#either three layers or a very heavy coat

[ultipoter]

The headcanon of immortal Volo and his Very Old Togekiss live rent free in my brain

[fatuismooches]

Your fluff writing is soo good! Thank you so much for making this blog.

Can I request headcanons for Dotorre, Pantalone, and Capitano with a reader who's not used to the cold? I just moved from my extremely warm country to a really cold place, and am sniffling, shivering, and miserable 🥲🥲 If only there's someone to cover me in a boyfriend jacket and hold hands with something to keep me warm 😔😔

Dottore once went through the same thing, moving from Sumeru to Snezhnaya definitely affected him in the beginning. His younger self grumbled throughout his experiments as he was bogged down with the heavy winter coat (that Pierro so generously provided) while the native Snezhnayans felt pity for him, but dared not to look at him with that feeling. It was really a hindrance in the beginning, not even gloves could keep his fingers from stiffening. A big disappointment since he needed steady hands. However, a couple of centuries and body modifications later, make it so the cold is nothing special to him or his segments. It really doesn’t affect them much anymore.

So for once, Dottore can actually understand what you’re feeling. And even more surprisingly he can handle the situation in a relatively normal way! You look kind of ridiculous with the amount of layers he's made you wear, but he insists that this method will work. You'll build up resistance eventually! But you're probably not satisfied with this turn of events (you wanted cuddles, didn't you?) so just head on over to his segments. As long as they're not busy, feel free to take their artificially heated-up hands and move them around your body. It will feel very nice. Lucky you, who needs expensive heaters when you have the segments! But honestly, no matter how cold you are, don't give too much attention to them and neglect the original Dottore! Would he turn off the lab's heating and assign tasks to the segments to make you crawl back to him begging for warmth? Well, that's up to you.

Pantalone will not hear of your shivering and sniffling, no, not on his watch. What did you expect, that he'd let his beloved suffer like this when he has all the remedies at his fingertips? There's not much to say really. Thick, cozy blankets. A delicious hot beverage of your choice and hearty soup by the fireplace. Only the finest heaters in Teyvat. Warm, comfortable clothing. A seat on his lap if you prefer rather than the bed. The amount of things he does for you may have you feeling a little too hot, not just from the number of heat sources but his willingness to do all these things for you. (But please don't overheat.) He won't stop until your hands stop being two blocks of ice. And yes, you can steal his coat if you so desire. He has a lot more, don't worry about it. Hell, steal two or three if you like... one to wear, one to place over you, and one to... hold? Doesn't matter, Pantalone encourages it. And although he doesn't like seeing you cold, of course, he thinks you're just far too cute when you give him the puppy eyes for much-needed warmth and attention.

A part of it also stems from how many days and nights he spent cold and alone as a child, with nothing and no one to keep him warm. Often becoming sick from the conditions. So he knows exactly how it feels to be trembling and miserable. Which is why he will never let you suffer similarly, Pantalone cares for you far too much for you to ever endure anything related to that. He will make sure to keep your hands warm, as long as you keep his heart warm too.

Capitano feels quite glum, even though you can't exactly see that from his expression, you manage to read his general body language quite well, not to mention the stare you get when you sniffle for even a second. He himself doesn't feel the cold much either, being the very strong man he is. But Capitano wants to help you, he really does - he has led troops through all kinds of weather, including the biting cold - so he is aware of methods used to retain as much warmth as possible. So yes, he will make sure your closet has much warm clothing, although he has to awkwardly clear his throat when asking for your sizes. He will get confused as to why you steal his massively oversized clothing instead. He will make sure that soup is nutritious enough to keep your strength up (even though you're not a soldier...) Of course, the bed will be your cozy warm haven, the blankets are very nice and big considering how tall Capitano is.

Considering how Capitano isn't all that versed in things like this or taking care of people, you would thank him for all he's done for you. Except that he's forgotten one thing, you'd tease. Externally he looks the same as always. Internally he wonders if he's messed up and if he's upset you. Was he wrong to apply the logic of being a captain to his relationship with you? No, it's merely the fact that he has yet to cuddle you. Oh. That's all? But wouldn't all these blankets and sheets be better at warming you, your husband questions? Nope, you'd shush him before making yourself right at home and his lap. You are very strange, Capitano thinks.

Also just imagine them with their Harbinger coats, and you're inside of it! Stealing the warmth! Your head popping out as they give you kisses! <3

[buglism]

Any chance we can get a sfw alphabet for Vere from Touchstarved?

(I like to put characters who probably aren't familiar too with non-sexual intimacy into situations where they get to experience non-sexual intimacy lol)

SFW abcs (A-C) with Vere from touchstarved!

A/N: the ABCs for both SFW and NSFT (not featured in this work) are made by me! Please credit me if you use them! Also! I love vere, I love complex characters with gray or dark morals who have their moments of humanity so much <3 this can be read as either romantic or platonic!

Feel free to request the rest of the SFW alphabet, this was just super long as is! Lmk what you think <3

Warnings: canon typical CWs apply, vere being���vere. Possibly ooc as this is my interpretation based on the two routes I’ve played so far (need to do the last one), nongendered reader, ‘friends’ to friends to possible lovers implications, platonic intimacy with implications of possible romantic feelings, but keeping with the macabre theme of the game.

A = Affection (how do they show affection/ / prefer to receive affection?)

Give:

Vere shows his affection in blunt ways, threatening you, flirts, empty promises of truth hidden under his silken tongue. We all know and have experienced Veres light switch tendencies with MC so while threatening you initially was for fun, sick thrill of the hunt, after a while you notice a change, he hopes you don’t focus on the way he gifts you long sleeve gloves that fit unsettlingly well to your cursed black flesh (of course and very in fashion) as the sun rises on your birthday, he disappears into the small crowd starting that surrounds the alley near the wet wick before you can register what’s happening, eyes tired as you resist the urge to smile, maybe being awoken so early wasn’t so bad.

Or the way your cape, which has been frayed and torn in multiple spots, truly almost strings in a certain someone’s opinion, is suddenly replaced one day after a heavy night of drinks and laughs at the wet wick, you don’t remember losing your original cape.

Thinking through the fog and hangover you remember wearing it at the bar, chatting away with someone, and then suddenly you were being guided to your room; slightly (extremely) drunk. Your brows furrow as your covered hands rub the new cape, thick outer layer feels breathable and expensive fur lines the entire inside, a heavy thick wool coat a dark gray is soft to the touch and feels warm, the hood has a fabric mask that feels like satin and covers everything from your nose down.

As you fiddle with it, lost in thought, you find clasps; the inner fur can be removed for warmer weather. Suddenly as you swear your face grew warm you remembered the smell of..something sweet and spiced.. you shake your head, pain settles into your skull and you decide it best left for another time. You don’t question as you inspect the jacket (can never truly fully trust the damn man, with how black and white he seems to be at every turn) the way he, somehow or by choice, left his initials in pink thread on the inside of the heavy fabric, either.

Receive:

he adores gifts, but of course he does, less work and hassle for him to do and who can so no to free stuff? Banter and borderline threats as well, the way your eyes went pinprick when his teeth grazed your throat sent primal shivers down his spine, the night you met.

Sex? Of course, with not much else to do what’s a guy to do? He would probably be surprised (and depending on how close you are) slightly annoyed if you refused. He wouldn’t kill you, not now at least, but it would set him on edge, if you don’t want sex and you don’t want his money what else are you after?

But something he will never admit is quality time, pebbling and loyalty really sink their claws into his (hopefully not three times too small) heart.

The way you often join him at the bar despite his insistence he hates the alcohol, but booze is booze he says and you notice how his posture slowly sinks as the nought goes on, his ears; while still alert, no longer stand like daggers listening intently. It’s not the alcohol, at least you think, that makes him seem so … human in the wet wicks dim light, when he laughs and hiccups or nearly falls off the barstool (again.)

Or how he refuses to acknowledge the way his eyes watched your figure swim through the crowd before declining to his hand, where a bag of assorted flora and fauna was held. ‘I accidentally took too much’ you said, fighting back an awkward chuckle ‘I figured out of everyone you’d enjoy having some’ your voice lingered in his brain as his ear twitches in annoyance, trying to stuff the disgusting and .. human emotions building in his chest.

Maybe you do finally acknowledge it, in a way, one night and after way too many glasses of wine and champagne you’re one of the only one willing to walk him ‘home’. if you could call the tall spire with secrets buried under mystery and danger a home to anything.

He leans into your frame, and somehow you hold as he giggles drunkenly into your ear, eyes trained on your reaction with almost feverish intent. His lips meet your skin and for a moment you feel the familiar strike of fear down your spine, he almost looks like he’s ready to strike before he sighs deeply, something strange flutters through his eyes and he settles into your side. His hair uncharacteristically a mess and the collar softly clanked in the darkening sunlight and abandoned street, he’s lost in thought as you two walk.

Just as you made it to the bridge and further from lowtown you felt his breath on your ear as he stops walking, his hands resting on your hips, turning you to face him as he leans forward and presses his forehead into your shoulder, shocked and afraid you’re stiff in his hold before you hear faintly “if you ever betray me, I’ll fucking kill you.” and before you know it he’s walking up the bridge, seeming more sober than before, almost at his usual confidant stride.

You stand there for ages it seems, deciding however it’s better to retreat into familiar territory lest a soulless find you yet again, you walk home. A strange sense of trust and something new bubbling in your chest.

Should it be fear? Or something somehow darker?

B = Best Friend (how are they around people they are close with? How would you know?)

There’s evidence vere can become close with someone, or at least was able to, given how much he seems to know about Ais in a .. . Definitely normal way. As well as a few others. You’ll know when his advice becomes less and less harsh jabs with intent to kill with harsh realities and slowly he begins dripping ways he may be able to relate to you.

Example:

You: “kauras is driving me nuts-“ (his care and lack of seeming any leeway into becoming closer than arms length are overwhelmingly frustrating sometimes)

Vere: “. . . Have you been deaf the entire time? Or are you too stupid to comprehension any of what I’ve been telling you?”

To

You: “why are we walking in circles?” (You’d become overwhelmed inside the crowded bar, bloodhounds being loud was enough let alone how humid the damn place got)

Vere: “25 minutes.” (As smug as can be, looking for any sort of reaction out of you)

You: “what? . . “ (confused as ever, passing the wet wick for what seems like the fourth time)

Vere, slightly annoyed: “25 minutes it took for you to notice. Besides, it smelt like dog shit, figured you wouldn’t mind some fresh air away from. . That.” (That’s all, he tells himself, however truthfully Leander was annoying him with more of his ‘drinks’ and you were the only one within arms reach that wouldn’t annoy the fuck out of him.)

C = cuddles (how are they when physically affectionate? Are they at all?)

Vere when physical intimacy is involved it’s usually to get a reaction, or gain something in return. And who can blame him? He’s been property for as long as god knows. He’s learned his skill set for a reason, and in his own words ‘ I’m very good at what I do ’

That’s all, that’s all it would ever be. But again, he hopes you don’t notice his leniency for you. You push a lot of buttons, and sometimes you push them well. But in some fittingly dark way..

As a totally yk hypothetically made up situation:

you’re at the wet wick one night, at the bar talking (being annoyed by) Ais when vere arrives, instantly vere with a confident stride heads to the bar. And let’s say some time later, and several drinking games, you’re shitfaced. But, the wet wick is slightly tamer now, the crowed settling for the evening once again. You and vere sit in a booth (having moved away from the bar at vere’s request when Leander wanted him to try a new shot called ‘the guzzler’ that had pink chunks of . . Something in it.) and the silence is enjoyable, vere is mid sip of his glass when he feels you suddenly lean into his side. At the contact he stiffens for a moment, observing you as you cuddle into him for warmth. Somehow, seeming to have lost your cape.

Something in his brain struggles for a moment, here he has the perfect opening to see what’s underneath your bandages, to figure out what the fucking fuss is about.

But another part speaks a little louder he finds, despite how tight his clenched jaw is as he chugs the rest of his wine and thinks about asking for another bottle.

