#colors mix together nicer

[minionwater]

this is a good six months or so old but a while back a bunch of friends n I got so mad at the wasted potential in hh designs that I redesigned a bunch of them. this is one of the only ones I still like (probably just bc angel’s previous design is impossible to make less congruous) so you may have it now. I tried to stick to the show’s style as a challenge n it’s a lot harder than you’d think. the full List Of Things I Changed is in the tags :)

[trashmouth-richie]

this comes from @serasvictoria with this ask the prompt words were: pillow, caught, crush

18+ no minors, angst leading to smut, vulgar, eddie talks about his dick and steve’s 😌

2.1k // eddie x fem reader

your ex hears you’ve moved on; is he ready to let you go?

send me a prompt!

“Don’t be a dumbass.” 

Ringed hands were folded together, glistening from the makeshift dramatic lighting in Gareth’s basement. 

In the summer, Hellfire moved locations from one member's place to another, rotating every Friday to a different place. A new aroma to tickle one’s nostrils upon entering whichever home was the designated spot for the evening, to host Hawkins very own hell bound teens. 

Some homes were kept nicer than others, while Eddie’s trailer smelled like stale cigarettes and bong water, the Sinclair’s living room was pristine with updated furniture, smelling of warm vanilla and the smell of dinner still lingering in the air. 

Gareth takes another gulp of Mountain Dew, wiping the lime colored beverage from his lips. Belching on the spot. 

“Why would I lie about that?” 

Eddie shifts in the folding chair leaning forward— the chain from his waist clinking on the metal, “whatever man, don’t fuck with me.” 

Gareth grins, hands up in surrender, “listen dude, I’m just telling you what we saw,  no need to shoot the messenger.”

What Gareth and Jeff had seen weighed heavy on their minds. They had even contemplated on keeping it secret. The two couldn’t decide if Eddie should know or if it would hurt him— in the end Gareth opened his big mouth and blurted it out, in the most repugnant way imaginable. 

The painted tin container used to hold dice was crushed under the weight of Eddie’s fist as he hammered it onto the table. 

Jeff shook his head, sucking in a breath between his braced teeth, looking away from the soon to be manic Munson. 

Eddie’s temper ran hot when it came to one thing—and one thing only, you. 

Raking his fingers through his scalp, he kicks the back of his chair upon standing, ragged breaths in and out, eyes to the ceiling. You still had a hold on him, it had been months—and the only one who seemed to not be able to move on was him. 

He chuckled, pinching the inner corner of his eyes and shaking his head, “one of you take over as DM, I gotta go.” 

Bounding up the stairs before he could hear any bitching from his two longest standing friends, the carpeted steps squished under his quickened boot steps. Stealing a cookie from an iridescent colored decorative plate on the kitchen counter, Eddie stomped out the front door and to the paved driveway, starting his van with a flick of his wrist, pedal to the floor as he reversed onto the street, running over flower beds in his wake.

—

The daffodil warmth of the sun was high in the sky, a small stitch of wind blew the blades of grass gently, feathering the soft pages of your book every so often. 

It was a perfect summer day as you laid out on your driveway, ass parked in a tiny kiddie pool from your youth, blue in color, the flimsy plastic circle was filled with cool water straight from the hose. 

A few shots of spiced whiskey danced on your tongue and tangoed with the carbonated bubbles of the mixed in Coke, fizzing with each slurp from your straw, you don’t have a care in the world. 

Admiring your freshly painted nails in the pastel bubble gum shade he had picked out— it was a stark contrast to the ruby reds you had been accustomed to— but those days were long gone, and things were finally starting to look up for you. 

It had been four months since Eddie broke things off, claiming he needed ‘space to find himself’ and although you spent a majority of that time wallowing in ice cream containers and mopping up tears when you saw a brown set of curls, or heard the jingle of a chain wallet— you moved on. 

He wasn’t from Hawkins. Didn’t know of Eddie at all, and you preferred to keep it that way. You were never ashamed of the boy you loved for so many years, the only embarrassment you felt was the night he ended things like someone would end a call after placing an order for pizza. 

Like it meant nothing to him, like you meant nothing to him. But that was then, and you were happier now.

So when you looked up to see Gareth’s wide eyes staring in shock was not at all how you imagined your date would go. You had been caught red handed by his best friends, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he found out. 

Toes twirling in the water you bobbed your head along to the music playing on the portable radio, sunglasses perched on your nose— not a single care in the world. 

Until the music turned to something more familiar.. the screech of guitars and aggressive tempos, you could practically feel the warmth leave your skin as the dark cloud of Eddie’s van cast its shadow on your skin, parked in your driveway like he belonged here. 

By the way he tore around the corner and through the stop sign— you knew he was pissed. The clunk of his rings scraped against the paint as he reached through the window to open the door—still broken. 

“I don’t smoke anymore Munson, but if you’re offering freeb—”

“Who is he?” he interjected, in no mood for your joking tone. 

Sucking your drink until the ice clinks together at the bottom—whiskey making you ballsier than you ever had been—you finally answer, “Who is who?” 

He crosses his arms, trying to stay calm, although all he wanted to do was scream, “the guy, cmon princess, don't play dumb with me.” 

Staring at him you can’t believe the audacity of the boy standing in front of you, coming here, demanding to know what’s going on in your life when he’s the one who practically skipped on his way out of it. 

instead of stomping around and causing you a scene, you simply ignore him, “you’re in the way.” 

“Huh?” 

Pointing with a lazy finger to the sky you watch as his eyes follow, “don’t tell me you came here to bitch me out, you’re wasting your time.”

He leans in over your body so close that you can see the chocolate color of his eyes, eyes that you'd lose count of the times you’d stare into them. 

“I’m not leaving until you tell me who he is.” 

“Okay.” You say nonchalantly, unbothered. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah go ahead, stay. ‘s long as you want,” you push yourself up from the pool, standing in a string bikini that matched your nails, “I’ll be the bigger person here, and I’ll leave.” 

Water dripped down your thighs as you walked to the front porch and pushed the door open, ready to slam it shut and twist the lock upon entry—but a dark boot prevents your dismissal.

Rolling your eyes you try to kick his knee to get him to move but he wouldn’t budge, and you huff in annoyance. 

“Pretty sure this is harassment.” 

You ignore the way he walks in your house like he knew his way around, even though he did, your house was a second home to him for years.

Shutting the door with dramatic flair, Eddie leans into your space, inches from your nose, “just answer my question sweetheart— and I’ll be on my happy little way.” 

“You’re deranged if you think I’m telling you anything.”

He cocks his head and laughs like a jerk, mocking you.

“Thata more than likely, but I know better than anyone,” his eyes undress you, fingernails skating across your thighs, “how much you like it.”

You turn and shout over your shoulder, “go home Eddie— I’m not in the mood for this!” 

He barrels around you, demanding your attention. 

“Aww you’re not in the mood?” his voice dipped to a gravelly bite of anger as he put his hand over his heart, “my sincerest apologies to your feelings baby…but I somehow don’t give a fuck about your little feelings when I find out from Gareth that you were sucking some guy’s dick in the Starcourt parking lot.” 

Your face heats in embarrassment and Eddie’s eyes are glassy, coated with pain. You never wanted to hurt him, never wanted him to look at you the way he is right now. 

“Ed—” 

He smirks.

“I think it’s cute…honestly, still doing the same shit you did with me…” he moves to brush your cheek with his thumb, “I’m flattered.”

“Get out,” you bite back, making to shove him to the door but you’re no match for him. 

“D’dya swallow for him like you did for me?” 

“Get..” 

“He bigger than me?” 

“…out!” your shoves are fruitless against his broad shoulders.

“Last I checked Harrington was the only one who had me beat… unless you’re fucking him too.”

The slap startled him, but he knew he deserved it. The torment in your eyes was fueled by his words and he fucking hated himself for making you feel that way. 

He was hurting too, body shaking with rage and swallowing tears the whole drive here. But, when your tears fell on the apples of your cheeks— all his pain turned to gloom. 

“I’m sorry— I— That was a dick thing to say.” 

“Do you think getting over you was easy for me?”

“I don’t know.” 

“It wasn’t.. and truthfully I don’t think I am yet, but what fucking choice did I have?!”

“Babe—.” 

