#can you tell i cannot draw the hoods

[feral-ass-raccoon]

HOLY SHIT OKAY THEN, UH. UM. HERE SHE IS I GUESS ENJOY

Stop what ur doing right now. Send me ur Ninjago oc. I’m gonna draw Toni interviewing them immediately.

(Also uhhhhhh specify if they r dragons rising era or not, Ninjago Toni and DR Toni are different 🫶)

[triglycercule]

another doodle :3 mtt clothing swap!

DUST STOP SERVING WITH HORROR AND TAKE YOUR DEAD ASS BROTHERS SCARF OFF KILLER HES ABOUT TO HAVE A MOVIE REALISTIC PANIC ATTACK

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x ghost x price :)

2.7k words

tw: teacher-student scenario again, just for the sake of the porn. also, DP. first time writing it, so be NICE!

big thanks to @waves-against-a-cliff for reading what i won't

You sat on Professor Riley's lap after class, his rigid length smearing precum in between your soft, bare thighs as he fucked them. His large hands curled around your waist, long fingers creating tiny dents where he dug them into the supple flesh.

His breath warmed the delicate skin of your throat, as pants escaped his lips. You deliberately pressed your legs closer together— hoping that it provided enough amount of friction for him to finish.

You need this extra credit, after all.

Ghost inhaled sharply when you did, the grip he had on you almost painful.

"Fuckin' hell." His rich groan resonated in your chest. The gusset of your knickers was damp with arousal, both yours and his. The languid drag of his cock against your clothed pussy was so tantalizing, your core ached to be filled.

You were about to urge him to forget intercrural sex— to undress and fuck you already when a sharp knock on the door cuts through the fog in your head; a sudden rush of clarity pouring over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Shit.

Your back straightens at the interruption and quickly move to get off of Ghost's lap when he wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place. A strangled noise claws up your throat. He cannot be serious.

"Come in," he calls out.

"No. No no no, you can't— you'll be fired, I'll be expelled, Professor Riley, please—" your voice warbles in your panic. His hold on you is as strong as steel, leaving no room for escape or resistance. You're helpless as the doors creep open and Professor Price steps in.

Of course, it's the most pretentious asshole teacher in existence.

"Hey, Riley, have you gotten the ema—" he trails off. His striking blue eyes flick down to your legs. Or more precisely, to what's still in between them fully erect.

"I was unaware you were busy with a...student." The sound of his footsteps draws closer. "Is this what you call detention?" Price leans on the desk with his hip, eyes never straying from you.

Ghost stifles a laugh. "Ask a better question, Price."

Heat licks up your jaw and cheeks when he resumes his thrusting as if there isn't another whole grown man in the room— one who can potentially ruin both his career and your collegiate one.

"Like what, Riley? Want me to ask if I can get a taste?" You look at Price and notice that his eyes are dark, limpid blue rings around the edges— knuckles stained white with how tightly he's clenching his hands. "You've never been a sharing type."

"Well, this sweet toy of mine loves being shared, doesn't she?" Swiftly, Ghost lifts you, his manhood now nestled against the curve of your back. His clever fingers move to your covered center, and draw featherlight circles on your hood, right above your clit. A whimper falls from your lips at the feeling.

"Answer him, pet. Tell Price ya don't mind gettin' this pretty pussy licked by him." He presses down on your bundle of nerves firmly with the pad of his thumb when you take a second too long to answer.

"I, I don't," you hiss when he rubs, "d-don't mind." Ghost gives your cunt a gentle tap.

"Don't mind what?" You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

"I don't mind getting my pussy licked by Professor Price." His teeth tenderly graze the shell of your ear, followed by a small nip.

"Good girl," he mutters into your hair. Then directs his attention to Price, who's biting his bottom lip— the look he's giving you making your head swim. "She answered, so get down here or get out," he commands.

Ghost clasps his hands under your thighs and lifts until your feet rest flat above his knees. He hooks a finger into the sodden fabric of your knickers and drags it to the side, baring your glistening slit to the cold air of the room, erupting your heated skin in goosebumps. "On your knees, old man, unless they're too creaky to handle this."

Price's lip curls with unveiled amusement. "I was simply admirin' the view, Riley. Don't get your pants in a twist." He lowers himself to the floor smoothly until he's kneeled within inches of your exposed sex.

His prickly beard tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and his mouth is warm and wet as his tongue slides between your folds.

Another former industry giant devouring your passion with the hunger of a starved man at a lavish feast. Each stroke of his tongue spreads the warmth in your stomach, a pressure slowly rising, building—

"Sit her on you," Price mouths against your cunt.

When you find yourself wedged between two burly men, there's not much you can do except surrender to their wishes. That means being lowered onto Ghost— instinctively closing your eyes as you savor the stretch and biting the inside of your gummy cheek at the mildly uncomfortable burn.

Gravity does most of the work as you sink into him in one gentle stroke.

And without reprieve, Price dives right back in. The dull ache from where Ghost's tip presses into the plug of your womb, to the pleasure coming from the attention given to your swollen bundle of nerves.

An intoxicating mix of bliss with pain furling at the edges.

It's so good, teetering on the edge of too much, but when Price sucks lightly on your clit, your body seizes. You scrabble to grab his dark brown hair, blunt nails biting into his scalp as your shatter around Ghost's cock and Price's mouth.

Ecstasy pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart, white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins. There's a ringing in your ears, shrill and deafening, and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you come down from your high.

Your face glistens with sweat as droplets trickle down your temples, hair plastered to your forehead.

Jesus.

Price lapped at the arousal that dripped down Ghost's length, softly groaning at the taste before giving you a wolfish grin behind his coarse facial hair that was damp with your desire.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You relax the tight hold you have on his hair as he tenderly kisses where you and Ghost are joined.

Ghost nudges your ear with his nose, and his deep voice rolls over you like a wave. "Greedy little cunt jus' about cut off my circulation, pet." He shifts under you, sliding even deeper than before, a hiss escaping from behind your teeth.

"I think Price is feelin' a little left out, don't you?" With a shaky nod and a quiet mhm, you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

"Think you can take us both?" It feels more like a warning of what's to come than a genuine question. The idea of being stuffed by both of them sends a thrill up your back.

Price sits back on his haunches, palming himself from outside his trousers. "Think so, sweetheart?" He rises to his feet and promptly sweeps away everything from the wooden desk, scattering them across the floor. Taking a seat on the desk, he positions himself comfortably, his legs slightly bent and his feet firmly touching the ground. How unfair.

With a hand, Price beckons you to him.

Your legs tremble almost comically after having them in such an unnatural position for so long; tingling when you finally stretch them out in front of you. Ghost's hands at your waist help you stand, wincing when he pulls out of you unceremoniously.

Under his breath, he apologizes and gently nudges you towards Price by pressing his hand on your shoulder blades. "Go on, it's rude to keep him waiting." You're then guided forward as warm hands wrap around your biceps, leading you to stand in front of Price.

You drag your eyes from his down to his groin, where his erection is confined behind the strained zipper. Suddenly, Ghost's toned arms surround you, his hands eagerly reaching for the button on the front. "Lemme help ya out, love."

In seconds, Price's heavy manhood bobs as it springs out, ruddy tip hitting just below his navel. Simon firmly grabs your hand and swiftly turns it, exposing your palm. Without warning, he shamelessly spits on it before wrapping it around Price.

A guttural noise escapes him when you squeeze the thick of it tightly. He bucks his hips in a deliberate rhythm— taking hold of your wrist, ensuring your hand remains in position as he continues to thrust upwards until his cock is slick with his precum.

You can't help but rub your thighs together in hopes of getting some of the friction you're desperate for.

"Not gonna come already, are ya Price? We haven't even gotten started." Ghost ignores his scoff, rapping his knuckles on the desk. "Knickers off and climb up, pet."

You hastily tear off your smallclothes, shucking them to the side with your foot before hopping up on the desk, one leg at a time. Price steadies you with his hands on your waist. As you straddle him, your muscles ignite with a satisfying burn as they adjust the expanse of his thighs.

His voice is soft, gentle even, when he whispers into your ear. "Good?" You gasp sharply when Ghost spanks your arsecheeks before nodding at Price. "Jus' like we practiced, yeah?"

Yeah, just like you practiced. The plug you had to wear throughout the week whenever they both weren't tearing you in half should be more than enough prep. You hope.

Ghost taps the side of your thigh. "Cockwarm him while I get this perfect arse ready."

The stretch is intense as you lower yourself on Price— his cock thicker than Ghost's just not as long— it pushes the air out of your lungs. He bites his lip til it reddens, his eyes fixed onto where he disappears inside of you, fingers digging into the meat of your waist.

Your eyes flutter closed when he finally bottoms out, his girth splitting your swollen walls apart mercilessly.

God, he feels so good.

And then the sting of one thick, lubed finger pressing into your tight ring of muscle smothers some of that pleasure.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Price tips your chin up with his hand, your eyes meeting his. "Good. Breathe for me, sweetheart." He leans forward to place open-mouthed prickly kisses on your neck. "Breathe, love. You've already taken us before. You did beautifully then, and you'll do beautifully now."

He distracts you from the discomfort by suckling on your skin, leaving red little love bites behind. Then, a second finger, so much bigger than your own. Price hisses sympathetically when you do— a tiny whimper coming from the back of your throat.

This time it's Ghost that breathes into your ear. "Doin' so good f'me."

Then he works a third finger in, and your back arches at the jolt of pain that licks up your spine.

Words of praise fall upon your ears, syrupy and saccharine, dulling the ache. He scissors and stretches gingerly, as he's always done. Ghost takes his time, curling his fingers inside— a slow and steady in and out that eventually has you clamping around Price.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do. "So bloody tight."

"Alrigh' Price." Ghost takes you by the hips and cants them forward slightly, a cry falling from your lips at the change in angle. "Hold her open f'me."

He does just that; rough, worn hands spreading you open almost embarrassingly. There's a hot and heavy weight tapping your arse once, thrice— and then there's a blunt pressure pushing into your other much smaller hole. Your spine bows at the thick invasion, it burns, it throbs, but smart fingers find your neglected pearl and start to circle it.

The pain is merely physical, it can be overcome. Focus on the touch on your clit, focus on the hands that hold you, the heat that radiates from both of them. The harsh breathing of the man behind you as he fights to keep himself from fucking himself into you unfettered. Strained noises spilled from Price's parted lips as he felt your channel constrict, your sex beginning to get slick with your desire.

Ghost hilts, leaning forward until his barrel chest hits your back, a strangled groan coming from him. You felt unbearably full, about to tear at the bloody seams. Every single nerve from your navel down to the tips of your toes was on fire. You felt a throbbing sensation radiating from the back of your skull.

It was scalding hot, searing. The thin membrane that separated them felt stretched beyond its limit.

"Y'okay?" You can't even tell who asked you that past the rushing of blood that's in your ears. Your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, letting it lull forward until your forehead rests on Price's collarbone.

Ghost's chest vibrates as he speaks, the low rumble sinking into your skin, warming you from the inside. "Breathe for us, love. Deep in, slow out."

Right.

You remember what Price had said the very first time they fucked you. 'Breathing helps to process any pain and supports the nervous system.'

As you inhale deeply, your lungs expand to the point where you can feel a twinge of discomfort. But as you exhale, the tension in your body melts, your muscles gradually slackening.

Ghost undulates his hips once languidly, and while the ache flared back to life, below that was the pleasure you've become well acquainted with, desperately clawing its way to the surface.

A moan slips out of you unbidden.

"Perfect. So fuckin' perfect." Price's praise makes you dig your fingers into his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Then you're lifted by two sets of hands— one on your hips, the other on the underside of your thighs and brought back down. Fuck.

"Tha's it, love. Takin' us both so well," Ghost murmurs. When you begin to mewl, a clear sign of pleasure, Price plants his feet on the floor, and snaps his hips up. Black spots dot your vision, a euphoria shooting through your veins.

God, you hope your hips hold out.