As you settle against him he sighs, lifts you up slightly and encourages you to lean on him. Seeing this as an ample moment for more heat to your somehow cold body you wrap your arms around his midsection, even in this state careful not to disrupt your coverings, no longer bandages, but gloves. You sigh with a giggle as he grabs something, possibly his own jacket off the back of the booth as you leave, heading back to your loggings in the wet wick.

He doesn’t say anything, neither do you, but you notice he stands closer now, and once; when a little tipsy you leaned against him, and despite realizing and trying to move he leans into the touch.

It’s a mutual agreement then, more a challenge.

How far are you both willing to let the other go?

[smooth-perceval]

“My love, my life.”

“We are going to be just fine…”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

PART ONE

Max Corner

Summary: Max and reader crossed the line in their 3 year friendship, resulting in 2 positive pregnancy test. And 1 baby on the way.

Warnings: 18+ you could say smut- but it’s not very ‘Smutty’ maybe if you squint, pregnancy, swearing, Google translate, Lando being Lando, no proof read.

Key: Y/N (your name), Y/L/N (your last name), biscuit= Cookie, Lando and reader are friends for about 4 years.

Word count: 2,949

A/N: Thank you for the votes 🖤 It has motivated me to now write something 🙂 I’m seeing how this goes, I might even turn it into a series. Anddd I love dad max 🖤

The soft moans, and whispers of each others names was all that painted the walls of the vanilla hotel room. Us both sinning beyond hells gates… Something so wrong feeling so right- like we was both made perfectly for each other.

You could say it was the drink… or the pent up sexual attraction we both craved so badly from one another… either way we both bathed in the moment, showing one another what 3 years worth of “friendship” really meant.

The little touches and glances go along way… they turned into flirty comments and kisses so close to the lips if either had tilted our heads we would’ve been where we are now a lot sooner… Tonight, it turned into Max kissing that little more over, lips brushing slightly. Both breathing heavily questioning wether to go in for a second. And I did, I took the chance to grab him by the collar kissing him. Not just the once though, it turned into three or four little kisses before Max was pushing against the wall and shutting the door blindly.

So we could say Max is to blame here, Max is the reason I’m biting down onto my lip, suppressing any noise he is causing me to make- His blue eyes had me pinned, scared to turn away incase I lose this feeling- this intimacy, this entire moment.

Hovering over me, one hand holding my thigh up the other next to my head supporting himself, his bare chest on view, with only smudged lipstick stains coating him. His hair a little messy from my hands running through and tugging on every strand I could. Lips swollen from the rough kisses of need. The warmth in the room from our heavy breathing causing a thin layer of sweat over us both… and even in such a unhinged moment. He still looked perfect.

And after our night of pleasure, and we had both ‘cleaned up’ me putting on one of Max shirts, him sticking to fresh underwear. We left his room, as if we was naughty teenagers, we tiptoed down to my room, climbing into fresh bedding.

Both laying there staring at each other in complete awe, Max hand reaching up and stroking my cheek and along my jaw. Now letting the sleep slowly evade us, with my eyes closed I heard him whisper the three words I’ve always dreamt he would say… wether he did or not it still felt real to me.

“I love you”

And as if it was a reaction to the words I found myself shuffling closer to his chest. Like he was the protection I needed… the knight in shining armour in every princess story.

**3 Weeks later**

Back home, and was things awkward between me and Max? Yes. Very.

Even Lando picked up on the weird tension. Lando also being a close friend and noticing how we was both frightened to go near each other.

For me? It was scared of going near him and pushing him back into a hotel bed all over again… it was scared of getting to close and getting burned in the long run- because Max wasn’t the type of guy to stick around… not after his last breakup everything was fucked and chucked, and me unfortunately was one of them- or so it feels.

I was attending the Monaco GP, in support of Max & Lando them being my only two friends you could say.

However the weekend turned to not be the best of starts, I had picked up a stomach bug somewhere, as I’ve been sick nearly every morning, sometimes of an evening if I really give into the feeling. I realised eating something small like a biscuit would somewhat cure the sickness… it’s been horrible. I texted both Lando and Max saying I would leave my home once I had felt a bit better in myself, both sending back get well soon messages and updates on what’s happening.

I was adamant on attending the qualifying, so chomping down on a biscuit and sipping on a bottle of water I made my way to the GP. In my bag I had a little bag filled with biscuits. I wasn’t going to let a little tummy ache stop me from watching my boys-

I read online that a stomach bug doesn’t seem to be contagious after a few days, which I was praying was true. If not then I could only apologise to them and beg for forgiveness if I ruin their race…

My first stop was Lando, who was practically jumping when he saw me. Bringing me in the most tightest hug you could imagine-

“Lan- don’t I still feel like I could be sick…” mumbling I rub his back before pulling myself away.

“Oh shit- sorry… wait are you contagious?!” He jumped back holding his hands up like they would defend him.

“It says no online… if I am I’m sorry though…” pouting I shuffled about on my feet. “I just wanted to watch you both race-”

Tutting he rubbed my shoulder, before throwing an arm around both. “It’s okay, longs your not sick in here. We just washed the floors.”

Rolling my eyes I elbowed him in the ribs, “I won’t, I got my biscuits.” Patting my bag I smiled up at him. “And anyways if I was sick it’s normally first thing in the morning, or maybe later… if I stop eating these biscuits.” Eyebrows furrowed Lando tilted his head at me.

“First thing in the morning? Sounds like something else to me.” Humming a teasing tone he lead us both out the garage. Shaking my head in annoyance at him I look around. “Behave Lando.”

“I’m just saying-”

And well him just saying that had my mind reeling… what if? I couldn’t just pull out my phone and check when I was due on my ladies, Lando would see, seeing as his attached to my hip, so in my head I counted back. I should’ve started by now right? I doubt it- I think it’s next week.

Before I know it we was stopping outside red bull’s garage Lando practically screamed for Max, all the engineers turning to look up at him. Some in annoyance and some confused to why he was screaming…

And there he was- Max in all his glory shuffling his way through. Suit unzipped and hanging down at his waist, his fireproofs on show… showing every shape of his body- gulping, my eyes started to wander, slowly remembering every part of him I kissed, where the red lipstick marks were, where to touch that would make him shiver and whisper my name in a warning. As if I was triggering a ticking time bomb- I mean you could say I was that night. I was remembering it all in waves, before it was only a faint memory.

“Y/N! You made it finally…” smiling at each other he came and stood infront of us both. His hand brushing my arm slightly in a little pat/rubbing manner. Yeah it was tense… i felt like screaming, if we hadn’t pushed that boundary, it probably wouldn’t feel so awkward- I had the devil on my shoulder, shouting over the little angel, telling me I should just let him have me right here on the track and claim our own trophy, create our own ‘finish’.

Oh what have you done to me Verstappen.

Clearing his throat Lando patted my bag. “Well lets just ignore the awkwardness… She has her biscuits.” Confused Max looked between us both.

“To keep the sickness away.” Finishing Lando’s sentence with another shake of my head and a small smile at Max.

“Ah- makes sense.” Laughing a little Max turned back to the garage. “Lan I think we’re about to start quali”

“I’ll probably be back and fourth between you both- I’m just going to get some more water…” smiling a little at them both I gave a small wave. “Good luck both of you.”

Both quickly giving nods and a thanks, they ran into the garages suits getting pulled up and zipped in the process.

Now finally away from them both I checked my health app, going back to my last period…

Panic rises through me, I have been stressed so maybe it’s on its way- I’ll do a test later just in case but I’m sure it’s stress, or even many other reasonings but the one that makes sense is the one I’m praying against. I mean it’s only a week, so no panic.

But except I am panicking… Maybe I should go do a test now… put my mind at ease-

Quickly heading back out I sent a text to them both to see, incase I wasn’t back-

“Be back soon- wasn’t feeling great again.”

And then I went straight to the chemist…

Looking between test, hands shaking as I try and read the box, I finally gave up taking them both to the checkout, nervously looking around like somehow someone I knew would catch me. The lady behind the till offered a kind smile, which I quickly returned, paying for the tests and rushing out with the bag mumbling a thank you.

I felt sick again- maybe it was nerves who knew- I mean why am I panicking I have been so stressed lately it could be that- but still what if…

Once I got back to my apartment I headed straight to the bathroom fumbling with the test taking a stick from each and doing them both at the same time- Two test can’t lie…

I was pacing, doing circles around my bedroom as I bit down on my nails. Every few minutes sitting on my bed, before pacing again. It wasn’t until my alarm went off was I finally broken out of my trance. I took a few deep breaths and crept into the toilet, standing in the doorway, I rose to my tiptoes craning my neck-

My stomach dropped, and I found myself stumbling into the toilet reading both test, my head going from left to right as I held both sticks…

[2-3 Weeks] and the other [3+ weeks]

There it was the sickness again, dropping to my knees I curled myself around the toilet letting every little bit of sick come up… all the nerves building up in my body and raking through.

When I was finally able to get away from the toilet bowl, I got up brushing my teeth and washing my face… trying to stop the little tears, why am I crying? I’m terrified-

How the fuck do I tell Max?

Feeling sorry for myself, I crawled into my bed breathing in and out slowly… I am absolutely terrified.

Somewhere from my racing mind and the tossing and turning I dozed off only waking up to the sound of my door being nearly knocked down.

Rushing out of bed I head downstairs looking through the peep hole.

“Lando you knock like the police-” muttering I unlock the door letting him in.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at qualifying?” Frowning i move over to the door before turning back to look at him.

“Y/N that finished about an hour ago…” concerned flashed over his face as he brought me into a hug.

“Maybe we should go to the doctors, maybe he can get this sickness sorted…” mumbling he rubbed my back soothingly, rocking us a little.

“I know what it is Lan…” I felt it again the burning in my throat as I tried holding back the tears… my eyes welling up at even the thought.

“I know I know- but maybe he can give you something like an anti-sickness tablet?” I shook my head wiping underneath my nose with my sleeve, hand on the door handle as I went to shut it.

“Oh wait-”

“I’m pregnant…” whispering I covered my mouth hoping that if I trapped the sound it wouldn’t make it real.

Lando’s shock was evident as he stared back, hand in the air still pointing at the door, his mouth creating an ‘o’ shape.

“Did you say pregnant?” A familiar voice was heard that defiantly wasn’t Lando’s.

My head felt like it was going to snap as I looked back at the door, and once again there he was, trying to squeeze himself in the little gap I had left him from trying to shut the door…

My heart pounded as I watched him, hoping he would show some emotion to put my mind at ease but nothing… the silence in the room from us three was unbearable.

“Well congratulations!” Lando grabbed ahold of me again hugging me tight, my eyes were still glued on Max, waiting on anything. But nothing he just stood there frozen. And that somewhat annoyed me more- it was both our faults that I’m in this situation I don’t expect anything from him but the recognition.

Lando pulled away looking between us both with a smile, “So have we got uncle duties? Are you going for an early scan? Who’s the dad?”

Shaking my head at Lando I push past him, trying to get away. I would rather Max saying he doesn’t care there stand there saying nothing at all… “Y/N I didn’t mean to ask so many questions-” Lando was rushing in behind me, before more footsteps were heard and then Max was seen.

“Is it mine?” Eyebrows furrowed, was he angry? He has a right to be angry. I’m angry. Lando bursted out into a fit of laughter smacking Max’s arm “Flirting with each other doesn’t make someone pregnant you idiot.” Now both with confused looks we turned our heads looking at Lando.

“Of course it’s yours.” Shaking my head I looked back at Max.

“Are you sure?”

“What you trying to accuse me of here Max?”

The realisation finally hit Lando as he pointed between us both.

“I’m not accusing you of anything but, I have a right to ask if there had been anyone else don’t you think.”

“Yeah sure because I do that kind of stuff.” Stepping closer he shrugged slightly, which only added fuel to the fire, my voice getting slightly louder.

“Oh come on Max! You’ve known me 3 fucking years.” Tears started spilling down my face, and I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t stop them.

“You guys fucked?!” Once again we both was staring at Lando, merely a few feet away from each other. Both nodding our heads slowly.

“Is that why it’s so fucking awkward to be around you both?!” And once again we both just nodded our heads, both looking lost, like deers in some headlights.

“When did this happen?!” Lando’s hands went in the air as he stepped closer.

“Three weeks ago…” whispering I looked down at my feet.