“I loved you, Eddie… I still fucking love you. Why isn’t that—”

His large hands clutch your cheeks, warm lips press into yours with a magnetic force you had forgotten about. Eddie’s tongue tasted like the tobacco spice of a camel, and a subtle hint of mint, and you devoured it like you were starved. 

He whispers and groans how he was so stupid, a real dumb mother fucker, and that he never should have ended it. 

Accepting his apology—for now—you pull him towards the couch, heels rocking on the carpet until they hit firm on the plush sectional, still lip locked with the man you swore, that you hated to your friends but your pillow heard a different plea ever since he broke your heart.

His arms wrap around your waist, fingers daintily pulling the string from your bikini bottoms until the soft fabric hits the floor.  His Hellfire shirt joins them before you both collapse into one another on the cushions, Eddie’s hair draped into your face hiding you both away from consequences and the reality of bad decisions. 

He breaks away from your lips to lick up the slope of your neck, and your head angles back in ecstasy. His body temperature was like fire against your skin, curling your legs around his back you couldn’t get enough of him. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Eddie grooaned, grinding into your naked cunt, his tongue kitten licking around your neck, working his signature hickey into your skin, “my angel.”

You moan feather light in his ear, fingers twisted into his curls. His hand works down your front, sliding between your slick folds with skills you swore only he possessed. 

He played your body like a guitar, knew how to tune you up, the proper way to hold you. A true expert of his craft— your pretty little noises would harmonize from the simple touch of his fingers, your sweet cunt clinching onto him like vice. 

“Missed that sound,” he chuckled, his bangs pushed up from the angle on your neck as you came undone, “so pretty like this… drunk on how I’m making you feel.” 

Your eyes were pinched shut, chest heaving from the breath shattering orgasm you haven’t had since you got dumped by him. Nobody came close to the way Eddie could do it.

Kissing him square on the mouth, you twist your tongue with his, massaging them together as if a flame could spark from the pink wet muscles.

Intimacy with Eddie felt like home, like a warm blanket straight from the dryer when you were freezing. A cup of soup to soothe an itchy throat. 

He melted into you, collecting each gasp you choked out with a kiss from his lips, doing a poor job of hiding the smirk on his face when your breath was stolen from his pistoning hips. 

New— but entirely the same, your bodies fell back into each other like no time had passed and he made up for what was lost, twice. Each time your cries rang out like music to his ears— his favorite song. 

You slept now, adjusting to his arm wrapped around you, a kiss to your forehead, and a new plea in your pillowcase— for Eddie to stay, forever. 

[love-fictional-ppl]

Heath Ledger’s joker as a bf

Pairings: joker x fem!reader

Warnings: language, joker (he needs his own warning) marijuana, blood, criminal activities🥸 smut, etc.

A/N: requested by my home girl😭🤞 (h/c) is hair color

SFW:

On the occasion he gives you a gift, just remember he didn’t pay for it

Both of you dying your hair together and then getting into a hair dye fight where in the end both of you are covered in green and (h/c)

Will force you to rob a bank with him atleast once

If, IF he showers he will make you join him

He smokes/takes Eddies so going to McDonald’s in the middle of the night is a routine at this point

Nighttime, dancing in the rain in Gotham together

Batman impersonations are your inside joke

Sharing your intrusive thoughts with each other and laughing about it like it’s the most normal thing ever

He will not go to the hospital unless he’s shot really badly so most the time he will have you help clean him up after getting into with Bruce.

If you ask him to do his hair or make up (not clown make up) he might say yes but only after a certain exchange iykyk

Will not tell you his real name until like 8 months into your relationship and he does it in the most random and casual way ever. It makes me giggle so lemme play it out for you😭

You’re sat at the table in the kitchen eating cereal while reading the newspaper, Joker sleeping still or so you thought.

“Jack.”

You jump out of the chair landing on the grown, on your ass. Looking up you see the joker standing in the doorway. You annoyed now half-shout, “Who tf is jack?!”

“Me,” he responds simply, “my name is jack.”

“Oh. Well next time don’t scare me!”

Randomly asks shit like “would you rather your brain in a cockroach’s body or a cockroach’s brain in your body?”

Does not filter himself in public so strangers do get details about your sex life

AND SPEAKING OF WHICH

TIME FOR THE NSFW PART

NSFW:

He definitely is a fan of doggy style, when you do doggy he like to put you in a chokehold

Likes to tie you up

He’s dominant that’s a fact, if you want to top him you gotta plead a little bit

Will ask to try new things a lot

Loves getting head more than giving it I feel like

Likes to cum in you or on your stomach

Overstimulation king 👑

Has a mushroom tip🫥

Tbh gives no fucks about ppl being around like he has fingered you in front of a train full of people

He hates condoms but doesn’t want kids so you better be on the pill or ready for the consequences

Degrades you and call you shit like:

“Slut”

“Whore”

“Cock sleeve”

“Cum dump”

But he also will mix nicer pet names in like:

“Pretty girl”

“Hot stuff”

“Sugar”

“Baby”

“Good lookin’”

He sucks with aftercare ngl

Most he’ll do is bring you water and cuddle a bit

Tbh that’s all I can think of😭😭😭

[freshstitches]

Last month, Sixth & Spring publishing reached out to me to review the new Short-row Colorwork Knitting book by Woolly Wormhead. Woolly  is best known for designing clever hat patterns that employ the use of short-rows to create dynamic shapes in colorwork. I've never made one of her patterns, but have long appreciated them as a sort of brain teaser. Each one seems to fit together like a puzzle of yarn. I've now spent a month with this book, reading through it and using it as a textbook to learn Woolly's signature short row technique.

The cover of the book has a frosted glass feel, which I think is nicer than a glossy cover. Three of the brightly colored stitch patterns are displayed along with the title. The book contains 50 stitch patterns and 10 projects. The yarn for the publication was provided by malabrigo so every stitch pattern is shown in beautiful tonal yarn. I also noticed a stitch key on the inside of the flap of the cover that folds out so you can look at it when you're working on a pattern. I love the consideration for the reader and the functionality.

This book is written like a workbook, it starts by giving you all the tools that you need to use to knit the stitch patterns then use them in your own projects. The first few chapters explain the short-row colorwork fabric, the chart system, ways of altering the motifs in the book and color theory. I was not left with any questions about the instructions. The next section of the book contains tutorials teaching the basics of short row knitting, the skills that are needed to complete the patterns are shown with photos. There's even a photo tutorial on knitting backwards - a huge time saver. It seems like Woolly and I have the same party trick. 

Next, I tried making a few of the stitch patterns with my new skills. The chart system was intuitive. The first swatch is the Sine Stripes pattern. The swatch in the book showed a selvedge, which I added on my swatch as well. Next, I tried making the Anemones motif. I did not add a selvedge this time, but felt confident using the lessons to shift the placement of the short rows. None of the short rows were changed,I just cast on extra stitches and practiced moving the motifs. I did not have a chance to try any of the "repeatable" stitch patterns yet which can be used in the round as well as flat. The majority of the book is spent on these adaptable stitches.

I didn't have time to try any of the projects, but noticed a good mix of different accessories. I appreciate the inclusion of multiple designers showing different perspectives and approaches to the Short-row Colorwork technique. The final chapter of the book explains different design considerations, inviting the reader to actually use the stitch dictionary portion of the text for their own applications. The properties of some of these stitches are unique and the lessons are helpful and explaining all different scenarios that may come up.

I always intended to get this book, and it definitely lived up to my expectations. It's incredibly thorough without becoming overwhelming. If you enjoy learning new things, this is a great purchase. It's currently available for  pre-order and will be available in the US on April 16th and in the UK on May 14th. More info is available on Woolly's website. And you can preorder a copy of the book on Amazon.