They begin to move in tandem, one pushing in completely, while the other pulls out until just an inch stays inside.

It's sublime, obscene squelching coming from both your front and back. Once your body gives in to their assault, everything starts to blur at the edges, from your sight to your thoughts. You melt in their hands, softening under their touch as they take their pleasure from you.

They begin to fuck you in earnest, breath punched out of you with every thrust, and when Ghost takes control by grabbing a fistful of your hair, it sends waves of something through your stomach. The loud whine that comes from you is filthy.

"Always meltin' into a puddle over a firm hand, pet. Isn't tha' right?" He asks you as if you could even dream of answering. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth, and throat like sandpaper.

"Ready to make Price come? Choke his cock with tha' vice-like cunt, love. Wrench it outta him, take every drop of his cum, and then take mine."

Who are you to disobey such an edict?

The snarl Price lets out is animalistic when you squeeze him snugly, his thrusts turn jarring as he swells and stills— twitching inside of you, warmth pooling in your belly.

Only to realize that Ghost finished simultaneously.

There's a joke in there somewhere, about a couple finishing together, but you've been thoroughly fucked stupid.

Cut.

Simon takes you home— his home, and soaks you in a warm, bubble bath that smells like something he shouldn't have.

"I bough' it for you," he hums.

His callused palms knead into your sore calf muscles, hand making its way down to press into the arch of your foot.

"Don't go makin' those noises, love."

Eventually, you address the elephant in the room, and his answer makes your pulse race. "Gotta create a soft safe place f'you to land after somethin' tha' intense. Ya need to wind down, catch your breath."

He says it so casually as if it was common sense.

"Here. Drink your water." The bottle in your hands is room temperature, just how you like it.

[flowerandblood]

Death and Resurrection

The Gate of Salvation Universe Oneshot

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, sexual tension, anxiety, doubts related to faith, religious guilt, breaking celibacy ]

[ description: When the Pope decides, after drawing inspiration from TV series, that they will go on a date, she knows that she cannot refuse. However, it turns out that their adventure ends differently than they both expected and a boundary is crossed from which there is no return. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place a few months after The Gate of Salvation and The Songs of Songs. It can be read as a oneshot, but at the same time it is a complement to the entire series.

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Where are we going?" She asked apprehensively − they had never gone underground together before, the cramped, dark corridor beneath the Papal Residence through which he led her while holding her hand smelled of centuries-old dampness.

His attire also made her uneasy − he was dressed all in a white tracksuit, a hood over his head and sunglasses with white frames on his nose.

He wore this outfit whenever he wanted to get away somewhere.

"We're going on a date." He communicated softly, as if he was just explaining to her what they were going to have for breakfast. She shook her head, looking back in horror, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"Please, Holy Father. We can't." She mumbled helplessly, knowing that usually when he came up with an idea it was difficult to dissuade him from it.

She thought with horror that it was because of a TV series they had recently watched. He insisted that she show him the blockbusters she loved as a child on her laptop, so she decided to show him The Office for fun. She turned on a random episode and the main characters in it went on a date, leaving him bewildered.

She thought he would be disgusted by the jokes and humor in this series, but he was intrigued by something completely different.

"What's so great about dating? What's the point of it? Why can't they just meet up and talk about what's important to them?" He asked with a frustration that surprised her.

She realised that his years in the church and convent had completely disconnected him from the life he could have lived as a teenager.

She wasn't sure how she should explain this.

"It's true, however, you can't be serious all your life. Sometimes, as we are doing now, a couple feels like watching a film and just being together. It's pleasant then, for example, to go to eat ice cream, to take a walk in the park, to have shared memories, shared moments." She muttered, feeling embarrassed that her explanation was childish and that he certainly thought she was silly.

He, however, only pressed his lips together at her words, as if something in her words troubled him, his fingers beginning to play with the fabric of her dress covering her knees, trailing over her bare skin after a moment.

"Would you like to experience something like this?" He asked as if unwillingly, tense.

She knew she couldn't ask that of him.

What they were doing was too much anyway, and they both knew it.

She smiled at that thought, squeezing his fingers in hers.

"No, Holy Father. You give me more than I would dare to ask. I am happy and fulfilled." She said softly. His gaze lifted to her as if to see if she was telling the truth − his arm finally embraced her and drew her close, her cheek pressed lightly against his chest.

She was sure he'd forgotten about it, but he'd clearly taken her words so personally that he couldn't get over it.

"I had it all planned out. We’ll blend in with the crowd, have an ice creams, walk around the Vatican and come back. After this we can kiss if you want." He added after a moment, as if he thought that might be part of her ideal image of the event.

She swallowed loudly at the thought, feeling at once terror, discomfort and warmth in her heart, love for him, gratitude at how much he cared, how much he wanted to give her everything she could possibly need in his mind.

She pressed her lips together at the thought that when they stepped outside he hadn't let go of her hand − he intertwined their fingers together as they headed quickly down the main street between the cramped tenements, looking around.

"It should be somewhere in there. I checked on the map." He said excitedly, like a little boy pulling her behind him towards a café that held a huge fridge outside, where you could actually order ice cream.

She looked around as they got closer, afraid that by some miracle even though no one knew what he looked like, someone would connect the dots, someone would recognise him.

As if he always had to wear that bloody white tracksuit.

"Good evening." The girl standing at the counter greeted them, waiting for their order.

"Good evening. We'd like five scoops of ice cream in two different cones, please. What flavours do you want?"

"Five? That's too many, we won't eat it all." She muttered surprised, looking at him in disbelief. He turned towards her, his eyes hidden behind his glasses, all she saw was that he furrowed his brow.

"No? Are you sure?" He asked with disappointment, from which she scratched her cheek.

"I mean…if you are sure you can eat that much then, take it. I'll stick with two."

Holy Father seemed displeased, however, he cheered up when he saw the size of his cone with scoops in cream, vanilla, strawberry, toffee and blueberry. She watched with amusement as he struggled to eat with a plastic spoon what had started to run down the waffle into the bottom of his cone, herself taking her ice cream from the seller.

"How is it? Do you like it?" She asked with a laugh, seeing him lick his fingers, all sticky from the berry cream.

"Very much. It's delicious. What should we do now?" He asked, looking around, eating and at the same time trying not to stain his snowy white tracksuit.

"Let's just stroll."

They moved ahead arm in arm, looking around the evening skyline of the Vatican, focusing only on the food and this surprisingly pleasant moment.

"Have you done this before? Dating and all?" He asked reluctantly, as if the thought that she might have done it with another man before him made him uncomfortable. She looked at him indulgently, trying to hide a smile of amusement.

"Not really. I haven't had the opportunity. I have never been as close to anyone as I have been to you, Holy Father."

"Aemond."

"Pardon?"

He shrugged his shoulders, taking a bit of strawberry ice cream into his mouth.

"That's my name. I won't mind if you use it when we're alone." He muttered, visibly tense, as if what he'd said, the fact that he'd exposed himself to her terrified him.

She smiled involuntarily at his words, embarrassed.

"Very well."

After a few minutes, she could clearly see that the portion he'd ordered for himself had outgrown him − he was eating slower and slower, and it occurred to her that he'd gone pale when she'd long since finished eating her ice cream. He wanted to share his portion with her, but she shook her head.

"I can't fit any more. But if you don't have the strength to eat it, don't force yourself." She muttered, seeing him sigh heavily.

"Wasting food is a sin." He mumbled and continued eating, apparently trying not to think about the discomfort in his stomach.

It wasn't even a few seconds after he had squeezed the last bit of cone into himself when he vomited the entire contents of his stomach into one of the bins.

She ran up to him quickly, horrified, stroking his back, taking from his face the glasses that had rolled down his nose so they wouldn't fall right into his puke.

"Oh dear. Are you okay?" She asked tenderly, at the same time unable to hold back a smile of pity thinking that she had warned him after all.

He was like a little child.

When they returned back to his residence by the same route they had fled he wanted to go back to his room, although he usually insisted that she let him sleep in her bed.

"Let's go to my place. I don't want you to spend the night alone when you're feeling unwell." She said softly, grasping his fingers. He pulled down the hood from his head, all pale, fatigue in his eye.

"I ruined everything."

Though reluctantly, he followed her as she began to pull him towards her room. After he had brushed his teeth and brought himself to order, he lay on the bed without strength − he watched indifferently as she changed into her pyjamas, closing his eyes, as he always did when she revealed her naked flesh.

She was touched by how much respect he had for her, how important it was for him to treat her body with proper reverence.

She lay down beside him, turning off the lamp beforehand, his face immediately snuggled against her soft breasts.

"Do you love me?"

She froze and swallowed loudly, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad under his cheek, her hand that had been stroking his hair stopped in mid-motion.

"I love you. You are the love of my life."

She pressed her lips together when she heard him gasp, an indication that he was crying but didn't want her to see it. It took him a moment to get more out of himself, her lips placing warm, reassuring kisses on his head.

"Forgive me for not being able to give you what you need."

"You give it to me."

"You know what I mean. Sometimes I wonder…" He began and hesitated, swallowing heavily, as if afraid to say his words aloud.

"…I wonder what would happen if I left, if I married you. I imagine we would have had children, a house with a garden. That we would have had a dog. That we would pray in the evening and then make love and it wouldn't be a sin."

She shuddered at his words, feeling a drop of cold sweat run down her back, her body tensed, all hot.

"− I − you would not forgive me for that −" She muttered helplessly. She felt him rise up on his elbow, his lips parted in an accelerated breath, his cheeks swollen from tears.

"− for what? −"

"− that I have destroyed your life − pulled you away from God and your destiny −" She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling a warm tear fall from the corner of her eyes onto the pillow under her head.

He looked at her with a gaze filled with pain, breathing heavily, playing with the fabric of her shirt between his fingers.

"− but it is in your presence that I feel his presence most strongly − as if he were in the room with us −"

"− the devil takes the form of angels −" She mumbled wearily, letting the air out loudly, feeling that her throat was squeezed with pain.

Was this the moment?

The moment when she would have to say farewell to him, do the right thing?

"I have deceived you for too long. Forgive me. I will give my official notice tomorrow."

He looked at her dully, as if he didn't understand what she had just said, his breath stuck in his throat.

"− you said you love me −"

"− I do −"

"− that you won't leave me alone −"

"− I won't leave, not in my prayers − but I'm destroying your life, pulling you away from what matters −"

"− is it because of this stupid date? − I regret ever taking you there −" He hissed, as if he was furious at his idea and the woman who sold them ice cream.

"− no, of course not − Holy Father −"

"− Aemond −" He growled.

She pressed her lips together, swallowing hard, the first time she had seen him like this − his jaw clenched, his nostrils twitching in accelerated, anxious breathing, his gaze dark and cold.

She didn't recognise him.

"− don't you remember what I said to you when I first met you? − there is no greater sinner in the world than me − because I am eternally, eternally thirsty −" He said slowly and carefully, like a predator who was just slowly preparing to lash out at its prey.

"− do you think you know what I desire? − what I really need? − I'll show you −" He said lowly, not even giving her time to reply − his lips immediately clung to hers in an aggressive, impatient kiss that took her breath away, a startled, muffled squeal escaping from her throat.

She felt his body pressed her back against the bed as his hips began to rub his hard manhood hidden under the material of his sweatpants to the spot between her thighs making her shake with a strong, wonderful shiver of pleasure.

"− mghm −" She mumbled out, clenching her fingers in his hair as she felt his slick tongue invade deep into her throat, licking her with its tip − she was panting into his mouth, shocked, involuntarily responding by rocking her hips to his movements.

"− undress −" He breathed out, rising up on his knees, pulling the material of his sweatshirt over his head with a quick, impatient swipe of his hands − she stared at him with wide eyes, feeling her insides clench greedily around nothing at the sight of his bare chest.

Her trembling fingers quickly rose to the buttons of her shirt, undoing it one by one, exposing her skin piece after piece. She shuddered and moaned, surprised, as his hands pushed the material aside, revealing her breasts and stomach.

