

"Oh, it's just you. That's such a relief." You said with a genuine smile. 

"My, my... You are quite a sight for sore eyes. I could just eat you up." Alastor almost purred, his voice thick with his usual filter. Static popped in the air as he stepped closer to you; after such a long hunt, he was so close to getting what he wanted.

"You mean me?" You squeaked in disbelief, insecurity seeping through your voice.

"See here, exactly how fetching I find you, darling." Alastor told you, before grabbing your wrist. 

He guided your soft palm to the hardness barely contained by his trousers, a true test to see how far he could push you. How much you would allow him to greedily take? Would this be the time he finally pushed you too far and you realized the peril you were in, being the object of his dark fascination? 

He watched hungrily as your eyes widened in surprise, a pretty pink tongue darting out to wet your lips. 

“This is all for me?” You asked, voice laced in awe and he wanted to consume you. 

You were a curious creature, a difficult prey to understand. You never gave him the responses he was expecting, and yet always gave him a response he enjoyed. Rather than flee from the evident danger you found yourself in, you seemed quite pleased at his forward and lewd actions—what a foolish girl. 

“Well of course my dear, who else would it be for?” Alastor teased, his voice full of amusement as he gestured to the empty overgrown gazebo. He brought a clawed hand down to cover your own, his large hand dwarfing your much smaller one as he pressed your hand closer to the tent in his pants. He let out a strangled groan at the much-needed contact, his usual composure falling apart every minute he spent in your presence. “The things you do to me, pet. This is all for you, because of you.” 

He thrust his hips up into your touch, chasing your nimble fingers before he allowed himself to regain control of himself. He melted away into the shadows with a quick use of his powers and the warm tension of having him pressed against you was gone. It was amusing to him how evident you made it that you were desperate for his touch. A menacing laugh echoed around the gazebo as he slid up from the pool of shadows at your feet behind you, shoving you back into the siding of the shelter. You fell briefly, your sundress bunching around your hips exposing your cunt and the tiny piece of fabric that covered it from view. 

You were an absolute vision, he noted. He was addicted to this version of you, vulnerable and needy for him and him alone. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Alastor brought his much larger hand to rest on your leg. His rough scarred skin pressed against your much softer skin, and you shivered against him beautifully. He wondered how long he could stand to do this to you, playing with you simply because he knew you’d let him—could he finally make you snap?

He teasingly brought his hand up your thigh, ghosting a finger along your clothed slit. He swallowed a hungry growl as a fresh round of wetness gushed into your panties at even the faintest touch. Every single stroke, every touch, was methodical and planned—he wanted to watch you come undone. He held himself with tension, holding himself back from ruining you completely. 

You lifted your hips just enough, wordlessly signalling to him just how eager you were. It broke the hold he had over himself, the shred of control he kept in place to protect you. He shredded the flimsy undergarment, letting it drop by your feet as an unusable scrap of fabric. His fingers traced harsh, heavy circles around your swollen clit and it was pure bliss to watch as you threw your head back, releasing a muffled cry of bliss. 

He plunged a dexterous finger into you without warning. A ragged, desperate moan escaped your lips and he watched as your face seemed to glow a bright scarlet in humiliation. He curled his finger inside of you, watching as your body shook for him but it wasn’t enough. He needed to drive his cock deep inside you, to feel your pussy clench around him while you moaned just like that. Despite the fact you should be ashamed, you rutted against him and it was enough to drive the best of men mad—and Alastor was not the best of men by a long shot. 

He pulled his finger out of you, bringing it to his mouth before licking it clean. He swiftly undid his belt, before moving to pull the zipper on his pants down. The sound reverberated in the small hidden gazebo and he watched as you dripped in anticipation for him—he hadn’t hungered like this in centuries. He tugged his trousers down around his firm thighs and his massive cock sprung free. You let out a small whimper as you looked at his cock, a mixture of anticipation and fear shining in your eyes. 

“I can assure you, darling, that it will fit. You’re going to take every single inch of me.” Alastor commanded; the incredulous look in your eyes only spurring him on. 

He watched as your pussy clenched desperately with need around empty air, and his rock-hard cock glistened with precum. You were a marvel to behold. 

“Alastor, please, don’t make me wait any longer. I—I need you.” You admitted with a plea, a blush dusting across your face from the sound of your own needy voice. 

He pushed you further back against the siding of the forgotten structure you had found yourselves in, your back hit the siding with a soft thud. He lifted your leg up to wrap it around his waist as he slotted himself against your dripping pussy, rubbing the swollen head of his member between your folds, before he pushed to be inside of you. 

He moved slowly, inch by inch until his considerable length was seated within you. Your warm walls gripped him tightly and he let out a shaky groan. An aggressive buzz, filled with fizzles and pops, filled the air as he made himself wait, letting you adjust to his large size. His eyes glowed as he gazed down at you fondly. “You’re such a good girl, taking all of me so well. You’re mine now.” He growled possessively, a hand coming up to grip your waist. “Say it, tell me who you belong to.” 

There was a manic edge to his words, a need for you to understand that he owned you. 

“You. I belong to you, Alastor!” You cried out in pleasure, without hesitation, and he picked up his pace in response. You were such a good girl; you knew exactly where you belonged. His hips slammed his cock in and out of you, chasing your delightful cries and screams. 

The final strand of control within him snapped as he looked upon your debauched form. His antlers grew high and heavy above his head, his eyes becoming dials as he lost himself in his desire for you. His cock swelled within you, so large that he feared he might just break you. You released a soft whimper as he felt the head of his cock bumping into your cervix, but rather than push him away, you clawed at him to bring him closer—you were perfection. 

“I never imagined I’d feel so complete being inside you like this, darling.” Alastor confessed, lost in the throes of ecstasy. He brought a hand up, lavishing his attention on your clit as he picked up the pace. He felt your body begin to shake and he knew it wouldn’t be long, he felt you coming undone with every stroke of his digits, every thrust of his colossal member was bringing you closer to the edge. 

“Alastor, don’t stop! I’m getting close!” You pleaded desperately. 

Immediately at your words, he stopped completely. He rested his fingers on your throbbing clit, his dick painfully still inside of your tight heat. You let out a frustrated sob, a lone tear welling up in your eyes and he leaned forward to lick it off your cheek. The sight of you, a desperate and quivering mess was enough to move even the staunchest of sadists. 

“Please, please, please.” You begged, all sense of dignity lost. A tear fell down your cheek and he relished the moment of triumph in his twisted game. The sight of you crying and desperate beneath him brought him a degenerative sense of glee—he needed to make you cry more in the future. “Alastor, I’ve dreamed of this so often! I need to—please let—if I could just cum!” 

“Hmm, I should like to think to think a bright young girl such as yourself could articulate that better, my dear.” He replied, a sadistic smile stretching across his face as he leered down at you. 

“You’re being so cruel.” You cried out, voice dripping with desperation and it fed the hunger deep within him. He had no witty retort to return to your cries—he wanted you to beg. “Please, I’m begging you—I’ve touched myself thinking of you so many times. I never even dreamed you would return my desire. I can’t—I need you to move—to fuck me silly until I cum around your giant cock—please.”

