#half a decade long fixation GO

[just-another-colin-kinnie]

Woah fun to find a blog that likes mcrp when i get back into it

I haven't seen this mcdc series you're making art of, but your art is pretty

THANK YOU ive had a certain passion for it for about half a decade so a weird amount of quality goes into my art for it lmao

you should erm watch it it's not 1 to 1 with my art because my latest piece is based off stuff im making up but ITS STILL GREAT !!!!

just LOOK at how silly they are

[slut4thebroken]

mouth cockwarming hcs

Idk I had an idea lol but I couldn’t figure out which character to use so I just decided to do this instead

Bucky Barnes

Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Spencer Reid

Cillian Murphy, Emmett, Jackson Rippner, Jonathan Crane, Lenny Miller, Neil Lewis, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tommy Shelby

(Warnings: daddy kink for a few of them (no incest), a little bit of age play ig?, ionno lol)

Bucky Barnes - He’s no virgin, obviously, but cockwarming in your mouth? That was definitely a new one. It’s not his favorite, but he likes seeing you so relaxed and calm. It reminds him that he’s capable of being gentle with someone so delicate. Plus it’s not too hard— he’s had decades to practice restraint, so he can handle sitting still under you while you nap with his cock in your mouth.

Dick Grayson - Honestly, he gets it— he has an oral fixation too lol, but he usually eats pussy instead. Dick prides himself on being a gentleman though so he’s had plenty of practice putting up with a boner for the sake of not ruining an innocent moment with a girl… Usually he just reads a book or watches a movie to try and not focus on the fact that his cock is literally in your mouth.

Jason Todd - He thinks it’s cute. You’re already so tiny compared to him, but when you use his dick as a pacifier? You just look so fucking adorable. If you’re ever in a situation where you can’t cockwarm him with your mouth, usually you’ll settle for suckling his fingers or his thumb— but you don’t like it as much because the calluses on his hands are too rough compared to his smooth, (sometimes) squishy cock.

Spencer Reid - He gets a little antsy to be honest, but if he has a book or some paperwork to go over, he can usually sit still long enough for you to get your fill. He knows exactly why people find comfort in this sort of thing, and he knows exactly why you specifically find comfort in it. So he doesn’t judge or think it’s weird. He likes being the one that you go to for this comfort.

Cillian Murphy - He finds it a little odd, but as long as you’re happy, he’s happy. Plus he likes how paternal and protective he feels when you’re laying on his stomach suckling on the head of his cock while he pets your hair. It’s usually enough to get you to fall asleep too. He thinks it’s cute hearing your soft snores as you drool a little bit around his cock.

Emmett - Makes his daddy kink go wild tbh. His little girl using his dick as a pacifier? Yeah. Half the time, he can control himself. But sometimes (usually after at least 20 minutes so you can have enough time to enjoy yourself) he’ll gently push on your head, urging you to start sucking more. You whine, but end up doing it anyway just to please him.

Jackson Rippner - Doesn’t like it at all. If you do it right after he fucks your face and shoots his load down your throat then he can usually put up with it for a little bit. But other than that, he doesn’t have the patience for it. Sometimes when you’re napping and he sees you sucking on your thumb instead, he feels a tiny bit of guilt very, very deep down... But not enough to get him to change his mind lol.

Jonathan Crane - He thinks it’s weird as fuck. Honestly he wants to delve deeper into whatever thing from your childhood gave you an oral fixation, but he resists (for now at least). He’s usually pretty good about not turning it sexual, unless he’s particularly frustrated or stressed from work or his… extracurricular activities.

Lenny Miller - He doesn’t really mind. Honestly, he finds it a little relaxing too. He likes coming home after a long, stressful day at work and just laying with his little girl, petting your hair while his dick rests in your mouth, feeling you suckle on the tip while you hug him tightly until you both fall asleep.

Neil Lewis - He’ll try it because you want it so badly, but after less than ten minutes of his cock resting in your mouth, he’s already hard and leaking. He ends up whining and squirming, trying to get you to suck his cock properly until you eventually just give in and blow him. If you do it right after an orgasm, he can usually last longer, but if not, you have ten minutes tops before he gets too needy.

Raymond Leon - He feels the same way about this as he does about most ‘relaxing’ things: it’s a waste of time. So he often tries to work while you’re falling asleep. You’ll lay between his legs with your head resting on his hip, his cock sitting in your mouth, and he only complains if he doesn’t have enough space to use his laptop/tablet.

Robert Fischer - He understands… When he’s feeling subby, he’ll sometimes do that on your nipple. So even when he’s getting hard, he’ll try to ignore it and let you enjoy this for as long as he can handle it. He just reminds himself over and over again that you always let him nurse on your tits for however long he wants, so you deserve to nurse on his cock every once in a while too.

Tommy Shelby - He’s a master of self control honestly so he doesn’t mind it. Sometimes you’ll both lay down for a nap and you’ll suck on the head of his cock until you fall asleep, sometimes he sits up in bed and reads or does some work. Either way, he doesn’t really mind it. Plus you always seem extra inclined to reward him for his patience when you wake up from a nap with it still in your mouth.

[vatelixx]

Ton 618,

S3-S4ish Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Fluff (no angst… surprisingly). Autistic Spencer (present in all of my one shots bcos it’s canon to me).

──── domesticated time inbetween cases & blind adoration.

Warnings: literally none (who am i???), brief mention of past trauma (Hankel).

w.c: 1.5k

— They’re both nerds who are a little too invested in space. Light biblical imagery & Greek mythology references. My writing has been sufficiently domesticated (dw i’ll be back to angst soon, war is not over.)

Loosely inspired by:

a/n: just giving him what he deserved to have.

────────────

For the first time, in a long time, there is little residing in Spencer’s mind. Beyond warm hands, and soft skin, and the pulse of someone else’s body. Obsessed is one word for it, a textbook definition that can’t truly articulate the ache he derives from the thought of you. Obsessed, fatefully ruined, if this is the work of divine intervention, then consider him, once obstinate in his atheism, entirely, profusely devout.

He’s still thinking about you. What’s new? The memory of your lips pressed against his, the tattooed promise of more, more because it will never be enough. He wants, god when has he ever wanted? Life before appears bleak now, black and white. Academia, pursuits of knowledge, lonely nights and the transient fear of forever being stuck in a cyclical cycle of loneliness.

You think he’s pretty. He smiles on the way home from work, Morgan pressing him, because ‘kid you can’t be that happy for no reason.’ There is a reason, a monumental, life-altering one that waits for him at the door. He likes that, the domesticity. He’s never asked for much, content in his mishaps of intimacy, always baring the weight because he wants needs to be good. For the people around him, for the home he’s carved into his skin, for anything that starves off the decades of isolation.

When he threads his arms around your waist, leaning all of his weight into the contact, you both go stumbling back.

He’s soft. Of course he’s endured more than anyone should, the sharp edge of addiction, the stifling weight of a morbid job that has him fixated, hook line and sinker, compass pointing South every time he’s thrown into the field. But for all of that, he still obtains naive, blinding light.

He burns. Or more so, he warms.

“Hi, hi. Sorry— that wasn’t very eloquent. Can I try again?” He’s halfway out of the door; you have to lean forward, grip his wrist, tug him closer, “Okay.” He laughs, “I’ll take that as a no?”

He’s certain your name is imprinted onto his heart. Carved just for you alone. There is no one else. There could never be anyone else.

That night he falls asleep on your shoulder. Hands interlocked, body splayed out across stressed leather, abandoning his book for the soft drab of safety. There’s a tangled wire of headphones draped between you, knotted further when you pull him, half conscious to bed. He follows mindlessly.

You spend his allocated time off as recluses, abandoning civilisation. No sunlight, his apartment is permanently drenched in molten light. Scattered lamps, balancing off stacked books and messy surfaces. Every morning he’ll wake you with butterfly kisses and the promise of a breakfast he will consistently burn. He’s content, over the moon, to forget the world around him. For it to just be, just the two of you.

Today, as usual, you eat his charred attempt at food. He’s trying, he’s definitely trying, even if the end result is… a health risk. Still, you eat it regardless, without complaint, you eat it.. and then he’s just… kissing you senseless in the middle of his kitchen. Cold tiled floor, and mismatched socks. Fuck, he loves you, he’s never loved someone the way he loves you.

“I’ve been dreaming about falling into black holes recently,” he says when you cradle his face. Pretty features besotted with the sight of you. “Weird. Kinda cool. Please don’t eat anymore of my food.”

“No promises,” you grin, and he has the audacity to pout.

Because that’s not fair, burnt food can cause carcinogens to form, to obstruct digestion and metabolism. “My cooking is going to kill you. Your death will be on my hands. The grief will be immeasurable. I’ll become a hermit, never leave my apartment again. Don’t do that to me.” hands wrapped around your wrists, he preserves the contact. “Please don’t do that to me.”

“Well only because you said please—“

He sighs, audibly, ”You just died, you’re dead, and the only thing you can focus on is a word. A word I very generously repeat, at any given moment.” — he’s polite, he will use his manners, and he will unceremoniously echo please please please to obtain even a fraction of you.

He’s senseless. Too far gone.

You take his hand, press it against your heart. “Still alive. I think?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “For now.”

“You’re dramatic—“

He cuts you off, “Did you know one of the largest black holes ever recorded is 66 billion times the mass of the sun? Ton 618.” Pausing to kiss you (a vital necessity), his hands play aimlessly with your hair, strands sliding through the crevices of his fingers. “Imagine falling into that—“ kiss, “You would die obviously,” kiss, “But it would be a pretty cool death.” Kiss. 

Time dilation, worm holes, cosmic demise, you. Sigh— you.

“It would take over 10 billion years for its light to reach earth.” you say, and yeah. Okay. Just casually recite facts to him. That’s okay. He won’t melt, because he’s a rational, dignified, highly-cerebral adult.

Lie. You always know when to talk, sometimes, sometimes, he gets so lost in thought-loops and spirals of intellectual confusion that you have to draw him back to the present. He disintegrates. Every. Single. Time. One intelligent word and the threads of him are woven tightly around your finger.

”You’re stealing my job. And—and you’re doing it better than me. I’m taking a vow of silence. No more words. I’m becoming a monk. Except, maybe without the celibacy?”

“Whore—“

“For you? Always.” he says, knocking his shoulder into yours, “You’re missing the important aspect to this. Don’t discard my threat.”

“Spence, if you ever stop reciting random facts to me at..” you scramble to check the time, early morning, it’s hard to differentiate the hours when they all bleed into one convoluted mess of intimacy. “At 9AM, we will have serious issues. I might get HR involved.“

He’ll ramble about the laws of thermodynamics. Dedicating hours to the philosophical differences between determinism and free-will. You’ll call him a nerd, and he’ll laugh, muffling your protests with his mouth. It’s routine. Something to fall back onto.

 “Hey! Don’t drag HR into our domestic affairs! That’s—“ he interrupts himself to kiss you, again. Just because he can.

Once he’s satisfied that his lips will ache for the next millennium, he continues. “Anyway. I think we should get old together, and then, when we’re losing our minds, and we can’t tell the days apart, we just.. take a casual trip to space, travel through Ton 618. I’d be scared, so I’d hold your hand when we fall. Getting sucked into eternal darkness would be an acceptable way to go.”

He laughs, “You know, as long as you’re by my side, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you repeat, before holding out your pinky. “Deal?”

He feeds his own through yours, “Deal.” 

Yeah, just promise eternal devotion to him. That wont have any lasting, fatal effects on his sanity. It’s not like he’ll cling to it for the remainder of his ephemeral existence.

Later that night, when you’re draped in limbs, skin pressed against skin, you sigh against the warm slope of his neck. “You’re reciting the periodic table in your sleep again..”

It’s a habit. A permanent, engrained idiosyncratic that he’s endured since adolescence. He stirs awake, turning to face you in the hazy light. Features swollen, sleep-soft and pretty. “Was I?” He murmurs, finding the audacity to ask, “What element was i on?”

Because that’s clearly essential.

“Osmium,” you say, tucking strands of tousled brown behind his ear. “Gonna continue?”

“Mhm— yeah. Iridium. One of my favourites, thank god you woke me up before I got to it.”

You humour his tendencies; you’re nothing if not a condoner of his weird quirks. “Discovered by Smithson Tennat in 1803.” is your response, “The name comes from Greek Mythology, Iris. Two stable Isotopes, 191 and 193.”

There you go again. Fracturing his mind, and stealing his information before it can fall from bruised lips.

He thinks you might be cut from the same cloth. He thinks he was probably just made for you. “I like the way you say Isotopes.” He mutters, “Like the way you kiss. You always take my top lip.”

There’s no epiphany. No sharp blade, dragging, penetrating, skin, forcing you to confront stifled feelings. They’ve always been there. Red string of fate, Plato’s Symposium: Aristophanes’ account of the ‘other half.’ Hero and Leander. It doesn’t matter. There’s only the here and now.

He does this thing. Often. Where he’ll moan into your open-mouth. Fingers sunk deep into your hair, keeping you impossibly tethered to him. You’re not sure what planet he fell from, but you’re glad they deported him, if only for your selfish benefit of circuiting around him.

“I’m in love with you,” the admittance is easy. Maybe the words have always been waiting for you to verbalise, bated breath, inexorably interlinked. Maybe they’re long overdue. Something pleading to be let out. But, maybe, it matters more to wait until this, when everything is soft and untouchable. Fresh, untainted. He’d like to live in your skin.

Here’s the thing, Spencer always thought he would be the first one to say it. Reciprocation was always a fantastical hypothetical, something he could only blindly hope for. But, to have his illimitable feelings, in their extensive capacity, matched? That’s— more than he ever thought he deserved.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Saying ‘i’m in love with you’ doesn’t measure up, doesn’t articulate even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

He’s pretty sure he could die right here, in this one fragile moment, and be happy with everything he’s accomplished.

[lamb-teaa]

The day he was reborn, he devoted his entire life to finding her.

That's all Sylus cared, to be reunited with his beloved, the other half of his soul, his queen through life and death.

And when he finally found her, he vowed he would never let her go, even if she had no collection of him, even if she rejected and feared him at their supposed reunion, even if it might take him another decades for her to open her heart to him again for they are eternally bonded, defying the tragic fate that had once befall their unfortunate life.