His lips parted in desire at the sight − his hand tentatively rose higher, running gently over her bare flesh, kneading and massaging her breast between his fingers.

For the first time he was looking at her naked body, at what he was doing, and she felt like she was going to die of desire. It seemed to her that everything that happened next was like a dream − his swollen lips that clung to hers, their panting as they impatiently slid every piece of their clothing off each other, when at last his bare skin pressed against hers.

"− Aemond −" She gasped out into his mouth, feeling his thick length rubbing against her achingly swollen folds, their hands trailing blindly over their naked, sweaty bodies, pressing into their exposed skin as if to melt them into one.

"− fuck − so warm − so soft − like silk −" He murmured, sliding his lips down to her jaw, neck and shoulders, leaving wet, sticky trails behind − her body arched back with her innocent, surprised whine as his mouth finally pressed down around her puffy, hard nipple and began to suck on it.

"− yes − God, yes −" She mumbled, involuntarily spreading her legs in front of him − she heard his grunt of delight as he moved his hips back in a soft motion so that a moment later she could feel the fat, leaking head of his cock begin to push against her slick opening.

She guided him with the movement of her body to where he should slide in, only to hear his sigh of delight a moment later as he thrust deeply into her with an impatient, desperate push of his hips.

"− yes − yes, yes, yes −" She panted, tilting her head back with her eyes closed, digging her fingers into the hot skin of his buttocks, startling him as she threw her legs around his waist, crossing them over his back.

Nothing but grunts and noises of pleasure left his throat as, with his lips pressed against her nipple, he pounded into her again and again with deep, greedy, fast thrusts, from which their bodies slapped against each other again and again with loud, sticky splats.

For the first time in her life, she was experiencing something so animal and spiritual at the same time − him deep inside her, stretching her tight, fleshy walls apart, doing what was natural to man, what Adam had done to Eve back in Eden.

"− forgive me − I −" He breathed out at last, as if with each successive brutal thrust of his hips he understood that there would be no turning back from this, that they had crossed a line after which nothing would be the same again, that he would take her for himself in every sense of the word.

"− inside me − please, inside me −" She mumbled helplessly, thinking only of the fact that she craved his seed inside her, that she could be his lover, his whore, bear his children if it meant spending her life by his side.

By the side of the man she loved.

She reached her peak with a sweet little moan of relief at the thought, at the image of herself and him, holding their children in their arms. She heard him gasp loudly at her words and closed his eyes, panting heavily as she suddenly felt something hot and sticky squirt out of him deep inside her.

"− f-fuck − fuck, oh, God −" He mumbled out, rocking his hips inside her with a loud click of their shared wetness for a moment longer, his mouth wide open, his eyes closed, as if he wanted to remember this moment forever.

After a moment, he looked at her − there was a calmness in his eyes and some kind of certainty, as if he already knew what was right.

"− marry me −"

[silvergreenseraphim]

The First Soldier’s/Glenn Lodbrok’s Relevance In Rebirth

—

Time for translations regarding the Glenn Lodbrok subplot in Rebirth.

Note: Once again, if anyone spots errors in my translations, please let me know!

Hello everyone! It’s been some time. Rebirth was amazing and Ever Crisis has been such a thrill to see unfold shortly after with so much new lore.

As it turns out, Mr. Glenn was very important! Our mystery hooded man was him all along.

Or was he? 🤭

This is an interesting side story in Rebirth that I can’t stop focusing on. The translations have been helpful. The Ultimania as well. I will reference both for this post.

For right now, a mix of these sources and the hints in the game all imply that it was Sephiroth revealing his will through one of the black-robed men. This would not be the first time he relied on “a vision represented by the cloaked figures.”

These extensions and visions of Sephiroth “stem from the will and conscience of Sephiroth that is at play here.”

He uses this ability to torment Cloud in Remake. In Rebirth, we can see him extending that power towards Rufus Shinra too.

Some debate this point, but let us take a look at Glenn’s introduction to Rufus where a very strange interaction occurs.

Tseng introduces “Glenn” to Rufus in Junon here:

“A messenger of Governor Suhur (Sufur) of Wutai would like to visit. Colonel Glenn Lodbrok.”

Rufus is startled, but lets the messenger in. We see what appears as Glenn Lodbrok. He is older than he looks in Ever Crisis and worn down. He also does not seem to wear much besides his heavy black cloak. Rufus sits up quickly with a surprised look. He is hit with a memory of shooting this same man in the back. Notably, the Glenn from the flashback features his Wutai garb and face. He is the Glenn of Ever Crisis.

Rufus: You’re alive?

Glenn: Most certainly dead.

Ultimania translation below:

When Rufus questions Glenn’s survival, the latter has a fit of laughter and responds with the evident truth. He is dead. Rufus can only presume this to be a joke, but the Ultimania questions this bit of humor.

Looking at this through the lens of it being Sephiroth’s will in front of Rufus, we could chuckle at his honesty. He tells Rufus the truth from the moment they meet.

But that can wait! Onto business:

“Glenn” begins to speak on the matters of Wutai and Shinra. I must note that the Japanese VA’s performance is perfect. This is not the rugged and brash Glenn of Ever Crisis. He is a theatrical announcer and speaks to Rufus as though they are planning a grand show.

He says,

“Now, President Rufus. I assume you will be taking over the vision that my Governor and the President shared?”

Rufus responds, “I intend to.”

And here are Glenn’s plans to set the stage. He gestures with flair.

“The theme of this next era will be the war over Huge Materia. Shinra and Wutai maintain tensions as through repeating clashes in various places.”

An acknowledgement of the pointless war of Wutai and Shinra, but Rufus has other plans.

“That’s fine for a while. However, the president died…and the situation has changed. We need a new vision.”

At this, Glenn sneers,

“You still love (drawing your visions), Bocchan (young master). Do you still believe in the Promised Land?”

Glenn is saying that Rufus prefers to run his own show, craft his own visions. He knows Rufus long and well for a defective colonel of Wutai.

Side note:

The term “bocchan” is explained here. In the context with Rufus, it is used to refer to a rich young master.

Glenn continues,

“Shinra’s father and son only think about pumping up Mako. If you don’t return it once in a while, the planet will die.”

Glenn returns focus to the war between Wutai and Shinra, along with its benefits. He says,

“The rage, sadness and hatred that war brings forth will spark the ultimate sense of solidarity and optimism. This spirit inspires the world, enriching the planet…”

I cannot say strongly enough that the ways that Glenn moves and his VA speak feel like direct mockery of how Shinra plots their political movements. Nothing is real or sincere. War is a show and tool that is used to create unity. Shinra and Wutai are actors on a stage that battle for audience favor.

All of the pain that war brings will cause people to rise up in unity together! This spirit of solidarity will enrich the planet’s life. Rufus looks uncertain and nearly bewildered in this scene, as if he cannot tell if Glenn is serious.

“It’s for the future of the planet. Let’s take this step before calamity.”

Glenn declares this with zeal, but Rufus protests.

“But—”

Glenn cuts him off.

“You started this. You’re not a kid anymore. You can’t just stop whatever you want.”

This line is difficult to translate with the correct nuance, but Glenn is saying that Rufus must grow up and face the consequences of the events he sets in motion. He cannot stop them because he feels like it. Glenn’s VA also loses his care-free charm for a moment. There is a dark, aggressive and dangerous tone here that betrays the deeper anger in these words.

That venom disappears after some silence and Glenn returns to his theatrics.

“Let’s deliver justice together.”

Before he leaves the room, Glenn turns with a mocking bow and congratulatory message.

“Aahh, I almost forgot about the message from Governor Sufur! Congratulations on your appointment as president! I wish you increasing growth!”

Glenn laughs at the transparent joke about Rufus being honored by a man of the same name spelt backwards and exits the room. Rufus is left feeling upset and humiliated.

——

This next scene I would like to include a video clip of because there are more hints about Glenn’s true identity here.

“(Your) dreams are still cute.”

Glenn sneers and laughs at Rufus for dreaming of the Promised Land. Rufus begins to see that “Glenn” is not what he seems. A figure wreathed in purple haze and darkness that appears from nowhere.

“What/who the hell are you?“

Glenn mock-pouts as though he is offended Rufus does not trust or know who he is.

“Don’t say it like that! (Don’t say mean things). I can see everything inside your head, Mr. President. You’re scared of me?”

With this, “Glenn” leans forward as if to peer inside the mind of Rufus. He points at what he detects.

“Uh oh, I can still see it! What’s that?”

“Glenn” lists the weaknesses inside Rufus.

“Fear, hatred, an inferiority complex in relation to your father….and the loneliness behind it all…”

“I won’t deny it. It’s all my driving force.”

Rufus is honest about his negative feelings and admits they are what motivate him. Glenn is pleased with this. After all, he had earlier mentioned how the painful spirit of war would strengthen the planet.

He says,

“Hey, that’s good! The planet needs a little bit of that bite right now. Enliven it with that power.”

Rufus is baffled and mutters to himself,

“Do you care about me that much?“

He can only wonder why this figure wants and needs to stir up his driving emotions so much.

——

(I have skipped Glenn’s TV speech because the dialogue was basically the same).

In our last scene, Rufus remembers his father and finally admits that the man was masterful.

“You were…amazing…”

Rufus is not alone. “Glenn” once again appears at his side. To Rufus’ statement he responds,

Me?

But no, “Ha. How could that be?”

More mockery. Moving on,

“So, you know Governor Suhur? (Sufur). He neglected an important press conference and we were humiliated.”

Rufus is cold and responds,

“The Governor will not stand on such a poor set.”

“Glenn” is annoyed.

“I see. Growing up a rich kid must be so difficult. Well, hey, it worked. The anti-Shinra warriors are on the move.”

Rufus has had enough. He ignores the theatrics and says something astute and strange.

“Hey Glenn…isn’t this war a toy/plaything to keep me away from Sephiroth?”

I still must praise Rufus for his intelligence, but…I do not know why he would assume Glenn was trying to aid and distract Shinra from Sephiroth. This bit is a mystery.

“Glenn” begins to clap proudly. He says,

“I was sure you’d find out.”

And then we see him. The true culprit and architect.

The voices of Sephiroth and Glenn meld together,

“But it’s already happening. Our “promised land” will be born. Good for you. You’ve surpassed your father.”

Sephiroth even sneers now about Rufus completing the dream of his father. The father he hated. Rufus stands his ground.

“I want the real thing.”

(A sentence with double meaning. He wants the real Promised Land. Not a fake. Just like how Sephiroth is playing a fake Glenn).

Sephiroth morphs back into Glenn and only says,

“Oh, don’t you think it’s fitting?”

When Rufus shoots “Glenn” in the back, history repeats. Sephiroth turns back one more time and uses the now-clear black robed man to get in the last word through Glenn’s voice.

“As good at shooting people in the back as always.”

Rufus empties his gun into the ghost.

Extra details from the Ultimania on the scene:

—

Dialogue from the Shinra board meeting scene on Glenn:

Scarlet: Then what about that Glenn-whatever?

Tseng: Glenn Lodbrok. 15 years ago, he participated in a geological survey on Rhadore. He left the army after the mission failed. 

Heidegger: Hmph, he has the air of a deserter. He’s spewing out lies!

Tseng: After, he traveled to various places. He seems to have made connections with people with anti-Shinra ideology around the country. 

———

There we are! After the conclusion of The First Soldier’s episode 1 arc, we now know what caused Glenn to defect. The death of Rosen and the Rhadorans was a crime against humanity too great for Glenn to ignore. He became an anti-Shinra warrior and politician. But how did he first meet “Sufur” and when did this same person (Rufus) shoot Glenn dead?

There are questions here we do not have answered. However, Sephiroth is a voice that provides a bitter commentary on what happened. Through Glenn he relentlessly mocks Rufus. Even in the Japanese translation. He succeeds in posing as Glenn and starting fresh fires between Wutai and Shinra to stir up the planet’s energy.