You pleaded sweetly, your voice dripping with desperation and need for him that brought him immense joy and good girls got rewarded. 

“Your pleas are music to my ears pet, I suppose they’ve earned you a reward. You’re so pretty when you beg.” He asserted before resuming his brutal pace. Beautiful euphoric tears fell down your cheeks, painting them so prettily, as he fucked into you. He felt you tighten around him, and in a direct constant to his rough pace, he brought his other hand up to gently cradle your face. He pressed his lips to yours, moaning as your soft lips parted to allow his tongue to explore your mouth. He laid claim to every inch of you he touched. 

“Alastor!” You cried into his mouth, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You collapsed into him, allowing him to support your weight as he continued to fuck into your quivering body. Your cunt clenched deliciously around him as you rocked your hips backwards, chasing the friction he provided desperately. The sight of you so thoroughly debauched combined with the sensation of your walls gripping him tightly sent him over the edge. He shot thick ropes of cum inside of you as he finished with a loud groan, breaking away from the kiss.

The sound of your combined panting and heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent air, and he rested his head in the crook of your neck. “Ma biche, that was even better than I could have possibly imagined.” He praised, mumbling the words into your neck. You both lay intertwined for a while, neither wanting to break the silence and end the moment.

“We should find the others before they find us, but I’d love to do this again.” You said, and he could hear the desperate plea in your voice—good. 

“Of course we will do this again, you belong to me now.” He replied, matter-of-factly. 

He snapped his two fingers together, returning the two of you to your prior state of dress. The mess was gone as if it had never been there, though he loathed to return your undergarments to you. “Shall we, darling?” 

You shot him a contented smile as you linked your arm with his, allowing him to lead you back to where the rest of the group was still enjoying the picnic.

Tag list @cosmiccandydreamer @alastorthirsty @ari-hatake15

[luvrodite]

ᯓ★ TWO. OCTOBER 5 | COCKWARMING

SIT STILL, LOOK PRETTY [1.3k]

jason doesn’t know what’s come over you, but he’s going to finish this chapter. then, if you’re good, he’ll make you cum.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, dominant jason. more tags to come

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

<< previous installment | kinktober masterlist

The sounds of the street below float in through an open window when you enter your apartment, a cacophony of engines and raised voices, neighbours chatting over their balconies and exchanging stories. You can make out the familiar burr of your upstairs neighbour, grumbling about delays on the subway to someone on the phone. Downstairs, you can hear the raucous laughter of apartment 407's twins, squeals for the other to slow down as they presumably chase each other.

The most lovely of it all, you find a handsome man sitting on your couch.

A rare break in the clouds, the afternoon sun cuts in through the window and casts him in gold, folding him in swathes of amber as he turns the page of the book in his hand.

At the sound of the door, he lifts his eyes, azure pinning you in place. They crease around the corners, immeasurably fond. A rosy mouth parts to form the shape of your name, curling into a sweet smile.

Lovesick and caught in his thrall, you totter forward. The aches of the day wash away under his stare, tender feet closing the distance until you're sitting by his feet. Beautiful boy, sunlit and warm, he gazes down at you through lowered lids.

"Hi," you whisper, wary of shattering the delicate film that encloses around the both of you, the world cut off beyond this spot.

"Hi, sweetheart. Good day?"

It's difficult to concentrate. The shirt he's wearing distracts you, simple black cotton that stretches over a broad chest, the gentle scent of laundry detergent still clinging to it. His thighs remain spread on the couch, grey sweats that offer little coverage of his softened length, the shadow of it against his thigh making you squirm.

"You look really good," you blurt out, after a moment and he huffs out a laugh through his nose, pretty eyes shining down at you over the top of his book.

"It's one of those days, hm?" he muses teasingly but doesn't offer much beyond that, returning to the pages in front of him. You make a noise in your throat, pushing yourself upwards, hands on his knees until you're leaned over the book to command his attention.

"Do something about it, then," you implore, trying to keep yourself steady, demanding. It's difficult when a shiver rolls down your spine at the brush of his nose against yours. You're putty in his hands and when he grins, teeth flashing, you know he knows it, too.

"You can't wait for me to finish this chapter?" he asks. "C'mon, be good for me, just wait a bit, baby."

"I want you now." You pout at him, pushing forward to press your lips against the corner of his mouth, ghosting a kiss over his jaw. Desire pools between your legs, warm, dizzying. You squeeze your thighs together in an effort to relieve your ache but it's not nearly enough.

A weight rests against the back of your neck, his hand warm against your skin.

"So needy," he laughs, lightly. His breath skitters over your cheek and you can smell mint on it. "I'll make a deal with you."

You hum, eyes closing to press a kiss to his cheek. I'm listening. He lets out another huff, then and you feel him echo your movement, lips pressing against your jaw gently.

"I'll make you cum, but only after I've finished this chapter. You'll keep me warm until then. That sound alright? I'll take care of you, but only if you're good for me."

You open your eyes, blinking at Jason. He waits for an answer, a placid expression on his face.

"Hm?"

"Okay," you murmur, pushing yourself up. He grins, leaning forward to capture your mouth in his.

You don't bother taking your clothes off, only kicking the pants you'd worn off before climbing astride him. Jason pushes himself further into the couch, adjusting to tug the waistband of his sweats down. Both hands still occupied, book in one, the other against your back, he nods to you in silent instruction.

With a grin, you take him into your hand. He's half hard, the head of him flushed and bright, a bead of pre-cum smearing under your palm as you work him to full mast. With your other hand, you touch yourself, gently working yourself open to prepare for it.

He hisses your name, breath catching when you guide him to your entrance, tugging your underwear to the side. You chance a look up at him, finding him flushed, hues of pink sweeping over his face as he tries to focus on his book. Biting back a grin, you lower yourself around him.

The slight sting isn't unexpected. Your harried preparation hadn't been enough to properly soften you for the thickness of him. But you let out a quiet moan anyway, head emptying at the stretch, the aching fullness of him inside you.

"Be good," Jason whispers in reminder, eyes on the pages. You hum.

The sun is warm against your bare thighs and once he's seated fully, you lean against his chest.

"Missed you, today," you mumble. His hand smooths a path up and down your back, gentle caresses that lull you into stillness.

"Yeah? I missed you too."

It's easier than you thought it would be, to settle into the cradle of his arms quietly. Your need quiets to a low simmer, sitting beneath your skin, second to the contentment of your closeness. He continues to rub your back, squeezing your hip in praise.

The soft breaths he lets out keep you company, the occasional whisper of you're being so good sinking into your skin like a balm after your long day. All the while, he turns the pages.

The minutes pass in a slow crawl, falling one by one like dandelion seeds. The feeling of Jason, thick, and warm, swims in and out of focus, never fully forgotten. You hear his breath catch when you squeeze around him, the fingers at your back pressing into your skin in gentle cautioning. Absentmindedly, the thought that you ought to have put a towel down flits through your mind.

It's an eternity later, that he sets the book aside and turns to you. Blown pupils and ragged breathing belie his composure, hunger etched in the lines of his face, lips parting, wanting.