They were meant to be and Sylus was more than willing to wait for her to return to him once more.

He had endured centuries chained to the abyss in his previous life, how would this be any difficult?

He just needed time. As much as she needs, he's willing to wait, until she's back into his arms just like before.

That was all he cared about, all he hoped for, all he wanted.

Until Sylus met you.

Was the universe out to get him? What sort of sick joke was this? The moment he locked eyes with you, standing behind the counter of the quaint flower shop, the familiar glint in your eyes sent a strong wave of déjà vu throughout him.

At first he simply mistook you as her lookalike, a doppelganger. Yeah, just someone who looked unnervingly identical to her, that has to be it, so there's no way-

"Long time no see, Sylus."

A familiar voice too - right then and there he felt like he had been sucker punched straight to the stomach, his heart beat spiked up uncontrollably, his sight fixated on yours as he remembered those familiar gaze in your eyes.

The familiar greed, the familiar desire, the familiar vengeance - so you remembered, but she didn't, but how-

How could there be two of her?

Sylus's head spun with disbelief and confusion, he couldn't bring himself to utter a single word out as he stood shell shocked in front of you. He had randomly chosen this flower shop to buy flowers for his hunter lady after his usual dealings outside of the N109 Zone, but this unexpected encounter with you just threw him extremely off guard.

Especially by how calm and composed you look, as if you hadn't just dropped the bomb of remembering your previous life together with him.

Yet the familiar fierceness in your eyes still remains, despite the ever calmness you exude around you.

And Sylus didn't know how he felt about it, about you - Ecstatic? Bewildered? Relieved? Scared?

What should he do? What is he supposed to do?

The soft hum of your voice snapped him out of his muddled thoughts, his entire body stiffened when you leaned forward, tilting your head up at him with a teasing yet mocking look - another familiar gesture that made his heart swell with longing.

"Seems like you've been faring human life quite well.."

Your voice, steady yet lighthearted trailed off purposely, just as he remembered all those lifetime ago and for a moment, Sylus felt like he was brought back to their past. Memories of the bittersweet banter and playful jabs flooded his mind, overwhelming his senses, and his heart screamed for him to pull you into his embrace, demanding where you've been all this time, why you felt so familiar but at the same time you don't and how does any of this makes sense-

But his reverie was shattered by your next words.

"..Especially having other me by your side."

—⁠ teaa's end note: i call this Split AU. another unpolished fic plot idk if I'll ever gonna write so it'll remain vague ooft (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

[snippychicke]

Poppy Seeds -- Part One

As you may have guessed, I fell into a new hyper fixation. Poppy's Playtime of all things. >.<

Inspired by TooManyPsuedonyms work, which in turn was inspired by @semisolidmind fanart/cabin!Au for Playtime Poppy.

I know right now we have no idea who or what Ollie is, but I decided to go with the assumption he is just a kid and not the Prototype as some theorists are assuming. This will likely be debunked in chapter four, but I'm running with it until then.

Dogday/Player!reader (attempting keeping it gender neutral)

Warnings: will touch on the after effects of trauma, but nothing is super explicit. Maybe some unhealthy coping skills (Dogday holding Reader on a pedestal) But otherwise we're giving everyone a happy ending. (Everything is wonderful and nothing hurts)

One: Home

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tight as your old truck climbed up the steep incline. It hadn't liked the rough road on a good day, let alone with Kissy and Dogday in the back trying to drag it down. Now it whined and complained, the wheels occasionally skidding on the gravel. Ollie clutched to Poppy tightly next to you, his sunken eyes wide with fear. Poppy, to her credit, looked confident that everything would be okay.

By the time you reached the cabin nestled high above the valley, it was close to midnight. It was a sizable two story home, complete with a barn, garage, and even a chicken coop. Thick forest surrounded the homestead, assuring complete privacy. A year ago your grandparents had moved into an assisted living community in town, leaving the whole place to you. The rest of the family had not been happy but in your defense you would come out every school break growing up to help them out.

And then, after you left Playtime Co, you had moved in under the guise of getting your life sorted out. Your grandparents never asked why it was taking you a decade to figure it out. Which you were glad, because you didn't know how you would have answered them.

Ollie’s fear eased into wonder as he looked at the flock of sheep you had in the pens up front. You were just thankful they were still there, looking rather healthy despite the fact you had been unexpectedly gone for a week or so.

When you had received the letter and VHS about the old Playtime Co you had interned 10 years ago while in college, you thought you would be gone for a few days at most considering it was a few hours away. You prepped your home as best as you could for being gone that long-- giving extra water and feed to the animals, setting the sprinklers for your garden on a timer-- but had little hopes of your own survival let alone that of your animals after being dragged deep into hell.

You didn’t bother with the detached garage, but pulled up right next to the porch. You were exhausted, and you could only imagine everyone else was as well. The truck seemed all too happy to shut off with a rough sound. You looked over at Ollie, who was still looking at everything in wonder, though Poppy was carefully extracting herself from his grip. “You okay there kiddo?”

He looked back at you, “This is where you live?” he asked instead, voice full of awe. “It looks like it's from a fairytale book!”

It really wasn't, it's a typical farm for this part of the country. Hardly one of the fanciest or beautiful, just simple and sturdy.

“Let's get inside and get settled for the night,” you offer instead of remarking. “I should have the stuff for some sandwiches at least.”

“Sand…witches?” Ollie repeated, sounding confused.

“Meat and bread,” Poppy answered, unbuckling the boy. “Sometimes with ketchup, mustard, mayo, cheese.”

“So, food? I like food!”

Your heart ached. You knew the boy had been raised in the factory, hidden away and protected from the Prototype or hungry ‘toys’. The fact he had was a miracle enough--especially considering how small and thin he was. He had to be ten at the youngest, but barely looked as if he was half that age.

The passenger door opened, which considering how much trouble Kissy had with her hands, was surprising. Yet the pink creature reached in and pulled both Ollie and Poppy out of the truck.

Dogday waited for you as you exited the truck, your legs shaky from the long ride. However, his attention wasn't on you but the dark sky above. It was a new moon, meaning the Milky Way arched overhead with dozens of stars. A glance over to Kissy and the others showed they too were amazed by the stars--you could hear Poppy trying to explain all of it to Ollie quietly.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” You said as you stepped closer to Dogday.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I-I’ve never seen the night sky like this.”

“Well, now you can see it every night,” you said, shouldering his arm lightly. “Best place for meteor showers too.”

Dogday tore his gaze away and looked down at you. “Are you sure we can stay here, angel?”

“Of course. As long as you want, even if it's forever.” Granted, you didn't know where else they would go, especially Dogday and Kissy. But you didn't want to assume anything either, or make them feel trapped.

His hand found yours, so giant compared to yours but soft and warm. “Forever it is then.”

You felt your cheeks warm against the chilly night air as you laughed self-consciously. “Right, you might wanna sleep on that kind of decision, ‘Day.”

Two: Sleep

You woke slowly, feeling warm and cozy. Something soft was surrounding you, with the faintest hint of vanilla. At first you thought maybe you were wrapped up in a thick blanket, but when you opened your eyes to matted brown fur you realized it was Dogday instead, his arms wrapped around you and holding you close as if you were the toy. You could feel him breathe softly, each inhale and exhale caressing your skin softly.

(You didn't want to think about the amalgamation of organic and inorganic parts inside of him. You saw enough when you helped attach his legs to leave you with nightmares.)

For once, Dogday looked relaxed. Dark eyes closed and his smile softened. You couldn’t resist running your fingers along his face. He had been one of the few you had instantly trusted in that hell. One of the few that never even seemed to think about harming you.

Poppy had used you for her own means, not giving you a real choice ever since you released her. Kissy Missy had always been kind but you had soon realized that her partnership with Poppy may have played a part in it. And of course there was Ollie, though it took a while for you to trust the faceless voice on the phone, especially after you learned that the Prototype could mimic voices and Ollie had a very… peculiar way of phrasing things.

Yet Dogday… he had raised his head, and saw you as someone special as soon as his gaze met yours. Begged you to leave him behind and to run when the miniature Critters started to swarm. Actively fought to defend and protect you despite missing the lower half of his body at first.

And ever since, had refused to leave your side. While everyone else did their part, he determinedly stuck with you. Even last night after everyone finished eating and all anyone could think about was sleep. Kissy happily cuddled Poppy and Ollie in her arms as she climbed up the stairs to claim a bedroom. You expected Dogday to follow suit…

“Hey, uh, angel?” Dogday said softly, sounding rather shy. He had stuck around to help you clean up, though all that consisted of was a few plates, cups, and butter knives. Though the number of sandwiches consumed had emptied out all the bread, lunchmeat, cheese, as well as peanut butter and jelly in your pantry.

“Yeah?” You were getting used to the nickname, though you still felt as if it was undeserved the way he said it. As if you truly were an angel from heaven, sent to save.

“... Could I sleep with you?”

His question surprised you, and you almost dropped the cup you had been washing. Thankfully he quickly grabbed it before it could fall very far. “Sleep…with me?”

Granted those last two… days? You weren't sure, but you and him had found safe spots to watch out for each other while the other slept. It was the only time during the whole ‘adventure’ you managed to sleep. Wrapped up in his arms, feeling him breathe, listening to his heartbeat. It reminded you weren't alone anymore.

“I… don't want to be alone,” he continued, drying off the cup and placing it on the shelf. “Even if I know you and the others are nearby, I…”

Your surprise shifted into sympathy and understanding. Kissy, Poppy, and Ollie were together… and now that you thought about it, being alone right now did not fill you with any sort of ease.

“Yeah. I mean, if you don't mind cuddling close. My bed is barely big enough for two normal-sized people, let alone one me and one… well, Dogday.”

His smile widened. “With you? Never.”

Dogday shifted in his sleep, turning his head to nuzzle into your hand before his eyes slowly opened. His smile widened slightly, and you heard more than saw his tail thump against the bed which in turn made you smile wider as well. “Morning,” you greeted softly.

“Good morning, angel,” he said just as softly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Best sleep in a long time,” you admitted with a slight laugh. Trying to sleep in the factory had been a scary experience. Finding small places to hide long enough to close your eyes. Waking and jumping at every little sound. Plagued by endless nightmares.

And you had been there for just a few days, a week at most.

“What about you?” you asked. Him and the others had lived in that hell for a decade. You didn't startle awake from him lashing out at nightmares. Which you had seen him do a few times before at the factory. You had held him in your laps as best you could, reassuring him he was okay as he broke down.

He leaned closer, nuzzling your cheek slightly. “Next to you, how could I not?”

You laughed between his flirty words and his fur tickling your skin. “You're such a flirt!”

Three: Morning After

“It's so bright outside!” Ollie gasped as he looked out the window while you worked on breakfast. Thankfully none of the eggs had spoiled, nor had any milk, meaning you were whipping up a full course of scrambled eggs and pancakes-- as well as cooking the few boxes of frozen sausages you had found in the freezer.

Dogday was currently watching them like a hawk, occasionally licking his lips as he moved them around in the skillet.

“Actually. That's cloudy. See how the sky is gray. Not blue?” Poppy pointed out, also gazing out the window. “On sunny days, it's a bright vibrant blue, and even brighter.”

“Really?” The boy looked up to you to confirm the doll's words, and you nodded your head. To think he had never seen the sky before. To be unable to tell a sunny day from a cloudy one.

“It actually looks like it could rain,” you pointed out. “Maybe we should hold off on a bath until after you have fun in the mud.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought if you get caught in the rain, you'll get sick?”

“Psh, no. At least, not as long as you can dry off and warm up afterwards. It'll also give me time to look through stuff down in the basement. I think there should be some old hand me downs that should fit you.”

“A good bath can do wonders.” Poppy hopped down from the windowsill and into Kissy's hand before the giant monster also gently corralled Ollie to the table where the food was waiting. “It's been such a long time.”

“Er, excuse me for being intrusive…” you set down a towering plate of pancakes before sitting yourself. “But can you guys get wet?”

“We may not be flesh and bone anymore, but we can still enjoy a good shower,” Dogday answered as he set the plate of sausage links in front of you. “Or even a swim.”

“Why is the water white?” Ollie interrupted, looking oddly at the glass of milk Kissy poured in front of him. “I've never seen it that color before.”

“It’s milk,” Poppy answered. “You used to love it when you were a baby and we had access to some.”

Ollie sniffed suspiciously before taking a drink… and then nearly gulping the entire glass in one go. You took the opportunity of everyone chuckling at the boy to split the sausage between the others. Kissy noticed first and clapped excitedly, her mit-like hands muffling the sound.

“Angel,” Dogday sighed, though you weren't sure he was touched or exasperated. Or maybe both.

“Shh, I saw the way you were eyeing them. I can always buy more when I go to town.”

He was silent for a while before taking a bite of the sausage, savoring it unlike Kissy who had all but inhaled hers. Ollie was following Kissy’s example with the banquet of food, while Poppy was benign as dainty as could be, cutting everything into tiny bites, even for her smaller size.

You couldn’t help but savor your own food, feeling rather happy and optimistic about the future.

[siribaes]

beggin’

armando aretas x (oc) [ black!fem! ]

a decade ago armando spent an unforgettable summer with an unforgettable girl, who taught him everything. his sex teacher. now decade later he’s face to face with the teacher once again, determined to show that her lessons didn’t go to waste.

contents: some dom & sub dynamics. voice fixation. size kink. praise kink. pet names. fingering. brief! p in v. cūnnilingus. p!ssydrunk armando bc duh. slight impact play (no face slapping!) they’re in love but in denial about it, minor drug mention, etc. mdni!

suggested tunes📻: elevator by flo rida & timbaland, strip tease by danity kane, get naked (i got a plan) by britney spears, radio by girlicious, virtual diva by don omar, push by enrique igelsias

author’s note: this is slight au, so think of this being the early stages of the revenge plot prior to isabel’s escape. lol the chokehold that the long lost love/lovers reuniting has lol >> i tried to make this as filthy as a possible :) not proofread or edited!

club exquisite was in full swing. bodies packed the building, from wall to wall, people were dancing, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. multicolored strobe lights swirled and danced, combinations of blues, greens and reds illuminated the dance floor, complimenting the dj’s killer set of miami’s finest.

it was lively and fun.

armando, however, was having anything but.

tucked away in a corner booth of the v.i.p., armando sat bored out of his mind, sipping on way too sweet champagne. he should’ve been doing something more useful with his time. instead, he was stuck playing babysitter for the son of a future drug connect, all this per his mother’s instructions.