“None of you told me that something happened. I’m supposed to be yours two friend as well. You were both my friends before each others! I should’ve been told!”

“Because that’s so important right now Lan.” Max glared at him as if he was trying to silence him with his eyes, but if anything that spurred him on more.

“It is to me. That’s just fucking unfair.”

“How is it unfair?! It was a silly drunk mistake Lando. It’s not like we’re hiding a big fucking thing from you. We aren’t together- it was one night.”

“Well Y/N is pregnant now. That’s a big thing?! It’s your baby!”

Sniffling I looked back up at Max. “It was a mistake?” I should’ve know, I somewhat did know but it still stung hearing him say the truth- maybe I was imagining what I heard that night…

Max hands came up tugging at his hair.

“Yeah it was a mistake you should’ve told me!” Lando raised his voice, throwing a tantrum like a child, foot stomping against the floor hands balled into fists.

“You both need to leave.” Turning away I went and sat down on the sofa, hands gripping the edge, trying to hold down any emotions that wanted to show.

“Leave.”

“No we need to talk about this. I can’t do this Y/N!” Max was now moving closer gesturing wildly around.

“I didn’t ask you to do anything Max. Apart from leave.”

“No I want to stay, I want to talk.”

“Talk or scream at each other?” Tilting my head I looked up at him wiping my face. “Like you said it was a stupid mistake. I can deal with it on my own. Now go.” I looked between him and Lando.

“No, I can’t be involved in this stuff Y/N. What about my career?!” Scoffing I stood back up. “Your career?! This stuff?! Two was to blame for that night not just me.” Pushing his chest slightly moving him towards the door, grabbing Lando’s arm on the way who only hissed. Shoving them both out the door, both screaming their own protest but neither stopping me from pushing them away, I went to slam it behind them, only for Max to out his foot in the way.

“We can’t do this Y/N…” it felt as if he was staring into my soul, trying to change my mind on the matter, I wasn’t going to be doing anything stupid over our “stupid mistake”.

“I can… Now leave. And neither of you speak to me… years of friendship for what? Some friends you both are.” Spitting words with venom at them both I slammed the door against Max foot before using all my body weight I pushed against his foot until it slammed shut finally. Max giving up any chance he had to change my mind.

We are going to be just fine…

A/N: So this is part one, as I felt like I was typing for ages and dragging on- it is a bit all confusing I think I had a skim read and I’m confusing myself lollll but this is going to be a little mini series I think, cause it gives me a chance to section everything I want out of this “love” story with Max.

I got the title idea from listening to ABBA 🙂 I was thinking about Max saying it to the baby or something idk we will see when we get there 🖤

Masterlist

[hippolotamus]

Eddie’s thumb hovers over the location dropdown in the weather app, just like every day. And just like all those other days he allows himself to click it. The list unfolds as he huffs a humorless chuckle at how much it’s grown.

When he got his first cell, the only place he ever needed was current location. Technically, it’s still the only one he needs. Regardless he’s continued adding to it through the years. Hershey, Virginia Beach, a couple random towns in the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida. Fucking Sundance, Wyoming. All because he gave up pretending he doesn’t need to know.

It’s sunny, mid-50s today. A nice break for the time of year. Eddie scrolls through the upcoming week, noting a heavy snowstorm hitting in a few days. His nose wrinkles and he begins to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. Another thing born out of pure habit.

Not for the first time he types out a few messages before deleting them again. Eddie doesn’t even know if he’s got the right number. It’s been nearly three years since they exchanged anything at all. Not since Eddie could have manned up and told Shannon he could be a father, but not a husband. Not her husband, anyway.

He could have just been honest and said what he wanted when she finally decided to show up in her second trimester. He and Evan could have continued building a life together. But Eddie’s never claimed to be smart. Especially when it comes to all the bullshit his own dad drilled into his head about responsibility and honor and god knows what the fuck else. In the end it was too sticky to let go, trapping him like a spider web.

He can’t even say it was worth it because she loves him and they’re making it work for the sake of Christopher. Because why would that have happened? Instead all he got was a tour in Afghanistan, divorce papers (not that he’s surprised or blames her at all) and coming back to an empty house. Well, not totally empty. He’s got a son he’s still getting to know outside of a screen and shitty internet connection. A son he could have been raising with the love of his life this whole time.

Hope your coat’s warm enough, cowboy he types.

“Daddy!” Chris babbles from the floor, using Eddie’s pant leg to pull himself to standing. His toothy smile is on full display while he looks up at Eddie like he hung the goddamn moon and stars.

“Hey there little man.” Eddie tosses his phone to the side in favor of picking up his son and arranging him on his lap. Chris snatches up the yellow car from the next couch cushion, choosing to run it in a small loop over Eddie’s forearm, shoulder and chest. “Where are you off to today? Big race?”

Chris shakes his head vigorously. “Outer space,” he says as though that should have been obvious.

Eddie chuckles to himself. “Of course. How long until liftoff?”

There’s no answer as plastic wheels continue zooming along until Chris decides he’d rather be on the floor again. Eddie loosely assists as his son climbs back down. Some days are more difficult than others, but he tries to follow the physical therapist’s advice to let Chris do as much as he can by himself. She says it won’t do either of them any good in the long run. Eddie can certainly see the wisdom in that even if he’s constantly itching to roll Chris in layers of bubble wrap.

He blindly grabs for his phone, buzzing from the coffee table. “Hello?”

At first there’s complete silence and he winces thinking it’s yet another telemarketer. Before he can check he hears rustling, like someone’s covering the mouthpiece.

“Hello?” He asks again, more insistent this time.

“Uh, sorry. Didn’t think you’d actually pick up.”

Eddie thinks he might drop the phone. Or throw up. Maybe both? Probably both.

“Evan?”

tagged by the lovely and talented @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks for Inspiration Saturday (go check their posts, I’m very excited) Instead of working on anything current, I wrote this instead. Not sure I have any actual plans to expand it, I just had to get it out of my system, y’know? So, bon appetit or whatever 💖

no pressure tagging (lmk if you want added or removed) @stereopticons @this-is-bwr @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @tizniz @theotherbuckley @elvensorceress @apothecarose @barbiediaz @buckaroosheart @buddierights @chaosandwolves @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @eowon @fortheloveofbuddie @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @loserdiaz @spaceprincessem @statueinthestone @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thewolvesof1998 @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @epicbuddieficrecs

[lil-spider]

So Damn Pretty

Chapter 9

Part 8 : Part 10

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter X Female Reader

Summary: Johnny is sex starved and you’re very attractive, so attractive that he doesn’t want to kill you. Instead he finds ways to keep you around longer.

Note: I wrote this while having shirtless Johnny on my tv, his muscles are the only thing I can think about 😩.

Warning: This is 18+ and please do not read if your sensitive to heavy descriptions of non/con and violence. Including bondage, blood, gore, assault, objectification and unsafe sex. For those who don’t mind, I hope you enjoy.

I stare timidly at the horribly cracked mirror, observing my naked body. It’s barely recognisable; blue and purple marks spread along my chest, hips, neck and thighs. Johnny has been getting a lot rougher during sex; ever since that night I killed that girl, he’s been more ravenous.

He’s been interrupting me from my tasks more frequently, dragging me off multiple times throughout the day to somewhere away from the house, only to bend me over whatever object he deems fit. His favourite thing to do right now is sit on a pulled-out, deteriorating car seat, drink, or smoke while I’m on my knees in the dirt, sucking him off. At least it gives my poor body a break, even though my knees are now suffering.

I take one last glance at myself before putting on a pastel blue dress decorated with cute yellow flowers. The dress is short and sleeveless. Starting high, wrapping around my neck, to just stopping at the top of my knees, simple but pretty.

Looking down in the sink, I pick up a broken-handled hairbrush and roughly begin brushing my hair. Sissy kindly gifted it to me with an apology for its damaged state, but I didn't care that it was broken; I was so grateful that I squeezed her in for a tight hug. I've been desperate to rid my hair of these nasty knots. My fingers are only able to do so much.

The bathroom is now the only place I get time to think. It used to be my room, but with late-night visits from Johnny, it's no longer available.

I put the brush back down and rummaged through Jessica's makeup bag. I was supposed to hide it originally, but I changed my mind and decided to use her stuff; it would have been wasting away and forgotten about if I hid it. Searching around, I pulled out a black mascara tube, black eyeliner, and a small brown eyeshadow palette with three shades. Having no brushes, I got to work using my fingers, delicately rubbing the pigments over my eyelids. It feels good to use makeup again, a luxury I guess I took for granted. It makes me feel better, feeling refreshed and pretty.

After applying the eyeliner along my eye shape and coating on layers of mascara, I take a second to admire myself, which is a tad difficult with a broken mirror. I won't have many chances to do this again, sadly; Jessica only carried a small bag of makeup wipes with her.

I bundle the makeup products and the broken hairbrush in my arms and swiftly leave the bathroom towards my bedroom. Pushing the door open with my foot, I place the items down gently on my bedside table, and I grab an old, ugly pair of brown sandles, sliding them on. They were perfect for getting around that house quietly without disturbing anyone; Sissy's style of barefoot isn't something I was too fond of. Buckling up the sandle straps, I march downstairs, feeling ready for today.

Reaching the dining room, I notice it's unusually quiet; there's no sign of Bubbaor Nubbins messing around; Johnny ain't here either, lacking the sound of his thundering footsteps and voice.

Did I spend so long getting ready that I missed breakfast? Hopefully, Johnny went with Drayton in the early morning. I can’t help but feel anxious thinking of what else he could be up to. It was weeks ago that he brought that woman back to purposefully antagonise me. My mouth always dries up thinking about that. Did Johnny even realise I had caught him before he brought me down to the basement? Or was that his plan to further anger me?

I don't like thinking about it, and I also can't stop. The guilt and excitement I felt were like none other. Killing her was intense. So much was happening all at once with such little consequence. It bothers me that I killed her out of petty jealousy, even more so that I'm happy she's dead. God, what is happening to me?

“Lookin’ very dolled up today, sweetie?” Sissy says with a smirk as she takes a bite from her buttered-up toast.

 

Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts instantly, and I flinch in surprise, not aware she was sitting so close. She really is the quietest out of the whole family.

 "I felt like using some makeup, just for fun.” I responded to her honestly; it was true. I just wanted to feel pretty.

“Shame Johnny ain’t here to see you all pretty this morning." She smiles at me teasingly, a glint in her dangerous eyes. Not bothered, I grab myself a plate with strawberry jam toast and take a seat in front of her.

“I didn’t do it for Johnny.” I tell her, taking a large bite of my toast. She stands after finishing her breakfeast, walking off with an unconvinced look.

I wonder if the rest of the family knows about Johnny and I’s relationship; Drayton and him did have that argument when I first arrived. Not to mention our lack of subtlety; I mean, we go off together for long periods and come back with dishevelled hair and clothes. It doesn't help that I am covered head to toe in bruises.

I nibbled on the rest of the toast while thinking. Maybe they don't care; I know Johnny doesn't lose sleep over other opinions on what he does. I am, for one, embarrassed if they know.

Am I the lucky one? Johnny has chosen me to be with him out of so many other girls; he likes me the most, or I would not be here right now, and I want to keep it that way. After everything I’ve been through, God forbid another woman tries to take that away from me. I just need more time to understand Johnny and what he truly wants from me.

 

I finish my small breakfast, standing up to clean up my plate. I better hurry up; it’s my turn to feed Grandpa Sawyer, and he is most likely hungry by now.

Ironically, out of everyone in this family, Grandpa Sawyer is the most pleasant person to be around. Feeding him the vial of blood that I had once found gross has become a normal occurrence, and afterwards, I just relax in the living room, sewing or knitting near him while he sleeps; it’s peaceful.

I just started sewing and knitting as a new hobby. With the hard work Sissy and I have been doing, we were all caught up on house chores. We get them done in a couple of hours instead of a whole day. I've also finished trimming all the bushes and flowers, with nothing else important to do. Sissy has been teaching me to sew and knit to kill time while she tends to her plants in her greenhouse. So I spend my free time fixing old clothes in the living room, near Grandpa.