"Finished?" you breathe out and he tips his head, a hum muffled as he captures your mouth with his. He kisses you deeply, tongue sliding against yours, slow, but you sense an edge to his movements, a barely restrained need thrumming beneath his veins.

"C'mere, baby," he says softly. "Let me take care of you."

Sensitive and keyed up, you inhale sharply when he rolls his hips beneath you. The length of him drags deliciously against all your sensitive, soft spots, drawing forward a stream of moans. Your orgasm creeps up on you with little warning, your softened muscles surrendering easily to the wet strokes of your lover's cock.

He brings his fingers to your clit, roughened hands circling the button with gentle strokes and you tip over the edge, seizing around him. Jason chokes out a breath at the feel of you and you slump forward, shuddering into the soft material of his shirt.

"You okay?" he whispers, a little laugh in his voice.

"I think I just blacked out," you admit, dazed.

"Don't tell me that," he snorts. You press your cheek against his shoulder, winding your arms around his neck. "You're going to give me a complex."

"Deserved." He nips at your cheek at that and you giggle. A kiss is pressed to your shoulder, before he leans back against the couch, the two of you counting your breaths for a moment longer before you shift atop him, squirming.

"Stop that," he warns, eyes closed. "Unless you want to give me another."

At your silence, he opens a tourmaline eye.

You meet him with a hopeful gaze and his expression slackens in surprise, before he shakes his head. A smile curling the corners of his mouth, he bands an arm around you and stands.

"Come on, then. I can't leave my girl wanting."

love a short fic from infinity to infinity!!! easy breezy slightly lovesick fic u r my favourite ever!!! hoping kinktober is treating u freaks (affectionate) well!! this is the second installment of this month's fics and has a shorter gap between the last than the upcoming ones, which will all be released on saturdays!

i had a reason for this, but i can't remember at the moment (i think it's because i wanted to post the first fic on october 1st but posting them seven days apart would land all of them on weekdays so i've sped it up a little to get this to you guys on the weekend! i hope you enjoyed this baby fic!!

[sturnioz]

fratboy!matt defending your name immediately when some of the guys start talking about you inappropriately, not knowing you and matt have a thing going on

fratboy!matt !!!👹

"i'm, like, serious — and with a figure like that? ...bro."

is what matt hears over the table at breakfast, but he's not really paying much attention to the conversations his frat brothers are having. instead, he's focussed on his bowl of cereal, having developed a way to tune out the chatter that fills the loud, boisterous frat house.

seated at the end of the long, cluttered table, matt wears a pair of well-worn jeans and a oversized white shirt that hangs loosely on his face, a black cap sitting atop of his messy hair, casting a slight shadow over his eyes.

as he swirls his spoon around the bowl, searching for the last few stubborn flakes, he lifts it to his lips until he hears a mutter of your name cut through the noise, causing him to pause mid-motion.

his eyes flicker to the other end of the table, where his frat brothers huddle closely together, their gazes fixed intently on a phone screen. sluggish grins spread across their face as they flick through a series of photos on instagram, more lewd comments spilling from their mouths.

matt's tongue rolls across his teeth, his head tilting to the side slightly, "who are you talkin' about?"

one of his frat brothers glances up, the grin widening. "this fuckin' hot—"

"who are you talkin' about?" matt asks again, his voice deepening. the frat brother's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the playful atmosphere shifting at the intensity of matt's tone, and when he finally utters your name, the room seems to hold its breath.

matt's ringed fingers tighten around his spoon, knuckles white as a deep, frustrated huff escapes his nose, nodding slowly. nate, who has been quietly observing beside him, shakes his head with a chuckle as he mutters a quiet; fuckin' idiot, casting a sideways glance at the frat brother as he shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

the sudden shift in matt's mood does not go unnoticed, and the frat brother's expression morphs from amusement to alarm, his gaze darting between the others and matt.

matt's spoon clangs to the bowl as he lets it drop, leaning back into his seat, eyes glued to the frat brother across the table with a dark, piercing look. the air in the room grows thick with tension as matt's expression hardens, his jaw tightening.

"listen, uh..." matt begins, his voice low and controlled, but laced with a undeniable edge. "if ... if i hear any you talk about her like that again, i'll break your jaw... 'n i will do it."

his threat hangs heavy, and the huddle of frat brothers loses their smug expression, shifting uneasily in their seats. with tense shoulders, they glance at one another, confusion etched on their faces as matt's words sink in.

"matt..." one chuckles nervously, attempting to diffuse the situation and understand what's happening. "c'mon, man. what's the big de—"

"he's not playin'," nate muses as he cuts in, a grin spreading across his face as he leans his elbows on the table, a glimmer in his eyes. "y'know he means it."

[faithinus]

Forbidden Fruit

Summary: Mat and his friends gather for an annual poker game. A shocking revelation about his sister throws him off balance.

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x OC Barzal!Sister featuring Mat Barzal himself :)

Word Count: 800

The dim overhead lighting cast long, skeletal shadows across the faces of the men gathered around the poker table. Empty beer bottles and half-eaten plates of chips littered the coffee table, testament to the relaxed atmosphere of their annual holiday game. Liam, Mat's childhood friend and host, dealt the cards with a practiced flourish, a grin spreading across his face.

"So, Mark," Liam drawled, his voice low and gravelly, "spill the beans. Anything juicy happening in the big leagues lately?" Liam, a former hockey player whose career had fizzled after college, was notorious for his relentless pursuit of insider information. He slapped a hand on Mat’s shoulder. "Mat here is giving me nothing. He's been cooped up in the gym ever since he got back to Vancouver.”

Mark, a burly man with a thick neck and a penchant for strong opinions, was the newest addition to their inner circle. Despite having faced him on the ice, Mat still felt a degree of unfamiliar tension with him. Mark took a long sip from his beer. "Not much. Just the usual trade rumors, injuries, the standard fare."

Liam leaned forward conspiratorially. "Oh, there's more than that. Heard you ran into our boy Quinn the other night."

Mat raised an eyebrow. "Quinn?"

"The Captain himself," Liam confirmed, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I heard he's found himself a new muse, but he's being oddly secretive about it, even with his teammates. My bet is a reporter. That's why he's so tight-lipped."

Mat always respected Quinn, both on and off the ice. He was a quiet leader with a steely resolve and skating that was nothing short of poetry in motion. But he didn't care much for the details of any player's romantic life.

Mark, shuffling his cards absentmindedly, mumbled, "Nah, doesn't seem like the type. I saw him out at Blue Water Cafe the other night with the girl. My sister recognized her..."

Another one of Mat's old friends, Ben, kicked Mark under the table.

"What the hell was that for?"

Ben, reaching out for his cards and pulling them to his chest, muttered, "Just get back to the game."

Mark's eyes snapped to Mat's face. "Oh shit. I forgot."

Ben glared at him. "Just stop talking. Please."

Mat, noticing the tense conversation, finally looked up from his cards. "Okay, now I'm interested."

The room fell silent. Mat's eyes darted around the table to each of the men, searching for a clue.

"What do you know that I don't?" he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. Liam held his hands up in defense. "I have no idea. I swear."