. . .this marriage between his son and your cousin, alejandra will benefit us. our partnership will bring us one step closer, it’s all apart of the grand design mijo. . .

was sipping champagne that tasted like super sugary, ginger ale a part of the grand design? apparently. watching the groom-to-be snort a line of coke off of girl’s ass was a part of the grand design too. armando took another sip from the flute before sitting it down on table, watching as the girl giggled and kissed sebastian on the mouth. armando never cared for sebastian, they were just so different from one another. sebastian was a pretty boy who liked pretty things, he never worked a day in his life and instead of doing his own thing, he basked in the glory of his father’s notoriously ruthless reputation. armando was self-made, haunted by his father’s death and forged by the fire of mother’s imprisonment. armando blazed his own path and was destined for greater things.

yet, he was here in miami, clubbing with sebastian’s and his pack of idiot friends.

a heavy hand shook him out of his thoughts.

“primo,” sebastian slurred. he swiped at his runny nose, before running hand down his half buttoned shirt. “c’mon, we’re going to the real v.i.p.,”

slightly relieved, armando followed sebastian as the bachelor party were lead by security out of the main dance floor. as they weaved between the crowd, armando trailed slightly behind, keeping a careful eye out on the crowd. despite never being in a fight in this his life, sebastian had a fuck ton of enemies. he was like that. the music became a faint murmuring as the group walked through a door and into an elaborately painted hallway. the walls were a warm golden color, while the ceiling and its floors were covered in mirrored tile. the group continued on, armando continued to linger in the back. amongst the drunken laughter of sebastian and his friends, was this clicking sound.

click! . . . click! . . . click!

armando searched around for the sound as they continued down the hallway, eyes roamed around until he found the source, woman in a pair of high heels. they weren’t just any, regular pair of heels, they were black-patent leather so kate louboutins. fortunately enough for armando he’s familiar with the shoe, he may or may not have purchased a pair or two for his past situationships. armando continues to observe; taking in the details, the woman’s shapely and toned legs, the rich brown skin, and the intricate zipper tattoo that began at the back of her ankle, and traveled up her leg. the remainder of tattoo was lost from the fabric of her dress.

a curiosity sparked inside of armando, watching the woman confidently strut the mirrored floor. he wanted to see just how far the tattoo went. she continued leaving a lingering smell in her wake. it was a combination of warm and spicy, like cinnamon and peach pie. her fragrance filled the molecules in the air he could practically taste it. after turning a corner, the group came to halt in front of pair of doors. from the other side, a pair of security guards opened up the doors.

sebastian and his friends drunkenly ooo-ed and ahh-ed and the ornate nature of the room. armando could care less about the sliver couch, the decked-out bar or the strippers that awaited them upon their arrival, he focused on her. although he got better view, she still alluded him, he could see her from the back, fully, a black bandage dress, accentuated her curves and that ass. . . it looked so round and perky like you could bounce a quarter off it, or grab a handful.

something slowly churned inside of armando as he moved further into the room. he leisurely grabbed a seat on the far end of the couch, with the hopes of seeing his mystery girl's face. the party continued on with the speakers on the room ceiling playing a feed of the dj’s set back out on the dance floor. sebastian and his groomsmen settled on the couch, excited for their lap dances. the lights dimmed too, not enough obscure one’s sight completely, but dark enough to bring on a certain atmosphere to the space.

armando scanned the room for his mystery girl. somehow she’s disappeared on him.

“aren’t you pretty one,” a voice whispered to him, distracting armando from his search. standing before was a woman, one of the strippers. her voice was overly smoky and performative. even the way she batting her long, wispy lashes, she was trying way too hard. he tilted his head away from his obstructed view, “you wanna dance, papí?” armando glanced up at her, a laugh bubbled up inside of him, he suppressed it, for her sake of course.

“nah, sweetheart. i’m good,” armando rasped. the woman shrugged, on to the next. when the stripper moved, standing directly in his sight was his mystery girl. even through the darkness, she was as clear as day.

her heart-shaped face, her button nose and glossy lips, her disney-drawn eyes, brown and wide, in they way they’ve always looked when she was shocked or anxious.

armando’s mystery girl, was no mystery at all. he knew her.

before he could call out to her, she bolted out of the room through the doors. armando glanced at sebastian, who was having a grand ‘ol time being motorboated by a voluptuous stripper. he’s fine. armando took off, following the cinnamon-peachy scent out to the hallway.

she was almost at the end of the hallway. . .

“leyna?” she stopped. she slowly turned around and faced him. “you runnin’ from me?”

her brows furrowed. “i wasn’t running. i was just. . .getting some air,”

armando’s lips twitched. he sauntered over, baring no shame is as he took, no, drank leyna in. it’s been so long, his eyes roamed over leyna. armando took his time, observing, noting every single detail, both old and new. he zeroes in on her legs, watching has she nervously bounces her right leg, the tattooed one. her louboutins make a soft clicking noise against the floor.

armando smirks.

“still shakin’. . .you must be nervous,” armando gestured, it was a tick leyna’s had since she was a kid. leyna frowned, she stopped bouncing. she folded arms around her chest.

“please, i’m not nervous,” she sassed. her glossy lips pursed, forming into a small pout. such a brat. he wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “anyways, what are you doing here, in miami?”

for a moment, he thinks. armando could tell her the truth flat out: he’s here in miami for business, and his only job was ensuring that sebastian, sober or not, makes it down the isle. . .or he could stretch the truth out. make it a game for himself. anything to distract leyna, even if it’s for a short while.

so, armando shrugs. “business,”

“business? that’s it? it’s been ten years armando, that’s all you have to say?”

armando steps closer to leyna. his over 6-foot frame easily towers over her petite 5-foot-3 frame. has she always been so tiny? he reaches out towards her, the corner of his lips twitch as leyna’s chest rises as her breath catches in her throat. he twirls a long strand of between his fingers, before giving it a gentle tug.

“s’ somewhere we can talk?”

“armando,” leyna sighed. her voice was all high and pitchy, it scratched a certain part of his brain. a flood of memories came surging through. he need hear leyna say his name like that again. “i’m working. both of us should get b-back,”

leyna moves past him, armando doesn’t protest. as she starts walking away, armando reaches into his pant’s pocket.

“how much?” leyna spins around on her heels. a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.

“huh?” armando watches leyna eyes light up even more when pulls a money clip out. he thumbs through several bills before he lifts it up.

“its ‘bout three g’s in my hand. should be enough for a shift plus tips, yeah?” her eyes bounce between the money and armando. he can see the wheels in her mind turn, she chews on the bottom of her glossy lips.

“10-minutes. that’s all i can do,” armando nodded. he placed the money in her hand, his fingers gently brushed against hers. ten minutes is all he needs.

armando follows leyna down the hallway, opposite of the party. his eyes roamed, watching leyna’s body sway as she walked. he shouldn’t be turned on from a walk but he was. leyna didn’t walk, she glided. so effortless, and so easy, better then any it was something about seeing her so confidence all these years later. it was refreshing, armando dealt with so many fakes and try hards in his line of business. leyna’s confidence was real. she was real.

“i can feel you staring,” leyna sassed. they stop at a door, she quickly inputs a set of numbers on a keypad. the door clicks.

“i like what i see,” leyna shakes her head, she opens the door, stepping aside to let armando walk in front of her.

the room itself was half the size of the v.i.p. room, and opposite in aesthetics too. the walls were painted a nice, creamy beige, with a matching colored couch. on the far wall, there was an elaborate shelf display old-used bottles of champagne. armando steps inside, taking the room in. the door softly closes, with a click. the room is quiet.

“so,” leyna drawls. she takes a seat on the couch. armando follows suit, sitting next to her. their knees almost graze each others. she flips her hair over her shoulder. “wanna tell me the real reason why you’re here in miami?”

armando chuckles. “a wedding. my cousin ‘s gettin’ married,”

“alejandra?” she remembered, of course she did. she was always to so knowledgeable and attentive. she used to be like that to him.

“yeaaah. she’s been lovin’ bein’ in charge of everybody with the plannin’ and stuff,”

“i hope she’s not bogging you down too much,” his lips tipped into a teeny-tiny smile. she still was still the ever-doting teacher, worried about her student.

“nah. wedding plannin’ ain’t my thing. besides, i’m just assigned babysittin’ duty for sebastian,”

“mhm. i would’ve never paired them together. alejandra, from what i remembered, was so kind, and funny, smart too! sebastian is just a grade-a asshole who likes wreck every club he goes to and piss in public,” armando chuckles as leyna shivers, maybe recalling a memory. armando reaches for the hem of her dress, he toys with it between his fingers. she doesn’t stop him.

“she loves ‘em i guess,” part of that was true, their marriage was arranged yet, alejandra told him that she’s learned to love parts of sebastian. there’s a part of him that wished it wasn’t like that for her.

“i wish her the best,” leyna spoke solemnly.

the room fell quiet, armando still toyed with the edge of leyna’s dress. he tipped his head, looking at leyna.

“you’ve been good though, yeah,” he meant for it to be question but it came out as a statement. she had to be good though, she looked good, and had this fancy ass job at one of miami’s most exclusive clubs. life had to be good.

leyna’s leg began to bounce, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “yeah, i guess. my life’s been pretty boring since you’ve seen me,”

“tell me,”

“well. . .” leyna trailed. her leg still bounced. armando wanted grab her ankle and make her stop. why was his girl nervous? “i graduated, i gotta b.a. in business administration, got this hostess job short after, met my best friend ana here, let me tell you she’s literally the best cook,” she was rambling, slightly, but armando didn’t care, he wanted to know every single detail. he missed his girl, his bambi. they need to make up for lost time.

“we’re going into business together, a restaurant. i’m going to take care of all the logistics, put my degree to good use, finally. so, yeah, i’m really excited about it, as you can see. but yeah, uhm, what else, i was engaged,”

armando stopped toying with the hem. he turned and took her fully, her right leg bounced even more so. that’s what she was nervous about.

“what happened?”

“uhm,” her beautiful features held a pained expression. a twinge of anger sprouted inside of armando, seeing her like this. whoever made his girl upset needed their ass kicked, especially by him. “to make a long story short, he cheated, multiple times actually. i just got tired being the laughing stock in every room,” she lowered her gaze and fiddled her hands.

armando slowly reached for leyna’s hands. her hands were so soft under his touch. with his thumb, he drew light circles on the back of her hands. a strange emotion was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. a little anger, some jealousy, a little sadness too, it was just too much fully explain but the his urge was clear. armando wanted to pull her close, and take care of her like she truly deserves.

“he didn’t deserve you,” she looks at him now, her big brown eyes all wide and glossed over. long lashes fluttered against the tops of her round cheeks, her resemblance to bambi was spot-on. the air became thick around them, and that urge, thrummed in his bones.

armando wanted leyna and he wanted her bad.

“you deserved somebody that’ll take care of you,” he rasped. his words were sincere and true, leyna was one of the kindest, tentative, sweetest people he had ever known. she shown him a kindness when most people wouldn’t. leyna deserved the world, and then some. “you deserve someone who’s gonna protect you, an’ spoil you, an’ just fuckin’ be there,” words were spilling out of his mouth now, like faucet left on. he leans in closer to her, glancing down her glossy lips. he licked his own. “bambi, you deserve someone that can make you feel good,” armando was so dangerously close he could see a breath get caught in leyna’s throat, her chest slight rose up in response. he caught a glimpse of leyna’s jet-black bra that held up her ample cleavage. the peachy-cinnamon smell radiated off the column of her neck, it enticed him, slowly drawing him closer and closer to her.

armando leaned his forehead against her’s.

“fuck, bambi,”

“. . .armando,” leyna whispered. her voice was so pitchy and soft, it smoothed over him. it triggered a hunger for leyna, more veracious than ever before. ten years of distance and unresolved feelings, danced in his blood. his palms itched with desire to squeeze and caress leyna’s soft skin. he wanted to touch the softest part of her.

“please. bambi, ‘jus lemme care take of you, make you feel good. . . i never get what i want,”

leyna back away from him, keeping a steady gaze, she caressed the side of armando’s cheek. her manicured acrylics lightly scratched at his goatee. a bolt of electricity shot through his body when her thumb swiped at his bottom lip.

“i’ve only been with a few men after you,” leyna confessed. “none of them, including my ex, made me feel good like you did. you were the only one,”

armando groaned, lowly. everything in him surged to the surface, so much so he was bursting at the seams.

“c’mere,” leyna obliged. he pulls her in for a kiss. at first it was chaste and sweet, armando tried to ease into the kiss, but the pillowy, softness of her lips and her sweet peachy smell drove him insane. he deepened the kiss, moving his lips hungrily, against hers, while he cradled her head. when he licked her lips, leyna opened her mouth to allow him to explore with her with his tongue. she tasted like peach pie.

"i need it," leyna moaned into his mouth. armando hovered over her lips.

"you say somethin' bambi," he teased, he slid his hands down her frame, stopping at her ass. he rubbed and squeezed, before smacking it. she squeaked.

"baby, please," leyna whimpered, she climbed into armando's lap. she slowly, ground down on his lap, she gasped, feeling his hardness. the look she had in her eyes, a mix of lust and longing, shot straight through him and went to his dick. he snaked a hand towards the back of her neck, he gently gripped the soft flesh. she stopped her movement.

"take that fuckin' dress off," he groaned. leyna blinks. she rose from his lap and proceeded to shimmy out of the dress. she let it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. armando couldn't help himself, all of her smooth curves, and deep rich skin, he just wanted to take a big bite of her. he pulled her back to the couch, switching places, and slid between her legs.

there was no pretense, armando immediately spread her legs wide went straight for leyna's pussy. with his thumb he rubs at her clothed pussy. he revels in the small squelching noise that her pussy makes. leyna whimpers, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes. he chuckles.

“still sensitive?” leyna quickly nods. armando chuckles again, he peels her to the side, admiring the slivery trail of arousal that drips from her pussy onto the fabric. he hums. such a pretty pussy. leyna's pink pussy drips and drools with arousal, fully open and ready, all for him. with calloused thumbs, armando rubs small, droopy circles on the inner parts of leyna's thighs. he inched forward, replacing his fingers with chaste kisses, they create goosebumps on leyna's skin. he licks his lips, keeping his eyes on leyna, kisses her clit.