[fox-guardian]

I have thoughts and since I keep forgetting to draw it, I will write it out

✨️ fashion headcanons for the oiar crew ✨️

Alice (I've already drawn her but I'm adding it here again anyway):

General thoughts: she enjoys layers when possible, fits the "tiny top large bottoms" silhouette most often in her outfits, and tries to throw plaid/flannel into her outfits in some way as often as possible. It's a minor obsession. Jewelry-wise she's typically a silver girlie but is far from against mixing metals and likes wearing piercings with colorful plating

the oiar likely has a pretty solid dress code and I highly doubt she follows it, especially after having been there for nearly a decade

At work I think she keeps it relatively simple. Comfy flannel shirts and/or t-shirts, hoodie if she's cold, and maxi skirts or jeans. Sneakers. It's nothing super fun (the workplace doesn't deserve her at her most fabulous) but it's comfy

Jewelry is also kept simple, studs and plain rings for her ears (snakebites are a given). She also wears her fav bracelets

Outside of work she gets sillayyyy. Bit chunky jewelry, novelty pieces. More fun frilly skirts, some shorter ones. Her nicer outside-of-work looks are somewhere between "hippie" and "that one type of iconic fashionable older woman" she also wears makeup more often Outside of work

Concert attire varies but she gets more grungy with ripped/shredded pieces and band tees (obviously) and sluts it up with shorter skirts/shorts and cropped shirts

Fancy clothes are as 80s as possible. This woman owns multiple shoulder-padded button downs

Pajamas are usually basic sets (often mismatched) or just like. Old t shirt and underwear.

Sam:

General thoughts: priorities comfort and tries to stay comfy as much as possible. You have never felt a wardrobe more soft overall. He wears plain earrings and the occasional friendship bracelet, otherwise not much jewelry I also think he wears as little sock as possible (unless it's funny) (alice got on him for wearing socks with sandals one time back in uni and that's all he wore in front of her for months)

Idk what the exact dress code for the oiar would be, but assume he adheres as much as possible

Prefers soft cotton mocknecks/turtlenecks to crisp button downs, with a nice cardigan instead of a blazer. Trousers are sensible, but soft. He probably irons them

Casual outfits are. Very casual. Sweatpants and sweatshirts/pullovers.

Nicer outside of work outfits aren't very different from work outfits. Date nights might require jewelry (rings, maybe a chain or two). I think he's a gold guy

He does have like one nice suit for special occasions but he suffers through the stiff fabric

Pajamas are button-up sets or literally just his underwear.

Gwen:

General thoughts: this woman is so monochromatic to me. She's very "dark mode basic" if that makes sense. She's not trendy but her looks are always solid. Owns a lot of black. Most outfits are fitted and snug. Wears minimal jewelry and always silver (even though gold would look so good) has a secret love of nice vintage pieces

Work looks are professional and crisp. Pencil skirts, button downs, and a sensible sweater typically (its cold) and plan heels/booties. After having to flee from ink5oul her work wardrobe has graduated to Trousers And Flats For Booking It. Her "girlboss" outfit is a matching blazer/trouser combo

Casual outfits are still well put together. Enjoys miniskirts and tights (if she's feeling bold she'll wear tights with a pattern) and off-the-shoulder tops. Wears basic chokers and slightly more jewelry overall. If she's feeling balls to the walls INSANE she might wear a dark red lip.

She doesn't really have a nicer vs comfy casual wardrobe, so all that's left is special occasion stuff. A nice dress for get togethers with "friends". An especially nice vintage coat she snagged. These pieces might have color other than gray maybe.

Pajamas. Hm. I think she would either have simple button down sets or frilly nightgowns. She definitely dreams of having a nightgown fit for touring a haunted castle I think

Celia:

General thoughts: butch <3 she has learned she really likes the look and feel of a more masculine shape and fit to her clothes after getting a hard reset on her identity. She doesnt wear a lot of jewelry outside her ear and facial piercings, and it is all gold, and she also has snakebites but prefers studs (slightly less enticing for babies to grab than hoops)

Work outfits are nice. Vests and trousers, with the occasional cardigan if it's cold.

Casual outfits are jeans and nice fitted t-shirts. A denim jacket perhaps. I also think she works out in some capacity so there's shorts and muscle tanks also (no bras ever, shits shwangin)

Nicer outside of work stuff.... I don't think she owns any special occasion things right now?? She simply would not have an occasion/reason to have them yet maybe. Maybe she gets a fancy vest for date night idk. She'd probably signify This Is A Special Occasion with nice bracelets and rings. Maybe a neck chain.

Pajamas are usually t-shirts and lounge bottoms/comfy shorts. She is forced to be fully dressed lest she teleport in her sleep while half/fully naked

Lena:

General thoughts: this is already so difficult. I think she would dress very practically. No jewelry unless you count her glasses chain, no skirts, and only very short heels/flats. She keeps proper walking shoes with her if need be.

Work fits. She has a whole power suit in my brain that's just a matching white blazer and trousers, and then the red button down. The white is the biggest power move. I think she has a few of these in different colors (black and iron grey) but the white one is the main one.

Casual.... I don't even know man. Probably also practical over pretty. Probably only wears men's pants due to the pockets. Probably owns a very practical leather jacket. Whatever she wears, she does numbers at the lesbian bars

Nicer out of work clothes.... probably not much different than her work clothes. She may tolerate a dress if she needs to attend a wedding.

Pajamas: she either has the button up sets. Wears an old t-shirt and bottoms from a bygone era of her life and both are full of holes. Or she sleeps butt ass naked with a gun in her hand.

Colin:

General thoughts: office dress code can kiss his ass. He's comfortable but practical, and I think he enjoys graphic tees. He has silver earrings and maybe a secret body piercing but doesn't wear anything else visible. He doesn't really bother with buying new jewelry but wouldn't care about mixing metals if he did.

He wears jeans to work, graphic tees, and a button down so he can call it business casual. Sneakers also. Programmer socks (gift from alice) The jeans are ripped (partially from crawling on his knees dealing with the computers so often) and he patched them up. I think he's big on mending. Also sews his name into items he may leave unattended (thank you merch drop for this idea)

Casual isn't much different. Maybe no button down, maybe he keeps it for flair. At home he wears pants/trousers as little as possible I think. The programmer socks stay on tho.

Nicer outside of work stuff. He owns like one suit.

Pajamas: butt ass naked. If he's cold he just gets more blankets.

Teddy:

General thoughts: thank you alice for pointing out that teddy wears shades of pink im gonna eat this. I also think he wears gold jewelry and those would look so nice together so I am Extra Eating This. Beyond this I don't have toooo many thoughts? I think he enjoys fashion. Knows what different cuts of items will do for him. He likes piecing together a solid Fit even if it's simple.

Work fits include button downs and sweaters, with the classic argyle vest. I think he would enjoy a fun pattern.

Casual fits are practical but stylish, and I think he considers himself legally required to buy anything with Teddy bears on it that fits him. I think he wears light jewelry even on more casual days, he likes to sparkle a bit.

Nicer out of work fits. I think he owns a couple shiny button downs. Does it up with the gold jewelry, chains, rings, a nice watch, the woiks. He has at least one funky patterned pair of pants.

Pajamas: usually sticks to old tshirts and comfy bottoms, has like one button up set that's Christmas themed (twas a gift) that he only wears that time of year, and one (1) legally mandated teddy bear onesie.

those are the vibes. They are subject to change as we learn more ofc but here they are <3

[ax-killjoy]

☆ you think i’m pretty ??

synopsis ! 𖦹 : things that make them flustered <33

notes ! 𖦹 : school, art block, and writer’s block has been kicking my ASS.

Lo’ak, Kiri, Neteyam x Gn!reader

Lo’ak

It was something simple, something that not even Lo’ak knew he could get flustered by. Yet something just hit him right in the soul, making his heart melt, he felt warm, a blush over this cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

You had been teaching how to ride an Ilu, yet he was so fustrated. Why couldn’t he get this down ? If this creature was nicer than a Ikran, why couldn’t he ride it ? Irritation coursed through his body, his mind running almost a thousand miles an hour. As he falls yet again into water. The ilu almost laughing at him as it swims away.

He growls in frustration, angrily splashing the water as he wipes his face. “this is bullshit.” Lo’ak mutters, watching as you call for the Ilu again. You chuckle, resting your hand on his shoulder, caressing it slightly with your thumb.

“Don’t worry about it too much. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn this, Prettyboy.” You say ever so casually, petting the ilu and feeding it more fish.

Yet Lo’ak stood frozen, his tail up and his ears perked. “Pretty boy ?”

ﾟ*✩‧₊˚ !!

Kiri

Kiri has NEVER been one to have crushes. She remembers when Jake would talk about growing up with little puppy crushes, and Neytiri would explain about her younger years swooning over the male Na’vi.