“Ben? C'mon. Spit it out." Mat's eyes pleaded with his childhood teammate, burning into him. Ben sighed under the weight of his stare.

"It's Alayna." He said under his breath, averting his gaze.

"Excuse me?" Mat shook his head in disbelief at the name that came out of his mouth.

Liam, eyes wide with surprise, stammered, "The girl is Alayna? As in, Mat's sister?"

Mat's face paled. Alayna? Dating Quinn? The Captain of the Vancouver Canucks?

A wave of icy dread washed over him. All those "I'm never dating a hockey player" speeches echoed in his mind, a bitter irony. And her last relationship… that had been a disaster. It took her months to recover. He had just started to see that spark in her again. Now this? Mat imagined Alayna, her laughter, her gentle spirit, potentially entangled with the unforgiving, predatory world of professional hockey. Surely no captain would have the energy and emotional bandwidth to put his sister’s needs above their own. Victory often came at a person cost.

He could feel Liam's gaze on him, a mixture of amusement and sympathy in its depths. He managed a weak smile, his voice trembling slightly. "Right. Alayna. Of course."

Mat pushed his chair back from the table, his mind reeling. This couldn't be happening.

His eyes flew around the table once again. "You guys already knew? Alayna has my friends covering for her? Like some kind of secret operation?" Mat said, incredulous.

Ben leaned his head back on the chair in defeat and wiped a hand across his face. "If it makes you feel any better, apparently they're inseparable. Head over heels, the whole nine yards."

Mat groaned. He wanted to sink into the floor and vanish. “My sister, though? Out of anyone in Vancouver?”

The rest of the group fiddled with their cards absently. The silence grew suffocating. Mat sighed, the weight of the news settling heavy on his chest. "He better not be fucking around."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up. Those Canucks are notoriously..." Ben swatted Mark on the head. "Not. helping."

Mat took a long pull from his drink, wishing he had something stronger to singe his throat, something to dull the shock. He had a feeling this was going to be a very rocky holiday season.

[rockethorse]

Stocking Stuffer 1/5: A Bajillion Random Painting Recolours

Happy Holidays to all! While I'm proud that last year I finally managed to achieve a longtime goal of sharing a full TS2 Advent Calendar, I'm simply not gonna be able to pull it off this year. Nonetheless, the holidlay spirit has encouraged me to finish up and share a couple of things before the end of the year! I'll be sharing five little gifts over the next few arbitrary days. First up: A BUNCH of Maxis painting recolours.

One recolour each of A/B/C Stroke (yes, I still enjoy playing with these as three separate paintings) using vintage matchbook covers designed by Saul Bass for The Ohio Match Company.

Two recolours +frames for Abstrutionism; "Poppy Cake" by Adolf Fényes (1910), and then this edit of Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth (1948) to include Bella Goth (the original Tumblr poster has deactivated).

A recolour of Anonymous Masterpiece with these two digital paintings by user chestnutroan featuring their farmer Sim and his two alien daughters.

One recolour of the Arghist Soldier with "Friday Nights" by Deborah DeWit (2006), perfect for your novel-enthusiast Sims' reading nook.

One recolour of City Skyline with a fruit & veg painting by Twitter user snail_soup (you can buy a real print of this too if you like it!)

One recolour of the Fourth Element wall scroll with "From Stardust to Stardust - Raccoon" by user ArtOfMienda.

Four Vegetables recoloured with four deliciously juicy tomato paintings by artist Leah Gardner.

Geometry 101 recoloured with a beautiful palette knife painting by Lynn Boggess.

Two recolours of Grilled Cheese (you all know what Grilled Cheese looks like, c'mon); one vintage ad for Hollywood Diet bread which I cleaned/redrew to remove text/graphics, and then "Cloud Rows" by Ivan Eyre (2004).

In The Beginning (+frame) recoloured with "Little Thief" by Courtney / Trash Kitty Art (also available as an affordable IRL print).

Kitten vs. Yarn (+frame) recoloured with this goache painting by user ieafy.

"Until Tonight" by Mark Grantham (2019) slapped on Lady On Red.

Two recolours of Living Room; "Midwestern Summer Fun" by user ink-the-artist (you may wanna zoom in for a surprise), then "Girl On A Swing" (2000) by Andrew Macara.

One recolour of Marketing Print with the Beatles as drawn by other Beatles. I don't remember who drew who because I'm actually not much of a Beatles fan but I thought these sketches were really darling.

In Memory of Johnny Gnome (+frame) recoloured with a piece by Emma Roulette.

A recolour of My First Holiday with art from Twitter user heikala_art.

On Pointed Toes (+frame) recoloured with this digital painting by Twitter user catwheezie.

I fell in love with this Guinness ad so I tweaked it from the photo to fit on the Route 66 poster, then made an accompanying Simlish option.

A single Scruffles recolour (+frame) with this adorable cow illustration by Twitter user poodlewool.

Four recolours of the Sim Noir pop art print; three pieces by Al Parker I found through this Tweet (with some English removed) and then an edit of the original painting to look passingly familiar...

Two recolours (+frames) of Snoozing Enemies; "The Cat on the Pillow" by Adolf von Becker, and "Sleeping Sasha" by Lena Rivo.

Stiller Life (+frame) recoloured with this oil painting of McDonalds by artist Noah Verrier.

Two recolours (+frames) of Stumped Hound; "Shadow" by Tianyi Zhou and "cat falling off table" by user anasauruss.

The Muse recoloured with this Juxtapoz magazine cover by artist Josh Courlas.

And lastly, three recolours of Untitled (the Bella Goth pop art painting) with works by Hiroshi Nagai.

Download All Paintings @ SFS

[suugarbabe]

omg so ur mattheo one about drawing is so cute and got me thinking about how next time they met up by the lake what if he went to show them a drawing and it was of them!!!!!!! like he drew y/n and wanted to show them because they had a bad day or something!! i love ur writing and it just made me think of that and blush teehee

we love little secret creative and soft Mattheo 🖤 read part 1 here

You figured you’d find him out there, especially since he had gotten in a screaming match with Draco a few hours prior. You didn’t even bother checking his other ‘typical’ spots like the astronomy tower or the back of the courtyard, instead you went straight to the Black Lake. 

Mattheo was hunched over, his shoes and socks sitting next to him and his trousers rolled up to his knees so his feet could hang over the edge of the dock into the lake. He didn’t move or look up when you started walking on the dock, you assumed he was just too enthralled in whatever it was that he was drawing. 

You slipped off your shoes and socks, sinking down to your bum beside him and dipping your feet in as well. You sat in silence next to him for a moment before trying to peer over his shoulder to see what he was working on.

He turned away from you, causing a slight scoff to leave your lips, "Matty, c'mon. You always let me see your drawings." You were pouting and it was evident in your voice.

He peers over his shoulder slightly, a smirk gracing his lips, "I'm almost done, then you can look. But be gentle, don't judge too harshly okay?"

You ran your nails against his back lightly in response. A few moments later he turned towards you, sketch pad facing down towards his lap. "No laughing," Mattheo held out his fist, his pinky and thumb sticking out.