"fuck! armando,"

he anticipates. before she could ask, armando lays his tongue flat against leyna’s dripping core.

“oo-ooh,” she coos. “you ‘remembered,”

how could he forget, images of him buried between leyna’s shaky legs are burned into his brain. countless lessons from her, teaching him, guiding him. he swears he can hear her voice, way back when during that time.

. . .spread your tongue, a little to the left. yeah ‘just like that, s’ good. good boy. . .

a forceful yank on armando’s curls bring him back to reality. he adjusts his grip on leyna’s thighs, spreading them wider, the pads of his thumbs caressing the plushness.

“fuuuck me! oh my g-god,” leyna whines. armando smiles against her skin, his tongue licks a long stripe against leyna’s core. her arousal is sweet, like peach ice cream. it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever, will ever taste. his sweet girl. armando groans, pulling back slightly, he brings his calloused thumb to leyna’s swollen nub. armando rubs her clit, reveling in her response to his touch. she practically glows, deep brown skin, completely flushed, reddening a bit at her chest. her glossy lips formed into a cute pout, her bottom lip poking ever so slightly, just begging to be kissed, to be bitten by him. seeing her so overwhelmed, so pleasured, sends wave of arousal through armando. his erection painfully rubs against the fabric of his slacks.

“eyes on me, baby,” armando rasps. leyna’s struggle to stay open, succumbing to euphoria between her legs. smack! leyna’s disney-drawn eyes shoot open, to look down at armando. for a moment armando sees something flicker in them, it strips him bare, milliseconds feel like years under her gaze. armando pulls back, spitting directly onto leyna’s pussy. with a new vigor, he dives back in, his tongue licks and drags up and down her softness. his tongue swirls the mix, leyna’s honeyed arousal and his spit, gathering and spreading it onto her clit. he begins suckling the nub, feeling leyna’s sugary essence drip down his goateed chin.

“a-armando! wait s-slow down,”

“uh-uh. you’re my big girl,” he spits, again. armando slurps leyna’s clit, hard. no better then a starving man. “you can take it,”

“c-cumin’. i’m cumin’ baby, pleaseee,” leyna lets out a melodious whine. better than any song or music he’s ever heard. nothing can compare to his girl’s angelic voice, all pitchy and delicate. it’s music to his ears.

“ 's i got you. i got you bambi, let it out,” armando drawls. he sucks at leyna’s clit as it throbs against his tongue. her legs clamp down around armando’s head, this makes him push harder to get her over the edge. he switches his approach, one hand pries open leyna’s leg, with the other he slips his middle finger inside her entrance, slowly prodding her open, he flattens his tongue to lap at her clit. with the other hand he reaches, palming one of her bra covered breasts.

“s-shit! don’t stop please,” leyna is babbling now. she rakes her nails through armando’s thick curls. armando can feel her tightening around his middle finger. she’s close. . .

bam! the band snaps. leyna orgasms hard.

her sugary, syrupy essence flows out of her. leyna holds armando’s head close, she rides out her aftershocks, jerking lightly when his tongue and nose glides over her sensitive clit. slowly, armando pulls away, a string a saliva connects from his lips to leyna’s pussy. he rose up from his crouched position. armando towering over her, his eyes gazing down at her, dilated pupils heavy with dangerous mix, care and lust, maybe even something more. the soft lighting catches armando’s glistening goatee and cheeks. his pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, like a coyote eyeing its subdued prey.

leyna was everything at the same time. his baby take care of, his princesa to spoil, and his bambi to devour.

“h-how’d you get so good,” leyna stammered. her breathing is still a bit choppy.

“learned from the best,” he rasps, he eyes slowly rake over, as if he was studying her. he wanted to remember her in this very moment.

leyna smiles, sheepishly.

“c’mere,” armando beckons. leyna obliges, she sits up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. armando tilts leyna chin upwards, he leans in, capturing her lips. he nips at her bottom lip, when leyna opens her mouth, he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. she tastes herself on his tongue, it starts off tangy but quickly bleeds into a saccharine taste. their tongues wrestle. before, in this war of mouths, leyna used to win, mostly due to armando’s lack of experience, but now it’s much different. he wields his tongue masterfully like knight and their sword, twisting and tasting every inch of her mouth.

“you ready for me princesa?” leyna nods. he watches as her mouth opens and then closes when he slips his shirt over his head. she's pratically drooling at the sight. she should be, countless hours of training have contributed to his sculpted body, all muscles and hard edges. mindlessly her fingers trace over his chest. nails drag over the ridges of his six-pack. she stops her ogling when she sees a scar near his rib cage. armando notices.

“bar fight. fucker, got me good with a broken bottle. had to get a couple stitches,”

“oh baby,”

“hey, hey,” armando gently grabs leyna’s hand. he drags it up, so it cups his cheek. “i’m good,”

his voice holds sincerity as that strange feeling returns inside of him. that urge to hold and take care of leyna, to protect her from his woes, the world, and all its troubles. leyna reaches down to unbuckle his pants, but he stops her.

“not tonight, bambi. wanna be inside of you,”

leyna gulps. he cocks his head to the side.

“don't get all shy on me now," armando tilts her chin. "you know what to do, princesa,"

leyna peels out of her slightly ripped and soaked panties, she tosses them aside. she reaches behind for the clasp of her bra, she unbuckles it, carefully she lays it on the couch next to her dress. when leyna reaches down to slip off her heels, armando tsks.

“nah. leave ‘em on,” armando bites his lip, his eyes sweeping over her naked frame. she’s changed a lot over ten years, she’s curvier, with an obvious plushness and fullness in her breasts and ass. noticeably, there’s a small tattoo of a lotus flower on the upper right side of her rib cage. “fuck, bambi. you all grown up,”

leyna opens her mouth to retort but she shuts it as armando unbuttons his pants.

"you trust me?" armando huffs, he slowly pumps his hardness, feeling pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“of course, i trust you,” leyna replies softly.

“shit princesa. you can’t say stuff like that,” armando murmurs.

he slowly spins leyna around, her back was at his front. he made sure slowly grind his bulge into her, so she could feel all of him.

“soy el rey ahora,” there a slight edge in his voice, it contrasted with the soft circles he drew on the back of her neck. “on all fours, princesa,” leyna obliges. she moves towards the couch, planting herself on her hands and knees, and arches her back. armando groans as she makes a show of it, wiggling her hips in the process. “so pretty liked this. my sweet girl, my bambi, imma fuck the shit out of you,” armando all but growls. a hand reaches into her scalp, fisting her hair. he forcefully tugs at her locks, pulling her head backwards.

leyna whimpers. “baby ‘s rough,”

armando roughly spits on her pussy. he watches as the spit slides down, mixing with her slickness. he’s not nice, not like before. all the care and attention he paid towards her pussy, that armando was long gone. now, replaced with a meaner, tunnel-vision armando. he pushes himself, filling her to her hilt, his stretching out her pussy, all of ridges of his dick rubbing against her gummy walls. she's so warm and tight, a delicious contrast of pushing and pulling him further inside of her. a chill runs down leyna's spine while her manicured nails claw at the fabric of the couch.

“oh fuck!” leyna shouts, armando smacks her right ass-cheek. he executes a few shallow thrusts, barely moving in and out of leyna.

“how bad you wan’ it?” armando drawls.

“so bad baby, please fuck me, please,” leyna’s hoarseness sounds ethereal to him. the breathy way she sounds, the want, the need, makes him even harder. so much so it pains him.

“i got you,” armando tightens the hold he has on leyna’s hair and hip. he pulls all the way out, admiring the mess his girl makes on his dick. the glossy shine the covers him. he stifles back a moan, her warmth and softness send waves of pleasure straight to his dick. he bites down on his lip, watching leyna’s ass ripple against him with every stroke. a bolt of electricity shoots through him as she clamps down on him, her walls tighten, and grip at his dick. she's close.

"i feel you, you cumin' bambi?"

“y-yes, oooh fuck! i’m so close. don’t stop,"

a loud chiming erupts over the sex sounds leyna makes. armando can feel a vibration in his pocket. he reluctantly reaches and sees who’s calling his phone, he answers, while still keeping a steady pace. pumping in and in out of leyna.

“fuck, you want,” armando growls, one hand on the phone while the other holds onto leyna’s shoulder. she moans a little too loud, so he covers her mouth. over the phone one of sebastian’s groomsmen informs that sebastian has wandered off with one of the strippers, no one can find him and he’s left his phone behind. “fuck me. fuckin’ pendejo, i-i’ll be over in a minute, shit,” armando slows down his pace before pulling out completely, leyna whines at the loss of contract.

“i gotta go,” armando sighs. leyna now sits facing him.

“but why? what’s the matter?” his heart pangs at the disappointment that edges out in her voice. he quickly redresses, buckling his pants and slipping his shirt back over and on.

“a situation came up,” he leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “imma come an’ find you,”

without another look or word, armando walks out of the v.i.p. with a hard dick and an odd feeling panging in his chest.

[zeeph-containment-zone]

VAPORWAVE/SYNTHWAVE LISTENERS:

I need you all to be aware that there seems to be a massive uptick in AI generated "music" clogging up youtube. As someone who's starting to get into writing their own vaporwave music and has wanted to write vaporwave for the past decade, this really upsets me for a lot of reasons!!!!

So I'm gonna show you how to spot these AI generated mixes::

WHILE WRITING THIS BLOGPOST I LEARNED MANY OF THESE SAME IDENTIFIERS APPLY TO WEIRDCORE / AMBIENT MIXES AS WELL!!!!

1) No Tracklist

Many of the AI generated mixes have no tracklists attached to them whatsoever. In my personal opinion, this is one of the biggest red flags. Some uploaders have added "track lists" but the names of the songs are pretty nonsensical even by vaporwave standards (example: "Helicopter Fly") and have no artist credited.

2) Suspiciously Long Uploads

If you're anything like me, you probably have noticed all videos on youtube search if you type "vaporwave mix" into the search bar are 3 or more fucking hours long.

I know there's some lengthy older mixes out there (example: Aisle 420, which has become a group listening background music staple whenever my friends and I play minecraft together!) but if it's fairly new and has a really obnoxious timestamp attached to it, be wary!

3) Extremely Specific Naming Scheme

Going to crossreference back to the images in number 2, one of the many things ALL these AI channels have in common is that they title all their mixes " Ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ Ｉｎ Ｗｉｄｅ Ｔｅｘｔ ［ ＹＥＡＲ ］" Again, this is something older mixes have done before. But there's a very noticable difference between genuine mixes that incorporate a year into the title and these, especially when you look at the upload dates and how the naming scheme is extremely similar across all the channels that exhibit these patterns and AI usage.

4) Year in the Thumbnail Image

Much like Number 3, but specifcally in regards to the thumbnail image. There'll be a four digit number plastered in big text across the thumbnail. I have no idea why they all do this.

5) AI Generated Captions

Not just very likely AI generated, but also copypasta'd across every channel that's like this. Examples will speak better than explaining in text can.

Some things to note here are a weird fixation on copyright, and the phrase "Reposting This Content In Any Form is Strictly Prohibited!" being a shared factor.

6) AI Generated Visuals

This one is pretty easy to spot unless you're running youtube in a tab in the background.

7) Extremely "Samey" Sounding

So if you're like me and let youtube autoplay run while you're working, one of these may have decided to come on without you actually clicking on it. From what I've listened to when this happens, a lot of the music sounds very empty and "samey." As if you're listening to the same song for 10 minutes but it's actually all different songs. There's not much substance to any of the actual songs and also a very clear distinct lack of sampling. I don't want to include lack of sampling as it's own point, because it's entirely possible to compose music in-genre without sampling at all. However, none of these channels use samples. Not a single one, out of any of their several dozen three hour uploads.

8) Very Short Intervals Between Uploads

One of the things that made me start thinking "holy shit, are all these new playlists that're popping up AI generated?" was the upload dates. These channels will seeminly push out a new mix every couple of days, sometimes even every day.

Bro, you are NOT writing that much over that period of time.

9) Sometimes, They'll Just Admit It

youtube has also thankfully started flagging some of them with the tiny little disclaimer in the caption, which imo isn't enough seeing as they paste a whole AI generated novel in the caption half the time but at least it's something.

Channels I Can 100% Confirm Are AI:

•Retropical Records

-alts: Eternal Past (Weirdcore/Ambient) Nebula Breeze (Jazz?) and Dunes of Time (??? I can't be assed to click on any of those videos to find out, not gonna lie.)

•Utopic.Dreamer

•Luminescence

•Music Farm

•dream.surfer

•devs.fm

• FOR WEIRDCORE LISTENERS: aurora.heaven

-likely run by whoever's running utopic and dream surfer

Thank you so much for reading this through to the end. It's such a shame to see this genre go down this path and I hope we as creators can do something to offset it.

May your journey into the eternal mall be pleasant and AI-Free <3

[scuttlingcrab]

wip time

After 84 years, finally finished the one-shot I've been working on, focusing on Emmrich reminiscing about his time in the Lighthouse post end game. It's a whopping 12k words (my longest one yet, I think I might be crazy lol). Sweet Maker help me. Here's a wee excerpt, the rest hoping to come your way and on to AO3 at some point tomorrow. Once I make a fresh cuppa and do some editing. *sweats profusely*

***

In the end, it was Rook who proposed to Emmrich, bypassing all the spectacles and formalities that would typically accompany an offer of marriage. She didn’t care much for rituals, she had made that pretty evident upon their first outing in the Memorial Gardens. Rook had appeased Emmrich then as she lit the candles in the mausoleum, but she had lacked the enthusiasm he had hoped to garner from a fellow Watcher, her thoughts preoccupied, overburdened, as they often were in the beginning. 

She was more intrigued by the tea he had Manfred prepare after the rites concluded, convinced he had set it up as a means of courtship, as a way to exclusively impress her. Emmrich couldn’t look at her the same after that encounter. The first minute crack appeared in his composure as they sipped their tea, exchanging pleasantries, leading it to shatter the more he stayed within her mesmeric presence. 