And on top of that there is a personal undertone to how Sephiroth behaves around Rufus. He mocks Rufus on a level equal to how he torments Cloud. It’s all very interesting.

I will share more analysis at another time!

[fan-goddess]

Authors Note: Here’s the second request! Kinda rushed the final editing so there’s probably mistakes I’ll find looking over this a couple days later. Still, I hope you like it anon!

Warnings: P in v sex, getting caught, it’s like semi-public, no protection, dirty talk, kinda sexting, perving on reader not by Aemond tho, aegon pervy, (probably missed a few but if I miss any let me know so I can add them)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

When Aemond was told he’d be left alone for the day whilst his family did a variety of things that day, he instantly knew with a dark smirk what he’d be doing to occupy the time.

With a smirk, Aemond chucks his phone somewhere on the couch and waits eagerly, practically shooting up from his seat when he hears the doorbell loudly ring and draws him from his thoughts.

As soon as he turns the key and swings the door open, eager arms are locked around his neck, and matching eager lips lock with his own as he kicks the door forcibly shut with his foot and confines you against the wall, effectively trapping you there.

Yet the two of you stay like that for a while. Content with kissing in each others arms. That is however, until you begin to grind yourself against his growing bulge.

“Is my pretty girl getting eager now?” Aemond grins, pulling himself away to admire your swollen lips and lust blown eyes.

“Hmm been so since you sent me that text little dragon?” You smirk, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“Little dragon?” Aemond smirks, grabbing your chin to look at you dead in the eyes whilst you whimper silently at the sudden turn of situation. Aemond is not gonna be playing nice today.

“Get on the sofa for me darling, and I’ll show you how little this dragon is…”

The small smile you make as you practically sprint to the other room, stripping off your outer layers when you can, makes Aemonds cock harden even more if possible.

He walks into the room only a minute later, and smirks when he sees your naked body laid out all for him, even chuckling slightly when he sees some fading marks of his that he made a couple days ago.

“What a good girl I have…” Aemond murmurs, kneeling before you so he can trail his hand over your body, chuckling again slightly when he sees goosebumps raise where he touches you. “Now, what did I tell you in that text I sent you earlier about what you would get if you came over?”

“Your presence….”

“And?”

“Your cock…”

“Good girl…” And before you can think of an answer, Aemond surges his head forward and takes your clit in his mouth before sucking harshly, grinning into your warmth when your hands intertwine themselves roughly in his hair, tugging slightly when his nails dig slightly into your thighs.

“Oh! Aemond! So good!” You whine. Your eyes screwed shut as you focus only on the feeling of his hot mouth as he begins to suck and lick at your wet cunt. Mixing between tasting your clit and teasing your entrance.

He cannot exactly answer, so he only hums slightly, which seems to make your leg tense quickly before you let out a small moan.

The taste of you on his tongue is addictive. It’s a unique taste of sweetness and a slight tanginess he cannot get enough of. And it shows as even after you’ve already came, his mouth and tongue make no moves to stop, especially as his tongue somehow manages to graze that rough patch inside of you as he pushes himself as that makes your noises turn wanton and almost whorish.

Aemond makes you cum two more times on his tongue before he believes to be done with you.

As he finally disconnects himself from your cunt, aemond can’t resist himself from kissing you again, before using his tongue and fingers to get any remanence of your juices from his and your mouths.

It’s a dirty thing, but it makes the whole thing all that more arousing.

“Do you want me to fuck you now? Do you want me to fuck you until you can still feel me deep inside of you days after? Until even when we’re together, your mind still thinks of what I’m going to do to you, and you end up rubbing your thighs together desperate for friction like some little wanton bitch in heat?”

“Yes yes yes Aemond I want all of that please!” You mewl it so pathetically Aemond almost feels bad for you. Almost… “Please Aemond, please fuck me!”

“If the good girl wants it that badly, then I suppose the good girl will get it…”

Aemond doesn’t start slowly like how he knows you like it. Instead, he begins at a ferocious pace. One that leaves you mewling and panting beneath him so hard he can’t help but admire the way your naked breasts shake every time you shakily inhale a breath.

“Such a good girl I have in my possession huh? A good girl that listens to orders and obeys when told to…” Aemond coos, sadistically smiling and even laughing slightly when he puts a thumb to your lips as a test and without even asking, you open your lips and begin sucking on his thumb as if it was his cock in your mouth.

It was really fucking hot…

“Good girl…” Aemond grunts, positioning you slightly so he gets to bully that rough spot he was hitting earlier with his tongue.

It’s pure animalistic what the two of you are doing. The only sounds the two of you can hear are the sounds of Aemonds grunts, your high pitched whines, and the sounds of Aemonds wet skin slapping against your own. It’s all so loud that it sort of creates this bubble between the two.

So loud in fact, that the two of you are utter oblivious to the sound of the car coming up the driveway, and the sound of the front door opening a couple minutes later.

The only way that bubble was popped, was when a frantic voice shouted from the doorway, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK AEMOND?”

The two of you grabbed whatever you could to cover yourselves. You grabbed aemonds shirt to cover your naked torso, whilst Aemond opted for one of the light blue sofa cushions to only cover his still erect cock. Positioning himself to preserve your dignity with his body.

At the end of the day, you’re still his girlfriend who he loves and respects. Even though the way he fucks may not exactly show it…

When the two of you are somewhat decently covered, you both turn to whoever walk in, and hold in equal groans of embarrassment and annoyance when you see Aegons smirking condescending face looking down at you both.

“My my my…looks like I’m not the only sexual deviant in this household…”

“Fuck off Aegon! What are you doing back I thought you were on some date with some unfortunate girl of some dating app?” Aemond growled, moving you closer behind him when he saw Aegons eyes attempting to peek at you.

“She texted as I got halfway saying she got food poisoning or some shit and she needed to reschedule. So I thought I’d come back and hang out with my little bro. Only to find him balls deep in his pretty little girlfriend…”

“Aegon, I’m warning you….” Aemonds eyes furrow in anger. And no matter how comforting it is to feel your hand hold his own in a soothing manor, nothing can take away the fact his brother has such a punchable face.

His temper only worsens when he sees that Aegons line of sight is caught on your underwear peaking out from some of your clothes.

“That’s it!” Aemond shouts, quickly moving to stand much to your surprise. Choosing to ignore you as you start begging him to calm down.

“Okay okay I’m gonna be in my room so bye little bro!” Aegon awkwardly grins as he quickly begins to sprint to his room up the stairs, before being followed by the sound of his hurried footsteps, and his door opening and slamming shut.

Other than that, Aemond can only hear your concerned voice as you try to stand up, and much to his amusement you stumble straight back down on the sofa.

“Oh shut it!” You snap, eyes furrowed as you look at him.

“I said nothing!” Aemond smirks, raising his arms in an innocent manner, dropping the cushion to the floor and laughing slightly when he sees your eyes look over his whole body almost bashfully. Though when he gets close enough to you, he pulls you up into his arms as his thoughts turn to all but innocent things.

“How long do you think Aegons gonna be here for?” You ask, resting your head on his chest.

“Well he’s been here all his life, so forever. Why?”

“Isn’t your room soundproof?” You smirk, and it all makes sense as Aemond matches it with his own devilish grin.

“It is indeed…” As Aemond lifts you to your surprise and shouts of annoyance, he drags you to his bedroom and slams the door shut hard.

Maybe this time Aegon will learn not to interrupt…?

[rin-solo]

Finally, I am happy to present to you my ...

EPIC: THE MUSICAL | ACT I [Character Design project]

I have been working on these for a long time and I am very happy with how these turned out. I am a huge fan of visual character design and I simply needed to do a full lineup.

Act II will follow shortly (it is all done except for Ithaca Saga, which I will add as soon as it drops.) Please enjoy, and read below for some thoughts and background on some of my design choices!

TROY | CYCLOPS ft. Odysseus, Athena, Eurylochus, and Polites

With Odysseus, I really wanted to emphasize his free spirit in this era and mark him as Athena's warrior, so I gave him a special belt and some armbands that represent her (this was inspired by some of @mircsy's work). He also has heterochromia; his left eye is green, representing his cunning, wisdom, and spirit; his right eye is gray, representing his ruthlessness and warrior side.

I simply love Athena in purple/gold. Her mask is a symbol of her invulnerability and comes off only during "My Goodbye" when Odysseus tells her that she's alone. Her cape can also transform into wings, and her eyes are actually golden without the mask.

I had to give Eurylochus his large anime sword (it's just as heavy as it looks but he likes it that way because that means no one besides him is strong enough to wield it ... I imagine Eurylochus can bench press at least Odysseus' and Polites' weights combined. He and Polites are also wearing variants of Odysseus' armor, indicating that they belong to the same army.

Listen, I can vibe with Eurylochus' giant sword but I draw the line at Polites with glasses, sorry. He still gets the hairband, of course. He's also dressed more casually, and without a weapon, because of his pacifistic outlook. He's the physically weakest among the trio by far but also still an inch taller than Odysseus (it's fine, Odysseus is still like 5'10, his friends are just all so freaking tall...)

OCEAN ft. Aeolus, Poseidon, and Odysseus

Not gonna lie, I LOVED designing Aeolus' outfit. She's playful and mischievous and loves to hang out in the clouds all day; her outfit is probably made out of clouds let's be real. Also yes, her image on the windbag moves to make cheeky faces.

Poseidon I cannot imagine without tentacles anymore thanks to @gigizetz's "Ruthlessness", idk it just fits him so well. He definitely got all dressed up to go and sink Odysseus' fleet that day, he has a reputation, you know? And he just likes the shiny gold and accessories; the ocean is full of them so why wouldn't he?

Since breaking up with Athena, Odysseus lost her belt and armbands. He's still wearing her brooch because he couldn't bring himself to fully throw that away as well yet. Polites' hairband around his wrist reminds him of what he's fighting for and what to live by ... for now (Poseidon is about to ruin this man's whole career...)

CIRCE | UNDERWORLD ft. Circe, Hermes, and Tiresias

I wanted to give Circe the "witch" vibe while putting a Greek spin on it and I actually adore her design. She seems both immortally youthful (something I aim for with all my god designs) and motherly. There she was, gathering some herbs when a bunch of strangers crash onto her island ... Oh well, at least this man was a good man this time.

Hermes is kind of just Hermes. I wanted to keep him shaded, a bit impish, and definitely up to no good. He's wearing the contrasting colors on purpose, by the way. And yes, his hat can fly on its own ... But for it to do that he'd have to actually be willing to show his face which he seldom does unless he really trusts you.

Tiresias is a soul, so he has the same kind of ageless youth as all my gods (something that goes for souls of dead people too, since I like to think they get to appear at whatever age they want after death.) He's looking a bit regal since he's a prophet, so I imagine regarded highly, even in the Underworld. Instead of the blindfold, his hood covers his face, adorned with a symbolic eye to identify him and his skill.

***

Well, that's it for ACT I, friends, I hope you liked these! I will upload ACT II asap. Please comment and/or tell me your thoughts about my designs! And feel free to ask any questions you may have! I would love to talk more about these.

[megaman-r]

I am definitely going engine-first, generally speaking; a lot of those assets are UI bits and pieces. I'd say the majority even. I do have a fair amount of other sprites/tiles at least roughed out, but that's because I'm a visual artist so that's the fun part for me, and it all needs to happen at some point anyway, so I haven't tried to stop myself from working on the parts that sound fun at the moment. Especially since getting a cohesive 'look' across the whole game is a massive task, and having a really long time to think it over and refine things is only going to be of benefit.

A whole lot of what you've listed is just not possible to implement easily, if at all, in the engine I'm using. Total playtime per file, items used, enemies killed, the basics that make the game work at all (Robot Masters defeated and the like)—sure, that's all doable and largely done even, but lifelong stats across multiple files aren't supported in any reasonable way because save files simply don't interact with each other. If I load one to reference a variable, I have nowhere to store said variable to add it to another from a different save, because referencing that save will lose the first variable entirely no matter what I do with it or where I put it. Cumulative totals simply cannot be a thing with this engine, essentially, which isn't the end of the world. After all I'm basically doing an NES-like with a few modern bells and whistles, so being somewhat less detailed in save data than other modern games isn't going to make or break it.