Now that oh so sweet, peacefulness went away as Nubbins came stomping downstairs, crashing down on the couch next to me with a heavy photo album. It’s amazing that he didn’t wake up, grandpa.

"I-I-I got some new photos I-i took with my n-n-new camera." Nubbins informs me gleefully, opening up his album.

"Ah, sure thing, yeah," I tell him, surprised by the suddenness of his appearance. He usually keeps himself locked up in his room. I put my sewing needles and the shirt I was working on to the side so I could focus my attention on him.

With beaming excitement, Nubbins flips through the photo album, going to the back to show his most recent pictures. I look at the ones he is flipping through and see a variety of shots of sunsets and sunflowers. He seems to be very passionate about his hobby. It's nice to see how he spends his free time.

It was nice until I saw pictures of mutilated animals. I cringed at the horrid sights, flicking my eyes away and swallowing my distaste. He finally gets to the page he wants. Chucking the album in my lap, he begins pointing to each picture, telling me the meaning behind each one.

 

I couldn't help but chuckle looking at the super close-up shots of Drayton's angry face. I tell Nubbins how hilarious it is, and he needs to take more close-up shots of everyone. He giggles in agreement. He flips the page over while bouncing in his seat. Thankfully, there are no more gruesome pictures; his latest ones are all beautiful and sweet. I point to the ones I like best.

One is of Sissy and Bubba dancing out in the backyard; he's adorably holding her hand up as she daintily spins. Another set of pictures I love is of Johnny in a white singlet, covered in grease stains, bent over working on a car. It follows another picture of him standing back up, turned towards the camera with a confused face, and then the last shot shows him angrily marching towards the camera, trying to grab it. It's a bit blurred; Nubbins must have started running off as he took that last picture. 

"These are really beautiful Nubbins." I tell him wholeheartedly. The pictures are well shot, and there is a loveliness to them, showing the fun side of his family. 

He grins at me in delight, and with a stutter in his voice, he asks if he could take a picture of me since I look very pretty today and will make a nice new collection. 

I nod my head. I don't see the harm in a few pictures. Nubbins quickly hops off the couch and stands in front of me, grabbing his camera that's strapped around his neck. He starts rapidly snapping pictures, the flash blinding me slightly, but I quickly compose myself and begin to smile, sitting up straighter, hopefully looking okay. I get nervous about my photo being taken.

After six or seven pictures fall from his camera, Nubbins squats down quickly, scattering them in his hands, and hobbles his way upstairs, forgetting about his photo album that is still placed on my lap.

With a morbid sense of curiosity, I flip back to see what other pictures Nubbins has taken. It consists mainly of poor dead cattle, roadkill, more of the family, and property. Until I found a picture of Johnny smiling with the corpse of a dead girl, he looked ecstatic, carrying her over his shoulder, shirtless and sweaty. It appears like he was chasing her and finally caught her. Like a wolf hunting a rabbit. Before I could turn another page, I heard Nubbins coming back downstairs.

I quickly snap the album shut and plop it next to me while grabbing my sewing needles, pretending I was focusing on something else other than his photos.

 “F-forgot this.” He mumbles under his breath, snatching the album from the couch and placing it under his arm while scuttling back to his room.

I sigh in relief at not getting caught looking through his album. I don’t know how he would react to it; it seems he takes his photography very seriously and personally. The last thing I want to do is cause trouble. Snooping like that is dangerous for me; I won’t try that again.

 

A few hours have passed since that little incident, and Sissy and I had just finished making dinner—chilli again, of course; it’s the family’s favourite. Made only how Drayton likes it, as he is the chilli expert.

I finish placing the cutlery and ceramic white plates on the dinner table just as Sissy rings the bell, signalling that food is cooked and it's time for supper. 

“Pa and Johnny should be back anytime now.” Sissy yells out to me from the kitchen, and right on cue, I hear Drayton's beat-up old truck roll up front.

Heavy doors slam, and loud voices take over the silence. The more they get closer, the easier it is to tell that an argument broke out between them—more of Drayton lecturing over Johnny. But they both come straight to the dining table, sitting in their designated spots as I take my seat.

I’m in front of Johnny. I look at his handsome face and am happy to see him. He stares back at me, making heavy eye contact with me. He looks hungry, and I don’t think it's for chilli. I cast my eyes down, not being able to keep the contact. I’ve never been good at holding eye contact; it gets too much before I start feeling embarrassed; it's easier to just look away.

Bubba comes in dressed up like an old grandma, carrying the big pot of chilli. Using a large wooden spoon, he goes around the table, serving the portions on the plates. Sissy must have given him the task when he came up from the basement. He practically lives down there, barely coming up. I guess having your own lair would be nice; it’s spacious, but I don't see the appeal; each to their own.

Sissy comes skipping in right after with a tea spoon and medium-sized bowl of sour cream, plopping them down on the table for whoever. She glances around and notices Nubbins hasn’t arrived. She sighs in annoyance, skips to the stairs, and yells out his name while also yelling that it’s dinnertime.

 

"Hurry up before it gets cold!" She yells for the last time. She comes back, smiling and taking her seat right next to me. We wait to eat until Nubbins arrives, who, of course, rushes down the stairs to take his spot. Yapping on about the new photos he took today. 

As Bubba puts the large pot down and sits, we begin to eat, and I glance back at Johnny, who is no longer staring at me but just casually eating and focusing on the others. I'm a tad jealous that he’s not focusing on me anymore. I must be showing it on my face as Johnny looks back at me with a smirk on his face. I flush red as he winks, and I look down again. I hate being so easy to read and tease. 

After finishing dinner, I was helping clean up the leftovers and dishes. Then the most odd thing happened. Johnny started to help, packing up the plates and bringing them to me. Not once since I've been here has Johnny ever helped with dishes. Placing the dirty dishes in the sink, he slides behind me, sneakily pressing himself against my ass. 

“Meet me outside near the shed. I got somethin’ for ya’." He says this quietly into my ear. With a quick kiss on my cheek, he's moves away leaving me alone and most likely heading to the shed. 

I wonder what he planned for me tonight; I have a feeling it’s not just the usual romp but something more. Taking deep breaths, I head out from the back garden to the nearby large shed. I really hope this isn't a punishment after that incident a few days ago. After I had killed that black-haired woman, I yelled at him for sleeping with her. Yes, I murdered her, but I was still pissed that he did that. I felt betrayed.

Johnny, not reacting to my anger, turned and left, leaving me baffled. It's why now I'm getting nervous as I get closer to the shed. Moonlight giving me vision in the dark while the gravel crunches underneath my shoes, sounds of crickets and leaves rustling around me as I reach my destination. 

 

Walking inside, Johnny is sitting on top of a large crater, and near him is another woman, bleeding from many cuts, gagged, and tied with an old rope to a chair. The poor thing is a sobbing mess. The outdoor lamps reflecting the wetness from her tears.

“I kept her alive just for you, sweetheart.” He says as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He stands up from the crate and saunters closer to me. 

Did you fuck this one too? I wanted to say badly, but I held my tongue. The last thing I want is to end up in the same position as the new victim. I shouldn't test him.

Johnny smiles, like he knows what I want to say, and I'm never going to be able to hide my thoughts from him. 

He wraps his muscular arm around my waist, pulling me towards him. “I know what you're thinking, sweetheart, and I didn’t put my cock any wear near her. I didn’t want you to have another temper tantrum like the other night.” He mocks me by blowing his cigarette smoke in my face. 

I crinkled my nose at the smoke, swatting its vileness away from my face. He tugs me along closer and grips my chin to my face towards the woman, who is straining her eyes at me with desperation.

“I want you to slice her up real good.” He speaks softly into my ear. Using the arm that was around my waist, he reaches to his pocket, pulling out a small switchblade and placing it in my sweaty palm. A lump swells in my throat at what he's asking me to do. I have to torture this innocent woman. I look closely at her; she seems to be in her mid-late twenties or early thirties. How am I going to do this?

He notices my hesitation, and without getting angry, he instead gently guides me closer to her. He walks behind me, pressing his large frame against me. "Let me show you." His deep voice soothes me as he holds my wrists like a puppeteer. I bite my bottom lip as he, or I guess me, presses the knife to the fat part of her cheek. Sliding it across. Ruby-red blood shines out of the gash as the woman wrestles with her restraints on the chair.

“I can’t.” I whimper at him. My hands are trembling for causing her anguish. She doesn’t deserve this; no matter who she is, this is wrong. 

“You will, or else I'll fuck her in front of you.” I'm not sure if it’s cowardice or selfishness, but I give in to him, letting him guide the knife along her delicate skin, slicing it and causing nasty red lines. We drag it down along her neck, pressing it down harder into her chest, where her heart is. I feel his hardness press into me, his hot breath along my neck, and his arm around my waist as we continue, going back up and pressing the sharp blade along her throat. 

The woman's breathing is rapid. Panting from fear. I refuse to look at her face, knowing what I'll see. Knowing she doesn't want to die. Begging for her life. 

“Do it.” He grunts, letting go of my wrist, holding me tight, waiting for me to slice her throat, wanting me to murder her on my own accord. I ignore the voices in my head as I dig the blade in deep enough. I shut my eyes as it gushes out. The woman gurgles and splatters in her gag as she chokes on her own blood.

I just killed another person, a human being. Who had a life? No, I can’t think about it; I won't. Thinking about that will get me killed. I love Johnny, and I’ll do anything for him. 

I let out a big sob, trying to calm down as Johnny turned me into his chest, hugging me. 

"You did so well, sweetheart." He assured me, patting my head. A sense of comfort swarms me as I'm held tight in his arms. 

I crane my neck up to look up at him, his dark eyes blown wide with excitement. We stare at each other as our breaths get heavy.

He dives in for a hungry kiss. I reciprocate, wanting him to devour me and to feel him inside me. Keeping me full.

Johnny pulls and tosses me against a crate. My chest squishes flat as he pulls up my dress. I wiggle my upper body, trying to adjust myself to a comfortable position. 

“Your soaked.” Johnny mocks me while gliding his fingers along my slit.

Without hesitation, I grind myself back on his hand, his thumb rubbing slow circles on my engorged clit, while two other fingers slide inside, stretching me out for his cock.

“Johnny.” I moan softly, feeling guilty as I look at the bleeding-dead woman, her limp body falling forward. 

“Don't worry, darlin', I got you." His fingers start thrusting out of me, distracting me as I clench around them, moaning. Fuck, it feels good.

 “Please, Johnny, keep going; don’t stop.” I squeezed myself again around his fingers. I'm so aroused that I could cum at any moment.

He is always so good with his fingers; he knows exactly where to put them, turning me into a moaning mess and aching for an orgasm. He presses his thumb on my clit harder, rocking it back and forth along with his other fingers. 

 

I try not to look back at the woman; the sounds of my wetness echo through the shed. A hard slap to my ass cues me to look back at Johnny in surprise; he looks annoyed.

“Don’t fuckin’ ignore me, sweetheart.” He yells angry at me for being distracted. He pulls out his fingers, drawing a gasp out of me as he flips me over.

Flatting my back on the crate, I spread my legs while the rest of my dress is dragged up over my breasts. He moves in between my legs hovering over me.

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” I moan out as he gropes and kneads my breasts. I spread my legs further to accommodate his hulking frame. My pussy aching to be touched again. He sucks on a nipple, swirling it with his tongue as I reach around, digging my nails into his soft hair. 

He stops sucking my nipples and roughly pulls my knees up to my chest so he can place his lips on my clit. He gently blows cool air on my pearl before encompassing his mouth around it, sucking and licking. I pant and squeeze his hair tighter, making him groan into my cunt. Shit, I'm going to cum soon. My cunt clenches around nothing, demanding to be filled as I reach my peak, legs shaking as I cum.

He pushes his cock inside me as I cum. We both groan in sync as he keeps going in. "Fuck your pussy feels incredible!" He groans, thrusting away.

I start moaning loudly, feeling very sensitive from my orgasm. He starts going harder, placing my calves over his shoulders. I hold on to him, trying to focus, but I'm so sensitive that I can barely keep up. 

"Johnnyyy s-so good.” I breatheless moan, barely making a full sentence as my tits swing to his pounding.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart.” He warns, pushing my legs further back, reaching deeper than before. He places his thumb on my clit, massaging it. 