But Kiri never really felt that kind of attraction, never felt the need to. She was too busy ! Her reckless brothers always did something stupid, leading her to heal them with her grandmother. Who she bickers with until no end, and she runs around the forest feeling Eywa beneath her feet and in the air, grabbing herbs for future salves. And if she wasn’t doing any of that, she was running around the forest with Tuk.

But now that she moved to Awa’altu, she had all the time in the world it seemed. She sat under water for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the colorful fish and feeding her ilu, staring into sand that hid small crustaceans. Now that she wasn’t busy, she had time to indulge in her feelings, indulge in her feelings for you.

The two of you had been wandering the island all day, it one of those days that neither of you had tasks. Planning this day in advance, making sure to do all the chores just so the two of you could run wild for the rest of the day. And now, it was almost eclipse. The two of you sat in the warm sand, watching as the night and day mixed, making a sweet gradient above. “You know, I could do this with you forever.” You say, and she looks at you. “Do what ?” she asks.

“This. Just being with you, being part of the land. I could do this with you forever.” You say, before looking back at the eclipse. And for the first time, Kiri feels a blush spread across her cheeks. Not a blush out of embarrassment, but a blush of giddiness, puppy love, and hope for the future.

･:* ೫̥♡*

Neteyam

Similar to Kiri, Neteyam was a busy bee. He ran everywhere, constantly doing different tasks and doing anything the people asked for. He was one of the best hunters for his age, constantly going on hunting trips with his father and other adult Na’vi, and coming back just to do more tasks. He sailed the skies and scouted for sky people during Operations, he listened in onto strategies for the War party.

And if there was ever a second that he didn’t have any tasks, he was playing with Tuk. Helping his mom with something, running around with his siblings letting them do whatever stupid things they planned. Only for them to get scolded by their father once they came home. A never ending cycle, a consistent and eventful cycle to say the least.

This was no different, you were another skilled hunter for your age. Jake had tasked both you and Neteyam to hunt together, to see who paired good with who, and to see what two amazing hunters could bring back. What Jake didn’t know is that the two of you made this into a game of tag. Whoever catches who first doesn’t have to carry all of the meat to the village.

Neteyam hid well into the trees, his breath covered by the sounds of strong winds and bustling trees. He had killed 2 animals already, thanked their bodies, and was ready to leave. Now he just had to see where you were to catch you.

Suddenly he hears a branch snap. Before he can turn his head, he feels something flipping him over, and his back hitting the soft soil. He lets out of low groan, he opens his eyes. The sun hitting his eyes, suddenly he saw your face above him. He feels the weight of you straddling him to keep him in place. You giggle and smile mischievously.

“Now you’re mine, tsamsiyu” you say softly, the vibrations of your voice make Neteyam’s ears perk up. Before Neteyam could even open this mouth you jump up laughing, “I won !! now go grab all the meat we got !!!” You cheered before running away.

He gets up, a raging blush runs across his cheeks to each of his ears, his tail swaying sharply. Oh Ewya, what did you do to him ?

ﾟ*✩‧₊˚ !!

Tsamsiyu - Warrior

[abbystanaccount]

My ratings and opinions on all of Abby’s skins featured in The Last of Us Part II Remastered! 

(An early review copy was provided to me by Playstation)

Abby‘s OG outfits are all cool and it’s nice to swap them out whenever! However, it’s not all her outfits. But they missed her long sleeve golfing outfit, which is a tragedy. 8/10

They fitted Abby’s younger outfits to her older body! This is exactly the type of tank top I wanted to see on Abby and it’s always been one of my fave outfits for her so I’m so glad they did this and it looks amazing. The little braid is also so cute. 9.5/10

But the polo just doesn’t fit good imo 4/10

The sunglasses are sick! I like most of the details added on the jacket, though some of the patches I’m a little meh on. LOVE that it says “Salt Lake Crew” on the back. I wish they changed up the jacket a little more but they get a +1 for using my favorite pants🙏 8.5/10

I’m mixed about this Badlands skin. I like that it uses her short hair, I like that it’s new models, but don’t really like the design of the outfit and the face paint. The skin is bad-ass dystopian looking, but it doesn’t really fit anywhere besides no return or the forest section. 7/10

80s. I love this outfit. I think it’s so cool and badass and all the details on it just bring the look together. It's not really something you expected but it just makes Abby look so damn good. I just wish it had new hair and some nail polish! Also love her necklaces are the Firefly tag and a bullet with "JOEL" on it. 9.5/10

Classic Naughty Dog tanktop. Idk, it’s boring SORRY. At first glance it looks so much like her og outfit with the colors. 5/10.

It’s nice to get some new colors out of Abby’s SB shirt. Some of the shirts look a bit nicer than others but I don’t like that they use her tan SB skin textures, because sometimes the arms and head get mixed up being tan vs pale 7/10

Overall, I was quite satisfied with Abby’s skins! There’s two especially that I love and other new options that I like a lot as well and look forward to using a bunch to take photos in! A couple things changed like a new hair would have really been a homerun but overall 8.5/10

[thatmexisaurusrex]

bucktommy and fate, please

Send in a One or Two Word Prompt

Ooh, nice choice of word! Enjoy! 🥰

Fate

"You gave me a tour of your place of work. Let me give you a tour of mine," said Evan as he brought Tommy into the 118.

Tommy snorted.

"I worked here before you came here, remember?" asked Tommy, but he was still following Evan through the firehouse.

"Things might have changed since you were last here! Like - they put a fresh coat of paint on the lockers last year," Evan pointed out, "They're still the same color. But the paint has been touched up."

"Riveting changes going on at the 118," snickered Tommy as Evan guided Tommy up the stairs, "Truly, there is nothing I recognize."

"Ha ha, very funny," said Evan as - as he noticed Captain Nash cooking breakfast, "Cap! Is it okay if Tommy hangs out for a second? It's his day off."

It looked to be pancakes.

Tommy remembered loving Nash's pancakes.

"Hey, Tommy. Nice of you to come around," said Bobby.

"It's, uh. It's nice to be back," said Tommy.

And it was.

It was nicer than Tommy expected. There had been so many bad memories at the 118 that he forgot that a lot of the last few years he had there had actually been good.

Better than good.

Kind of amazing.

And maybe Tommy had needed that change of scenery. But Tommy also liked coming back. Remembering that this place was good, especially under Captain Nash.

"Pull up a seat. I'll bring you both pancakes," said Nash as he kept stacking the pancakes up and pouring more mix into the pan.

Evan practically bounced over to the family table, all energy and excitement from showing Tommy of all people around. It was - it still surprised Tommy that Evan liked him that much.

Liked Tommy.

That Tommy could have someone so kind and wonderful in his life.

And as Tommy wandered over to the table, he laughed as he noticed both he and Evan reached out for the same seat.

"Wait," said Tommy, smiling, "Do you sit in my old seat?"

"What? This was your seat?" asked Evan, his grin growing even wider, "I didn't know. Do you - I can give you the seat - "

"No, take it," said Tommy as he sat next to Evan, "It kind of feels like fate, in a way. That we found each other."

Evan sat down, just - just gazing into Tommy's eyes. And Tommy couldn't look away.

"You know, I was once told that you don't find something good. You don't just find love or a good relationship. You, uh. You make it," said Evan as he took Tommy's hand, "And I don't know if it was fate. But I'm happy that I met you. I'm happy you took a chance on me even after that terrible date. That we choose each other every day. I'm, uh. I'm happy that we're making it. If - if that makes any sense."

"No. I get it," said Tommy softly, "I'm glad we making it too."

And Tommy just sat there. Watching his boyfriend sit in his old seat at the 118. Smiling at him. Evan smiling back. Kind of lost in this love they were nurturing together as they waited for Bobby to bring over the pancakes.

[jinxxsims]

Today I have a mixed bag of goodies to offer up to this amazing Sims 2 community! Under the cut, you’ll find preview pictures, more information, and the download link!

@daydreamingdrawerette requested a few 4t2 lamps, and here they are in all their glory... along with one I wanted for myself. In order from top to bottom, left to right...

Interrogation Illumination (Lighting > Ceiling) from Get to Work.

The Forgotten Saucer (Lighting > Ceiling) from Journey to Batuu.

Dollop O’ Light (Lighting > Wall) from the Base Game.