"No laughing," you hooked your pinky finger to his. You each took a turn pressing your thumbs to your lips before pressing your thumbs together, silently symbolizing and stamping the promise.

Mattheo took a deep breath, grasping his sketch pad on either side before slowly lifting it up. You couldn't contain the gasp that left your lips at the image he was able to portray on paper.

Instead of his usual lake drawings, Mattheo had found a different muse for this creation; that muse being you. It wasn't a magical drawing in the traditional sense, nothing was moving around, but it was magical to you.

It wasn't a portrait of you dead on, more so like a candid picture of you looking down and smiling. You don't know how he did it, but his shading and shadow work made it look like it was an actual photograph.

"Mattheo..." your voice was barely a whisper. Mattheo, who was holding the sketch pad directly in front of his face, peered around the side, "It's terrible isn't? I'm sorry, I really did try I swear but then - "

"It's gorgeous," you cut him off, taking the drawing in your hands, "Can I have it?" You looked up at him from the drawing with hopeful eyes, you didn't want to overstep, but you also wanted to display it for everyone to see how talented he really was.

Mattheo nodded, giddy smile now displayed on his face, "Y-yeah, of course, I mean, it's you for Merlin's sake."

You know you two were just friends, but you couldn't help yourself, leaning over and grabbing his face, kissing his cheek gently and sweetly. Mattheo's face was on fire, burning a deep shade of red, obviously not expecting the display of affection. He made a mental note to draw more things that would get that reaction out of you soon.

[gizurrr]

headcanon that Ford was a ceremonial magician (à la Aleister Crowley, or more accurately in the scientist case, Jack Parsons) during his time working with Bill Cipher cuz like,, c'mon

bro was literally doing yogic exercises (which ceremonial magicians appropriated from tantric practitioners in India and Tibet in the late 19th/early 20th century but that's a tangent for another day)

meanwhile, Fiddleford, being from hillbilly roots and thus probably from a devoutly conservative Christian background*, was def unnerved by how they approached their research cuz after all, chanting interdimensional mantras and then yammering about ingesting ground up baby bones or whatever effed up things while having weird eyes is def a sign of demon possession. and Ford seemed okay with it??? and actually enjoyed it, setting up shrines to this "muse"????

but "oh, Fiddleford is a stupid superstitious redneck bum who's scared of his own shadow" Ford would conclude under the influence of Bill

tl;dr: i love the correlation between scientists and the occult/esotericism in history and i think Ford def fits in that correlation

[sinkingwmyships]

my musings on touch-starved Dick Grayson and Jason Todd (which got out of hand fast). enjoy :) cw: injuries (mild/minor & non-graphic); physical touch (obviously). they also complete a mission tgt. sprinkles of batdad bc i can.

consider: touch-starved Dick Grayson and Jason Todd (but if you're seeing this post i bet you've considered that before *bombastic side-eye*)

neither of them think that about themselves, that is if they even believe in the concept at all—until Dick claps Jason on the shoulder once and Jason jolts, not from surprise or pain or anything, but from the foreignness of the touch, so friendly and easy, something neither he nor his body remembers the last time they've felt. but he must have looked at Dick weird (read: annoyed or angry or something), because Dick swiftly retreats with a mumbled apology and hands held up and out, his gesture of surrender.

after that, Dick doesn't really want to risk crossing his brother's boundaries again—but when he opens his door to Jason halting mid-step, alarm on his face as if he's thirteen again and Dick has caught him sneaking out to patrol even though his homework isn't done, again... well, Dick's got to say something.

"what's up?" he asks cautiously.

turns out Jason needs help with taping his fingers because "don't wanna bother Alfred" and "the old man would probably be overjoyed now that i can't shoot properly" ("that's not true, Jason, an injury's an injury," Dick sighs), so Dick is his last resort. last, final, forget about it because it's never going to happen again. but, he sits down patient and calm while Dick scours his room for some tape (you'd think an athlete would be more prepared)—and again, while Dick winds thin, sticky strips around his fingers. Jason's hands resemble Bruce's, in their stockiness and warmth, with their countless scars and calluses, ghastly pale from being encased in their gloves all the time. his fingers twitch against Dick's, involuntary; there is something comforting about a solid sensation within his touch. Dick checks the tape two, three times over; Jason's fingers are still outstretched by the time he's finished putting the tape away and turned back around.

then Dick makes the blunder of asking "anything else?", and Jason huffs in lieu of reminding him he's not thirteen anymore, before withdrawing and vacating his room in all of two seconds.

Jason's fingers make a swift recovery. the next time they meet, it's gunfire that has drawn Nightwing to his location.

"d'i miss something?" he greets, swooping in grandly then landing by Red Hood's side upon the warehouse catwalk so soundlessly, it's as if he's nothing more than a passing shadow. he can't perceive the eye roll under the, well, red hood.

"only three factories' worth of child labor and the goons manning them." Hood discards his empty magazine then reloads. "don't worry; i didn't miss. c'mon." he starts walking away before Nightwing can comment on what he's said; still, he can feel the bat's gaze nearly puncturing the back of his helmet.

"where're we going?" Nightwing calls after him. "looks to me like you and your people got it under control."

Red Hood shakes his head. "some of the supervisors scurried in here before we could get 'em." he cocks his gun sharply. "i closed all the ground exits. what say we do a little hunting?"

"Hood...."

"figure of speech, man." he easily brushes his brother's scowl off, before gesturing for him to follow. a flick of the chin and Nightwing understands they're down there.

they venture away from Nightwing's entry point into the darkness. the building's creaks and heaves mask their footsteps, while shadows fall around them like folds of a heavy cape. cutting the lights means his opponents won't be able to see, but with how deep the night is, Red Hood can't make out jack shit, either. the only reason he knows his gun's still in his hands is because he can feel its weight and shape—the same reason he knows his brother is still beside him, from the press of Nightwing's back against his, steady, reassuring, almost warm even through their armor. Red Hood shouldn't get used to it, shouldn't stop watching his back just because it's available this one time; but already the figurative weight on his shoulders has lessened by half.

and then, the touch vanishes.

"'Wing?" he calls fast as a reflex. fuck; Red Hood doesn't know what bothers him worse, that he reacted so immediately, or that his brother is nowhere to be felt (god, that sounds weird). but his split-second of alarm subsides when a foot bumps against his firmly.

"here." Nightwing leans on him again. is that the rhythm of his breath, or Hood's own? "i thought i saw—"

something knocks Red Hood's head back, as jarring as a brother's flick to his forehead. he shoves Nightwing down before returning fire, picturing viscerally the bullet-sized dent on his helmet. if that had been Nightwing—

he feels a lithe form slide by his legs through the railings and down.

fuck! he should have grabbed him—if only he can see! fuck! Red Hood's eyes sweep frantically over the murky shadows below. a flash of blue, a spray of yellow— there! the yellow dies after he takes his shot. fucking Dickwing—he's a good marksman, but this is pushing it!