I unexpectedly cum again, and my body shakes at its suddenness. Johnny moans deeply, feeling my gummy walls gush and tighten around his throbbing cock.

“Oh yeah, that’s what I love’.” He groans as he cums, squirting in me deeply, holding me still as he fills me up. I whine when he places my legs down. He watches his cum drip out of your cunt, biting his lower lip at the sight. 

"Shit darlin', I wanna' fuck again." He groans enthusiastically, slapping my thighs. 

@alurafairy : @mikaneedy

[unsoundedcomic]

I've recently rediscovered your work, and the comic continues to blow me away. I wanted to ask, what's your process for clothing design? Not just for individual characters, but also for the larger factions: the Alderode soldiers' uniforms, the Crescian royalty, etc. Do you draw inspiration from specific places, or do you just kind of wing it? I often run into the pitfall in my fantasy art where it either looks too mismatched or too close to real life; or just flat out boring.

I bet you're the last questioner and again, I just wing it!

The best advice I can give is to work big. Focus on major shapes and major colours over fiddly details. Pick one or three concepts and design everything around them. Cresce likes magical clothing, dogs, and has a feminine vibe. Boom, base everything around that, even the male military uniforms. Aldish soldiers? Those derpy silver eared helmets and the emerald green of Ssaelism. Right there I knew I was going to be working with green and silver, so that naturally made Crescian uniforms make sense as gold and red. Instant visual conflict between the two factions!

Alderode as a whole emphasizes material over magic, because they have very limited pymaric resources. It's also atrociously cold there, so people want the security of tangible, warm clothing. Wool, fur, tooled leather. Layers, coats, and hats! Climate is going to inform everything about how a person dresses. You see it with Quigley, who's still wearing his dark and heavy wool even in Cresce. You see it in Bastion, who's frequently naked and, even when he's not, dresses skimpily because he grew up in Juste and Cresce. You see Crescian Rahm flashing his chest, and even macho Bell wearing his soft greys, whites, and pretty golden breastplate with that little Peaceguard skirt. Elka's boobplate is like my favourite thing. It's not sexual! She wears it because she's proud of being a woman doing what she's doing! That armour will conform to HER. Cresce is just like that.

Silhouettes are what's most important in character design. You should be able to tell at a glance who every character is just by their silhouette. This tells you that even when they're fully lit, the details just are not that important, so why torture yourself with them?

Finally, let your characters tell you how they dress. You don't dress them. They dress themselves. They also furnish their own living space, and cook their own food. This is all to say that you shouldn't separate your visuals - your character design, your environment design - from your writing. It is all an expression of character and world-building. If you do those well, you will design well. Just keep your own opinions out of it, really. You get a little bit of input when you're designing the characters that want to look sexy; otherwise you defer to them, the world, and the story :) But you get one special favourite, as a treat.

[film-in-my-soul]

For the Bingo - Hangster/Epistolary, please <3

Hope you like it!

.⋆｡°✩ In a box, there lives two letters that the writers never want read. ✩°｡⋆.

There's a box tucked away high in a master bedroom closet. A thick layer of dust coats it. The contents are mostly forgotten, half-remembered maybes that the owners lose the tail end of considering while they lay in bed, wondering where on earth a certain thing has gone. Patchs, ribbons, the odd plaque, and records so heavily redacted they might as well be black pieces of paper. None of it compares to the envelopes that live inside, stamped and sealed, heavy both in lettering and intention.

They're dated the same, the cardstock indistinguishable, but within the slowly yellowing sleeves, they belong not to the writers but to the carefully pinned names that scrawl across the exteriors.

The one labeled Jake in scratchy, large script reads:

Jake,

If you're reading this, I didn't make it back. But I guess that's the whole point, huh? I mean, you'd know that. You're writing one of these too. It's stupid, right? Because you might not make it back either, and... and if you don't, a letter isn't going to make much of a difference, right? I can only hope that if I don't, you do.

I hope it's not because I took a missile with your name on it, not that I wouldn't, but because if I did, I don't think you'd like it very much, especially not if it killed me. But still, If you're reading this, I... well, I just guess I hope you're reading this.

Okay, no more of the depressing shit.

I love you. I love you, Jake. More than anything, you need to know that, and you need to carry that because it doesn't go away if I do. I love that you're shit at making the bed but can't cook a meal without at least three courses. You need to keep cooking for the both of us, even if it's just you. But don't worry about the bed. I only make it in the morning because I hear my mom's voice in the back of my head scolding me. I love the way you sing in the shower but won't when we're in the car like I don't know you're practicing your American Idol audition daily. I've had 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' stuck in my fucking head for a week, so thanks for that. Keep the radio on, and keep singing.

God, I want to fill this paper with all the things I love about you, Jake, all the things you need to keep doing because it'll keep my love inside you, but that's too many. I'd have to cut down my own fucking tree just to try. So I'll end it with this. I love the way you fly. You're your best when you're arrogant and smug and so fucking fast that none of it matters because you earn it. You're a sixteen-ton bullet, and you hit me dead the first time I saw you in the cockpit, and it's been that way ever since. So, more than anything, don't you put yourself on the ground. It's not where you belong, even if it's where they put me when I burn in.

I'm with you up there. Every goddamn second, on your wing or in your heart.

Yours,

B

Beneath it, in much neater font, carefully spaced and done in thick black marker, the second envelope lays, titled Rooster. If someone were to look inside, they'd find the contents similar but different.

Bradley,

I bet you're reading this because I saved your ass. Good. If I'm going down, it's in a blaze of glory. It's because I was taking care of you like I promised I would. You'll be pissed about it, I'm sure, but don't be, because I'm just keeping with tradition at this point, flying circles around you and saving you when your tail's on fire. I'm happy to do it. And if I didn't. I'll bet you shot down the fucker who got me, just on principle. And that's good, too. I've always loved you best when you're all bloody knuckles and burning hot. Like it even more when it's for me and not at me.

It's probably why I never got over you because the first time I saw you, it was knocked on my ass, blood on my teeth, and your chest all puffed out, defending me like I was some fucking damsel in distress. Show'd you though, didn't I? God, we were forces to be reckoned with, huh? Surprised the Navy didn't kick us to the fucking curb. Surprised we didn't kill each other.

The sex was good, though. You were good. You always have been, even when you're more exposed nerve ending than person. But maybe, just maybe, I love you best when you're happy.

So promise me you won't rip yourself open just to keep being angry. I'll know if you do, and me and Mav'll haunt your ass until you get your shit together. You've got people you need to be happy for, even if you can't do it for yourself. Besides, I didn't spend years making you a better pilot just for you to get your wings cut doing stupid shit.

Prove that dumb kid with a shitty mustache who fucked like he fought wrong. You're more than a legacy. You're more person than pilot. You're my person. So don't piss it away because I'm not keeping you in check.

I love you. Don't put the time we spent earning it to shame.

Still too good to be true and always good enough to be yours,

Jake

Sometime later, because they call it spring cleaning, but spring is relative when it's hot and sunny year-round, the box will leave its hidden corner, the dust blown off in a cloud of cough-inducing particles, and the owners of the letters, the writers of them, will sort through its contents and trace the names that don't belong to them but to each other. They'll share a secret smile that's just a little sad, a little wistful at the almost that could have been, and make a choice to keep them because they might not have looked at the letters for a long time, long before their temples were streaked with silver, but they've never lost the words inside.

Together, they'll tuck the envelopes back into their home and return the box to its rightful place until it's time to look again and remember.

Ficlet Bingo! (Still Squares Left!)

[belovedluc]

Experimenting, one could say

Albedo x diluc x fem bodied reader

Notes:this is a minor writing smut so if your uncomfortable leave now and block me, thank you

Warnings:3 some, fem reader,major size difference, bedroom ‘experiments,’ albedo gives you and diluc a potion, crying, teasing, I kinda censored cervix,little overstimulation, lmk if I missed any !!

This is super long I’m sorry! You can skip half this story

Also the paragraphs get shorter and shorter

Diluc stood close to your side in albedos little lab in a hole of dragon spine, if you turned around you’d see the rib cage of his lost brother. It was so cold, the fire wasn’t warming you up, so you scooted closer to Diluc bumping into his arm.

The small bump grabbed his attention from the blonde and he turned to look at you, seeing your trembling state he peeled off his heavy coat and placed it on your shoulders, Diluc was even nice enough to pull the opening together to hide your body. He chuckled at you, a deep, gruff chuckle that had Albedo turning to look at him to see what amused the rough man.

A few shuffling noises where heart behind Diluc, you both turned to albedo who was already walking in your direction holding two glass containers (idk what their called) they look fuzzy and were a hazy pink color and kinda pretty. Albedo handed one to you and one to Diluc, “here, drink these please, it’s my latest experiment and I still need to test it before I can confirm what it does,” he explained cooly.

“To confirm what it does?’ Is this even safe to drink? What is this liquid exactly?” Diluc questioned his voice getting firm, you held the bottle in you hands close to your mouth, it felt warm, just as warm as Diluc’s coat. “It’s not harmful to either of you I promise, I’ve even tried it on myself but, I can’t study myself very well can I? Y/n doesn’t have to take it, technically only one person has to.” Albedo crossed his arms and closed his eyes in explaining that this potion was not to harm any of you, yet you not Diluc knew what it did..

“Fine, Y/n, don’t drink this, I’ll do it for the sake of all three of us,” the man glared at albedo for a second and brought the bottle to his lips as well and before he could even take a sip, you spoke up to his previous words, “It’s ok, I’d like to taste it myself actually,” Both men looked a little surprised at that, Albedo just shrugged and nodded while Diluc was a little more hesitant to you drinking the pinkish liquid. You glanced up at Diluc as a silent ‘lets drink it together,’ red and e/c looked at the bottle and before both guests threw their heads back to down the pink liquid it a swift fast motion.

“It didn’t taste bad..” Diluc mumbled, “I don’t feel anything,” you looked up at Diluc then at Albedo as he spoke to the both of you, “of course not, it’s going to take a few minutes to settle in, just wait patiently and do tell me if you start to feel anything,” He smirked. “Any symptoms we should look out for?” Diluc asked grabbing the bottle from you and handing them to albedo who took them to the back of lab, “hmm, you might start to feel your body temperature rising and some hot flashes but I assure you they won’t last long.”

The hot flashes were making you sweat, your sweater starting to stick to your skin and your pants becoming uncomfortably warm against your legs, turning your head to look at Diluc you see him shedding some of his layers to get away from the heat. Turning your attention back to your own body you start to peel off your own layers, paying attention to what to leave on and what to take off. The heat still followed even with the loss of clothes the warmth still spread throughout your body,

“A-albedo it’s to hot…” The blonde turned his head slightly to you both to see that Diluc was desperately fanning the both of you with some unimportant documents. A small smirk crossed his face quickly, “if your uncomfortable with the heat and are comfortable enough to shed all of your clothes be free to do so, don’t worry about the cold.” “What? Are you insane?” Diluc sternly asked fanning the papers harshly, “Diluc I’m not sure about you but these are coming off, turn around for me,” a surprised looked flashed on the red heads face and a small blush decorated on his cheeks, he kept silent and turned his back to you.Hesitantly the last of your clothing fell to the snowy ground, a cool chill went up your spine and soothing some the overbearing warmth of your body, your body was flushed from head to toe. When Diluc took a peek over his shoulder to you he nearly gasped, instead he handed you the fan, “Y/n take this, I’ll undress as well, don’t look..” gently taking the fan from his hand and turned you back to him as well fanning the paper to keep you both cool as he undressed himself.

Albedo turned completely to you both and walked over to you pulling his left glove off with his teeth, and gently placing it on your sweaty forehead. Diluc stared for a moment before walking over and standing behind you. Then the blonde smirked again and pulled you from the chair and flush against his clothes body, his rough clothing making it seem more hot. “Al-Albedo to hot-“ “Where?” e/c looked up to bright blue ones, “What your feeling isn’t exactly heat, it’s more of a warmth..” “So you gave us asphrodics?” (idk how to spell it)

“Precisely,” his grip tightened for a moment before he lifted and wrapped your weak legs around his waist, walking over to his desk her took one arm to slide everything off, paper scattering and tubes shattering. He gently placed you on the desk and spread out your legs, “Well Diluc, hope you don’t mind that’ll be conducting some experiments, hand me that clip board,” he pointed over to a shelf with a clip board and several pieces of paped clipped to it. The muscular man grabbed the clip board and went through some of the paper, “Is this going to hurt her? Does she even have your permission?” Diluc questioned keeping the clip board out of Albedos reach when he went to grab it, both men looked to you, your e/c glazed over, you pretty looked out of it and no body hasn’t even touched you. Pathetic.