The Beamer (Lighting > Ceiling) from Get to Work.

In the Raw Industrial Table Lamp (Lighting > Table) from the Base Game.

As I said in my last post, @sofia-28tosi-blog had requested some 4t2 counters, so I did a couple more for her. This is the “Whittler’s Pride Kitchen Counter” from Cottage Living. All recolors are included... with a great big asterisk attached, which I will explain now. 

The mapping for Sims 4 counters is extremely different from Sims 2 counters, but in order for sinks to place properly in counters, the countertop can’t be remeshed/changed. I had to choose between 100% Sims 4 accurate aesthetics or functionality... and functionality is going to win every single time. Rather than use the countertop textures from Sims 4, I used the texture of @cluedosims / @shastakiss‘ Cluedo woods, but colormatched to the original Sims 4 textures. There is barely a difference in colors, and honestly... Shasta’s wood texture is nicer than EAxis’ in my opinion.

There are ten base recolors and seven countertop recolors (not all pictured). They are separate subsets... you can mix and match to your heart's content. Countertops have a clean and messy state. And as I already said... sinks will place properly. 

Thank you Shasta for sharing your resources!

This is the “VAULT Modular Counter” from the Base Game. As I said before... I sacrificed 100% original Sims 4 textures for functionality. I wanted a wood grain that was as close as the original as possible, which sadly made the Cluedo texture not a good match for these, but after some googling, I found a conversion of a floor by @fakebloood that was originally by PralineSims (you can find the floors here) that I used as a base for the texture, then color matched to the original countertops.

There are 15 bases and 15 countertop recolors (not all pictured). They are separate subsets so you can mix and match. Countertops have a clean and messy state and sinks place properly. 

Next up... I have the “Haughty Herringbone Fireplace” from Growing Together. It can be found in Appliances > Miscellaneous and is fully functional. All recolors are included.

Last, but certainly not least is the “Wub Tub Electromagic DJ Booth” and get this... it’s fully functional! Sims 2 DJ booths have a platform that Sims 4 DJ booths do not, and I honestly have no idea how to change that... so I added the platform in by cloning a 3t2 dj booth by FabulousZombie on LJ. I used their platform as a base (since the ones in Sims 2 are just ugly) and built atop it. The platform is not recolorable, but the booth itself is. Many thanks to FabulousZombie, and you can find their 3t2 dj booths here. 

All recolors for all objects are included. Each object is in an individual folder containing pictures of each recolor so you can pick and choose what you want. Make sure you discard the images once you’ve decided what to keep. Files are compressorized. 

Download Mixed Bag O’ Goodies

[rosedpetal]

Yours to Ruin

Summary: You reminisce your first encounter with Lloyd, while you come undone on his hands.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Wife!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut.

Author's note: this is a repost.

Minors, do not interact.

Masterlist

Thick cotton blankets and thin silk sheets sandwiched your sleeping body on the king-size bed, a contrast of textures you always welcomed. Warm hands crept on your skin, rough but still soft fingers brushing a hair strand out of your face.

You hummed in contempt when your husband's hands traveled your collarbones, slowly pushing the blanket away from your naked form.

"Baby." You whined, too sleepy to think about having fun at the moment.

Lloyd's low growl made your lips curl into a smile. You knew he wouldn't go away without a fight. He would do anything to have his way - not that you were complaining. He always made up for being bratty.

Back in his CIA days, he was a goner after you caught his sight. Little did you know, that you were a goner too. 

At first, you fought against his affection strongly. His reputation preceeded him, and you had enough of deranged men in your life.

Or so you thought.

The dress you wore made you feel like a queen. Black, long, hugging your curves and giving just enough to tease with a side slit that would be immoral if it were two inches higher.

Your lips were in crimson color and they left a mark on your glass of wine. While you watched Dani Miranda and Suzanne Brewer engage in an awkward conversation about a guy that was flayed alive by a new serial killer or something, your eyes fixated on their beautiful gowns and makeup, but mentally you were somewhere else.

Your sight strayed when you felt like you were being watched, and you weren’t wrong. Like a hawk stalking its prey, Lloyd Hansen’s gaze burned into you and you almost rolled your eyes. Denny Carmichael’s low whispering to the mustached man fell on deaf ears and you swore under your breath. You excused yourself to the toilette, and Dani and Suzanne nodded.

Why all of your acquaintances (you couldn’t say that they were your friends, despite relying on each other for the sake of your lives on the field) were so fucking weird?

A get-together of the CIA members would never be filled with lightness and laughter, only calculated words and cold gazes. Not that you could joke about silly things, living in a hostile environment for so long.

And of course, some of your colleagues were nicer (Dani), others were too quiet (Six), and the others were just batshit crazy (Lloyd).

You never interacted with him in your almost ten years of being an agent. You got your job pretty young, and while you were building your career, Lloyd was already famous for his twisted ways.

You needed to stay away from him.

When you were done and ready to get back to the party, Lloyd surprised you, waiting for you in the corridor, a smirk dancing on his stupidly beautiful face.

“Hello, sunshine.”

“Let me feel you, sunshine.” His hoarse voice pleaded and you felt goosebumps on your skin from the vibration of it so close to your sweet spot.

“My name’s not sunshine.” You didn’t spare him a second glance and walked away, cheeks flushed from the wine and lightheaded.

You grew irritated when you heard his footsteps approaching you, but you ignored him nonetheless. Then, suddenly, you felt his hand gripping your upper arm and yanking your body towards him. The scream died in your throat when your chest bumped into his, and your breaths got mixed. His cologne filled your nostrils with a hint of whiskey and mint.

“Been eyeing for a while. You’re something else, Y/N”.

You wanted to beat yourself up for the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins after he simply pronounced your name. 

Why did he know your name?

“Are you as fiery between four walls as you are in the field, with a gun in your pretty hands?”

You wanted to slap him, but you knew better. You knew better than to poke a sociopath with a short stick.

“Lemme sleep, you pervert.” You complained, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt his fingers trying to pry through your eyelids. You tried to move away from him, but he trapped you with his arms, rolling your body on top of him.

“Cat got your tongue, sunshine?”

“I wonder if you are the bastard everyone says you are, but I guess I just got my answer.” You coldly replied and jerked your arm away from him, losing your balance in the process.

He held you before you could slip from his grasp and fall. 

After that, you were a mess of clashing teeth and battling tongues. He groped you shamelessly while everyone were just in the other room, and he quickly trapped you on the bathroom sink you were in just minutes ago.

“I hate you so much.” You complained when you felt his lips attack your neck.

“And I love you. So. Damn. Much.” He said between butterfly kisses that trailed further down your chest.

You felt him on your stomach, and he was already rock-hard. Your husband’s libido and stamina never ceased to amaze you, and to your despair, his will was just as strong.

You were fully awake now. The clock on the nightstand and a few rays of sun peeking through the curtains announced the early morning.

You wanted to curse Lloyd. You were a sleepyhead. You valued your unconscious hours in a sacred way, and he knew that.

“I’m gonna make it up to you, baby. But I need you right now.” He pleaded, and at the same time he slipped a finger between your folds, smirking when he felt your wetness.

You let out a whimper and finally, you kissed.

His tongue tasted like you. Your lips moved in an agonizing slow way, navigating each other. You teased the roof of his mouth with the tip of your tongue and he let out a chuckle, pressing his thumb on your clit for punishment.

You cried out when his index finger suddenly slipped inside you, and you bit his lower lip with just enough pressure. Just the way he liked it.

He didn’t stop kissing you until you were out of breath, with smeared lipstick all over your face (and his), and your lips were swollen.

“Bet you taste as sweet as your tongue, baby”.

He went down on you, shoving your thong in your mouth to muffle your moans.

After your little encounter, Lloyd became so persistent and infatuated with you that he promised you he wouldn’t leave you alone until he put a ring on your finger.

And so he did. Patience was a virtue, after all.

“Stop teasing, honey.” You pleaded, positioning him at your entrance and sinking slowly for the painful yet wonderful stretch.

His hands moved your hips to help you get balance and his mouth attacked one of your nipples, flicking it with his tongue.

You moved at your own pace, preparing yourself for what you knew he was going to give you.