"DON'T!" and the idiot still has the compassion to plead for his opponents' lives. god, Red Hood should've just told him to piss off the moment he showed up.

still, he yells, "NON-LETHAL!" before scrambling down the catwalk as a dozen bullets zip through the space he was occupying just a moment prior. compromising his position over something so trivial... unbelievable. Red Hood channels all his frustration into his next shot—hears the thud of body hitting floor, before many others of fist hitting body, knees hitting body, escrima hitting body (maybe there are worse fates than just plain getting killed, though they'd never take him seriously)... until a final crak of face hitting floor (what did he say?) sounds out, and then all falls quiet for a moment, the sound of his own breathing within the helmet all Red Hood can hear.

"that was good!" Nightwing sounds like he's praising a three-year-old's arts and crafts project. "nobody had to get lethally injured!" Red Hood groans and drops down on the catwalk heavily. "and didn't we make a good—"

the catwalk breaks apart where it was shot at, and Red Hood can only hang on as god-knows-how-many-pounds of metal plus himself comes swinging down right at his brother.

...

Dick doesn't dare open his eyes for a moment, for fear of finding himself nothing more than a pulp on the floor.

what were the chances? didn't get shot, didn't get hit, didn't even trip once. hell, he trusts Jason, but he's pretty damn sure the chances of being hit by one of his non-lethal rounds were way higher than... whatever the hell just happened!

he's still conscious, at least, but he fears what physical state he's going to discover himself in. he can wiggle his toes fine— wait, he's not in his boots. already got medical attention? he can't be at the batcave—Jason knows its location but Dick highly doubts he'd willingly go there, especially accompanied by Dick in this condition; same with reaching out to anyone that might've been in the area. but this place doesn't smell or sound like a hospital. if Dick breathes deeply, he can make out a homey rather than industrial scent of detergent; and the occasional footsteps and conversations outside are much too clear-sounding for him to be behind the doors of a hospital room.

he cracks his eyes open. thank goodness it's dim; his head is beginning to hurt already, probably a concussion (he'd still consider himself lucky if he got away with just that). he's tucked snugly into a couch, a cozy, almost cramped fit, with a pillow wedged into the gap between his shoulder blades and the seat, a blanket or two on top of him, and his legs extending across Jason's lap to dangle over the couch's edge on the opposite side. Jason himself looks fast asleep, head lolled back onto the cushions, lax arms draped across Dick's legs where a book is also lying, open and face-down. he seems quite comfortable given... everything (well, to be fair, it wasn't him whose brother tried to squish like a bug). this must be one of Jason's safehouses, then? and for some reason, probably that they are still pretty much in their full, dirtied gear, he's put them into this arrangement on the couch?

his head throbs again, so Dick just gives up and closes his eyes. this beats the floor of some random warehouse for sure—it's warm, it's soft, and it feels surprisingly pleasant to have his legs across Jason's lap and the weight of his brother's arms upon them somehow. it's soothing, like the way sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his siblings or teammates is. it's reassuring, like the way Bruce would pat his arm or (rarer now) his head is. it's safe, like the way his and Jason's backs against each other's in the warehouse is, the calmness of his fingers in Dick's hands is, the impulse that got Dick to clap his brother on the shoulder is. he's missed it. he's needed this.

after this night... i imagine they're a lot less awkward about, and a lot more open to, physical contact. leaning against each other; using the other as a head/arm/leg-rest; huddling for warmth; physically pushing/smacking/moving the other away instead of just saying "fuck off;" evolution from shoulder/back clap to fist bump/high five/handshake to hug when celebrating/congratulating; actual long, substantial, gratifying hugs.... this can also definitely branch off into fighting with their feet under the table until Alfred has to raise his voice at them. but goodness, just- casual physical contact, man. and slowly doing away with their own and each other's touch starvation. eventually they aren't drawn to physical touch out of need anymore, but at that point it's just become habit—and it's a darn comfy, calming, convenient habit, what's not to like? w.

(also- Bruce would like to pat his children's heads more but they're all rapidly outgrowing him-)

[creatorbiaze]

An Unexpected First Meeting

Aka how Pandora & Videns met

Archae-drakes. Pandora had accidentally stumbled upon the den when she ended up in Abyss.

A cliff. Trapped by the steep drop behind her, she was cornered.

"Do you trust me?"

Who said that? Their face was obscured, but they'd been grinning.

"..Y-yes?"

"Bad idea. In these Realms, trust no one, except maybe yourself."

Falling. She'd been falling. Did the mysterious one push her?

"Heyyy. Wake up. Aren't you a Sorcerer? How'd a Path Way knock you out? Either you're incredibly weak, or you'd used a lot of your power... or both," A mysterious voice muses, something cold prodding Pandora's cheek a few times in rapid succession between each sentence. She can feel something soft under her, and the air was near freezing... When did she fall asleep?

Pandora slowly opens her eyes, squinting at the entity before her. They seemed young, probably in their late teens at most. Their face was close to Pandora's, hand raised to poke her cheek again, and their ice blue eyes narrowed in concentration. Their pupils were almost cat-like, longer and a bit sharper than a human's eyes, and their long hair was dark blonde, their black bangs swept to the right of their rounded face, and two thick blue-grey stripes that tapered to pointed tips ran from their jaw an inch from the corners of their mouth to about halfway up their face. Two dark grey-blue horns sat probably halfway back on the top of their head, pointing straight back. They also had wings, the near-black feathers speckled with weirdly sparkly points, almost like the stars.

When they noticed Pandora awakening, their face lights up and they lean back, standing up straight. They seem to be a young Draconic, clothed in a long dark grey coat, blue shirt, and jeans, as well as black boots, but something seemed... oddly off about them.

"Hi! You're alive, wonderful! Knew I didn't kill ya, your mind was too active," The entity grins, their long dark blue tail swishing behind them, the jagged blade-like end glinting in the light. Was.. one of their tail blades missing..?

"C'mon, Pandora!" The entity didn't give Pandora much time to think, grabbing her cloak and hoisting her up, walking towards the entrance of the small cave they'd been in, lit by a suprisingly bright lantern sat on a small table. It seems Pandora had been laying in a pile of cushions.

Pandora lets herself get dragged, too disoriented to try and fight the weird entity, or even question why they knew her name. She looks around the forest outside the cave, the silver willow-like trees reaching high up, lavender leaves and various vines hanging down. The branches obscured the sky, but Pandora could tell it was night time. Small animals rustle in the underbrush, ferns and long grasses brushing Pandora's calves. It was almost hard to walk through, but the Draconic didn't seem to have any problem.

"Saw you having Archae-drake trouble in Abyss, so I decided to step in and help! Can't tell if it's the Shadow-walking that knocked you out or the Pathway, but either way you were out cold when we got here. Humans are resilient though, so I wasn't too worried," The entity explains cheerfully, looking over their shoulder at the Sorcerer.

"Oh... Thanks, I guess... Uhm... Where are you taking me?" Pandora decides to ask, hands clasped in front of her chest. Something about the entity was making her anxious, but she couldn't tell what. Her mind was too sluggish to properly process anything still, so she barely understood what they were saying. She notices a bright blue star-like flower, and reaches out to gently touch the soft and cold petals.