“Y/n are you with what’s about to happen? You can say no,” Diluc said sternly leaning over you and pointing at the clipboard with his pointer finger tapping hardly against it. You nodded and Diluc almost looked offended, his head turned to albedo who was trying to push him out of the way to grab the clipboard, when he was successful he set next to and stood in between your bare legs. “Y/n if you feel overwhelmed let us know, we’ll use colors ok?” When he saw you nod he continued to explain, “green is to keep going, yellow is to slow down or take a break, red is stop.”

Pulling his remaining glove off he slid to fingers against your slit, collecting what you didn’t even know was there. His slim fingers played with the sensitive bundle of nerves and pinched down it on lightly eliciting a sharp squeal from you. Diluc walked over to the back of the desk where you head was situated, he caressed your sweaty face and moved the hair that stuck to your forehead and even whispering praises to you. Albedo scribbled some notes on his paper when his fingers began to slid further into your heat and even slipping inside you. “Ah- albedo!”

He quickened his pace with his fingers, your moans growing louder and louder. Diluc held your head in his hands and kissed your forehead every so often as his way of praise. S/c trembled as their climax started to reach its peak, your hands went to grab at Albedos wrist to try to get him to ease the climax gently, unfortunately for you Albedo only sped up after he felt your walls twitch and was basically begging to make you completely fall apart on his fingers.

Your body shook as your climax hit you like a truck, Diluc held your head gently with one hand and the other holding your hand. “Well that’s the start of my experiment, still feeling hot Y/n?” Diluc placed the back of his hand to your forehead then to your cheeks, “It’s gone down a lot actually, but what about me? And she’s still burning.” “Y/n what’s your color?” Albedo asked rubbing up and down your thigh, “g-green..” you mumbled. “Alright, well Diluc your up, oh and here’s some lube,” Diluc grabbed the lube and read through it thoroughly to make sure it’s not another scam by the alchemist.

The red head walked around the desk and positioned himself in between your legs, rough hands pulling you close to his abdomen and smiled lightly when he felt you wrap your shaky legs around his waist. “She’s all prepped for you, do what you please I need to study the human body anyways and how certain things can make a person react,” albedo stated scribbling some notes and flipping pages then looking at Diluc confused, “well?” “Oh Uhm, Y/n are you ok with this can I start?” You only nodded reaching out for his hand, “I need a verbal answer baby..” he grabbed both of your hands and squeezed them reassuringly.

“Ready?” “Yes” Diluc lined himself up at your entrance and started to slowly push in and paused every so often to let you adjust to his size. Once he was all the way in he rubbed your bundle of nerves in slow easy circles to make some room for him and to ease the pressure. You withered beneath him when Diluc started to move in and out of slowly but deep, “D-Diluc ah!” His groans and slight whines filled the lab along with your moans and whimpers, and of course Albedos pen scribbling on the documents.

You could feel his curious stare at your face, watching your expressions and watched as his eyes trailed down to were you and Diluc were connected, “Think you can go faster Diluc, she can handle more, she has a vision for a reason after all…” Albedo trailed off with a smug look on his face. Diluc picked up his pace, his thrusts became harsher and needier. The sound of skin slapping matched with your loud moans as Diluc got rougher.

The alchemist tilted his head as if he was solving a math problem, maybe the problem was that this wasn’t enough? “Diluc lean over her, pull her legs over your shoulder, try to go as deep as possible,” with a nod he cooperated immediately as he pulled both your legs over his shoulders and leaned over you, “Ah! Ah! D-Diluc please!” He brought your hand to his lips kissing over your knuckles when he felt you twitch when he hit your g-spot. “That’s it baby.. good g-girl, your taking me so well..” He groaned and angled his hips to reach deeper, dear archons he never noticed how small you look compared to him, how tiny your hands are in his own calloused ones. You are such an Angel, good thing he got to you first before someone else in mondstat managed to.

“Diluc! Diluc I’m- I’m close!” He felt you tighten around and he squeezed your hips to keep you still, “N-Not yet my love, can you hol-hold it for me baby?” Your eyes glazed over with tears and few slipped but you managed to nod, you wanted to be his good girl after all right? Diluc pounded away at your small cunt kissing your cerv��x roughly, then he felt that twitch, he was getting close as well. “Y/n my love, let’s come to-together yea? Wanna me make me proud, baby? Cum, you can do it..!” “Ah! Yes! Like that! C-Close!”

After a few rough thrusts Diluc stilled his hips deep inside as he painted your tight walls white, you loaned out in pleasure, your own climax shaking you to the core, you were so dumbed down to just whines and whimpers as diluc gave a few lasts thrusts, lightly overstimulating you before pulling out. “Good girl.. your such a good girl, Y/n, took me so well,” he leaned down to cup your cheeks and kiss you all over you face making you smile and lean into his touch.

“Do you happen to have a rag at all Albedo?” The blonde perked up at his name and went to search for a rag around the lab. While waiting Diluc smothered you in love and helped you sit up on the desk so he could hold you better, when Albedo returned with a wet rag and handed it to Diluc he smiled at you. “Great job Y/n, I got all the I needed if not more, maybe you could help me another time with out the drug, by yourself,” he smiled when Diluc glared at him. The red head tenderly wiped at your inner thighs and softly at your cunt, and dabbed around your face to clean you of the previous sweat.

“I-I’m actually kind of cold now..” you mumbled embarrassed not looking up from you position on the desk, “Here, you can use this for now, I’ll warm up your clothes for you,” Diluc offered as he slipped his pants and dress shirt back handing you his coat. You gladly took it and pulled around your shoulders, it was warm, so warm, like Diluc himself was hugging you.

“Thank you again for lending me a hand with this experiment… I know that it definitely wasn’t what you expected, I’ll be more clear next time,” “Next time?” You shuddered, “It was so hot I felt like I was Sumeru!” Albedo a chuckled at you and adjusted the coat around your shoulders. “I owe you one, Y/n” he smiled warmly and kissed the top of your head.

This was so embarrassing long I deeply apologize

Fic smuts are not my speciality I’m still learning

Even tho I got off topic all lot I hope you enjoyed this at least! Ty for reading 🎉

[shejustcalledmeafish]

John Hart + 59 (absolutely no pressure but I hope this inspires you! <33)

59. "You never had the best ideas."

John had been in tight spots with Jack before, but going on three hours, and with still no sign of the manhunt above the floorboards ceasing, it was going from sexy to much less than. The hollow beneath the loose floorboard had only been designed to hold one, but John’d had no qualms about forcing himself down on top of Jack, squishing tight and leaving Jack with no choice but to allow it or else give away both their positions.

Not that Jack would have given him away. Strange as it was, Jack actually seemed to like him again. He’d agreed to come with on John’s assassination contract for a particularly fiendish demagogue, happy to make a date night out of infiltrating their gala. John was still waiting for the catch.

The first few minutes had been enjoyable. Jack had kissed him, quietly, tongue inevitably tasting the blood splattered over his lips but never recoiling. John could feel him hard against his thigh, and wished they had the room to maneuver, just enough to move a few layers of fabric and slide together even closer. But they had to settle for a lazy and very quiet rutting, never enough to come. They could have, but they both knew how unrestrained the other could be, and with heavy footsteps still racing above them, they eventually gave up in favor of simply waiting.

John was so tired of waiting. He’d never been patient, and having a hot, ready, and willing Jack beneath him he couldn’t finish off was not helping his oft-missing virtue. The traffic above had died down slowly as the demagogue’s forces had decided the assassin must have made it out of the building. But there was still several corpses, and John knew that violence on this level would attract a lot more than coroners. They would have to either wait longer for the initial investigation to die down, or take the risk of not being able to take down whatever police were still waiting for them.

“You know,” Jack said, so quiet John felt more than heard the words in the vibrations from his throat. John unashamedly had his head curled on Jack’s shoulder and had for a while. “I did say we should have gone with my plan.” John rolled his eyes.

“Bursting in guns-akimbo may work for you, immortal man, but you saw the security. My way was much neater.” John really thought it had been elegant. He hadn’t been able to bring any weaponry in, even their vortex manipulators had to be left behind. Time Agents were very much persona non-grata in this regime. But John had hacked in and made a very important change to the menu, and it had been easy to liberate his and Jack’s light but sharp steak knives that the catering had provided. He still had one, tucked inside his coat, and he was going to keep it. Lovely blade.

Point being, once inside, the guards were a lot less wary about weaponry. No one noticed a missing knife or two as the caterers rolled away their dish carts, and when the party moved onto the dance floor, it had been all too easy to send Jack to introduce his alias to the demagogue, and for John to step up behind them and slit their throat.

They hadn’t meant for anyone else to die but it all got a bit violent after that. All John did, at Jack’s request, was run. He left the murder weapon in one guard’s shoulder but then they had made it into the antechamber with the window that was supposed to be ajar. Sometimes attentive household staff were the bane of his existence. But he hadn’t extensively researched the manor for nothing, and here they were, snug as two murderous bugs in a floorboard.

“I’m just saying,” Jack said. “This was a pretty weak back-up plan.” John jabbed him in the gut and Jack let out a weak oof.

“You can let up on the insults until I can kill you properly,” John said sweetly. “I’d do it now, but you’d stink and give the whole game away.”

“How generous,” Jack teased, and turned his head to kiss John. As if to reassure him he didn’t mean it. John still found that strange.

“Like you would have done much different,” John mumbled before much longer had passed. He couldn’t actually see Jack’s face, but he could almost feel his surprise. Perks of knowing each other so long and so deeply. “You never had the best ideas.”

For a few moments too long, Jack didn’t respond, and John started to panic despite himself. He’d given himself rules for when Jack had decided to want him again, rules of how not to mess it up. Insults were a big one. He had no way of knowing when he would cross the line that made Jack decide he was no longer worth it, and so he had to play it safe. But it was uncomfortably warm and tight and as any good narration would have previously mentioned, John was not a patient person. Irritation made it that much harder to be good.

“You’re right,” Jack said, and John nearly choked on his next breath. “This does seem like exactly the kind of stunt we would have pulled back in the day after one of my plans.” John was deeply relieved Jack wouldn’t be able to see the smile that broke on his lips.

“Throwback, hm?” he purred instead, nuzzling into Jack’s neck and willing his heartbeat to steady itself.

“But now we’re older and ever more patient.”

“Not that patient,” John added, pressing a light kiss to Jack’s jaw. Jack gripped him tighter.

“No, not that patient.” One hand slipped between them, rubbing teasingly over John’s crotch. “I think we can take them. What do you say?” God, John needed to keep Jack between his thighs until they both reached some higher plain, and that required being back on their ship with no one to disturb them and out of this hole.

“Oh, you know I can take anything,” John promised. Then he pulled a maneuver he really hoped would go as fluidly as the action movie vibes demanded. He pushed upward, tossing the loose floorboard aside, then took hold of Jack, and forced him up to stand as he rolled down and took the space once occupied by Jack’s legs. “Let’s see if you can, lover.”

Jack looked at him, insulted, but only for a second before leaping out of the hole and running with a scream at the nearest adversary. John slipped the knife out of his coat, waited for a pause in the gunfire, then followed after. It would be far too unfair to let Jack have all the fun after all.

[thevikingwoman]

I could not let this be, so here is part two of Meryta and Emmanellain. This part is explicit.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 2359 | Read on Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Meryta Khatin x Emmanellain de Fortemps | start of HW | fluff/romance Rating: Explicit. New relationship, first time together, sweetness, smut, oral, handjob

Reprieve - part 2

Meryta and Emmanellain rush down the hall, giggling and holding hands. Meryta isn’t sure this is wise, but she’s very tired of worrying. Emmanellain is sweet and handsome, hapless overconfidence notwithstanding. Thanks Nhamaa – or perhaps Halone – the hallways are empty.