“Hmmm, someone’s lazy.” He mocked. You stopped your pace completely, and when he was about to say something, you snapped your hips onto his with vengeance, smirking at his contorted face. You sat and started bouncing on him, earning strangled groans.

“And I thought you wanted to sleep.” He teased and lowered his hand on your ass cheek, squeezing it before slapping the skin with force. You cried out and lost balance, falling into his chest. He took the opportunity and plant his feet on the mattress, pounding into you, and you couldn’t control the sounds coming from your mouth anymore.

“Oh baby baby.” You sobbed feeling his tempo increase, and without a warning, your grip tightened on his shoulders.

“Is my little whore’s about to cum, uh?” He asked. Your words wouldn’t come out, the high-pitched moans taking over you while he fucked you senseless. “Use your words, or I’ll stop.” He demanded and grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back.

“Yes baby, I’m so so close!” You cried. “Please don’t stop!”.

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. You wailed and came, impossibly wet, flooding his tight with your juices. 

He grunted and spilled inside you, still snapping his hips, prolonging his high and yours. He finally let go of your hair and you fell forward, out of breath.

You whimpered when he gave your ass another smack, feeling too hot and sensitive.

He pushed your hair out of your sweaty face and kissed your temple.

“I love you.” You stated, snuggling him, leg was thrown over his body, still on cloud nine.

"I love you too, sunshine.” He whispered in your ear and caressed your back, intoxicated in your little love bubble.

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #21

Chained Up ⛓️ / Silky Soft 💕

One day, in another world not far off, unburdened by such things as “lease agreements” and “student loans,” Marcille and Falin will live closer together. They’ll have a dreamy little two-bed full of plants and terrariums and soft colors, and they’ll take turns cooking dinner and Marcille will volunteer far more often than it’s her turn because cooking is her favorite form of magic and she likes knowing that Falin is well-fed.  

But until then, she’s stuck rollerblading across town with a dozen eggs in her backpack, precariously padded by a t-shirt, boxers, sleep socks, and tomorrow’s clothes. The grocery store near Falin’s place isn’t as nice as the one near Marcille’s, and the eggs there are always either sold out or smashed in their cardboard nests, so she’s resorted to bringing her own if she really needs them. Falin won’t eat them on her own, but Marcille can hard-boil the rest while she bakes tonight and keep them in the work fridge for her lunch all week. Her job at the university library — well, that and Falin’s graduate courses — are what brought them together in the first place; Falin is in one of those fancy master’s programs where they pay you to study, which is great because studying is objectively what Falin’s best at. Marcille is a good librarian but a better researcher, but research doesn't pay the bills.

Falin's got an evening class tonight, so Marcille lets herself in with the spare key under the large ceramic frog on the front porch. When they’d found it at a yard sale, its paint was grayish-brown and flaking off, and Falin took it upon herself to repaint it with a startling degree of accuracy as a North American leopard frog. 

She throws the eggs in the fridge, peels off her pads, leggings, and hoodie, and takes a quick, brutal shower — Falin has the nicer apartment but the worse hot water system — before changing into her comfy clothes and hanging her skate clothes on the couple feet of clothesline she and Falin rigged on the tiny back porch to air out in the crisp October breeze. Then she ties up her wet hair and sets up shop in Falin’s galley kitchen, separating her eggs, zesting a lemon, and lining up the other ingredients with their corresponding measuring cups and spoons. 

She’s made plenty of chiffon cakes by now, and she falls into the rhythm of it as she bops along to the K-pop playing from her phone. While the cake bakes and the rest of her eggs boil, she starts on a whipped cream frosting and adds a packet of the instant vanilla pudding mix Falin keeps around for emergencies to stabilize it.

By the time Falin comes home, the cake is done and frosted and the boiled eggs are safely ensconced in an airtight container, and fortunately the kitchen smells a lot more like the former than the latter. “Surprise!” exclaims Marcille as Falin steps toward the kitchen, and Falin’s face lights with a grin. 

“I didn’t know you were coming so early! What’s the cake for? It looks amazing.”

“Special occasion,” beams Marcille. “Guess.”

“It’s not our anniversary,” says Falin, puzzled. “That’s not for another couple of weeks. What’s today?”

Marcille takes her in her arms and pulls her in close. Falin’s current favorite soap is somewhere between basil and mint, green and leafy, and Marcille thinks she always smells like a bright summer day. “A year ago today,” she says, the tip of her nose just brushing Falin’s, “we held hands for the first time.”

“Oh, my gosh,” says Falin, laughing. “On the boardwalk? When I kept falling over on my skates?”

“Yes,” says Marcille, twirling her around. “We did technically hold hands, because I had to keep you upright somehow. And we decided it was technically our first date later! So it counts!”

“It counts, it counts,” Falin agrees. “I just can’t believe you remembered what day that was.” She drops her backpack by the door and kicks off her brown loafers. Her navy slacks hug her plump legs, and her cream-colored sweater has caramel-colored suede patches sewn over the elbows. A slim headband holds her hair back from her face, and she looks so cute and textbook-scholarly that she’s hard to look at dead-on. “Let me change and then we can have cake?”

Marcille nods. “Did you have dinner?” she calls after Falin as she starts down the hall.

“Cake is dinner!” Falin yells back, and Marcille rolls her eyes affectionately. Not that she can really fault her. Falin’s learned by now that Marcille is clinically incapable of serving her just a single slice of cake, and Marcille has learned, to her profound dismay, that Falin is deep in the habit of forgetting about food when she could be doing school instead. Hence the emergency pudding packets, emergency instant mac and cheese cups, and emergency Pop-Tarts in the cabinet. Marcille has made it her mission to create a life for Falin where she doesn’t have to think about what she’s going to eat because Marcille has already thought about it for her and made it appear in front of her, but it would be a lot easier to do from the same apartment.

While Falin changes, she rinses some blackberries from the farmer’s market in the park nearby and sets them out in a dish, then gets out the sparkling wine she specifically planted in the back of Falin’s musty liquor-and-specimen-but-mostly-specimen cabinet a few weeks ago. Tonight has been in the works for months, not because Marcille feels especially strongly about celebrating minor dates, fun as that is, but because that day on the boardwalk, the two of them dissolving into giggles as Falin lost her balance over and over again, was the day she knew that what she felt for Falin was unlike what she’d felt for anyone else. She wanted to go over every bump in the road just like this for the rest of their lives, hand in hand and laughing. 

Falin appears in the doorway just as Marcille is pouring wine into plastic champagne flutes she’s had squirreled away behind the baking dishes for at least a month and a half. She looks resplendent in a white tank top that shows off her pillowy upper arms and incredible boobs and barely covers her wide, plush belly. Her lavender sleep shorts are patterned with little dragonflies and only fall to the tops of her plump, dimpled thighs, and Marcille can see every pink stretch mark, every delicate fold on her soft, creamy skin. 

“The wine!” says Falin, pointing, and Marcille yelps as she realizes she’s pouring sparkling rosé all over the table.

“Shit! Ah!” She sets down the wine and dives for paper towels, and Falin grabs the dishtowel from the hook by the sink. 

“Well, at least it was cheap wine,” says Marcille, mopping up the spill and tossing the sopping paper towels into the trash. “Sorry, I was momentarily blinded by your beauty.”

Falin beams and does a little curtsy thing with the edges of her shorts. None of these clothes are new, they’re things Marcille has seen her wear a thousand times, but they still take her breath away. The way the shorts tug around the abundant curves of her hips and backside, the little hint of stretch-marked cleavage she can see above the dip of her tank top’s neckline, the way the fabric clings just enough for her to see each roll of Falin’s ample belly when she sits —

“Sit, sit!” says Marcille, scooting the less-full glass in front of Falin and heading back to the kitchen for the cake. “And you’d better eat some blackberries, too, so we can agree that this is a multi-food group meal.”

“Already on it!”

“Good.” Feeling grand despite her new-hire orientation university t-shirt, boxers from the men’s section, and slouchy socks, she carries out the cake and sets it triumphantly in the center of their little folding table. “Voilà!” she proclaims, and Falin gives her a smattering of light applause.

“Thank you, thank you,” she says, taking a bow before ducking back to the kitchen for the cake knife. “All right, say when.”

She makes the first cut into the cake, then moves her knife to signify a larger and larger hypothetical slice.