"Home!" The entity chirps, looking forward again, "You'll be fine left alone, but Star Seer would probably bug me if I left you in the woods. Oh well! Oh, by the way, if you see a flower with blue pointed petals, about yay big, don't touch it. It's deadly," The entity casually raises their hand, forefinger and thumb about two inches apart. Pandora yelps, pulling her hand away from the flower as if she was burned.

The entity laughs, still not even looking back at Pandora, "Kidding, kidding. You'll be fine. That one, though, will kill you quickly," they chuckle, pointing up at a dark purpl flower drooping down from a thin vine wound around one of the hanging branches. Pandora nods in understanding, moving to stay clear of the flower. It'd probably be best to just not touch anything... though, how did they know what flower she'd touched..?

She doesn't get the chance to question the entity, though, as they keep talking, rambling about something that Pandora couldn't keep up with. It seemed like some kind of science, though...

Eventually they reached the edge of the forest, opening to a large grassy area with a cliff to the left, a large white palace ahead, and a wide open starry sky above them.

"Ta-da! We're here!" The entity grins, arms spread wide open as they turn around to face Pandora. Did they ever stop smiling..? Though, the palace seemed almost familiar...

"Th-thanks... though... who are you, and... where is this?" Pandora asks, frowning slightly. She kept her hands clasped, folded near her chest. The cold was starting to get to her too, making her shiver slightly.

"Oh, of course!" The entity snaps their fingers, giggling, "I'm Videns, Salhan Goddess of Chaos, and secondary goddess of the Mindscape! And this is the Bright Palace, home of the Fallen Pantheon!"

Pandora inhales sharply, taking a step back as her eyes go wide. No.. what? This... child.. was part of one of the most dangerous groups in the Realms, ruled by a tyrant that some even consider near Sidera's own power? Who was this unsettling child, really?

[daftdrac]

pspspspsps

the start of the from the fog holiday series but Robert gets sick (frostbite or anything else really), and Sean and Shadow have to nurse him back to health

:D

Shadow grunted with effort as he pushed a branch out of his face, carefully stepping over another berry bush- and getting his pants leg snagged anyways. When he felt the thorns tug in the fabric, he groaned, dropping his sword as he leaned down and carefully untangled himself. Picking his sword back up, he glances around the clearing Sean, Robert and him had built in. He stepped up to their shabby cabin, ducking his head down to enter through the doorway. Sean was inside, tending to a furnace- from what Shadow could see, it was some of the little mutton they'd managed to collect thus far.

"Hey," he greeted passingly, walking over to the bed they all shared- technically three separate beds, but pushed together. The group wasn't new to these scenarios, they knew it would be safer to sleep in a pile than each separately. For heat conservation, they all reminded themselves consistently. Sean gave an acknowledging nod, but didn't look up, and Shadow set his sword down on the hard ground, the dirt floors housing a top layer of permafrost from the freezing climate.

"Where's Robert at?" Shadow mused, turning to face Sean as he stretched his arms up, grunting under his breath as his muscles relaxed.

"Uhh, I think he said he was gonna go looking for something- animals, or resources- maybe you, I wasn't paying much attention." Shadow raised an eyebrow at Sean, who still had his back turned to the taller man.

"Uh, alright then, I'll go wait outside," he mumbled. He took large strides towards the door frame, once again ducking to fit through. He glanced around the clearing once again, eyes landing on the small chicken pen and berry farm they'd managed to get up and running.

We're lucky these berries are so resistant to the cold, he thought, they've been our primary food source so far. He glanced at the snow on the ground, and a smile creeped up his face. He crouched down, adjusting his hood as it came down in front of his eye, and stuck his hands into the snow, starting to ball it up and pack it together. He made a few snowballs, smirking as he leaned back against the fence, holding the cold, half-frozen objects in his lap as he waited.

It didn't take long for Robert to return, coming out of the forest from generally the same area Shadow had. His head snapped up as something hit the tree beside him, seeing Shadow and ducking a second too late, taking a snowball to the face. Shadow dropped his last snowball in surprise, sucking air through his teeth sympathetically

"Ooh- shit, sorry man," he apologized, stepping forward. Robert wiped the snow off his face with his sleeves, his eyes squinted. His nose was pink, and as Shadow looked more closely at him, so were his ears- and his knuckles and fingers.

"It's- it's fine, dude, I'm good-," Robert grumbled, stepping through the brush towards the berry farm. "Do you have any food-? I- ran out halfway back, almost got ambushed by something," Shadows brow furrowed, his level of concern for Robert immediately rising. He glanced down at Robert's hands, seeing they were shaking.

"Uh- yeah, yeah, give me a second," He sputtered, digging in one of his bags, pulling out some berries and handing them to Rob. "Sean's cooking the mutton we got inside, c'mon," Shadow urged, placing a sturdy hand on Roberts back to lead him.

The two went inside, and Sean, hearing two sets of footsteps, glanced up. He immediately locked on to Roberts rosy features, and handed him some of the freshly cooked meat. "Rob, come sit down," he ordered, and he didn't even hesitate before grabbing Robert's arm and pulling him towards their beds.

Shadow frowned, following and sitting by his side. "You cold? What's wrong?" He asked, both him and Sean having already clocked something was up.

"I- I don't know, It doesn't matter probably, just- really.. *cold*," he shuddered, leaning into Shadows' side, subconsciously seeking warmth. Sean hesitated, but pulled his mask off.

Shadow glanced up at Sean's face with slight surprise, but ultimately returned his focus to Robert as Sean leaned forward, pressing the back of his hand to Rob's forehead.

"..are you- sure you're cold, Rob?" Sean asked, eyes narrowed. Shadows surprised, did the same as Sean, wincing when he felt the fever Robert was nursing.

"*Oh*, you-.. Finish eating, then lay down." He said, his tone stern, leaving little room for argument, though it wasn't like Rob had the energy to argue anyways.

~...

I'm bored. I love this sm but I've been writing for the past hour and I still have like 2 hrs almost left so I'll come back to this if I get bored and finish this drabble but like. 😭

Hope you enjoy Astro 🙏 I actually love this prompt/ship

[5mind]

Shadow's gonna write 'ass' and 'hole' on each other their butt cheeks. (For Antares. I'm sorry buddy)

Grab a marker and write something on my muse! (Anywhere on their body)

"What-"

He keeps turning around, spinning like a dog chasing its tail, to read what the hell just got written on his ass.

"C'mon man, I'm not even an asshole! I'm a shithead, get it right."

[uppertwo]

♫ also for everyones least favorite father daughter duo

send me ♫ for 3-5 songs i associate with our muses / accepting!

two birds / regina spektor.

two birds on a wire (oh-oh-oh) one says, "c'mon" and the other says, "i'm tired" the sky is overcast and i'm sorry (oh-oh-oh) one more or one less nobody's worried

mowgli's road / MARINA.

you say Y-E-S to everything, will that guarantee you a win? do you think you will be good enough, to love others and to be loved?

beautiful disguise / picture me broken.

the last you felt something from the one who left you bleeding i know how you feel alone lost in a thousand people

yearning for dark shadows / brian d'oliveira.

warm and full i approached an iron steed adorned with gold and I grabbed what I thought was mine mine, mine, mine, mine

letter - from the lost days / akira yamaoka.

hey there to my future-self, if you forget how to smile i have this to tell you, remember it once in a while ten years ago, your past-self prayed for your happiness please don't lose hope.