Emmanellain fumbles with the handle of a door, and she sneaks a kiss to his cheeks as he swings the door to his rooms open, gesturing for her to enter. She looks around curiously, hand in his. There are shelves with books, and some thrown open on a side table. A sitting area with a velvet divan, vases with flowers, ink and paper on a desk, crumbled leafs beside it.

“Here we are, pretty girl. My chambers are quite splendid, of course.” He pulls her further into the room, and he amends, “I am certain Father provided you with lodging befitting a hero, of course –”

Meryta stands on her toes and kisses his jaw. Emmanellain bends to capture her lips with his and she loses interest in the décor as he wraps his arms around her and lifts her up, bracing her against the wall. The door falls shut.

Impatient, she pushes his coat off his shoulders, its heavy fur hitting the floor with a thud. It’s probably the latest fashion, but Emmanellain doesn’t seem to care right now, and neither does she, the layers of rich cloth far too much between them. He kisses her jaw, her throat, his soft lips eager against her skin. She shivers with every touch of his lips, want pooling in her belly. She kisses him back, her hands roaming across the velveteen clinging to his shoulders, round to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

“I want – ”

He nods and she works the buttons, popping the buttons open impatiently. His skin is soft and smooth and she kisses it as it’s revealed, his shirt hanging open. She’s not had a lot of opportunity for intimacy since she came to Eorzea, and then only hurried moments. She’s not had much before that either, but the partners in her youth were much more like her, scaled and hardened. Now, she roams her hand over his chest and his softer belly, excited by the feel of him.

“Meryta, pretty girl –” Emmanellain kisses her, enthusiastically and messy and his arms give out as she slides to the floor. She has to look up at him, and he looks flushed, his eyes wide and soft. It’s his turn to push her jacket to the floor, the leather landing in a heap behind her. His hands move down her back and settles on her ass, gripping firmly through her heavy trousers. She wants him closer, wrapping her tail around him to pull him in, as she reaches for his face, his lips. She wants them on her again, their softness and the warm taste of the wine he’d had at his party.

He stumbles as she pulls him down to her, one arm going wild, knocking into a pedestal. Meryta barely catches the vase that comes tumbling down, flower decorations spread over the floor.

“Let me –”

“No Meryta I beseech you, I’d rather –”

He kisses her again, and he pulls on her shirt. She allows him to pull it over her head, and lands on top of the flowers, and then Emmanellain lifts her and carries her in three steps to his bed, avoiding a pile of magazines left on the floor.

“You look splendid on my bed,” he says, and grins, quite proud of himself. “You would look better with less clothes, I believe.”

She laughs and props herself up on her elbows. “You think?”

“Ah I most assuredly know, but to be certain there is but one way to find out.”

His eyes are bright and she complies with his audacity, shimmying her pants down her legs and unclasping her breastband.

“Meryta,” Emmanellain breathes, and he crawls into his bed, his shirt hanging loose off shoulders and his hair freely around his face. She pulls him close and kisses him. She likes the way he looks at her, all happy affection, free of the world’s burdens. Like she has the right to be happy, here in his bed.

He sits up next to her, and runs his hands down from her face to her neck, gently touching her scales. She shivers with the touch, and he startles and withdraws.

“Please, it’s nice,” she says. Her scales are sensitive and she wants his hand back, so she takes it puts there.

“I’ve never, uh – “ He blushes and touches lightly, down her throat and her shoulder, tracing the patches of jadeblack scales, “— with an Au Ra. Is it – is this fine?”

“More than fine, Emmanellain. You can touch as much as you want.”

She grins and Emmanellain blushes deeper, a lovely flush across his cheeks. He is still tentative, carefully exploring her body with his hands, but it feels nice and calming. She encourages him, arching and sighing into his touch. She traces two fingers over the shell of his pointed ears, curious herself.

“It’s softer than I expected, I must confess,” he mumbles, and kisses her shoulder, the scales above her breast. He kisses her nipples next, and it’s no longer calming, lighting rushing through her veins with his sudden boldness. She arches towards him, an ache between her legs. She wants his hands there, or her own, and her tail pulls free from under her to wrap around Emmanellain’s arm. He startles and she almost wants to apologize, but he lets out a low groan and continues exploring her body, every touch pulling moans from her.

His shirt drags across her belly as he moves, and he has far too many clothes on still, her thighs bucking against the silk of his trousers.

“You too,” she mumbles, and pushes his shirt off his shoulders, her hands wandering over his tall frame. She wants it off, she wants him as naked as her.

He obliges, sits up and shrugs out of his shirt, tossing it haphazardly behind him. He takes off his trousers with a flourish, treating them much the same as the shirt. He stands, pale and naked and blushing, and she pulls him down beside her, tail flickering to his waist. She reaches and kisses his sweet lips again, and his chest next and it is Emmanellain’s turn to sigh – which turns to a wince as her hands roam lower.

She frowns and pulls back, a black-blue bruise visible on his flank.

“Pray, are you injured? Does it hurt?”

“Oh, it is but a minor bruise. It was worse though,” he stretches and shows her, his hands extending to his back, his lips pouting. “The vanu were quite rough.”

“I am sorry I was not faster, Emmanellain. I should not have let you go off on your own.”

She traces his skin lightly, right above the bruise on his ribs. His skin is so soft and pale.

“You came, you’re a true hero.” He chuckles, as if he’s telling a joke. “It is much to my chagrin than I was much less of a hero than I thought, and more the embarrassment Father believes me.”

His arms fall beside him, and he looks away. She wants to bring back his boundless joy, for her to soak in and forget her own troubles.

“I should have foreseen the danger. The beastmen, the Primal... those are not simple problems.” She can hardly forget it, leaping through the sky. She does not want to think of it, but if the time comes, she will deal with it. She folds her hand in his and reaches to kiss him. “I doubt your father expected you to deal with a Primal, Emannellain.”

“I would not be so certain,” he mumbles, kissing her back. She wraps her arms and her tail around him, drawing him closer.

“No matter, you came for me like the hero you are.” Emmanellain perks up, his mood seemingly shifting like the wind, and he grins widely. “You should be treated as such.”

“I did what I had to – but had your brother and Cid not shown up… “

He pays her words no heed and pushes her back on his bed, now hooking his fingers in her smalls and tugging. She obliges and lifts her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs. His hands wander across her legs, and she forgets what she was going to say.

He settles between her legs. “Mayhap I’ll be a hero to you too, you most assuredly deserve it.”

He looks at her, far more intent than she expects, as he’s randomly touching her legs, her belly – watching her face as she reacts to his touch, lighter and firmer across skin and scales. Emmanellain’s gaze slide lower. Heat pools in her belly and her face flushes under his attention. His hands are on her hips and he lowers his head, his breath warm against her skin, his mouth but an inch from her sex. He kisses the inside of her leg, sending shudders through her spine. Oh.

“May I?”

She nods, and he kisses her thigh again, and brushes his hand over her scales, the delicious pressure making her sigh. She spreads her legs, letting him see how she wants him. She wonders if he would mind her hands in his hair. It’s dark and smooth and tempting; she wants to mess it up. She wants to pull him closer, to where she wants him and his mouth.

She doesn’t have to wait though, his kisses moving to the apex of her legs, and his tongue darts to taste her. Despite her want, she still lets out a gasp of surprise, her hips lifting off the bed. Emmanellain doesn’t relent, holding her hips and licking up her slit, then down. He presses his tongue against her most sensitive part, and sucks and licks again, a blur of changing sensations, then easing back.

“Good? My hero, pretty girl, beautiful – ” he gasps, looking up at her under long, dark lashes.

“Yes, please, I want – ”

He’s back and she can’t help herself, her hands burying in his hair, the soft brown strands too inviting, her need for him, to guide him, too much. Emmanellain doesn’t seem to mind at all, redoubling his efforts, pressure and suction and heat.

She just feels – her world narrows to the feeling between her legs, his hands on her hips, and she moans and pleads, his name on her lips as she bucks against him, his hands no match for her strength. One of his hands finds it’s way between her legs, and his fingers in her cunt, his mouth still on her. It’s good, her whole body writhing, her tail curling away from her to slide against Emmannelain’s back. He moans at that, and crooks his fingers and she falls apart, waves of pleasure washing over her.

Emannellain pulls back and grins again, self assured and happy, licking his lips. She feels languid and boneless, and smiles back. He moves up her body, kissing her belly, her chest, her mouth. She kisses him greedily, licking the taste of herself from his lips.

“Very heroic, aren’t I?”

“Verily.”

She wraps her arm around him, pulling him close. His hardness is against her thigh, and she presses against it, to hear him groan. He ruts against her, eager and erratic. Impatiently, Emmanellain moves his hand between them and grips himself, seeking more friction.

“You enjoyed that,” she grins, mayhaps pleased herself, and she reaches for him too, putting her hand above his, moving it deliberately down and up. Emmanellain closes his eyes briefly and sits on his knees next to her, giving her room to move and grip him firmly.

“Quite so,” he says, as he lets his own hand drop and reach for her, his thumb running over her scales. She tries to find a rhythm, absorbed in the motion and intensity of his face, the velvet hardness beneath her hands – she uses her other hand too, her hands small against his full length. Faster, slower, a twist at the end, and he’s soon shaking, his eyes caught in hers, his jaw clenched and his hands scrambling over her body.

“Oh, I – Meryta!” He comes like that, white ropes over her belly, down her hand. She lets up the pressure, moves her hands gently and lets him fall forward into her, the mess smeared between them. Emmanellain grins sheepishly, his face flushed as they messily kiss again.

“So handsome,” she whispers and he blushes deeper. She decides she likes the look on him. He kisses her jaw, and then scoots off the bed.

“Oh – I should… sorry!” He grabs his shirt at random.

“Don’t be sorry –”

“Here, let me, ah, let me,” he says as he gently wipes her belly and then her hands, careful and uncaring for ruining the fabric. Meryta finds she doesn’t care much either.

After cleaning himself too, he carefully sits on the bed. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, and closes it again. A flick of uncertainty sparks in her gut.

“Are you…?” She hopes he has no regrets, as she certainly has none. “Should I leave?”

“No! I mean – unless you want to? My bed is certainly big enough, and you still look wonderful in it.”

“No! I’d love to stay, I just wasn’t sure, my own rooms are... somewhere.” She’s not been to this part of the manor before, endless corridors and halls but it’s probably not far to go back and perhaps that would be expected. She’d like to stay, though, next to his soft body and softer hair, not alone in her own borrowed bed and constant reminder of why she needs the charity of the Fortemps family. Not that she’d voice it quite so.  “I am perhaps too tired to move.”

“Wore you out?” He smirks, and crawls next to her, his arm across her body. “I’d like you here.”

Relief flooding her, she tucks herself closer to him, mindful of her horns.

[tilseptemberends]

Modern Elucien Fic concept/draft

I had an idea for a modern Elucien fic but I'm tied up in my current fic so this is all I've been able to get down so far. It combines elements from Acotar, Tog, and CC <3

-----

Elain had carefully selected her basket of flowers on her way to the port. She considered going back home to beg Feyre to come with her. Of all three Archeron girls, Feyre looked the most like their High Fae mother. Nesta followed after her but Elain… well it was very obvious to the people of Prythian that Elain Archeron was only demi-fae. Her face, though pretty, did not glow with the same kind of devastating beauty as her sisters. And her ears… while Nesta and Feyre both possessed the delicately pointed ears of the High Fae. Elain took more after their father. Her brown eyes and rounder features. Her ears only pointed enough to clue people in that she was not quite human. Not elegant like her mother's and sisters. But not soft and round like her father's either. Traveling with Feyre or Nesta made her feel safer. It was safer. Nesta and Feyre passed for High Fae easily, and they had crafted their demeanors to ward off anyone who would try to mess with them. But Elain had to keep pepper spray and a small taser in her bag. Because a young and quiet demi fae female… there were few things you could be that would put you in more danger than that in Prythian. No matter how many posters proclaimed the equality of humans and fae. At least it was better than on the continent… She kept one hand in the pocket of her cornflower blue peacoat, gripped around her phone as she took hurried steps to the port. 