“Yes,” says Falin blithely when the knife has moved to about a quarter of the way around the cake. Marcille almost drops the knife.

“Really?”

“Sure,” says Falin with an angelic smile. “I didn’t eat dinner. I had a Pop-Tart for lunch. Why not?”

“I packed you lunch!”

Falin shrugs. “I ate it when I got up this morning. I didn’t feel like making something else.”

“I swear to god,” says Marcille, pointing a fork at her playfully. “One of these days I am going to get you eating three meals a day.”

Falin flutters her eyelashes — clumsily, which is all the more endearing. “Please! I would love three meals a day. I just don’t want to make them.”

Marcille grumbles good-naturedly and heaves Falin’s quarter of the cake onto her plate. “Thank you!” Falin chirps, sprinkling blackberries over it. 

She cuts herself a slice and waits for Falin to take a bite, and she isn’t disappointed when she does. Falin’s eyes flutter closed, and she makes a soft, tender sound that kick Marcille’s feet out from under her, even sitting down. 

“Oh, Marcille,” Falin breathes. “This is so, so good.”

Marcille beams. “Good! The way you looked when you tasted it is the way you make me feel.”

“How did I look?”

Marcille makes what must be a poor approximation of Falin’s pleasure, because Falin bursts out laughing. “Is that how I make you feel?”

“Listen!” yelps Marcille, but she can’t help laughing too. “Just take my word for it, okay? You made a really cute face!”

“Well, you made a really good cake,” Falin returns, taking a tiny sip of sparkling wine. “Oh, that’s nice! Fruity.”

“You’re nice and fruity.”

Falin wrinkles her nose in a laugh, but the gesture is interrupted by a hiccup. “So are you, but you’re easier to swallow.”

Clearly Falin did skip some meals today, because she finishes her chunk of cake in record time and pushes her empty plate back to Marcille. “A little more, please?” she says sweetly, and obviously Marcille says yes.

“Another quarter, or a … half of a quarter?”

“That’s an eighth,” Falin corrects. “But maybe another quarter. I kind of like the idea of eating half a cake. It sounds like it should be hyperbole.”

Marcille, unable to help herself, says, “You sound like you should be hyperbole.”

“Yes,” says Falin, palming her belly where it bumps the edge of the table, “I am subject to amplification, it’s true.”

She grins while Marcille makes disgruntled noises and plates her second piece of cake. Falin takes more blackberries, and she hiccups again when she takes another sip of wine. She tells Marcille how her classes went today, and Marcille tells her about the silent drama two students have been waging by taking out and returning the same novel with notes in it over and over again. 

Finally, Falin sets her fork on her empty plate and leans back in her seat, eyes closing happily. “That was so good, Marcille. Thank you.”

“Any time,” says Marcille, coming around to take her plate and drop a surprise kiss on her cheek. “Always. Did you have enough?”

Falin nods, resting her hands on the crest of her belly. “Mmm-hmmm.”

“I’ll wrap up the rest of the cake,” says Marcille, stroking through Falin’s hair. “You go get comfy in bed and we can cuddle for a bit?”

“I’d love that,” says Falin, stretching her arms over her head. One hand on the cake plate, Marcille reaches down with the other to jiggle the soft, perfect roll of belly that falls out from beneath her shirt.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it!” she says, dancing away as Falin laughs and grabs for her hand. “Go to bed! I’ll be right there!”

She wraps the cake at the speed of light and swallows the last of her wine, then practically sprints across the small apartment to Falin’s bedroom. Falin’s propped up on a couple of pillows, which is probably prudent given the amount of cake she just ate, and she looks so lovely, like it’s unfathomable that someone could have even invented the word lovely without first seeing her. 

Marcille dives into bed next to her, jostling the mattress enough to make Falin’s body jiggle. “Hi,” she says, brushing her flyaways out of her face. Falin laughs and cups Marcille’s face in one soft, warm hand.

“Hi,” she says. “Come here.”

Marcille cuddles up next to her and leans her head on Falin’s shoulder, one hand creeping under her white tank top. Her belly is so perfectly doughy, soft and springy like the beginnings of bread or buns, and Marcille wobbles gently as she lies against her, breathing in her fresh, green smell and scalp prickling as Falin strokes her hair.

She slips her hand just below the line of Falin’s sensible cotton underwear, where there’s the silkiest slip of skin Marcille has ever had the mind-melting pleasure of running her fingertips over. She sighs gently, and Falin’s body moves with a laugh.

“Did you find the spot?”

“Yeah,” says Marcille dreamily. She runs her hand down Falin’s thigh, carefully squishing the thick, dimpled fat at their backs, then walking her hand back up so she can start again. “Your body’s so good. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” says Falin, pulling one of Marcille’s hands up to kiss the back. “I love that you remembered which day we first held hands. That was a really nice day.”

“Yeah, it was.” Marcille idly plays with the soft flab of Falin’s upper arms. “I could have sat at that little ice cream shack with you forever.”

Falin nods. “I barely even noticed how cold it was because I was having so much fun with you.”

Marcille nuzzles her face into Falin’s arm. “You were the one who suggested ice cream!”

“It’s never too cold for ice cream!”

“Okay, okay, fair.” Marcille rubs her socked feet against each other, trying to warm them up a little. “Hey, I know there’s still a while before your lease renews, but —”

“But you want to move in?” asks Falin, eyes bright, and Marcille nods.

“I know we sort of talked about it a few times, but I didn’t want to —”

“Yes!” says Falin, sitting up a little straighter. “Yes, yes. Even if I have to pack everything up and find somewhere new, I want you to be with me.”

Marcille feels like that bottle of sparkling wine, thrilling and fizzing with pleasure. “Perfect,” she says, snuggling close to Falin. “I can’t wait.”

[this-is-fox-speaking]

my own attempt at “redesigning” some hazbin characters

(extra notes: i decided that everyone wears red for the most part because that’s the uniform color for the hotel. that’s part of why i didn’t change certain things like husk’s or vaggie’s clothing colors. - i’m 17 with the only character design knowledge being my own personal ocs, so of course, take my criticisms with a grain of salt! - everything is a bit poorly edited in terms of recoloring because i did this on ibispaint for fun.)

here are all the (re)designs together. under the cut is more info about my thought process and side by sides.

1. Husk

- The only things I changed were his pupils, the colors, and his tail tip stripes.

- I used his pilot colors because I realized they have a much warmer feel to them instead of the final design which made him look all greyed out and dead. Good for an old man, I suppose, but not good for when the inner wing is colored almost the same way as his fur, his pants, etc. Having these colors so dead makes him blend into himself too well, but changing the inner wings did a lot, I think.

- Gave him heavier lines under his eyes like eye bags, to replace the heavy fading eye bags that were in his pilot design.

- Got rid of the hearts next to his eyebrows. It felt like a bit much.

- In terms of his actual design other than the colors, I’m not mad about it! I actually adore the new pants and such. It was just the colors I had an issue with.

2. Angel Dust

- God, he’s so ugly to me.

- He looks a lot like his pilot design, but for good reason. I realized that the pilot design also had more warm colors and not bright neon pink, so I used those colors instead. I really just.. changed all the colors.

- I hate his fucking gloves. I hate them a lot. So I replaced them with his usual short gloves, but gave them back the little white tips in the show design just to be fair. I have no idea why they decided to make the lower pair of gloves white, as it just looks like they aren’t wearing any gloves at all, alongside them having no pattern like the top gloves. It’s the weirdest design choice in the entirety of this design, to me.

- I made his extra eyes actually look like extra eyes instead of teeny tiny dots.

- Gave him his tit fluff back. Like, why’d they get rid of that? It’s apart of him, bro…

- Gave him pupils, cause he looks better with them than without them. I even gave him two different ones, just for fun!

3. Vaggie

- Like Husk, I don’t actually hate Vaggie’s design. It’s the only one I have zero complaints about, actually. But I decided to mix in some of her pilot colors and traits to give her some sort of soft look, to mix in the loving girlfriend Charlie knows but also the ex-exorcist that she still is.

- I recolored her stockings, her choker, her (arm things?), and made her bow rounder, to try and tie in the idea that she’s wearing a uniform but also still wearing these softer things to be more comfortable. Again, just attempting to make her look less aggressive.