Rook’s words, her initial interest, were only the start of his fixation. Emmrich suffocated under the avalanche of possibilities, of what prospects awaited him with each secretive glance, every purposeful brush of a finger, her hand remaining over his for a second longer than necessary. It was enough for him to notice, for his skin to prickle. Sparks ignited with each touch, so severe it could set the entirety of Arlathan Forest in flames if they weren't careful enough. It didn’t matter if they were clearing away darkspawn or seated at the kitchen table for supper, Emmrich’s eyes gravitated towards Rook, seeking her, needing her. Tracing the contours of her face, the crest and trough of every muscle against her robust frame. 

Emmrich had decades to plan what he would’ve done if he ever had the opportunity to propose, to ask such a paramount question. ‘Will you do me the honour of marrying me, my darling, my love?’ The bespoke poems he would’ve crafted, reciting rich words of devotion as he got lost in the beauty of his beloved. The intricate tableaus he would’ve erected in honour of them, going so far as to reanimate Nevarra’s most acclaimed musicians; coordinating only the finest orchestrations while they danced amongst the dead. And oh, the grave gold they would’ve shared, the intimacy of sliding a ring on an empty finger. 

His previous partners often accused him of being melodramatic, a hopeless romantic, a touch too clingy as he bared his heart. Suffocating. Overwhelming. Childish. How else was one supposed to show their affections? Emmrich would not settle for half measures, they deserved the world, the infinite possibilities of the Fade itself, nothing less, always worthy of more, more, more! 

His heart never stopped beating with unrequited love, no matter how it withered away with time, or how many fresh wounds were added to its surface, replacing the scars that had long since faded. He was accustomed to the pain of rejection. It was a special type of grief, of the paths he could’ve walked, hand in hand with the ghosts of yesteryear. 

Emmrich assumed he'd never find a partner who could quite match his fervour, that is, until Rook. And it only took one inconsequential argument with her to destroy what Emmrich craved, what he had painfully searched for his entire life. No thanks to his crippling terror of mortality, the guilt, the shame of stealing Rook’s youth like a lecherous old heathen. When love was finally within his grasp, he was so unwilling to accept that anyone, let alone Rook, the very object of his desires, would want to remain by his side. That he was worthy enough to keep hold of their attention. 

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

◈ Pairing: Zhongli x fem!Reader ◈ Summary: You return to Liyue after spending years abroad in Sumeru. Unfortunately, Zhongli has not changed one bit and you find yourself trapped in the friendzone. ◈ Contains: Modern AU, age gap, previously teacher-student, neighbors, teenage crushes, light angst, minor character death, problematic tropes, friendzone

Friend

Zhongli sighed softly, cushioning your bruised ego as he rejects you yet again in the most gentle of ways.

This man had been many things to you over the years, but there was one person he refused to be, your lover. It was as if he had made a silent contract with some higher power to never cross that invisible line.

The first time you aired your feelings to him, you weren’t even sure if it was even love. It was at most a silly crush then, nothing like the unmovable rock that had taken up permanent residence in your heart. When your fates first intertwined, he was just your history teacher. Prim and proper, handsome, although a tad long-winded whenever he opened his mouth, you were instantly infatuated as many of your classmates were. Perhaps if fate hadn't decided to meddle further, this shallow crush of yours would've came and went as nothing more than a temporary fixation.

"Zhongli... I was just kidding. I'm not a teenager anymore." You tried to laugh it off, but your hands trembled under the table. "How many years has it been?"

"Far too many." Zhongli chuckled. "I've missed you much, friend." He says that word with so much sincerity, your heart breaks a little.

You never bothered to explain why you had been single for the past few years and he never asked. Hutao would occasionally narrow her eyes at you when you brought up a certain "friend" in conversation, but even she didn't link this mysterious individual you refused to name to the the man that used to be your history teacher. The three of you had really gone a long way. Hutao went off to take over her grandfather's funeral parlor. You received an acceptance letter from the Sumeru Akademiya and went abroad. Before you know it, half a decade had flown by. Zhongli became the receiver of your ever frequent messages and calls. Somehow you had grown even closer to him while you were thousands of miles away. His replies were often longer than warranted and always thoughtful like he was. You could almost hear his voice when you read them. While most of his students were glad they no longer needed to sit through his lectures, you had undoubtedly come to miss them.

At that time, your colleagues were pairing up left and right, so predictably, you felt left out. You were hopeful then that you'd find your special someone and hit it off too. Contrary to your optimism, the more you dated around in Sumeru, the more exhausted you became. There was an itch in your heart and nobody you met could scratch it. While venting to Hutao about yet another failed date, realization finally hit you. You had been looking for traces of Zhongli in those dates. In between the endless text messages, occasional calls and hushed goodnights, you've never actually felt the sting of loneliness. Of course your dating endeavors were a complete failure.

You never fell out of whatever infatuation you had for him. If anything, your feelings had only grown stronger and more grounded. The dates stopped and your romantic life came to a full halt.

"You're going to end up alone. Just you wait." Hutao giggled.

"I'm alright with that." You calmly replied. "I have friends."

Till this day, you still remember the way her brow went up.

What you didn't disclose was that all the way in Liyue, Zhongli was completely unaware that he was the reason why. That was fine. If anything, the man had always been alone for most of the time you had known him. You could always keep him company as a friend and truthfully, the label over your relationship mattered less than he did. Labels had never really amounted to much in your book with the amount of times people around you have fallen short of them.

You remembered how you used to deliberately drop the 'Mister' in front of his name every time you greeted him. He eventually gave up correcting you and allowed you to address him directly whenever he ran into you outside your home. Zhongli had coincidentally moved into the apartment a few doors down. Your mother was ecstatic when she found out the handsome man she met while grabbing mail that morning was your history teacher, determined to wrangle him in for extra tutoring sessions even though you assured her that your grades were nowhere near failing. You had an image to keep up in front of your crush, even if sacrificing it would give you an excuse to stare at Zhongli's handsome face for a few extra hours every week. Although your mother's tutoring plans never came to fruition, Zhongli's phone number was now sitting in your contacts thanks to her persistence.

All your friends knew about your crush on your history teacher. There was no need to hide it because nobody took it seriously except you. Hutao was especially vocal about it, calling Zhongli dusty and old-fashioned. You liked that about him though. He exuded a sense of calm with the way he spoke and carried himself that you naturally gravitated towards. Even your mother found him trustworthy enough to entrust your safety to him in case your estranged father showed up at the door one day.

You still remembered the calming warmth and scent of the tea he placed in your shaking hands when he sat you down at his table.

"Everything will be alright." He took a seat across from you, expression grave.

You could tell that he didn't know what to say to comfort you, so you forgave him for telling that one lie. The sirens blaring loudly outside the door were muffled as he pressed his palms against your ears. Nothing was alright that day, but at least you were safe. At least you weren't alone.

"Thank you, Zhongli." You spoke up the next morning over breakfast.

"There's no need to thank me. I simply did what any neighbor would've done in that situation."

Your eyes met his. One glance told him that you disagreed, but you didn't say anything to refute what he said.

There were plenty of neighbors present, some of which were standing right there in front of your door watching when it all happened. If it weren't for Zhongli, you would've still been in there, bleeding next to your unconscious mother by the time the cops arrived.

"I am also your teacher, your elder, even if you refuse to address me so." He added softly.

"So every neighbor, every teacher, every elder would've done what you did?" You asked bluntly. In an ideal world maybe, but you knew better.

Zhongli drew in a hesitant breath, falling silent at your question. Perhaps he should not be speaking for anyone but himself, especially when the person the cops dragged off in handcuffs was your own father.

"You may consider me a friend then." He finally said after what felt like an eternity.

You eventually moved into a short term foster home after your mother's funeral. Luckily, you were allowed to continue attending the school you were at due to the end of the year being only two months away. He could've asked you to delete his phone number from your contacts then, but he didn't. How could he offer you friendship and then confiscate it less than two months later? Since he couldn't bear to sever that string of fate that anchored you to him when he had the chance, Zhongli could only watch as you tightened it. Now that you had returned to Liyue, it was clear to him how much things had changed. Zhongli was more or less the same, but your outer appearance had changed quite drastically. Despite the differences, both of you could feel the connection you shared. Unlike when you left, you had returned to him as a close friend.

Everybody you were acquainted with eventually came to know about Zhongli, but some knew a bit more than others, Hutao for example. At first, she was skeptical about how closely you had gotten entangled with him over the years. He was almost a whole decade older than you and was even your teacher at one point in your life.

"He's just a close friend." You reassured her. "It's not what you think it is."

Nobody could give their unsolicited disapproval if the two people involved refused to define the relationship.

You even handed her your phone to go through your text messages, swearing you haven't deleted a single one. Sure enough, your conversations with Zhongli were about the most sterile exchanges imaginable, save for the frequency.

"You text him more than you text me." Was all she could say when she handed you back your phone.

A friend, that's what you labeled him as whenever you mentioned him, no matter if it was to your closest friend or a stranger. Zhongli also abided by this unspoken rule, albeit rather heavy-handedly. Whether it's to remind you or himself that there was a line he couldn't cross, only he would know. Zhongli might care deeply for you, appear at your doorstep at the slightest hint of distress in your voice, take care of you when you're too sick to get out of bed and bring you dinner at work when you have to do overtime, but he couldn't be your lover. It wasn't like you never tried to change his mind. You've hinted it a few times, even borrowed the disguise of alcohol to say it straight to his face. There's only so many times a person can take rejection before they simply stop asking.

"I'm much too old for you."

"Perhaps I remind you of simpler times. Nostalgia may be the culprit. Nevertheless, I'm flattered that you've attached such fond sentiments to me."

"You've had a cup too many, dear."

"You've simply gotten used to my presence. When things finally settle into their places, you will see that it is not as you assumed."

"You will always be precious to me. Please do not joke about this matter."

He always phrased it in the most considerate ways, but the reply was always the same. Why push the same button over and over? You were no longer an impulsive teenager. It did you no good to continue prying an affirmation out of him, especially when all his actions contradicted his words. Even Hutao began rolling her eyes whenever she sees the two of you together, with the way Zhongli acted around you. If it was cold, his coat was predictably draped over your shoulders. If it was too warm, she would catch him gathering your hair into a ponytail and tying it with the dexterity of someone who had done it a thousand times. When you ate out as a group, Zhongli would always be glued to your side like an overprotective husband, pulling out your chair for you and cutting your food. You allowed him to, silently indulging in his antics just as he allowed you to get away with many of your more questionable gestures. However if anyone so much as makes a joke about how couple-like the two of you acted, both you and Zhongli would immediately refute it without any hesitation.

If he called this friendship, then perhaps there's no distinction needed. It wasn't like there was anyone else he was treating the way he treated you. He could keep his excuses and you could continue denying your feelings. Maybe one day, this rock would crack and start blooming, but until then, you were satisfied with this so-called friendship. After all, it wasn't like any sane person could approach you with him there. If you were interested in Zhongli and learned that he had a friend that he looked after like a dragon guarding its precious gem, you'd see yourself out.

Even a blind person could see that Zhongli was in love with you. What mattered that he insisted on calling you a friend?

AN: I was going through Zhongli's voicelines and realized how many times he deliberately calls you "friend"

DAMN YOU HOYO. WHY YOU GOTTA HURT ME LIKE THIS?

[obimaulartfire]

Do you ever just...wake up and think about how Obi-wan was, for most of his life, Maul's reason to live?

Let me explain, and this is one of the main reasons I was drawn to ObiMaul in the first place. (long ramble below)

We're all aware of the events at the reactor fight, and it'd be an understatement to say it was a very hostile first encounter. But it's in the aftermath where the dynamic gets interesting.

Maul survived on his own, for years, with only his top half. As a former biology major, sometimes I think about how possible this would be in real life, if at all. It would be insanely uncomfortable at best, and impossible at worst. But through the excruciating pain, Maul survived, fueled purely by his intense hatred/obsession with Kenobi (and some star wars darkside magic, I'm sure).

Maul says this himself when first meeting Obi-wan again in season 4 of The Clone Wars:

"You would never imagine the depths I'd go to to stay alive, fueled by my singular hatred...for you."

Imagine being on the brink of death, with half of your circulatory system GONE, your heart beating irregularly, and your "lower half" being in constant pain, but still finding something to live for, and living...for YEARS. That's impressive. Hate-filled or not, it's hard to deny that for that time, thoughts of Obi-wan literally kept Maul alive for a decade.

Maul comes back to the series having been left for dead by Sidious, with spider legs he made himself, and no sense of time and a destroyed sense of sanity. Yet, he lives.

And additionally, revenge on Sidious is only second in his thoughts to his revenge on Obi-wan, even though Sidious is technically the one who left him for dead. Since Maul can't sit still, he did many other things during the Clone Wars in accordance with his own ambitions, likely to attempt to reclaim that part of his life that had been lost to Lotho Minor, but that's a tangent for another post.

He gets revenge on Obi-wan (I guess) by killing Satine, but even that isn't enough for him, as evidenced by the Satine hate shrine that we see in Rebels, when Ezra visits Maul's cave on Dathomir:

(on a side note, there is no sane heterosexual explanation for this^, I'm sorry/j)

Why would you keep a memento of someone you've killed? Why would you cross out their eyes? Maul didn't hate Satine that much, and it's my opinion that he did this because she was important to Obi-wan.

And that brings me to my next point: Rebels Maul

Y'all.... there's a reason the title of my blog is "Twin Suns Changed My Brain Chemistry", because I vaguely had feelings about these two in Clone Wars, but Rebels really cemented this dynamic for me.

I cannot emphasize enough that in Rebels, Maul thinks Obi-wan Kenobi is dead. Whether he got killed in Order 66 or when Vader and the Inquisitors started purging Force Users, there was maybe a .000001% chance that any Jedi, especially Obi-wan, would have survived that. And yet. When we enter Rebels, we find Maul on Malachor, stuck on the planet looking for the Sith holocron.

WHY is he trying to find the Sith holocron? In Maul's own words:

"As for me, I...seek something much simpler, yet equally elusive... Hope."

Hope? That surely isn't a Sith ideal. It's revealed later that the only reason Maul wants to combine these ancient artifacts is to learn whether or not Obi-wan Kenobi is alive. I shit you not.