It was a fae tradition that had her arranging the flowers in the basket. The chilled stone of the port edge bit into her knees as she nestled a few of her father's wood carvings in the center with one of her mother's necklaces. It had been unthinkable to most that their human father outlived their fae mother. And Elain wasn't sure how to deal with the fact that she had now lost them both. Elain hummed quietly as a few tears slipped down her face. A soft song. One that she had sung for her father many times. She wondered if it would feel like her heart was breaking again every time she heard that song on the radio now. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone held down a pocket-sized pack of tissues. When she looked up she found two fae males standing there. One with blonde hair that he wore loose, clear green eyes and a heavy jacket layered over his beige t-shirt and sage green and grey flannel. He was the one holding the tissues down toward her. The other male also had long hair but his was a bright coppery red and he’d pulled it up and spiked a silver pick through it. His skin was an even golden tan and his eyes… he had one russet-colored eye but the other was a prosthetic. A golden mechanical replacement for what had been lost to that vicious scar that extended from his brow to the corner of his mouth. The copper-haired male was also dressed for the beginning of winter. A maroon coat over a lighter-colored turtleneck sweater and a knitted scarf. She looked between them anxiously, adjusting the position of her feet to spring away if she had to. The blond male held the tissue out to her again, 

“We didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and smiled at her when she dared to accept the offered tissues. She sniffled and opened the packet carefully. The blonde one knelt on the ground next to her. He set a basket similar to her own on the ground in front of himself. Inside his wreath of flowers lay a delicate handkerchief and a photo. A photo of what had to be the male when he was still young, and a beautiful female. Judging by their expressions in the photo Elain guessed that she must have been a close relative. “My mother.” was all he said to explain when he caught her looking. Elain swallowed and looked back down at her own basket. “I’m… I’m sorry for your loss.” 

The other male stood on the blond’s other side, gripping his own small basket in his hands, so tightly his golden tan skin had gone white at the knuckles. The blond’s brow furrowed in concern. Friends… these two were… friends. They had come together to support each other through the emotions that came with this offering to the Mother. The second male swallowed a breath as he knelt down. He reached into his sweater and pulled a thin silver chain over his head. She watched as he unclasped it and slipped the lovely rose gold rings off the chain. Engagement bands. Her heart sank as he set them both into his basket amidst the crimson flowers and autumn bright foliage. His hands shook as he set the basket in the water. His friend did the same with his own and then offered his hand to the copper-haired male. He did not object and gripped his friend's hand tightly. It was good that these two had each other to lean on, she thought and gently set her basket into the icy water. The tide would carry the offerings away, to a realm no living thing could visit. It stood as a testament to the love of the living for the dead. Elain rested her hands on her knees as she watched the baskets drift away. 

“I did… did not know about the proper rituals when my mother passed. Today I honor both of my parents,” she spoke quietly, and when she glanced over at the males she found the blond one was smiling at her. A warm sympathetic expression that had her pulling out another tissue. She extended the remainder of the pack to the copper-haired male who accepted it with a shallow nod. 

“My fiance.” he managed before wiping at his nose with one of the tissues. The blond squeezed his friend’s hand lightly.

[thecatchat]

Ideas for Orch designs.

I love this!

Okay, first off, now I'm imagining the family portrait/photo: Cue in his suit, Saphonite in his suit of armor, Karl in his white lab coat and colored goggles, and Alex: an 80s amalgamation that definitely includes bits and pieces of the other three somehow.

So, as I'm looking through fashion trends in the 80s, I'm thinking it might be a bit easier to create a few friends for Alex through a certain style, then add a flower or plant symbolism to them. Like, yah, she's got a pack of construction workers, but she's got to make friends her own age at some point.

Also, as kids their clothes are all going to look more like kids clothes than the specific styles we might base them on, but by the time they are all 14, I'm sure they've grown into it.

80s skater fashion: cut-off denim shorts, striped shirts, minimal skate shoes, backwards caps, denim vests, and colored trousers.

80s preppy fashion: layering a turtle neck with an open shirt and cardigan, either worn regularly or wrapped around the waist, a pair of light colored slacks, and boat shoes or sneakers. Common colors were pastel and neutral shades, but could go darker too.

80s goth fashion: make up and hair, the bigger the better. Layering lots of black, leather, and a mixture of textures (Trad Goth). Chunky boats.

80s punk fashion: studded leather jacket, ripped jeans, band t-shirts, and heavy-duty boots.

80s kid fashion in general: loose-fitting denim, layers of bright shades, daring hats, and comfy shoes. Ruffled skirts with ankle-high socks and an off the shoulder shirt.

Borage - aka starflower, meaning bluntness and abruptness. Maybe skater kid?

Bluebell - looks like a teachers skirt if you ask me, means loyalty, consistency, humility, and gratitude.

Buttercup - meaning sarcasm, ingratitude, childishness, riches, memories of childhood. Maybe punk or goth?

Coltsfoot - meaning Justice shall be done. Very yellow and spiky. Punk kid?

Dahlia - elegance, dignity, abundance, and instability. Preppy kid with a slightly unstable home life?

Dandelion - overcoming hardship, faithfulness, happiness. Skater kid again?

Fennel - merit, strength, worthy of all praise. Skater or punk?

Goldenrod - encouragement and be cautious. Goth? Supportive but the most cautious out of the group?

Hollyhock - ambition and fruitfulness. Preppy kid? Ambitious and joins like, Every Club.

Larkspur - levity, lightness, haughtiness, an open heart. Skater or preppy? Maybe?

Lionsheart- bravery. Skater or punk?

Periwinkle- early and sincere friendship, tender recollection. For whoever Alex meets first.

Ragged-robin - wit. Could be any of them.

Speedwell - travel, kindness, protection, loyalty. Skater, with the traveling.

Wallflower- changeless affection. Goth?

Wolfsbane - chivalry and knight-errantry, not for the other kids but given to Nite?

Okay, I hope this all helps because I have to sleep now

[damianacottstudio4]

Experiment

expanding on the lego character

i decided to explore how i can manipulate or interact better with the stencil to create works that best represent what i am investigating, thinking, feeling and more

starting of with just manipulating the positioning of the lego character, whilst also utilising layering to create a visual mixture of textures, objects etc.

i don't know its like the process of creating was just myself getting lost in this canvas, randomly placing the stencil at different angles and allowing the paint (on canvas) pull out the characters features

i didn't pay too much attention to things like overspray, even layering of paint, bubbly marks or scuffs that alter the overall composition

i just took this as a experiment of figuring out how to work with stencil and spray paint but on a higher level

for instance an issue i found was that when applying the spray paint in a continuous movement allowed for a more thicker application of paint whereas a lighter press led to the can almost spitting out the paint causing some parts of the stencil to be filled with lighter spots rather than a full coat

i found that the numerous layering of stencils created this almost glossy texture, however i realised that if i wanted to create a stencil (or the image on the canvas created from the stencil), that holds alot of paint to create a complete even look often or maybe not as often but i did run into issues like excess paint seeping below the stencil and spreading to other parts causing a look that is incomplete ( like the stencil didn't create the grooves or marking of the stencil with the negative and positive space which resulted in either a blob of paint or the stencil being half lego and half full paint)

i then decided to add a smaller stencil to create this size difference and visual contrast, i did a practice stencil to see what works and what doesn't

i then sprayed the stencil onto the canvas

i am pleased with the result, although there are a few things that i would do differently

for instance the process of creating this was longer than i had expected, this was because of having to wait for the canvas or stencil to dry before spraying so rather than using only one stencil i could use maybe two or three and only having one for a specific colour?

another thing i would change is the composition layout, from my eyes there are two heavy focal points aside from the blue stencil, that hold a lot of space and they kind of confine your eyes to these spots

additionally i would probably use different spray cans or tips for these colours as these were hard to work with, i found that the lighter i sprayed the more splatter and the harder i sprayed more clumps of paint (like too much paint causing it to bubble)

overall though this was a informative experiment that has helped me with my creative process and ability

looking at the work again its a very straight forward piece in my opinion, i still feel that this work is continuing to speak on perspective

i feel like the work presents itself as a collection/grouping of people/beliefs/ideas etc. and smack bang in the middle is this smaller, contrasting and more filling stencil of the lego character, i don't know if its this thing where were all headless chickens running round you just gotta stand still and take in or look closely but also i feel like this stand still point could lead to a reading of the chaos around us where this figure is standing alone, almost like its trying to navigate the space around it.

i like the navigating through the space around the figure point, i feel like this is further added to by the fact that the work is reminiscent of those pictures that when staring at a single point, the background begins to blur or transform

[truck-runningboards]

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[technoxenoholic]

okay, so, some important stuff to consider here.

one: hollow knight was created by an extremely tiny indie dev team. team cherry is a team of literally, not exaggerating, exactly three people. they've been working for years to create hollow knight's sequel, because they do care about the quality of their games and they actually put in the work for it. they are at much, much greater risk of financial harm from plagiarism, rip-offs, and bad-faith inspiration-takers than a giant company like nintendo/gamefreak/the pokémon company is. it is absolutely worth casting a critical eye at a known kinda-scummy company like pocket pair trying to piggyback off their success and releasing a knock-off before team cherry even gets their sequel out, plagiarism or not.

two: the similarities on display here are in no way limited to "it uses blue for shadows", and saying so just shows you're assuming bad faith automatically and not looking. i absolutely would have mistaken the screenshot of whatever game that is for something out of hollow knight (with a modded player character model, maybe) if i didn't know better. the way the ground is constructed, the way the background layers are designed, the way the foreground elements are placed, the use of lighting and atmosphere, and the specific use of white slashing graphics and how those are shaped are all very, very similar to hollow knight, and not just this specific screenshot of hollow knight, either. no, hollow knight did not invent blue shading, but it did do a lot of the work to popularize the very specific aesthetic style that pocket pair's game is borrowing.

whether it is plagiarism or just taking very heavy inspiration to ride on team cherry's coat tails, i can't say at this point. but this specific issue with pocket pair's game here has nothing to do with its other game palworld. team cherry is not nintendo, is not gamefreak, is not associated with the pokémon company. team cherry is three people trying to make games with a lot of care, and dismissing concerns that they may have been stolen from out of hand just because you don't care about nintendo getting parodied is not fucking cool. i don't care about nintendo getting parodied either, they deserve that after their open hatred and litigation against fan games, but could you not throw another indie developer out with the bathwater in the process?

People learn what words mean challenge 2024

[ID: Text that reads, "People are claiming this:" followed by a screenshot of a 2D video game, showing a small character in a witch outfit with a pointed hat and skirt, swinging a weapon against an enemy in a burst of white light. The background is mostly shrouded in darkness except for a small circle of cool blue light around the character. There are stonework platforms, chains with lights, and stalagmites and stalagtites in the background, along with hanging banners with symbols drawn on them. A ladder leads to a lower level. More text follows, reading, "is 'blatant plagarism' of this:" Followed by a screenshot from the game Hollow Knight, which has a royal blue background to represent shadows, with brick platforms, double-lighted lanterns that shed white light, and enemies that are based on anthropomorphic insects, with the character wearing a cloak and having a white head or helmet with two spikes, and round black eyes, attacking with a glowing white sword. There are black decorative fences in the background. The only similarity between the two is the use of the color blue as part of the environment. Text following this reads, "because...blue, I guess." End ID.]

I'm not even joking. People think they can just call anything plagarism now and that'll automatically make it true about the most fucking absurd things. Literally the only similarity between these is they're both using the color blue to represent darkness. These are screenshots the OP chose themselves as "proof" of "blatant plagarism". Because they think the color blue was invented when Hollow Knight came out apparently.

And this is supposed to back up the claim that Palworld, a blatant *parody*, is "blatantly plagarizing Pokemon and is evil for doing so". Despite the fact that parodies are literally protected by copyright law. It is not illegal to make parodies. And the fact that the Pokemon company literally does not need any help protecting their IP.

But people are acting like it's a crime against humanity for a Pokemon parody to exist at all, even before they're upset that it's gotten higher reviews than actual modern Pokemon games.

Like, people, if you want Pokemon to make better games...how about stop dropping 60+ dollars at the drop of the hat for half-baked glitched messes???