I have no idea what is actually in each save file as far as data. They're all in JSON and they're not particularly human-readable, because everything is obfuscated. If this were actually something I was coding from scratch in a real language, yeah, I could worry about individual bits and bytes, but I picked an oddball engine off the strength of its being easy to learn (...and having already been in my Steam library from a sale...)—I know exactly zero programming languages, unless you count Pixel Game Maker MV's visual scripting system. So that hampers a lot of things; it's state-based, not object-oriented, and things like menus and UI absolutely suffer for it. The degree of tedium it takes to set up a basic foundation is...yeeegh. I do understand the concepts better, and I will probably switch to Godot or something with a lot more fine control if I do another project, but as it stands... the bit/byte count is all very interesting but I have no access to the save file structure beyond, "Keep these switches and variables, allow these others to reset to default." (Also I don't know how to do math in hex much beyond being able to generally count from 0 to 15, which is all I need to use Famitracker effectively, lol.)

I kinda just started on a whim to see if I could do it, so the order of operations has been whatever I'm confident will actually allow me to keep making progress. Things like doing the music first happened because I didn't want to get years deep into making a game only to discover that I have no ability to compose, so I completed a fair amount of it first to make sure it happened at all. (It turns out I'm okay at it, fortunately.)

But yeah, I'm sure there's a lot of nontraditional stuff happening, because I have no idea what a traditional workflow even would be. I'm emphatically not a programmer, even if I do seem to be programming. My entire background is making dumb things in RPG Maker 2000 back in high school. The fact that I've organized myself enough to get this far is a testament to the combined power of ADHD medication and sheer stubbornness.

But believe me when I say that I am painfully aware the save system should be X, Y, and Z things. It just is what it is, though, and what it is is extremely limited and very, very prone to producing errors if things aren't laid out just so. Even trying to save two files too quickly will cause at least one of them, if not both, to simply not output at all. So for even just this basic functionality I feel pretty accomplished and while I do want to add some more miscellaneous stats plus some way to view them, which is a whole other UI setup that I'll need to do, there is no way to add much beyond that.

But again, I think that won't horribly impact anyone's enjoyment, in the end. People still have plenty of fun with much less. I almost didn't even include saves, but my dev Discord voted down a classic NES style password grid system. Would have been relatively very easy to implement, but alas. The people have spoken.

I should add that there is one way that would technically work for multiple save files with lifetime play stats and you could support any sort of cumulative save data you could imagine with it, but I'm not doing it, because it would involve emulating multiple save files within one save file...meaning that for every single time a saved variable or switch is changed, I would need a bunch of branching logic to disambiguate exactly which "save file" I'm changing, and I would rather eat my own teeth than deal with the bugs that would invariably produce if anything at all in the entire game was set up even slightly wrong.

@megaman-r, @afniel

I should probably clarify what I meant.

When I say "backward", I mean that when work actually begins on a game, there's typically kind of an… order… to how things should logically go: make the game engine and all the conceptualized bits and bobs, test to satisfaction, and then make all the assets. A lot of people do it the other way, though. I used to, back when I dabbled. Realistically, though, making the entire engine first with all it entails just makes more sense to me, these days.

As for the save system? Here's what I expect from a Mega Man save:

Save Game Slot

Stages beaten and/or weapons collected (2 to 4 bits?*)

Lives, Tanks, collectable inventory (1 byte** each)

Permanent inventory (Energy Balancer, et cetera) (1 bit)

Score, if enabled (4 bytes)

Game difficulty, if enabled (1 byte)

Character, if applicable (1 byte)

New game or replay, if applicable (1 byte) - These three can probably be combined into one bit

Time played in hh:mm:ss format (3 or 4 bytes)

Deaths, if applicable (1 byte)

Other stats (E-Tanks chugged, enemies destroyed, and so on) (1 byte each)

Overall Save Stats

Games played, beaten, et cetera (1 byte each)

Features unlocked (1 or 2 bits, number of unlocks depending)

Overall time played in dd:hh:mm:ss format (1 and 4 bytes?)

(* Bits in "hex format" 8 possible "hard values" per bit: $01, $02, $04, $08, $10, $20, $40, $80 Use bit math for combinations.

Examples: - Stage 1 and Stage 3 beaten = $05 - Stages 2, 5, and 8 beaten = $92 - Stages 1 through 8 beaten = $FF

** Bytes are just standard hex bytes: $00 - $FF 10 = $0A, 99 = $63, et cetera. Multi-byte values stored in reverse order.) —

... I've put a lot of thought into this. (,:

[oldestenemy]

So Polaris it is.

The wizard is not keen on dealing with Coleridge again—though they believe he is finally free of whatever Old Cob did to addle his poor brain. It doesn’t matter. He is a sour memory at best. He is the drawing echo of the Black Hole, the thunderous warnings of the Astral Guardians. He is a living reminder that they are naive enough to overlook traps when desperate. Worse still are the words that come out of his mouth, not the denial of help—they don’t care about that, he can drink himself to death on Polaris for all they care—but the solution he offers. The captain they should seek out. The world he is exploring.

“Something about an asteroid—”

“—comet.” the wizard corrects Taylor, voice monotone and empty.

Azteca.

They have to go back to Azteca.

“Wizard?”

Their gaze slips from Taylor to Duncan, eyes flickering—brown—gold—back. They can barely even hear him. It’s just screaming. It’s all screaming. The key is gone, the key is gone and Azteca is as good as dead, is burning and blistering under a hailstorm of glass and rock for the rest of time and—

—are they crying?

Normal tears, heat and salt, still following the path carved out for them by bitter Shadow.

“We’ll need a ship.” They manage without their voice cracking, pulling their hood up in an attempt to regain any semblance of control, of composure. “There is no key for Azteca, the doors aren’t an option—”

“—Aye, my vessel can be spared a one-way trip—as stated my skyfaring days are over.” Taylor hands them a glowing piece of some sort of crystal. “That’s connected to the fountain on board, it’ll take you straight there. Still docked in the ice floes, but I imagine you’ll manage getting her back in the sky alright. Nothing compared to our journey through the Starfall Sea.”

The wizard nods again.

They don’t know what to say.

Grief roils in their gut, mingling with guilt and old anger they feel, for once, too young to carry.

“Oh and if you see our dear friend Old Cobb—let him know he’ll always drink for free at RataTiki!”

A huff that might be a laugh, might be a noise of derision, “I’ll tell him.” the words come out in triplicate, starlight like blood on their tongue. The wizard swallows hard, shakes their head. “Enjoy the rest of your life, Captain.”

Somehow they suspect he hasn’t got much of it left.

~*~

Duncan keeps his mouth shut until they make it onto the ice where Coleridge’s ship is…less docked and more crashed. Though the wizard thinks Taylor was lucky to make it this far at all, considering the state the ship had been in when they’d found the wreck on Crescent Beach.

“Remind me why we walked here instead of using the crystal?”

The wizard doesn’t answer.

They climb the carved ladder on the side of the ship, hauling themself onto the deck. Sure enough, in the center of the upper level, by the helm, there is a fountain carved of the same crystal, spitting fine streams of what looks like, mana?

Interesting.

They wonder if there’s something like this on Baldur’s ship.

They’ve never seen so, if there is.

The wizard has, admittedly, never piloted a ship of any kind. But how hard could it be? They see sigils carved into the ship in a handful of places, at the helm, across the sides where they had stepped on board—the magic in them is different, but it’s still magic. It still feels like it would respond were they to step into place, pour energy into it.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you.” It’s not a question, and the wizard looks back at Duncan with a dead eyed smile as their only response before pulling their hood back over their face.

They do not trust themself to talk seriously right now.

They do not trust their ability to hold onto the pain.

Faking apathy is the best they can do.

“And you would? Know what you’re doing?” They raise an eyebrow he cannot see from under the hood. But their tone likely gets the point across.

“Sometimes the advantage of nobody being willing to put up with you is having to listen to Nolan Stormgate speak for more than thirty seconds.”

That…doesn’t really answer their question.

“Why would that help?”

Duncan just gives them a look. “Seriously? You’re choosing a weird time to play stupid. Just move—take care of making sure nothing hits us.”

The wizard does not move.

“What would talking to Nolan help for?”

“Did you think the name Stormgate was just for show?” He asks, pushing past them to the helm, “Remind me again how you made it this far.” There is less venom in the words than they would have expected, but it is still there. He traces some part of the circle with his boot and it lights up immediately. “I mean it by the way—if we’re headed into debris from Xiabalba you’re gonna need to put something around us, this ship will be lucky not to crash into the nearest mountain before we even make it into the sky.”

Well.

If that was what needed doing.

Part of them is hesitant to let Duncan lead—but it’s either that or waste time trying to figure out the ship on their own. They’d helped with the wards on Baldur’s ship before, so that at least, they could manage.

The worst is on the way.

But there will be time to brace for it.

Read the whole series here <3

[cure-orchid]

So I know the show recently ended, but I ended up binging through TGAMM and loved it! The Ghost Friends are all mood and the Mollie ship is adorable. Then I learned about the Chairman Ollie arc for the scrapped third season and IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO COOL TO SEE!

I ended up writing down how I would imagine the story arc going down, and I headcanon that several of the planned season 3 eps (minus the ones that would clash with the finale) happened between JVTHM and The End (Ollie knowing about the wraith memory loss and how he says it could have hinted that it already occurred.)

My Chairman Ollie plotline: It starts with what was outlined in the already written scripts, and Ollie keeps spending more and more time in the Ghost World rather than on Earth. He’s becoming a little more forgetful as the episodes pass and has noticeable headaches. Things like his parents having a Root Beer Bar or the plot of the latest Country Pumpkin movie seem to surprise him when he should already know about them.

He’s missed a few dates with Molly and slipping on schoolwork so she takes an episode trying to talk to him at school but he keeps getting pulled away to fix something as the Chairman. The episode would really drive in how his human memories are failing even when he reconnects with his body and there’s a whole musical number on how Molly feels he’s growing distant. She finally catches up to him in the end and he looks partway between normal and being an empty shell(his hair is even losing the swoop!). She asks him out for ice cream but then we get a wham line “Sure, but… who are you?” Molly’s heart literally breaks as she discovers Ollie has lost all memory of her. He excuses himself and leaves Molly crying with Scratch and Libby coming to console her.

Next episode the remaining Ghost Friends are trying to figure out what’s wrong with him when June comes to Molly’s house trying not to panic. Ollie’s shell came home yesterday but not his wraith and he’s still not back. Molly, Libby and Darryl go to the Chen’s while Scratch goes to the Ghost World to see what’s keeping him. He finds Ollie still obsessively trying to engoodify the Ghost World and his orange glow is much more faded. Worse, when Scratch calls him by his name he asks who Ollie is. Libby manages to discover a page in her pop-up book that was stuck to another and reveals wraiths can lose their memories the longer they spend away from their body and without the will to live they cannot fully rejoin the two halves. Scratch arrives and with all they know they make a plan. Molly, Scratch and the Chen’s go to the Ghost World while Darryl and Libby keep an eye on their bodies. They get to Ollie and he doesn’t recognize anyone but Scratch, but has no emotional attachment to him. Big musical number as they all try to help Ollie remember but it doesn’t work. Everyone is devastated and it seems like Ollie might be gone forever.