This implies that Maul has had Hope that Obi-wan has been alive for what... 15 years? That's a long time. At this point, Maul may be like, 49 or 50. He has been fixated on Obi-wan for 30 years of his life. Thoughts of Obi-wan kept him going and going and going for 3/5ths of his life. Even when he thinks Obi-wan has died, he spends 15 years trying to find him, just hoping that he is alive. But for what?

It's unclear to me what Maul, in canon, really desires from Obi-wan. But one thing for sure is that Obi-wan acts as a...source of emotions for Maul. A source of feelings, and a reason to keep going through times that other characters would give up.

Other characters may have survived, but Maul lived because of Obi-wan. Through being bisected, the Clone Wars, being chased by Vader and the Inquisitors, and through periods of despair.

And before the end, he just wants to find his reason to live again, and dies in his arms.

[soleinne]

The Fine Print (One-shot)

Make sure you read it. Or don’t. What do I know.

SUMMARY: An account of the night Umbriel and Deimos met. Was it fate or mere coincidence? Who knows!

WORD COUNT: 4,747ish

WARNINGS: Generally morbid topics (discussion of suicide and death)

(disclaimer: this has a slow start, half of it isn't really g/t, but it does get there! hopefully i'll share some more g/t oriented stuff in the future :D just a lotta lore about my guys and world i wanted to get out of the way and post)

————————————— ͙͘͡ ✦

The radio on his dresser crackled to life, static buzz filling his room.

“THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE OF AVALSHIRE HAS ISSUED A… SIGNIFICANT SNOW SQUALL WARNING… FOR THE CITIES OF AVALSHIRE, ASTRAKANE, VALENAE, AND SURROUNDING RURAL AREAS…”

Umbriel hummed as he sat on the edge of his bed, organizing and packing for his trek-to-come.

“At 930 PM EST, a dozen extremely dangerous snow squalls were located, seemingly popping up across the entire country with little warning. Hazards include extremely poor visibility, sustained winds of up to 40mph, temperature drops of up to ten degrees, and up to 3-4 inches of snowfall accumulation in an hour.”

“Really now?” He scoffed to himself. “Out of every night, just had to be this one?”

He knew the weather in Meris fluctuated fast. One minute, it could be barely flurrying, the next, he could almost get buried alive in snow. The prince had been warned of this for a decade now: if he snuck out on nights like these, nobody would be there to save him if worse came to worse.

But that was a risk he was willing to take.

Glancing yet again at the tear-off calendar on his nightstand, the date was circled in bright blue. Underneath it, the text “SELENIDS 11pm-3am” was scrawled out.

The Selenids, an extremely beautiful meteor shower best seen from Meris, named for their kingdom's supposed savior, only occurred around once every three centuries, and he wasn’t planning on missing it. Not with his fixation on astronomy and stars. It would be like a chef passing up the chance to work with the finest ingredients, or a bookworm neglecting the opportunity to visit the largest library in the world. He couldn’t bear to not even attempt to see it; Umbriel had been dreaming about this night since he first read that old legend when he was a little kid.

He would never get those descriptions out of his mind. The sky completely clear, not a cloud in sight. Auroras dancing across the heavens. A full moon. Thousands of stars amidst the cosmos, and hundreds of beautiful, shimmering meteors streaking across it all. That's how it was described six centuries ago in the legend. During the last appearance of the Selenids, though some clouds were present, and the auroras milder, it was just as stunning. By sheer chance, he was born at the exact right time to see it. A once in a lifetime, no, once in multiple generations opportunity.

The problem was, well, it wasn't viewable from the palace. Clouds had been plaguing Avalshire and his home for the past week, and he was sure they wouldn't part just for him to see the sky tonight. Maybe he should ask his mother to invest in someone that could make a machine to do that. It’d save him a lot of trouble.

For now though? His best option was hiking up a tall hill near the palace. Its peak was a plateau, and it usually reached a bit above the low clouds, giving him much better visibility.

The weather made little difference to him. Snow squalls didn't last very long anyways. They were small, and could miss the area entirely. Weather warnings were always somewhat broad in Meris.

Those were all things Umbriel told himself, but for some reason, the anxiety nagging deep in his gut didn't want to go away. He continued to pack his bag slowly, taking care to arrange all the things he'd need. A thermos with hot tea, a travel first aid kit, a small blanket, some trail mix he'd managed to buy, a pair of binoculars, and his oldest possession: the rondel dagger his late father had gifted him.

Running his finger across the cold steel of the blade, his thoughts began to darken.

All of a sudden, there was a sharp knock on his door, one he’d come to be very familiar with.

He swiftly shoved the dagger into the bag. “Ahem. Come in.”

The door creaked open. Someone of average height, sporting brownish-pink hair cut just above the shoulder, and donning ornate clothing bearing the Merisian Royal pattern, peeked in.

“And here I was thinking you’d be getting ready for bed like a sane person.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t seriously gonna attempt going out tonight, are you? You can’t.”

“You don’t have to come with me, Castor. I’ll be fine without a bodyguard for a few hours on a trail. Besides, where I’m going is still technically on protected palace grounds.”

“Technically,” Castor gave an eye roll. “Tell me, what do you plan to do if you get caught in a snow squall? Or you if you get seriously hurt? What am I supposed to tell your mother, as your personal bodyguard, when her son’s body is missing in the wilderness in the morning?”

Umbriel stayed silent.

“I know it’s a bit morbid and harsh, but seriously, please think about this more. I know, the Selenids. Everyones bummed that they’re hard to see this time around. I get it. But risking your life and lineage isn’t worth some stars, is it?”

“This isn’t like you. The Castor I’m used to would be all for me sneaking out to see the stars.”

Castor fidgeted with the locket hanging around his neck.“Well, it’s really—“

Umbriel’s eyes flicked up, making direct contact with Castor’s. “Did my mother ask you to dissuade me? Is she really that worried?”

“S-She asked me to prevent you from leaving! It's just, knowing you, Your Royal Highness, you’ll find a way out no matter what I do!” A large sigh escaped him. “But… if I really haven’t changed your mind, just… Please be really careful, alright? The snow thing isn’t a lie!”

Umbriel nodded. “Sure. I’ll think it over. Maybe I won’t go out then.”

“I would say good luck, if there wasn’t a big part of me that doesn’t want you to go.” Castor shut the door behind him, leaving as fast as he’d entered.

Guilt pooled in his abdomen.

Sure, he knew most parents were naturally worried about their children. But when his mother is a queen, and he’s an only child with a dead father, he really can’t afford to go and freeze to death. Umbriel was the only heir, the crown prince. What would happen if he died? Moreover, his mom was worried about his sneaking-out-and-hiking hobby in particular, because his dad had died in an avalanche while hiking.

But still, passing this up? The sole thing in his life he’d genuinely been looking forward to? That wasn’t an option. If it was going to be extra-hard to sneak out tonight, then so be it. He’d rather get caught than not even try.

So, the prince finished packing his supplies, just as the clock tolled ten. After struggling for a moment with the buttons on his coat, getting his boots on, and tightening his gloves, he was ready. Adrenaline raced throughout his body, and he affirmed one final time: he was going to see the Selenids.

Taking a deep breath, Umbriel slowly opened the thick wooden door to his room.

Nobody was outside. How convenient. Castor was truly the most responsible bodyguard in the world.

A lot of watchmen had asked Umbriel around the palace about his tricks. How did he manage to get out so unnoticed? The truth was, he didn’t a lot of the time. Guards noticed him a lot. He was just small, quick, and stealthy, so he could get away before actually being caught. Quite a perfect trio for sneaking out.

Oh, and also, they didn’t know about the forgotten side corridor that hung on the side of the palace, where he was currently walking to. And by side, he meant the literal outside. It was a narrow breezeway, high up, often covered in snow. As Umbriel arrived, he noticed a bit of wind, some flurries, but definitely not anything characteristic of a snow squall.

Maybe he’d get lucky.

So, he continued on, reaching the end of the breezeway, where a spiral staircase awaited to take him to the ground. The thin layer of snow crunched as he walked down the steps, not yet putting on his hood to stay hyper-aware of his surroundings. Because if he was to get caught, not only would he be absolutely grounded, but it would reflect badly on Castor, and he didn’t deserve that.

At the ground, he immediately crouched down. There wasn’t much cover in this area, and—

Crunch. Clink. Crunch.

Umbriel froze, blood running cold.

Those were definitely the footsteps of a guard. Growing louder and undoubtedly closer with each passing second.

What was he supposed to do? There wasn’t anything substantial to hide with! A row of small pine trees stood to his right, but he’d be incredibly easy to spot if the guard crept up to inspect them; the top of his blue-haired head would stick out. He tried to think about the best option, but the time was ticking.

And, just as he was sure that the guard was about to round the corner and see him, he dove for that row of small pines.

“F-Freeze! Who’s there!”

He held his breath, heart pounding in his ears.

Through the needles, he could see the guard take a few steps forward, a small sword drawn.

Yet, in a stroke of luck, a rabbit dashed out of the trees. Making a remarkably similar noise to him diving into them as it hopped away into the distance.

“Ah… it was a… nevermind…”

The guard resheathed the sword, turning away.

He exhaled.

What a close call.

Umbriel indeed passed by a few more guards on his way out. However, through a combination of sheer luck and years of covertness, he managed to get past them without much of an issue. And the fact he was outside with a plethora of shadowed hiding places did, admittedly, help. There also weren't very many on duty that night; he supposed some had gone inside due to the weather warnings. Nonetheless, the prince slipped out the correct side exit without so much as another glance from one.

He knew the way from here well, and the snow was still pretty mild. Follow a few signs and trail markers, a left there, a right here. The "hike" was really just walking up an inclined slope with a couple turns. It wasn't very difficult for him after all the times he'd been that way to stargaze.

"KRAA, KRAA!"

And this was the first sign something was going to go wrong. Something that signified he should’ve turned back at that very second.

A single raven flew overhead in the opposite direction, its loud cry eerily echoing through the empty snowscape. Ravens were a common superstition in Meris that meant "doomsday," because many of the oldest depictions of that legend showed ravens in the backgrounds of their storybook-esque illustrations.

Umbriel cleared his throat, a chill running down his back. He’d persist, he’d be fine. He was going to see these meteors and be totally, completely ok. Superstitions probably weren’t real anyways. Just scary things made up to tell on an equally spooky night.

Yet, with each step that he took in the snow, a growing sense of unease was mounting in his chest. Maybe Castor was right. Maybe he should've listened to him. But if he turned back now... no, he couldn't. He'd already made it this far. He could do it. Taking a small breath to calm his mounting nerves, Umbriel pushed onwards.

The prince recognized the area he was in. It was close to the first fork he had to make to get on the correct path. Walking through the clearing that cut through the forest, his anxieties began to die down. The snow was fine. He was fine. There weren't any ravens anymore. And he knew exactly where he was.

The forest was completely silent, apart from his footsteps. The snow died down a little. How peaceful.

And then, a large gust blew from his left, and everything went white.

Ah.

Right. The snow squalls.

The flakes were incredibly large, their frequency speeding up at an alarming rate. The air plummeted from the nice twenties he was used to, enough to give him a chill even in his layers of thick, warm clothing. And the wind was the worst part; he couldn't see anything due to how much it blew the snow. It felt like miniature daggers piercing the little exposed skin he had.

He'd... he'd be fine. He'd just stop at the next trail marker and wait for it to pass. The next one had a lantern.

He'd live. He'd walk.

And walk.

And walk.

And walk.

And walk.

And walk.

The next trail marker never came.

The snow pelted him, just as intense. Except now, he was shivering. Shivering bad. Even if he tried to take out that warm tea from his bag, he'd probably drop it in the wind or it'd slip out of his trembling hands. And lighting a match? Forget about it. His breath was labored and slow; every breath took a considerable amount of effort, and the subzero air that filled his lungs hurt from the sheer cold.

One step in front of the other. He'd make it. The Selenids. He was on his way to see them. He walked more. Just a little farther with each step, no matter how freezing cold he felt, or how blinding the snow was.

Finally, as the snow died down a bit, as he was just about to start thanking Meris' savior, he came to a horrific realization.

He was lost.

Umbriel didn't recognize the area he was in at all. He was positive that this wasn't on the trail he took, despite his muddied mental state. There were barren trees around, and trees in Meris were almost exclusively pine. What's more, he didn't even think he was on a path. It seemed to just be a clearing in the middle of a forest.

This was really how he was going to die, slowly freezing to death in the snow because he couldn’t follow simple instructions. Would they even find his body? Panic was beginning to set in. He had brought some supplies, sure, but it wasn’t enough for him to stay out there for more than a few hours, let alone however long a search party would take.

Dizziness plagued him. Despair crept into his chest and spread throughout his entire body. The guilt was the worst of all. Castor was right.

...How would his mother react? If he were to die?

Part of him wondered if she would even care.

If he wasn't a prince, he would've given up by now. He probably would've laid down in the snow and made a snow angel for the last time, before bundling up in his blanket and letting the cold claim him. But he couldn't let this centuries-old bloodline end with him in such a pathetic way.

Sure, he'd thought about death a lot. About jumping from his balcony. It was a quick and easy way to go. No more stress. No more pain. No more unbearable loneliness. But he'd kept on going. Not for himself, but for his kingdom.

Confronted with the very real possibility of death, though, Umbriel realized he wasn't quite ready. There were things he still wanted to do, people to meet, places to see.

Tears welled up in his eyes, immediately feeling frigid.

He was such an idiot.

Yet, as the last of his hope faded away, as he was about to open his bag and get out that blanket, something caught his eye.

Something in the distance.

He couldn’t quite make out what it was, he was too far away, the snow was too thick, but… it looked to be something omitting light. An unnaturally colored light: pale pink. Umbriel took a few steps towards its direction.

As it seemingly got closer… he could make out the figure of a person. But… people weren’t pink. People didn’t glow either. And yet, it crept closer. Clear legs, a torso, arms, a definite head.

But then, it seemed to disappear after a particularly large gust of snow. Was he hallucinating? Could've been a possibility.

That is, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, adrenaline raced through his body as he turned, hand reaching for the dagger tucked in his bag—

"Geez! I'm not here to hurt ya! Calm down!"

He stopped. Because the sight in front of him was so bizarre, so strange and different that he didn't know what he was looking at for a second. It was…

Something. Something glowing and entirely different shades of pink, with hair that reached its thighs and oversized clothing. Bandages obscured half of its face. It was also a good foot taller than him.