- Gave her an eyepatch so the X over her eye would make a bit more sense, design wise. Because we don’t see any form of scarring under there, I don’t think? I could be wrong. Would also explain how everyone else notices the X.

- I don’t know what the light pink middle was about, so I changed it to black.

- Recolored her sleeve frills to be white and gave her the same white frills on the bottom of her skirt. Honestly, I just thought it looked nicer.

[come-away-with-me87]

It Takes Two Chapter 5

Chapter 4 here

******

You eventually drifted off into a deep sleep, dreaming of going on a date with an ebony-haired, scruffy, tired-looking man.  During this dream, this particular man seemed very interested in you, grabbing your hand during your date, telling you how beautiful you looked, pulling you into a tender kiss right just as you were stirring and waking up.

When you did wake up from your dream, your face felt very flushed, and you were super confused why you had a dream about going on a date with and kissing Shouta.  First of all, he hardly liked you, let alone in that way.  Second, he didn't strike you as a dating, hook-up or relationship type guy.  You never heard Hizashi mention any previous girlfriends, even when they were in high school together.  Not that it doesn't mean he's never had one...he just didn't strike you as the type.  He seems too invested in his work and his students.

You shrugged your shoulders, and just chalked the dream up to your brain playing tricks on you.  It had to be a mix of Nemuri telling you she was trying to set you up with Shouta, and actually being asked out by Kenzo.  You pulled your phone up; holy shit, it was already 10:00am.  You slept in late.  Well, that's what you get for staying out late with your friends.  Despite the apparent setup, you had a nice time with your friends last night, so it was worth it.

Saturday went by uneventfully; you mostly did chores around your apartment.  By the time Saturday night rolled around, you received a text from an unknown number: "Hello Y/N, this is Kenzo from the bar."  You smiled down at your phone and replied, "well hello back to you!  It's nice to hear from you."  You two texted back and forth for a little while talking about how your weekend was going so far.  He eventually asked you about the date, "would it be too forward if I were to ask you out to dinner tomorrow evening?"

Wow, he moved quickly.  You replied back to him, "not at all, what were you thinking?"  He said that there was this nice restaurant downtown he would like to take you to and get to know you more, and you agreed to let him pick you up at 5:00pm at your apartment tomorrow evening.  "Great, I'm really looking forward to seeing you again, Y/N :)" You couldn't help but smile down at your phone again.

You instantly went to your ongoing group message with Hizashi, Nemuri, and Toshinori.  "Guess who has a date tomorrow night, guys!?"  Hizashi was the first to reply, "nice, that dude from the bar?"  Nemuri instantly followed up with "happy for you, Y/N."  You replied to both of them at the same time, "yep, Kenzo from the bar.  Thanks, I appreciate it."  Toshinori texted back a few minutes later, "be safe, young Y/N."  You laughed; what a typical Toshinori response.

Late Sunday afternoon eventually rolled around, and you began to get ready for your date.  Since you were going to a nicer restaurant, you opted for yet another black dress (what could you say, you loved the color black).  This dress was form-fitting, sleeveless, went down to your calves, and had a slit that went up right to your thigh.  You decided to wear the same pair of red kitten heels you wore to the bar on Friday night, and did your hair and makeup the same way.

After you were finished getting ready, you were suddenly very nervous.  You have had boyfriends in the past, but it's been years since your last relationship, let alone going on a date.  You were afraid you were going to be a little rusty.  You tried to shake that thought out of your head; you were smart, nice, pretty, and then some.  You could hold up your end of a conversation with anyone, especially a man you were going on a date with.  

Right at 5:00pm, there was a knock on your door.  You already gave him points for promptness; you liked that.  You opened your door, and there stood Kenzo, looking as tall, blonde and gorgeous as he did the other night.  He handed you a bouquet of roses and stated, "wow, I didn't think it was possible, but you look even more stunning."  You blushed, and let him inside, "come on in Kenzo while I find a vase to put these in." 

******

To be continued...

[oceanlipgloss]

MEAN

RONOVÉ.

+ warnings: elements of gore and violence, themes of acrotomophilia (mixed with a teaspoon of fluff; squint to taste :P)

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

Limbs looked better when they were scattered.

He thought they were nice that way, cut off from helpless bodies, bloody on battlefields—but their anguished ex-owners didn't understand, of course, how without them they looked so damn sexy.

God put together his beings out of heads and torsos, arms and legs, hands and feet. Some beings, though, had different perspectives of what they deemed appealing.

He liked pretty things—but he also liked figures ripped free of their limbs. He liked limbs sans hands and feet, hands sans fingers, feet sans toes. A grotesque form of beauty that he creates like a mad scientist, like a lunatic. A loot of colorful meat, a palette of reds, whites and pinks.

But there was someone who somehow still appeared lovely with intact extremities. As in, he thought the appendages complimented her looks. She was beautiful just like she was. 

Is pain beauty, or is beauty pain? They say both. True in most cases, but this human was such an exception. There was no need to subject such a sweet soul and its delicate flesh to so much agony in exchange for erotic satisfaction momentary.

In fact, he wanted to take her soft hands in his big ones and let his eyes drink in all their details from behind dark lace—warmth, texture, patterns, bones, fingers, nails. Maybe even paint her nails. He only had black polish in different shades, but that way they'd match. Would be cute. Even nicer to look at, too. He wanted to hold her dainty feet in his palms and study their structure.

He liked pretty things—but he also liked her as is, with that gorgeous face and those nice limbs. And pretty things shouldn't be eliminated, so why would he ever be mean to her like that?

+note: a daily chat was my inspiration. Ronové is a twisted sweetheart who likes cats, and I love him for that. Also, he's hot.

+ MASTERLIST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[cal-1maf]

I spent the last week painting up my first group scheme. I present to you, Tengu Lance of the Draconis Combine's 1st Genyosha regiment! Plus, a bonus Mongoose!

Fortress was out of Genyosha decals so I tried my hand at painting my own. I think they turned out well, all things considered.

The Genyosha struck me as a good choice to take advantage of the paints and decals I already had in combination with the high number of C3 capable mechs in the Comstar Command II pack. Rounded out with the other mechs in the pack, I have a decent base for Lance building on game day, and I can swap mechs in and out as situation and BV budget allow.

I did learn a few more things with these guys.

1. If you're new to mini painting like I am do yourself a favor and buy the appropriate shade for your base color. Sure, I saved money by mixing the grays myself, but it was more of a headache than I would have liked.

2. If you keep your cockpit and laser highlights consistent with each other it really pulls together much nicer.

3. See number 1 but for washes. I did the heat stressing on the laser housings by thinning down blue and red paints. I could never get the purple as thin as I wanted it and unfortunately I can see it in the final product.

4. Look up hazard colors. Red is for heat danger and yellow is for general danger/crushing/no step. I had it backwards on my previous minis and it's going to keep bothering me. This is not really necessary but I like minutiae so

5. Don't be afraid to be ambitious. I over reached a bit with the samurai detailing on the Crab (I felt inspired by heikegani, crabs that have a pattern on their backs that look like stylized faces) but the worst case scenario is you can paint over it. In fact, the one you see above is a second draft.

6. Grab multiples of brushes you use often. I shredded my large brush a bit with textured paint and it was tricky to keep stray bristles from messing up the shading while dry-brushing. It made it much easier when I picked up a replacement. I've retired the old one to base coating only.

[minnesota-flag-tournament]

This is the tentative result of the most recent committee meeting on the flag. The committee has narrowed the finalists down to just F1953, but are debating changes to the star and the colors, as you can see in the photo.

To jog your memory, here's the original F1953:

IMO, the star on the committee's version is significantly worse. I also strongly prefer the order and shades of the stripes on the original. I think picking F1953 was the only good choice of their final 3, but I was really hoping they would leave it alone or change the star to the starflake from F29. Hoping they come to their senses before finalizing it but I think we're going to get a butchered version as the final.

What does everybody else think?

I like the order of the colors on the new version, I think it looks nicer with the white in the middle, but I think the colors could be a little less bright. Idk though, I like the less dark versions of the original colors, the first colors were kind of awkward with the bright blue and navy blue mixed with the emerald green. I think the new colors work better together. I prefer the original star but I don't mind the new one. I like that they made the dark blue area smaller and it looks like they have a larger angle on it as well, which I also appreciate.