Molly doesn’t give up, she pulls down his hood and cups his face, (this is where the drawing is) telling Ollie that she loves him and gives him their first kiss. Her yellow sparks course through him and his orange glow regains it’s color… and he regains his memories. When they pull away, Olly says her name and he’s pulled into a group hug as he says everyone’s names. He leaves the robe and hurries back into his body. A few hours later it’s just him, Molly and Scratch when the ghost council arrives. I haven’t come up with what happens to the robe but Ollie does relinquish his title as chairman and Scratch pulls the council away. Now alone, Ollie didn’t get to say it back in the ghost world, but he loves Molly too. They have another kiss and lean their foreheads together afterwards… and then Scratch comes back complaining that they already sucked faces once today already.

Update 5/27: Yep, I’m turning this into a fanfic. I said I wouldn’t but I got the inspiration on how to do it! It’s called ‘Record of an Engoodifier’

Also bonus doodles:

[syrupyyyart]

finally, finally finished the ~definitive~ designs for my main Motley girls :’)

Extensive design notes under the cut (mostly for documentation purposes, but also because i like talking about my ocs lol)

In my last post, I introduced the idea of giving each character multiple colors, rather than being one uniform color throughout the design. The idea is that the characters can earn up to 3 new colors as they age+experience new things.

For each color they earn, they’ll wear a new ‘evolved’ version of their previous outfit.

For comparisons sake, here’s the initial pass I took at trying to give my characters more colors:

(euhg. theyre really really ugly. im honestly embarrassed i ever posted these at all lol)

Fact: it’s actually incredibly difficult to design monochrome outfits for characters without the designs looking extremely unfinished (to me, anyways lol). In an attempt to break up the monotony of the monochrome outfit designs, I found myself over relying on the outline colors to fill in their outfit pieces (cherrys pants, limes turtleneck, etc). This hypothetically works, but it ended up causing a lot of confusion as to how many colors the characters had actually earned, especially when the outline color was vastly different from the intended color. Basically, the tl;dr is that over relying on the outline colors felt like cheating, looked bad, and caused a lot of issues.

All of this explanation is to set up the 2 design rules I gave myself for the New Definitive Designs:

1. Outline colors MUST NOT be over relied on, and should be used as sparingly as possible

2. Nothing is sacred. If it looks bad, throw it out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I also decided to shift around their body types slightly, since I realized that practically every character had the same build with a different height (with the exception of Banana). Marshmallow is a bit curvier, Watermelon is slightly more muscular, etc. And, while you cant really tell because of their baggy outfits, Lime is much boxier and Blueberry is lankier and has wider shoulders than the others.

Finally, here’s some specific design notes for each character, how they changed, and why:

Cherry Pit - Cherry may not have had the most drastic changes, but hers were definitely the most important. She’s had the same hairstyle ever since the first time I drew her (back in ....... middle school lol), and as attached as I was to it, it caused a LOT of problems. It gave her an ugly silhouette, the sharp edges kind of ruined her circle motif, etc. So it had to change. I decided to give her a fluffier hair style to incorporate more round edges into her design, and I truly cannot tell you how many hairstyles I cycled through before I landed on that one. It was major development hell. But I think the new style is much much cuter! Due to story reasons, I also decided to give her 2 outfit colors instead of just one, and she seriously looks so much better because of it. Big fan of Cherrys new design lol

Blueberry Cobbler - Ohhhh where to start with this one. Blueberrys design has always been a headache to me. I found it difficult to draw consistently, and even when I got it to look how I wanted, it still didn’t look very good. So, my goal for her redesign was to overhaul her design while keeping the general idea behind it; most importantly, she needed to be Fun To Draw. So, I changed the silhouette of her sweatshirt by giving her a more exaggerated hood, replaced her bulky zipper with the hanging ties (idk what theyre called lol), and Changed Her Ugly Ass Tights into baggier pants. I also crimped her hair to make it more angular. In the context of this universe, cold colors have naturally colder body temperatures, so they have to wear insulated clothing to stay chilly; the overall baggier clothes really just fixed all of my issues with her design honestly. Better for her personality type, prettier silhouette, in-universe reasoning, etc. Scrumptious.

Lime Pie - I decided to swap out her cargo pants for a long skirt, and let her hair down. This was mostly because, with the monochrome outfit she needed to wear, the turtleneck+cargo pants combo just wouldnt work without looking Pretty Bad. It also helps her outfit stand out a bit more, as she’s now the only character in the main cast that is wearing a skirt. She’s meant to be an inversion of the “nerdy girl lets her hair down and puts on a dress and Now She Is Popular” trope, so the idea is that when she earns her 2nd color, she will start wearing her hair up again, and the cargo pants can come back. Maybe.

Marshmallow Fluff - I honestly hit the nail on the head with this one in the initial batch of concepts I did, so I didnt change much lol. The biggest change is that I made her hair light again. This was because shes obviously meant to have a cloud motif, but her sister (who I rarely post about lol) has a thundercloud motif-- basically, I’m just saying that the darker hair is gonna go to her sister instead.

Banana Pudding - Again, she looks almost exactly the same. I just changed the red outline of her original dress to be less contrasting, since I got a lot of people asking if she’d earned two colors or not. Hopefully, its more clear now that she’s only earned one.

Watermelon Sorbet - As much as I liked her original design, many many people told me she looked like a ‘cool yoga instructor’ character. Which, while not terrible, wasn't exactly what I was going for; she’s meant to be more of an ‘edm dancer’ kind of character. So, I decided to change out her pants for bigger legwarmers that I’m hoping make her look a bit more hyper active.

Thats all my notes lol. I have no idea if anyone is gonna read this far, but if you do, thanks :’) I fully realize that making so many notes about this looks silly, considering theyre OCs and not like ..... widely known characters. So Im sure a lot of what Ive said just sounds like gibberish. But its fun to ME!!!!!!!!

I’ve got more character designs to post over the next week or so; namely, the 3 Antagonists (Grape Soda, Orange Custard, and Angel Cake) + the parents (which includes 2 characters Ive never shown before, but Im very excited to share lol). Those posts wont be accompanied with longwinded notes like this one is; Im just the most excited about these designs and wanted to talk about them.

[ashlynniis-bracketeers]

THE EIGHTH CHEF - The Eighth Chef Meursault Concept - The Eighth Chef Meursault Tenderizer

So... This is a lot. I'll be putting a lot of this + some extra stuff under a cut, because this will be a three-mile-long post otherwise rofl.

Yes, I have been firmly sucked deep into the Limbus Hole™, how could you tell? Anyways, have a fan ID (including Pre-Uptie art).

A Walpurgisnacht ID for Meursault, of Greta (Distorted cannibal shark lady, the only surviving member of the "Eight Chefs") from Library of Ruina.

This all started because I thought "Meursault deserves a cannibal ID, he deserves Eating People Privileges™ after what he dealt with in Hell's Chicken", and I told this to @cult-of-the-gundead who then said "the only cannibal left for an ID is Greta" and I went "who's Greta" and she sent me down a rabbit hole of the funny shark lady. So this is a very self-indulgent fan ID concept lmao.

Drawing the mock-up Pre-Uptie art kicked my ass, it's technically a remake of my previous attempt at designing the Pre-Uptie art (which will be under the cut). I cannot digitally paint worth a piss, so this time I didn't try to mimic the painterly style (thank hell). I tried to do an Uptie III art, but I couldn't figure out anything or how to make it look right, and the thought of animating it like the UTIII art in-game made me feel extra stabby, so maybe some other time lmao.

I hope you like it!

Cut time:

Design notes for THE EIGHTH CHEF:

The composition of this is supposed to be a call-back to R.B. Chef de Cuisine Ryōshū's (i.e. Pierre Ryoshu) Uptie III art

The pot with the bone in it is a reference to the pot appearing in some of Greta's pages in Library of Ruina

The teeth (+ jawbone) and seven tongues are meant to be those of the other Eight Chefs, as Greta described their autocannibalism as "They kept going until their teeth and tongues were all that's left".

The infinity sign in the background is meant to be a play on the number eight, as the symbol is often seen as the numerical symbol for the number eight placed sideways. There are no longer eight chefs…

Design/Concept notes for The Eighth Chef Meursault Concept:

The name "Benthic Witch" is derived from the fact that Greta's Distorted form is that of a shark (i.e. a creature that lives in water), and from the tale of Hansel and Gretel, where a cannibalistic witch attempts to fatten up Hansel before eating him (because Greta is a cannibal).

Meursault's face is supposed to always be framed in shadow in Teetering E.G.O, with only the red glow of his now-extremely-wide eyes being seen. The pattern of his mouth-covering combined with the mouth/teeth of the shark hood are meant to look like glowing eyes from inside a sharp-toothed maw.

The primary silver-and-white colors of the E.G.O are based off of Greta's sharkskin colors, while the white triangles lining the edges of the apron (and the edges of his gloves and boots in Teetering E.G.O) are meant to resemble teeth. The pattern resembles a mouth further on his apron in Teetering E.G.O.

So, he has a Volatile E.G.O gimmick similar to Dawn Office Fixer Sinclair. Playing off of the fact that we never see non-Distorted Greta, I played around with whatever her E.G.O could have possibly been, even in a Volatile/incomplete state.

Meursault is a mystery, but one thing we know is this: He Corrodes hard if he Corrodes with Electric Screaming. He's also memed as having an "Anti-Distortion Shield". So, going along with this ID of him being a cannibal and going murderously bonkers, I've given him "Teetering Off of the Edge of E.G.O": He has two different versions of his E.G.O state he can enter depending on Sanity/unique resource count, being Volatile and "Teetering" E.G.O. The main difference between the two gameplay-wise is that Teetering E.G.O state makes all of his attacks indiscriminate, so he can end up targeting and killing your teammates like 90% of Corrosions. He's supposed to basically be on the very edge of Distorting when in Teetering E.G.O.

If you want to see my gameplay/mechanical concepts, I'll link this Google Doc. I haven't been able to use that LCB ID/EGO generator site without it breaking lmao. I'll also screenshot the important stuff and put it here (in a reblog, as this is already reaching the character limit lmao) in case the file gets corrupted or something. Feel free to comment of my incompetent balance, I have no idea how to balance the numbers in this game rofl.

The old version of "THE EIGHTH CHEF" and my first drawing of Gretsault will be below

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

what goes around by Goldmonger

A civilian accidentally kills the Joker. It’s a confusing time for everybody.

Never Meet Your Heroes by 12pt_timesnewromanfont

Tim’s not snooping, not really. Or, he doesn’t mean to be snooping. But then he hears Superman say the words 'Experiment 13' and he's out of the Cave like a bat out of hell. He has just enough time to tell Kon to get the hell out of dodge before Batman finds him, and a furious Batman is not something he wants to face alone.

Meanwhile, Kon is totally panicking. He, Cassie, and Bart have lost contact with Robin, have cut themselves off from their mentors, and have absolutely no idea what to do. Superman has turned his back on Kon, and the League will always stand with Big Bastard Blue. He's desperate, and Kon only knows of one other person who might give a damn about him.

He'll take what he can get, even if the man is a supervillain on occasion.

let me help you fly this nest by carolinaa

Out causing havoc on date night, Harley notices something's seriously wrong with the new Robin. She's not about to sit idly by and let anyone hurt that tiny kid.

Not even the big, bad Batman.

From Riches to Rags by Vamillepudding

(If Bruce wasn't so busy investigating the Red Hood, he might have realised that, while Jack Drake is in a coma and Tim is grounded from patrol, Drake Industries goes broke. Overnight, the Drakes lose everything, leaving Tim without a cent to his name.

Jason, meanwhile, cannot believe that the Bats haven't noticed yet that something is obviously wrong with the Replacement.)

It’s weird, being poor. At the moment, Tim has precisely eleven dollars to his name. Drake Industries, gone. Their assets, gone. His trust fund, being used to pay for his father’s hospital bills. The house is gone, too. That's okay. Tim is okay. Sometimes, though, he lies awake at night, and he can’t help but wonder. Does Bruce know? He definitely doesn’t, obviously. But, does he?

Just a Moment in Time by Just_A_Poor_Boy

"I am… appreciative.” Damian says slowly. His hand discreetly fists itself in Timothy’s hoodie. Timothy is prone to bolting at the sight of emotional expression and Damian… is grounding himself as best as he can in this moment.