It clearly wasn’t a human.

He was frozen in fear as the thing continued to stare at him, smiling.

“Wow, you mortals always look so much cuter when you’re terrified!"

Umbriel blinked. “Wh-What…?”

“I said, you look cuter when you’re terrified. That thick hood of yours clogging your hearing?”

Umbriel took an instinctive step back, but the thing took a step forward to match, looking him in the eyes with a wide grin. “What brings ya out here tonight?”

“Um.” He cleared his throat, trying to stop his chattering teeth. “Meteor… shower. I’m… I don’t know where I’m at. Got lost. In the snow."

That’s alright!” It tilted its head. “I know humans are kinda fragile, do ya need help finding your way? Because I can certainly do that!”

Hearing humans described as fragile was odd to him, to say the very least. It's like whatever this thing was thought him to be an object.

"Uh. Okay.”

“Ah… but… I can’t possibly do that kind of thing for free, you see. My expertise is just simply too valuable! However… Actually, what’s your name?”

He really didn’t have the time for this, he could barely feel his legs.

“…Umbriel. Collerei. Prince Umbriel Collerei.”

For a split second, he could’ve sworn this things’ demeanor changed, the very atmosphere seeming… off. But it quickly vanished, and he had to wonder if he was imagining things.

“Wooowie, my mistake, Your Royal Highness. I didn’t expect to find such a big shot out here tonight~” It giggled, and Umbriel couldn’t tell if it was being sarcastic or genuine.

“Um. Right. H-How much money do you want? To help me get home?”

"Money? Don't be silly. I'll take you home for basically free, actually. Royal discount!"

"...Basically?"

Smiling wider, it crept to his side, wrapping an arm around his body. This thing emitted a lot of warmth, causing him to sigh from how welcome it was.

"Well, little prince, I just need ya to look this over and sign your name at the bottom. That's all, really. Then I can get ya home, safe 'n' sound." It pulled out a piece of thick paper.

He froze. From the gesture to that nickname, everything suddenly felt so extremely unnerving and off-putting to the point it was overwhelming. But, just like before, it vanished within an instant.

"Ah... um, alright. Let me look." Umbriel took the paper, hands numb and shaking, and began to skim it over from top to bottom. It was done in crayon.

Deimos’ Super Cool Totally Amazing Contract!

I, Deimos, the creator of this contract agree to the following terms:

To share any info I know about the world with the Reader! (I know a lot of cool stuff :D)

To be very nice and give the Reader lots of attention!*

To protect the reader from harm!*

I, Prince Umbriel, the receiver of this contract, agree to the following terms:

Give up a tiny, very small, portion of my soul! (You won’t notice it’s gone!)

Let Deimos accompany me in daily life!* (I’m very lonely D:)

Sign Here! \ /

“A… contract?” There was more text at the bottom, extremely small text at that, but he couldn't really read it due to the snow and his slightly blurred vision. “What's the catch?”

“Hm? A catch? Ehe, just make sure you read the fine print…”

“Uh… I can't really see it…” He squinted, but the text was so small it was basically incomprehensible. How in the world did it write that small with a crayon?

“Oh, pft, it isn’t that big of a deal actually, just some boring legal stuff.” It patted his shoulder.

“...Really?”

“Mhm!”

“Um…” Umbriel had to think for a second.

He didn’t know what this thing was. But it presented relatively friendly, if not a little odd. What's more, the pros of this contract tremendously outweighed the cons. He really wasn’t in a position to refuse this, because if he did and this thing left, he was probably going to freeze to death. The only iffy part was that thing about his soul, but even then, he wasn't sure souls were even a real thing. Sure, spirits were definitely real. That desert across the sea was chock-full of them. Glowing colorful fantastical beasts with an aggression to humans. Now that he thought about it, this thing offering him a contract was a little similar to one of them.

Those things stayed in the desert, though, and weren’t humanoid. Apart from his kingdom’s exception, the sole reason it was founded. The thing of horrors defeated six hundred years prior on this very night.

He shook his head. Too much thinking for his near hypothermic brain.

"A-alright. I'll sign it. Give me something."

It handed him a rather large quill. A black quill, with feathers that looked suspiciously similar to that of a raven.

And so, he signed his name, sloppily, due to his freezing hands, at the bottom of the contract as this… thing watched, its visible eye gleaming with a childish sort of excitement.

As soon as he dotted the last "i", something incredible happened that he could only describe as a miracle. Something that assured him he'd made a good choice for the time being.

The clouds above, which had seemed so dense moments prior, had parted. Revealing a large swath of clear night sky.

The northern lights were more vibrant than he'd ever seen. The stars were bright and visible. And the meteors, the meteors. There had to be hundreds of them. Shooting across the night sky in an incredible display. A crescent moon hung amidst it all.

He nearly dropped the contract.

It was everything he'd expected since he was little.

"What... What was your name?" Umbriel muttered, not taking his eyes off the sky.

"It's Deimos! I'm a guy, by the way!"

"Deimos... I think we'll be good friends."

"Hang on, do ya want a better view? I can get you one!"

"H-Huh? I mean, I'd absolutely love that, but how in the world..." He began to turn around.

And stopped. Dead in his tracks.

It was like he was suddenly face-to-face with a large, glowing, and pink wall. Except, well, it obviously wasn’t a wall.

Deimos, who couldn't have been more than a foot taller than him moments prior, now took up the entire clearing with his size.

His face alone was more than double the size of his body, the bandaged hand pressed against his cheek was definitely larger than his mattress. However tall he would be standing would probably be enough to reach above the—

Above the clouds.

"Sorry, did that surprise ya? Forgot to mention, I prefer this size much better. And since you signed that contract, you're super special now! You can see me and feel me when I decide to become intangible! Isn't that super cool? Basically, nobody else will notice me right now, even at this size!"

"Ri-right," Umbriel shifted, feeling a bit, well... small. It was kind of overwhelming. "Um. About the... uh, view..."

"Ah, of course, of course! Here, lemme just..."

Before he could react, Deimos' ginormous hand reached for him, warm fingers closing firm around his body, surrounding him completely. It was an incredibly strange sensation, being picked up like an object. But he didn't particularly dislike it. Especially given how warm and soft Deimos' hands were. The feeling was similar to stepping out of a shower and wrapping up in a warm towel, however strange that comparison may be.

"Geez, you're reaaaally cold. I'll have to keep ya wrapped up in my hand."

Umbriel wasn't going to protest that.

All of a sudden, his upper body was shoved out of Deimos' fist, enough for him to look around.

He felt like he was in outer space.

Gone were the limitations of clouds and snow. Umbriel assumed that all was far below him. All that remained was the infinite expanse of the starry sky, so big and beautiful that tears were brought to his eyes. The meteor shower was still ongoing.

He'd gotten to see it after all, and see it he did.

Umbriel probably had the best view in the entire world.

————————————— ͙͘͡ ✦

He couldn't bear staring at the sky any longer. It brought back too many memories; things he didn't like, fragments of pain he didn't understand.

A smile crept across his lips as he felt the tiny prince wriggling in his hand. A sensation he'd missed so dearly.

He could play pretend for a bit. Maybe it'd even be fun. Revenge is a dish best served cold, after all.

But his true motives?

They were right there, outlined in purposefully small crayon at the bottom of a contract, stuffed securely into his pocket.

*This does not include any physical or psychological harm inflicted on the receiver, Prince Umbriel, by Deimos himself.

*Deimos is allowed to do whatever he wishes with the receiver, Prince Umbriel, after he signs this contract.

*The receiver of this contract, Prince Umbriel, allows Deimos to obtain the Merisian throne instead of him.

He couldn't believe they'd made a monarchy in his absence. As if she was even that special.

For some reason, he couldn’t escape that surname. Collerei. It followed him around like a curse.

Still, if he couldn’t escape it, he might as well make the most of it.

And so, there he sat for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for Umbriel to tell him when the meteor shower concluded. His mind wandered to what he’d missed, and to what he’d do when his eventual reign came.

Deimos was positive it’d turn out a hell of a lot better than last time. He’d make sure of it.

“D-Deimos?”

“…Mhm? What’s up?”

“Could you t-take me home now, please? The meteors are starting to die down, and, well, I feel quite cold… and woozy…”

“Oh, of course!” He lifted up his sweater, stretching the pocket of his pants open, before ever-so-carefully sliding the little prince inside.

Umbriels muffled voice reached his ears. “Is this… your pocket? I didn’t know you had them…”

“Sure is! My sweater covers ‘em. Is it comfy enough for ya?” Deimos patted the small bulge Umbriel made in his pocket from the outside.

“Mmm, yeah. It’s… really comfy. And warm. You have soft clothes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to have somebody not see him as a horrific monster for a second.

So, he shrank down to a more humane scale, Umbriel shrinking along with him. The prince didn’t need to know about that either. Not yet, at least.

He walked aimlessly through the forest, feeling Umbriel jostle in his pocket every now and then. For some reason, he got the unexplainable urge to do another nice thing. How bizarre.

Deimos laid his hand over the pocket where Umbriel laid, and began rubbing his back through the fabric with a finger.

“Y-you don’t have to do all that…” The prince mumbled.

“Relax, it’s fine. I’ll take care of you. Where do ya want me to take you again?”

“Est… Estrelline Palace. It’s not very far, you won’t miss it.” Umbriel was interrupted by a large yawn. “And… preferably, d-don’t let the guards see me, they don’t know I went out…”

“Sure!”

And so, Deimos walked. Prince in one pocket, signed contract in the other.

He’d have to break this act at some point. Surely.

But for now?

He was quite content having somebody to take care of. Even though he wasn't planning on being very kind to this prince in the slightest after hearing that name. But someway, somehow, he was feeling... awe. Adoration. This unexplainable feeling that wanted to treat Umbriel with kindness instead of malice.

And that feeling sparked another in him. One he hadn't felt for a long time.

Guilt.

————————————— ͙͘͡ ✦

WOWEE IF YOU READ THIS ALL YOURE A REAL ONE heres gifts

castor sketch design / details

"i have two sides" ahh deimos

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

september 1, 2021 6:15 p.m. basil's restaurant

ten minutes ago

[ktmurphy86] i might be a few minutes late, but i'm almost there.

grant scrolls through the metric ton of messages piling up in his notifications until he reaches the very end, and with a lump in his throat, opens it to respond. or like it. or send a thumbs up like a cool cucumber.

baby steps, he tells himself. one task at a time. the responses to all the messages from family, friends, and former co-workers inquiring about his exam results will come later.

just meet your sister first and–

“you seem different.”

he nearly jumps out of his skin as kelly’s high-pitched voice supersedes his thoughts.

“hopefully in a good way,” grant replies, looking up as he slides his phone off the table and into his back pocket.

it’s been nearly a decade since their last encounter, and he’d still recognize her from a mile away.

kelly’s hair is dyed platinum blonde like always, but now it’s twice as long, and her natural brunette locks–peeking through at the root–are streaked through with shocks of silver. her ice blue eyes are just as piercing, only underlined with tiny wrinkles. she’s still thin, too, but rather rail thin; her sweater dress seems to wear her more than she wears it.

“yes, in a good way.” kelly pulls out the chair opposite him and sits down with her arms wrapped across her waist. the candle between them casts a strange yellow glow over her wiry features. “you look better, much healthier.”

“uh, thank you. you look great as well.”

she half-smiles. “it’s just hair dye and botox. i look old. i didn’t inherit the ageless ó súilleabháin genes, so i'm going grey very early like all the callahans. by the way, you weren’t waiting long, were you?”

“oh, no, no, not at all. i have my car, but i didn’t want to deal with traffic, so i took the subway, but then that also kind of took a while. i pretty much just got here.”

“okay, good.” kelly pauses for a moment, her lips pursed. “well. i thought about what i'd say to you the whole ride over here, and now it’s all gone.”

for a moment, they exchange no other words. they drown in the silence, staring into each other’s eyes and into the past.

she’s surprisingly warm, all things considered. the last time they’d been in the same room–

grant is distracted again from his thoughts, watching as a strange sadness falls across her face. she reaches up at the collar of her dress and tug at it like it’s choking her, and her eyes then drift away to stare at an indistinct point on the table between them.

“it’s weird to see you again,” she admits suddenly, her gaze still fixated far away from him, “i didn’t think you’d message me back a few months ago.”

“to be honest, i didn’t mean to. i replied by accident one night and then just decided to follow through with talking to you. and now i'm here. yeah. um, anyway, why’d you reach out to me?”

“i was on facebook a couple months ago, and one of those ‘look at what you posted this day years ago’ things came up. it was a picture aunt bridget tagged us all in. it was the whole family at one of your high school hockey games, i think your freshman year state championship game.” kelly shrugs. “i didn’t even know any of those pictures were still there. that was a real surprise, given i unfriended and blocked everyone i'm related to on there when i left home after high school.”

grant nods. “a picture of me probably very sweaty and gross with helmet hair made you want to reach out to me?”

“not quite. my kids were with me at the time. we were in an airport coming back from vacation, so they were bored and nosy. ‘is that you? who are all these people?’ i was then immediately caught in my lie; i'd been telling them their whole lives i had no family left, and their only extended family was their dad’s parents.”

“yikes. i'm sure that was awkward.”

“it was,” kelly says plainly, “my oldest kids weren’t happy with the news. they’ve been, um, a little jealous of their friends for having lots of cousins and big family events for the holidays, and it didn’t go over well when they figured out they do have a big family. besides, they rightfully did see it as a betrayal of their trust. if mom lied once, what else might mom be lying about? the tooth fairy? santa claus? the easter bunny? yes, those, too. sorry. also, if you didn’t already guess based on my new last name, i married jack, and…”

“i figured you married him. you’d already been together a really long time even when i last saw you. we all grew up together, and you guys were middle school and high school sweethearts and all.”