[es46]

Airplaneshipping Prompt - Clothes Shopping

- Compared to most of Skyla's choices, this dress was quite presentable. Silky smooth, black with a series of white lines embedded with glittering beads and slung over one shoulder, complete with flowing skirt. Elesa likes it, turning this way and that to examine herself in front of the mirror. Tight on the waist, but overall form-fitting and silky smooth on her skin. Not bad. The design could do with more contrast, perhaps a cut to the skirt to let one of her legs bare, but not bad. If she went back to blonde, got a different pair of headphones, Elesa thinks she could work this into a charming late-night-party theme. A little blend of casual and sophisticated, well suited for a bar or a suite- "C'mon, Elesa, don't take all day! We don't all age as gracefully as you!" Elesa smiles, chuckles. Impatient as ever, her dear friend. Well, if she's going to perform, she ought to look her best doing it. Reaching into her handbag, Elesa procures eyeliner and a lipstick, applying both tactfully to give herself that perfect dash of shadow, that extra glimmer of pink. Elesa admires herself as she slings the handbag over her bare shoulder before turning to the curtain. She envisions a vast stage and cheering crowds beyond, then steps out with a supermodel's grace. Skyla is sat opposite the booth, phone in hand, and she gasps in delight as Elesa presents herself with a flourish. Clapping one hand to her cheek, she voices her wonder at Elesa's beauty, gibbering for her to strike a pose. Elesa loves the way Skyla's cheeks flush, the bright adoration in her eyes, and laughs as she settles into their routine. Elesa snaps from one to pose to the next; playful, coy, innocent, dramatic. Skyla is delighted, her phone capturing every angle Elesa emphasized as she rapidly chirps requests. "That's it, love the pout! Look at the camera now, smile real nice for me. Ooh, maybe a bit more leg on this next one? Ah, you're so stylish!" Candidly, Elesa does love posing for Skyla. Even if the outfits she picked were garish, it was how Skyla reacted so enthusiastically to her presentation. The way she smiled, laughed, joked around like an amateur photographer, it was sincerely gratifying. Of course, these shopping trips weren't just for Skyla to have fun snapping pics of Elesa in gaudy outfits. Elesa's got some outfits herself for Skyla to try, outfits that make her muse on how good Skyla would look strutting down the catwalk. Gathering her possessions from the booth, Elesa smirks mischievously as she holds up a black bag and waves it before her friend. "Alright, sweetie, your turn. I think you'll like this one, it's got just the flair to really bring out your eyes and match your hair. Daresay it'll have you looking real high-fly!" She expected Skyla to laugh/groan at the pun, but Skyla hesitates. The blush on her cheeks deepening, Skyla's expression goes rather shy as she purses her lips, contemplating. Setting her phone down, Skyla takes a deep breath and reaches into the bag next to her, pulling out a package that she keeps hidden by her side. As Elesa raises an eyebrow enquiringly, Skyla sheepishly elaborates. "Oh, um, thank you, Elesa, but I kinda wanted to try this one on first. I, uh, really think it'll be something special. Do you mind?" "Of course not. I'm sure it'll look dazzling on you." Skyla smiles, but Elesa doesn't miss the odd way her eyes avert their gaze, how her expression seems rather nervous now. Skyla shuffles past her into the booth, quickly closing the curtain behind her, and Elesa takes the time to sit down and ponder.

Not often Skyla got antsy around her. She used to be nervous when they first met, but over time she'd gotten perfectly comfortable around her. Elesa wonders if she'd come on too strong with her poses, or maybe that pun wasn't as good as it could've been. It's not an encouraging thought, potentially making her friend uncomfortable, and Elesa hopes that whatever outfit she's picked would perk her up. A few minutes of solemn contemplation pass, before Elesa perks up when Skyla (rather meekly) calls that she's ready. Setting up her camera, Elesa masks her concerns with a cheerful expression, deciding that whatever the matter was, she'd make as enthusiastic an audience for Skyla as she was for her. "Alright, come out whenever you're ready, sweetie. I'm always keen for a shocking experience!" A little giggle behind the curtain, stuttering ever so slightly. The curtains shift, and Elesa widens her smile in readiness to brighten Skyla's mood. Skyla steps out and- Oh. Elesa goes still. Her expression slacks. Her eyes widen, briefly unable to comprehend what she was looking at. Her hand lowers, as she stares with what can only be wonder. Skyla was gorgeous. Skyla was looking absolutely, heartbreakingly, gorgeous. Elesa had always thought her gorgeous, but had she truly appreciated how much? Maybe Skyla had decided now was the time to show Elesa just how well she could model. The dress Skyla wore was a lavish pink and clung tight to her curves, billowing out from the hips into a long flowery skirt that stopped before the knees. Thin straps lined with elegant ties curled around her shoulders and neck, displaying ample amounts of her skin. Florid patterns lined the dress, culminating in large 'petals' curled around Skyla's chest. She's undone her usual hair bun, letting a loose wave of red frame her face, and Elesa forgets to breathe as she stares, seeing how it emphasizes Skyla's contours... Oh. Skyla's blushing brightly, but the smile she wears is radiant. Looking shyly at Elesa, Skyla carefully lifts her skirt in both hands and twirls, making it flutter around her as she moved. Her hair flows smoothly with the motion, the turn of her body showing off her bare back. Had she always stretched her legs so elegantly? Elesa follows every motion with wonder, unable to think of anything more sophisticated than marvelling at Skyla's beauty. "Do you like it, Elesa?" The soft way Skyla asks breaks Elesa's mesmerised state. She feels like she has to remember herself, to breathe steadily. Elesa looks at Skyla as if her vision had been blurred but now could see clearly. Setting her phone aside, Elesa stands up and slowly steps forward. Skyla waits, cheeks flushed and her eyes imploring as she gazes up at the taller woman. Elesa can't say what compels her, but her hands reach out and gently caress Skyla's cheeks. Skyla trembles, reaching to grasp Elesa's wrists, expression mingled between uncertainty and affection. Feeling her smooth warm skin, Elesa feels like time has halted. Skyla looks so magnificently beautiful. How has Elesa taken so long to truly appreciate how beautiful she was? "I love it." Elesa leans forward on impulse but hesitates, struck by how fast she was going. Breathing deeply, she bites her lip and starts to withdraw- But Skyla's grip tightens. Elesa looks at her, surprised, and Skyla looks back with certainty. She leans forward, and her lips slowly purse. She's so beautiful. Elesa can't believe she's taken so long to appreciate that. Mustering her resolve, Elesa closes her eyes and leans in to meet Skyla. The gentle warmth of her breath brushes over her lips. They move closer, a whisper passing between them. The kiss is short, but it's warm, soothing. Elesa draws back with a newfound sense of awe, and Skyla gazes at her with a shy pleasure. Elesa's hands fall from her cheeks, stroking down her billowing dress, and the tender moment lingers between them. Skyla exhales softly, managing a jovial whisper. "I think I'll buy it then."