(Just a little glimpse of a moment between Damian and Tim. A bit of drabble to get my writing muscles back in shape.)

ATLA

surrender to the sheer force of the sky by achievingelysium

Half-turned from the door, Zuko looks up. A scarred eye widens, and Zuko reaches for his shirt, pulling it up across his chest.

“Uncle—” he gasps. “You’re here.”

It’s too late. As Zuko draws thin fabric over his chest, Iroh catches a glimpse of what he’s trying to hide. A set of bandages—and a healing wound in the shape of lightning.

(When the war ends, Iroh has only one concern—to see his nephew. Or: Iroh finds out Zuko was hit with lightning in the last Agni Kai.)

eternal and artificial by delectum

Part 1 of Rebel Zuko

After the fateful Agni Kai that changed Zuko’s life, Ozai never gives his son the quest to find the Avatar, banishing him from the Fire Nation with no hope of return. Without a purpose to life, Zuko takes revenge against his father the most spiteful way that he knows how: treason.

The Magnus Archives

Surrender by BeneathSilverStars

Jon doesn’t want to trust his coworkers. He can’t. But after being cursed by a Leitner to obey any command given to him, he might have to.

Clone Wars

Plan Besh by BitterChocolateStars

Dooku Falls too soon. Sidious is there to tempt him away earlier in the timeline. Jango is contracted for the Clone Army ahead of schedule. There is no plan to trick the Jedi into taking command of the Clone army. No trap for them to spring. Sidious steals Force sensitive children to raise along side the clones. When the time comes he will unleash them upon the galaxy. No need to waste time crafting an intricate plot from the heart of the Republic.

The Clones and the people who care for them disagree with Plan Aurek. (See Notes for Plan Besh)

[peaceoutofthepieces]

4 + kandreil for the ask game ? hope you’re doing well <33

you could not have chosen better tysm

4. Shut-Up Kiss

Andrew berates Neil endlessly for running his mouth, but Neil has never known anyone to rant as pointlessly and frequently as Kevin. Sometimes it's almost charming; Kevin's love for history sends him on tangents of fascination every now and again, especially with a drink or two loosening his tongue, and his genuine respect and fanboy adoration for the Trojans—and Jeremy Knox—is almost sweet. Sometimes it's concerning; Kevin's breathing turns ragged and his eyes grow foggy when his mind returns to the Nest, and sometimes, now, commentary will come with it, the knowledge that Riko can't touch him anymore allowing Kevin to tell some of the stories that have refused to die with Riko, at least when Andrew and Neil are the only ones around to hear it.

Other times, it's annoying as shit. In these instances, Neil cannot help thinking Kevin's tattoo is glaringly accurate.

Kevin is nothing if not a drama queen.

"You have been doing this drill for two years," Kevin rants now, eyes full of thundery frustration as he looks down at Neil. "You should have long perfected it, even without the addition of your captaincy, and soon I will not be here to pick up your slack. I do not understand how you expect to–"

The thing about Kevin's ranting now is that it's annoying as shit, but the angrier Neil is at Kevin these days the more he wants him. Neil doesn't—will never—find Kevin's scoldings endearing or amusing or anything of the sort, too short of temper as he is, but he has always found a pull in response to Kevin's fire because of how terribly it matches his own.

The thing about Kevin's ranting now is that Neil can still fantasise about punching him while kissing him instead.

Kevin makes a noise against Neil's mouth, indignant and pissed off and wanting, and the fire in Neil's veins stokes higher, burns hotter. He curls a hand around Kevin's neck and draws him down, down, satisfied only when Kevin's arms fall to his waist and pull him up in response.

They only startle apart when a ball thwacks the floor a few inches from their feet, both breathing hard. Neil feels a savage smile curl his lips at the sight of Kevin's hooded eyes, his lips parted and silent.

Then he looks over at Andrew, who appears as bored as ever to anyone who knows him less, but to Neil is amused and annoyed and interested all at once, if only for how his gaze bores into them. He raises an eyebrow at Neil, and Neil is shrugging before he has even consciously decoded the expression, agreeing yes, alright, I'm stealing your moves now.

"Thanks for the show," Andrew says, dryly, and Kevin makes another wordless noise somewhere between dismissive and craving. "Are you done yet?"

To give credit where credit is due, in the past few months of embedding himself more deeply in them than ever before, Kevin had found the remainder of his spine and has been learning to recover himself remarkably quickly. He presses his palm to the dip of Neil's spine and meets Andrew's eyes to return, "Eager to get back to the dorms?"

Andrew flicks his gaze over to Neil, and Neil obliges; Andrew is not quite close enough, but Neil is more than happy to kiss Kevin quiet again.

send me a number + ship

[psychedelic-ink]

tell me why i want to see Joel and reader in a superhero/villain au where one takes care of the other’s injuries…….. idek who would be the hero and who would be the villain, i don’t think it matters

I honestly think he would be more of an anti-hero rather than a squeaky clean hero, he's giving me red hood vibes, thank you for requesting!

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄

pairing: anti hero!joel miller x villain fem!reader

genre: hero/villain au + one takes care of the other’s injuries

word count: 479

summary: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

warnings: some blood

Your body throbs with pain. Hissing, you collapse to the ground and lift your hand to your head, you feel the caked blood and let out a sigh. Joel peaks out from the dusty windows. When he fails to see anything, he groans and turns to you, anger pounding behind his eyes. 

“This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.” 

“Well, you weren’t exactly my afternoon plans either, handsome.” you tease, but he fixes you a glare and you roll your eyes. “Hey, it’s not my fault if I’m popular. What can I say, a lot of people want me.” 

“Yeah, they want you dead.” 

Your lips broaden into a grin, you hadn’t missed the way his voice dropped, his drawl a bit deeper. You cock your head to the side, amused. “Does the hero not want to see his favorite villain murdered? I’m touched.” 

“Quit your talki—” 

Joel’s eyes catch the glint of something on your forehead, and his gaze narrows as he moves closer. A deep gash runs along your skin, blood caked and sticky. He can see the pain etched onto your face, despite your best attempts to hide it.

Without hesitation, he reaches for his first aid kit in his bag, he comes closer and you flinch away. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, your fingers twitching. 

“You’re still bleedin’.”

“So?” 

“So?” he parrots, annoyed. “Let me fuckin’ patch you up.”

When he reaches out again, this time you don’t move away. His fingers move swiftly and surely as he sets to work. You watch as he cleans the wound, his touch gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing the curve of your skin with careful precision. His movements are practiced, honed from years of training and experience.

You find yourself studying him more closely than ever before. His hair is a mess, blood smeared into his temple. His jaw is set in a determined line, his eyes fixed intently on his task. There is something compelling about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

But then he looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he started working on your wound. There is a hardness there, a coldness that reminds you of who he is, what he stands for. He is a hero, and you are a villain. Simple as that. The two of you are not meant to be allies, not meant to be anything other than enemies. 

And yet, as he finishes cleaning your wound and starts to bandage it up, there is a flicker of something else in his eyes. It is a fleeting moment, gone almost as soon as it appears, but it is there nonetheless. It is a moment of understanding, of recognition that sometimes, the lines between hero and villain can blur.

Joel finishes his work and stands up, his gaze flickers over you one last time. There is something there, something you cannot quite place, but it’s enough to make you wonder. Could it be possible that there is more to him than meets the eye? Could it be possible that the hero and the villain might find some common ground after all? 

Probably not. It’s just wishful thinking. 

[mslanna]

Bent Not Broken

Tav "overstays" their welcome at the House of Hope after a long night. Such things have consequences. (sex, the consequences are 3k of sex)

Raphael, they/them Tav, Haarlep, Yurgir

Also available on AO3.

"You should leave." Haarlep's lips graze Tav's hair as he speaks. "Staying will do you no good."

But Tav is happy. Satisfied, curled up snug against the incubus. And whatever Raphael is up to, he is not here. Sometime while you were sleeping, he left. He doesn't need this bed of his incubus right now. And Tav is tired. They started the night exhausted, but now they are comfortably sleepy. The world, or the hells, are a good place.

"I mean it." The words purr through Tav's empty head without effect. Just five minutes; they deserve a little more warm rest.

Tav must have dozes off because a jerk of Haarlep pulls them back awake. The master of the house entered the room. Raphael looks at his servant and new toy curled up comfortably on the bed and shakes his head. "Has nobody taught you how to know you overstayed your welcome?" he asks.

Before Tav can answer, Haarlep clasps a hand over their mouth. Again, Raphael shakes his head. "No, by all means, let them dig their own grave." A cruel smile seeps over his lips.

But the paladin got the hint and stays silent. Only their eyes burn in quiet resistance.

"Have it your way." The devil shrugs and turns to leave.

Tav lets out a soft sigh, but Haarlep doesn't relax. Rightfully so. A minute later, Raphael returns with scrolls and papers in his hands. He sits down at a table with his view to the bed. A smirk wanders over his face as he takes in Tav's naked body pressed up against Haarlep's. He dips a quill into the inkwell and starts working.

As soon as Tav moves, his gaze fixes them. Tav swallows and freezes under the heavy glare. "Stay down," Raphael says. The soft words are an obvious command so Tav stays put, the comfortable position against Haarlep suddenly burns trails of worry into their naked skin.

The devil returns his attention to, paperwork spread out on the desk before him. His hooded eyes hide concocting plans, but it is too late to leave. Tav presses their back against Haarlep as if the incubus was protection instead complicit and Haarlep wraps a reassuring arm around them. Or is it keeping them in place?

Raphael ignores the tense atmosphere and gets to work. The quill scratches over parchment. Tav prays it is parchment and not something more sinister. They close their eyes and try to relax. Raphael doesn't seem to have taken offence. Yet. All Tav needs now is a tiny opening, any excuse, to slip away.

They doze away despite themself, caught up in the warm embrace and soft sheets. Haarlep's breath caresses their neck. Raphael's words startle them back into their precarious reality.

"Since you don't consider it necessary to attend to my personal needs on your own, Haarlep, maybe I can encourage you to do your job." Raphael looks at the incubus over a raised parchment. His brown eyes glint with a hard edge. "Get in there," he nods at Tav, " and get comfortable. I want something – soothing."

Without waiting for a reaction, Raphael returns his attention back to the contracts.

Haarlep doesn't hesitate. The arm holding Tav tightens while the other sneaks down between their legs. The paladin whelps at the sudden incursion and winds in the incubus' arms. Haarlep holds them close, fingers sure as they move over the clit.

"I told you to leave." There is no remorse in his words, only anticipation. "Now we will have fun."

Haarlep's touch send arousal through Tav's veins. They cannot deny the draw of the incubus that stokes their fire and elicits a small moan.

"Did I tell you to dawdle?" Raphael calls over, an iron edge in his voice.

Before Tav can make a snappy retort, Haarlep is doing his master's bidding. He thrusts into them from behind, cock grinding over skin aroused but not quite ready. One arm across their chest, the other over their hips, Haarlep rocks his cock back and forth at a leisurely pace.

"Hmm hm." Raphael comments. "That is it."

Tav shivers against the incubus. Their whole body reacts to its nature, smouldering into life. The slow rhythm only builds tension Haarlep doesn't pursue release, just a steady flow of arousal. The second-hand feelings Raphael receives are softer, dulled from the hunger Haarlep's cock wakes in Tav.

Time stretches in slow waves that heave Tav over the ridged cock. Their every inch is caressed with careful repetition. When they back up against Haarlep, the incubus tightens his grip to hold them still. Tav moans into the empty air. Each languid thrust promises ecstasy. Tav whines in their need for release, grinding clumsily in Haarlep's callous hold.

Raphael hums under his breath. He visibly enjoys the show and his work. The closer Tav is to coming, the more often the devil glances up at them. Glee leers in his eyes, drinking in the paladin's predicament.

At times the devil still pretends to be working instead of watching the thorough devastation of Tav. Haarlep keeps going fucking them slowly without intention of stopping or letting them come. His cock is the centre of Tav's strained world, moving gently but irrevocably. Tides of lust swallow them, spitting them out on the hard shore of reality with Haarlep dangling them over the edge of ecstasy.

It takes some time for Raphael to get his fill of Tav whimpering in unbridled want and squirming hopelessly against his incubus copy. The phantom of their cunt is warm over him, barely more than a gently caress. Agreeable but easy to ignore. The true delight is Tav's discomfort and primal need. Pleasure means little without power and a touch of pain.

"You may come," Raphael tells his servant, then adds with a nod at Tav: "But they may not."

Haarlep's fingers dig into Tav's flesh. He pushes forwards greedy to reap his own orgasm for once. But when Tav wails under the sudden onslaught, moans dripping from their lips mixed with drool, the incubus slows down. Mortals cannot deny his seductive nature. Any movement he makes, relays to Tav tenfold.

The incubus growls realising the task ahead of him. But Haarlep is undeterred. He grinds into Tav, measuring his strokes between his desire and their capacity.

Tav moans, lust unleashed in their body. But Haarlep has one master and one master only. He will do as told, especially with ecstasy for himself as reward. Raphael watches with eager eyes. Each desperate gasp from Tav's lips kindles fire in his dark eyes. Approval that entices Haarlep to press on. His cock moves through Tav with each ridge, crushing sensitive spots on its way. The arousal washes over Tav in a rising crescendo. But before they can break, Haarlep pulls back from the brink.

The hot breath trickling down Tav's throat is thick with frustrated desire and determination. Haarlep winds a knee under theirs, lifting their leg upwards. Cool air caresses Tav's sex. They are suddenly very aware of Raphael who watches with interest. His gaze burns into their soft folds, adding tinge of shame to the lust Haarlep feeds their body.

Red heat rises to Tav's face. A distraction, Haarlep takes full advantage of. He arches back, cock penetrating Tav deeply. The ripples framing the base cut into Tav's ass and the soft skin under their clit. A close miss that makes them groan with deterred passion. They are close to their climax, teetering on the edge, throwing their weight around to fall.

But the incubus is faster. Haarlep comes with a triumphant cry. He rocks against Tav in ecstasy pouring out pent up desire. Yet his iron grip digs deeply into Tav's flesh, balancing their dire need with pain. The paladin writhes, pressing against the incubus for an inch of better grip. But it is vain. Haarlep grinds out his climax, keeping Tav safely under their own edge of release.

Tav wails in frustrated passion, moving erratically to catch the softening cock at an angle that may bring relief. Haarlep pulls their head back against his chest, opening their front wide for Raphael's hungry gaze.

When the incubus is fully spent, he returns his fingers back between Tav's spread legs, caressing their desperately yearning clit. Tav moans, riding the elusive fingers in search for ecstasy and the high whine becomes an ambient noise.

"Is that any way to behave?" Raphael stands with a deep sigh and walks towards the bed. His eyes rove over the rumpled paladin, hitching on the fingers stimulating their clit. "You are keeping me from my work," Raphael admonishes. He traces a finger down Tav’s cheek and they lean into the touch. "What am I to do with somebody who keeps me from my work?"

Haarlep moves and Tav whines with need.

"Hm, yes. I think, I can do that." The devil catches Tav’s jaw between his fingers. "But a little punishment is necessary. I am sure you understand."

The only thing Tav understands is the index finger pressing into their mouth. They suck eagerly, transferring the small movements of Haarlep inside them into a vortex of want. Raphael chuckles but his eyes are miles away as he snaps his fingers.

Tav jerks at the sound but nothing happens. Raphael lowers a hand onto their head in a fatherly pat. The connotations make Tav squirm but Haarlep's fingers between their legs leave them no choice but to want. They suck on the devil's finger who casually adds another, exploring Tav's mouth at will.

When Tav wonders if this is how they will endure, once again on the edge of ecstasy, once again denied release, once again almost fucking the master instead of the servant, Yurgir slowly steps into the room.

"Ah, there you are." Raphael nods. "Your – services are needed."

When the devil points towards the bed, his subordinate drops his clothes unquestioningly. Tav’s eyes widen at the cock hanging between his massive legs. Striding towards the group, Yurgir strokes it eagerly, never taking his eyes of Tav.

Raphael plucks his fingers from the paladin’s mouth and pats their head. "Now be a good pup and eat up."

Yurgir needs no further encouragement to thrust himself into Tav’s mouth. They groan as the cock pries their teeth apart, straining the jaw down. Haarlep moves excitedly, and Tav moans into the hard mass blocking their mouth.

For a while the two fiends work Tav – Haarlep supplying maddening desire and Yurgir the promise of painful penetration. Raphael keeps his eyes on Tav’s squirming form, patting their head in a happily patronizing way.

When he sits back, the devil sheds his human form with a beat of his wings. Tav sees his erection from the corner of their eyes before Raphael guides their free hand over it. "Be a fast learner," he purrs, letting go after a single stroke.

Tav keeps moving their hand over the ridges that stand hard here while their copies simmer limp inside their bod. Their hand closes around his cock as if it was a lifeline. And Raphael rewards their efforts with occasional touches. His fingers slip lightly over their side before he dips them between Tav’s legs. He finds their clit and circles his thumb over it slowly.

Tav doubles over, ass rising into Haarlep, head bowing over Yurgir. Sensations of lust and pain mingle, driving them towards the edge.

"Now, now." Raphael stops all movements with a single glance. Tav lies shivering between the fiends, desperately unsatisfied and hurting.

"Make way, Haarlep." The order is cold, as is the air clinging to Tav’s raw opening as the incubus draws out, leaking cum and slick desire over their skin. To Tav’s surprise, Raphale pulls them out from between the other two. As the devil settles them on all fours, Haarlep changes into the paladin's form.

The incubus spreads wide before Yurgir, the copy of Tav’s sex slick, wide and waiting.

"You watch," Raphael says into Tav’s ear. He leans over them, hard cock already slipping into their hot cunt. "You learn."

Tav groans under the devils easy-going thrusts. Their eyes widen when Yurgir presses forwards, the echo of his huge cock against their already full pussy. Among all four, Tav seems the only one to believe it too big. Yurgir presses down hard and Tav cries with phantom pain.

Haarlep writhes and circles their hips under the fiend, inviting the intrusion. Maybe they are indestructible, but Tav whines under the pressure building between their legs. Raphael compounds the feeling by plunging deep, running the ridges of his cock over every sensitive inch of their inside.

When Yurgir enters Haarlep fully, Tav screams. They feel about to rip apart, insides filled to the point of explosion. They arms buckle, but as soon as Tav’s head droops, Raphael catches them by the hair, pulling them up to watch. His cock beating an eager rhythm, each choked whine from Tav exciting him further.

Yurgirs pulls out completely and for a moment Tav can breathe despite the relentless stimulation from Raphael. Then the large fiend places both hands on Haarlep's chest and pushes the incubus deep into the mattress as he thrusts back in.

Tav wails, unable to separate their lust from Haarlep’s pain. As Yurgir starts to fuck the incubus for real, Tav shudders in the rip-tide blazing through their whole body. Their muscles tremble, every cell of their body overstimulated by the pleasure and pain fighting for dominance over their nerves.

Helpless, Tav watches their sex getting pommelled by the huge cock. Even slick with want, each incursion hurts and drags along their insides like sandpaper and gravel. In the midst of this greedy pain, Haarlep reaches for the copy of their clit.

Tav collapses into the intense feelings that overwhelm them. Their hips push back against Raphael with primal need, and each breath bursts free in a loaded gasp.

Enticed by the pounding of Haarlep and Tav's reaction to the second-hand experience of it, Raphael guns for his own climax.

Once again Tav learns that everything in the House of Hope exists to please Raphael, and he delights in the ravaging of his newest plaything.

Haarlep on the other hand hasn't been told to rub their clit. It is a favour returned. The sheer hunger with which the incubus took Tav before spoke to the amount of release he was usually granted.

For Raphael power, pleasure, and pain were one. Seeing Haarlep trapped under Yurgir is enhanced by Haarlep rubbing fingering himself, adding more pleasure to the obvious pain. Filtered through the copy of their body, the effect on Tav isn't as uncurbed as putting his fingers onto their skin directly. But after being held on the edge of coming for such a long time, Tav has little trouble summoning their desperate need for release.

Replete with Raphael's quick pace and the shadow of Yurgir's monstrous desire, Tav opens themself to the experience. They lean into the feeling of clawed fingers digging into their hips and drawing blood; the soft trickle of liquid down their sides, and thicker slickness cooling between their legs where Raphael's relentless thrusts smears them every time he pulls back.

Their exposed clit shivers in the cool air under the phantom touch of Haarlep. The want fights hard with the ache of Yurgir's irregular cock crowding into the incubus. A cacophony of sensations whirls through Tav who can barely keep their head raised to watch themself getting fucked as ordered.

Finally, Tav surrenders to the deluge They work themself hard against Raphael who rewards their fervour with control. His claws dig deeper holes into their flesh as he holds them in place where he wants them.

"Please." Tav introducing power back into the mix. "Raphael, please."

The devil growls and adjusts a possessive hand at Tav's thigh. The index finger reaches down between their legs and the tip of it's sharp nail screeches over their clit. Tav presses into the pain, releasing the tension that mounted in them since first Haarlep thrust his cock into them.

The next scrape burrows deeper. Raphael draws blood but Tav barely notices as it overwrites the excruciating phantom fucking from Haarlep. They push down and the finger slips back towards their clit. It scrapes over the sensitive nub sloppily. Raphael is too busy getting himself off to care for Tav's pleasure.

But it is enough. Tav begs for more, leans into the fire rushing from the pinpricks the claw punches into their soft centre until their body shudders and uncoils the pent up lust in a fiery arch. A scream forms on Tav's lips and escapes slow and low. All their muscles plead for mercy, to crumble under the weight of delayed pleasure.

Tav yields to the demand of their exhausted body. Their arms buckle and Tav falls onto their forearms, moaning. Release and relief rush through them, punctuated by Raphael's cock that sweeps down into the new angle with renewed thirst. Tav keeps begging, unsure what for.

When Yurgir comes into Haarlep with heavy thrusts, the incubus finishes himself of, sending another wave of ecstasy through Tav. They writhe in Raphael's grip, squirming under the contrast of Haarlep's climax and Raphael's ongoing pursuit of it. Letting go of shame and dignity, Tav pleads and implores. Words of supplication and surrender break apart between their lips.

Raphael drinks them up. His movements escalate into an explosive climax that draws a low sob from Tav. The devil presses into the whimper, riding out his orgasm until the last surge. Only after he is spent and his cum already drips from between Tav's legs does he release their hip. Red spots of darkening blood will mark his merciless hold for days to come.

"Now you know what will happen should you overstay your welcome again," Raphael warns in a low voice that is gorged with satisfaction and power exerted. "Be sure you are ready for it."

He pulls out and leaves Tav to crumple into the sheets. The paladin gulps down air wrapping their head around the unveiled threat. Next time, it won't be Haarlep trapped under Yurgir. Tav closes their eyes and tries to ban the vision of his enormous cock from their mind. I hadn't been fun second-hand. They do not want to experience it directly.

But Tav also remembers how much watching that turned Raphael on. It might just be a matter of time, before the devil decides his new toy had enough of a grace period. Time to go. Tav props themself onto their elbows. The manoeuvre is wobbly, the drained muscles do not want to take weight again so soon.

But Tav presses on. They pull their legs under them and take a deep breath. Now all they have to do is get off the bed and maybe to the pool. A quick drink for restoration and they should be on their way.

"I think they understand their position now," Raphael says in Haarlep's direction. "Just to make sure, make them to come twice again before you release them." The devil levels a smug grin onto the curled up human on his bed. Then he returns to his desk, setting back to work and watch.

Power, pleasure, pain – he is the master of them all in this house.