“he’s a good guy. as i was about to say, though, jack is very partial to you. he always liked you. he thought you were a sweet kid, and he won’t let me forget what happened between us. so, after the facebook incident, he encouraged me to contact you, if only for the kids’ sake. after living in a huge family, i don’t think it’s all that fantastic, but he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder being an only child, and he doesn’t want the kids to have no one besides his parents in their lives. don’t get me wrong; i will never ever get involved in callahan or ó súilleabháin bullshit again, but i will consider reconnecting with you and letting you meet the kids.”

grant bites into his lip as that nagging anxious lump returns to his throat. “well, why me? why bother getting involved with any of us again after everything? even if it is for your kids, what's your motivation?"

kelly outright ignores his question. “tell me what you’ve been up to for the last, what, eight years? nine years? i don’t remember how long it’s been. you're at least talking to our dad, i hear.”

"how do you know that?"

"my in-laws may not know anything else about you these days, but they've seen you with him around our hometown."

[wyervan]

hiiii just wanna start off by saying I love your art style and general vibes ✨️ I'm a stay-at-home partner always in search of fun things to do, and I've recently gotten back into art after not engaging with it since I was a kid (largely because your sun n moon fixation rubbed off on me 😭). I've never tried digital art and it looks cool! Do you have any advice for a beginner like me?

Oh it makes me so happy when people say I inspired them to start creating again 😭 The DCA and the fandom brought me out of my own years-long artistic funk last spring. Clown power, yeehonk 🤠 🤡

I’m planning a significantly longer post in response to an ask I got ages ago all how I learned to draw the way I do, so lookout for that.

But in the meantime, here’s a couple things I can think of off the top of my head:

Specific tools don’t matter much. I currently use Procreate and would recommend it if you have an IPad. It’s an extremely simple but effective program.

On desktop, I use Clip Studio Pro, but Krita is another program I’ve used and liked AND it’s completely free.

I do also have loads of experience with Photoshop and other Adobe products but can’t recommend them at the price, not to mention they’re not super beginner friendly.

Hardware-wise, I almost exclusively use my IPad to draw because it’s so portable. I also have a Huion Kamvas pen tablet monitor that hooks up to my desktop. But I started doing digital art with a dinky lil Wacom tablet that was less than $100. There’s definitely a bit of a disconnect at first, not looking at where you’re drawing but rather on a screen, but you get used to it.

Bottom line is to use whatever tools are convenient and comfortable for you! I even know of a great artist that exclusively draws with their mouse. I realized I hated sitting at a desk and that stopped me from practicing digitally. I got an IPad and now it’s much easier for me to work comfortably on what I love.

Point two I’d like to make is take advantage of the capabilities of working digitally. This means using the godsent undo button to your heart’s content. Download fun brushes to play with and add texture. Use perspective grids. Turn on line stabilization so your strokes are extra smooth. Like what you’ve sketched so far but want to try something different? Duplicate the layer and work from there so you can go back to the old version if you change your mind. Radically change the colors or values with adjustment layers. Use clipping masks. Abuse the liquify tool.

A lot of this might sound like gobbledygook to a digital art beginner but just googling any of this terminology will get you loads of tutorials and information for your specific setup. Also I’m happy to go into details about specific digital art techniques I’ve picked up with over a decade and a half of experience.

Finally, and most importantly—make what you want to see in the world AND what feels good to make. This ofc is not exclusive to digital art, but I always want to stress this to new artists. I realized after I got into the DCA fandom that I had been letting shame, fear, and perfectionism keep me from creating the content I was really interested in making. But then man, idk. Frickin’ robot clowns amirite ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it’s like there was a secret agent sent into my brain and he uploaded a DCA virus into my mainframe or smth idk hacker style. tktktktkt. they’re in.

Anyway. Hope this helps! Feel free to send another message if u have more questions :3

[apoptoses]

Do you think Armand ever helped Daniel manscape? Or subjected him to it 😬 Its’s mentioned that he often bathed, shaved and dressed him to his liking and I see Armand as the type of lover who would obsess over and hyper fixate on every part of his partner’s body, pubic hair included 🫢

oh boy anon DO I. Buckle in because i've got THOUGHTS.

so like, shaving his face? absolutely, that started out as a totally benign request when Armand got curious about modern disposable razors. Daniel was down, it's fine, he does half his face to demonstrate and show Armand how to handle the razor and then lets him finish the other half. And it's nice, it kinda makes him feel spoiled to sit on the edge of the tub and let Armand tilt his head around and wipe the shaving cream off his face. He's happy to let Armand have full control over that particular grooming chore.

(Does Armand sometimes nick his jaw? Yes. Does Daniel think that's on purpose so he can lick up the blood? Also yes. Does he care? Not really, secretly it's becoming a turn on.)

Naturally, it escalates.

It starts with shaving Daniel's chest just to see what he'd look like with it smooth. Then it's his armpits, because Armand wants to know what they look like bare and how long it takes for them to grow back (three very fucking itchy weeks, where Daniel can't stop squirming and thinking about Armand every time he tries to sneakily scratch at the stubble through his shirt).

At this point Daniel tells him no shaving below the waist, uh uh, not doing it. He keeps everything trimmed short and that's enough, thank you very much. Obviously Armand takes that as a personal challenge.

(in the end all it takes is a few well placed bites, a whispered "please, lover?" and those big brown eyes looking up at him through dark lashes and Daniel crumbles, but he's never going to admit that)

And so he ends up laid out with his legs spread, ass half in Armand's lap while Armand lathers him up with shaving cream and gets at it. It's weirdly hot, he feels all vulnerable and squirmy and Armand's hands are cold and wet with shaving cream and touching him all over. Daniel notices he's not just being tidied up, Armand is taking everything and he goes to protest. But then Armand strokes him with the shaving cream and his brain melts.

(and does his face burn when Armand asks him to lift his knees to his chest so he can get his ass? absolutely. does Daniel jump to obey anyways? you bet)

By the time Armand wipes him down with the towel he just feels so weird and bare, he's got this urge to put his hands over his lap and hide. And Armand just keeps staring in that way of his making it worse. Daniel feels about ready to curl up and die, but then Armand touches his bare skin and oh it's so sensitive. And then Armand bites him low on his groin where his teeth have never been before and- yeah, okay, maybe this was worth it.

They keep it up for a few weeks, because every time Daniel looks in the mirror and sees himself he feels like Armand's possession and he likes it. They do it again with a straight razor, and then once with wax (which makes Daniel cry and that's the most confusing turn on he's ever had). And then the novelty wears off, until decades later when Daniel is a vampire and he remembers it'll all grow back overnight, no itchy phase needed at all.

But YEAH they're both into it not even just for the grooming itself, but the giving over of control, the intimate secret, the constant awareness Daniel has that he's bare somewhere because Armand wants it and he can't stop thinking about his sensitive newly naked skin.

And they switch once. Armand hands him the razor and it's fun, but Daniel is too into Armand with all of his hair intact for it to be anything but a novelty. He'd much rather trim his hair for him, or pull it back, or get out the manicure kit if he's going to do any grooming stuff for Armand.

HOPE THIS HIT THE SPOT, ANON ♥

[respectthepetty]

Be my favorite has got me. I’m down the rabbit hole as it were. I didn’t mean to be here, I fell and I refuse to get out of said hole.

Also….. Is this the first time I am seeing a characters growth and story through self realisation without the love interest?

Like Peesaang went on this journey from seeing the two men kissing in the club, going to the bar, going to see Max, and really taking the time with his feelings. I loved it!!!!!!

Not the ‘ I don’t like men, I just like you’ like….. A to the Men (amen) am I right?!

I'm going to be honest with myself - I've been in this hole since 2021. The initial 2021 trailer (with MIKE!) told me Be My Favorite was either gonna be a mess or a masterpiece, but I prayed it wouldn't be mediocre, so I am THRILLED that My Strange and Obnoxious Fixation™ has paid off. If the second half hurts us, y'all are going to witness a full grown adult have a meltdown on your dash that could rival one of those badass kids in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, but, so far, IT'S A WIN for me!

And the biggest reason is because of the characters. I am truly invested in JittiRain's evolution here because this is not her norm. I was very prepared for miscommunication, manipulation, and misdeeds, but instead we are getting MAGIC!

I'm sure other shows have done the self-realization journey without it being directly tied to the love interest, but what I'm liking about it here is it just isn't Pisaeng. Usually, the dynamic is one of the leads is pretty solid while the other has to find his way, but both of these guys are figuring it out, and we get to see that evolution. In fact, all the characters are working through their issues.

I read a few posts today of people stating they are feeling better about Kawi now after he showed growth from his initial behavior in the first few episodes. Same with Not. I still dislike that little jerk, but him sending a message to Kawi wishing him good luck was nice to see after he roasted Kawi for trying to find a talent.

Also, Kawi still helped Pisaeng on this journey of self-discovery, but Pisaeng didn't go on this journey to get Kawi. Kawi wasn't treated like the pot of gold at the end of the queer rainbow. Kawi questioned Pisaeng in episode four. He asked Pisaeng why he hadn't been direct about his feelings with Pear. Kawi asked Pisaeng what he was doing when he went in for the kiss. He told Pisaeng to be honest, with himself.

Pisaeng, a guy who believed he was being honest and open, having his actions questioned made him haul ass out of there. Kawi jump-started that reflection.

But Pisaeng is honest and open. He spoke to Pear the next day. He saw the men kissing, and although hesitant, he went to that gay bar. He spoke to Max and decided to confess to Kawi. Then, he returned to the bar.

I hope, and feel, that we are getting the same story from Kawi. He hasn't been honest with himself for a long time, and this statement isn't about queerness. This is about his life in general. However, he doesn't react the same way as Pisaeng. Kawi needs more support. He needs a bigger push. He needs people to guide him. Because for over a decade, Kawi has had nobody and feels like he has nothing.

Pisaeng has known something was wrong with what others believed to be his perfect life, so he was quick to adjust. Kawi has dreamed about what he believed would be his perfect life for at least twelve years, so he is very reluctant to reevaluate the choices he believes will get him that perfect life.

Kawi is doing everything under the guise of getting Pear and more money, but just like Pisaeng, he will have to be honest with himself and realize he is doing all of this because he is extremely lonely. Kawi doesn't need to get laid and get paid; he needs friends.

Both Pisaeng and Kawi need a friend.

And that's what I love about this. You're right! We aren't seeing a story of growth that involves the love interest.

Instead we are seeing stories about change that involve friends.

Because if we are being honest with ourselves, we all need a little help from our friends.

[euporie-art]

Hellooo there!! I saw your blog description and I am a benbaro shipper who would like to interact with you please! My benbaro obsession has gotten well fed by wonderful artworks and correct thoughts such as yours (thank you!!) recently but I fear my obsession can never be completely sated...

So if you like, feel free to use this ask to express whatever is currently on your mind! Just ramblings or a headcanon or something about benbaro or Barok or Albert separately or TGAA in general that you have thoughts about; this is a free pass to let it out! I'm always curious about how my blorbos look in other people's eyes

OMG HI I have read all of your benbaro fics and they make me fucking AJDJFHWIJFKTOEMTK (a good thing) . I need to get hit by a car. I love them so much

prepare for a whole lot of fucking yap because I am insane about them so much. and I have no job so I kinda just stew them in my brain all day at the moment, among other tgaa pairings and characters

(i honestly very rarely fixate on ships within fandoms. but tgaa gave me 3 pairings I would die for. asoryuu, homumiko, and benbaro. they all make me insane I'm going to eat drywall)

I think about them a lot. I don't even know where to start.

so I'll go w some dumb headcanons. sprinkling in some pretty bad drawings.tbh (please ignore how inconsistent my art style is)

I think some time after tgaa2 he moves back to England and lives with barok, who obviously has more than enough money to spend on him, so Albert grows his hair out again (he has a very stupid hat/helmet thing he wears to protect his hair if he's working on something potentially dangerous)

First off I think Albert had long hair in university. most of the time when people draw him in uni he looks almost identical to his 2-3 design WHICH IS FAIR AND NOT BAD! but I have some thoughts of my own

pray forgive the discourtesy of this looking shit I drew it quite quickly. but. I think he had long hair in university and was a little more particular about his appearance. however i do think he had pretty bad acne in his late teens. the acne was just a hormonal teenager thing and cleared up by his 20s.

After moving abroad I think he cut his hair short because he had less time to look after it, and wanted to put any money he had towards funding his inventions, so he did pretty much the bare minimum when it came to looking after himself (I must clarify I do think that Albert is attractive, this is not me trying to "yassify" him. I have a soft spot for cute nerdy guys I'm dating one but he likes Elden ring instead of science)

because he's pretty much been alone for like. a decade. and basically just spoke in Law Words for half of that. I think barok is very direct and literal with how he speaks so he worries about not seeming "romantic" enough, so to compensate he's very physically affectionate and likes spoiling albert with nice food, gadgets and supplies for his inventions, and new clothes.

I think barok is extremely clingy once he gets used to having Albert around again. he's like a cat he'll just kind of bonk his head into him sometimes and sadly gaze at him until he gets attention. very cuddly and a bit melodramatic. I love characterisations of barok where he's really pathetic tbh. also him being shy is fun I enjoy it greatly

albert on the other hand I actually think he's the more bold/confident one (I hate when barok is portrayed as a dominant bad boy or whatever its so stupid he literally gets shy when his 10 year old niece invites him to dinner). albert talks baroks ear off about anything and everything, humours his clingyness, and drags him outside to have a life beyond his job and engage in whimsy and fun . he's also very verbally affectionate I think. he makes sure to try and help barok feel less alone, because I think he has lingering guilt for not being there during the professor bullshit and klints death. it may have been after he left England for Germany, and he didn't even know when it was happening, but i think he has a lingering, irrational guilt for not being there for barok at his worst hour

ALSO a lot of the time I see people drawing Albert talking a lot about science shit w barok listening happily, but I also think it goes the other way too! I think barok will rant about wine pairings and different types of grapes n shit. Albert stares at him lovestruck and adoringly the whole time. he has no idea what a pinot noir is (neither do I, I don't drink)

final thing or I will be here all fucking day: my boyfriend and I came up with a headcanon that barok has a really pathetic looking Italian greyhound named petunia, he likes dressing her up in little outfits. I think when albert starts living with him he starts calling petunia their daughter, and has the ability to make the exact same sad and pathetic expression as the dog

jk tiny bonus: I have a very dumb "100 years on" au stewing in my brain where everything is set in the 1980s and 1990s instead of 1880s and 1890s. in the 80s section, when barok and Albert are in university together, barok is a sulky and mopey trad goth and they listen to The Cure together. albert dresses normal and listens to talking heads i think. this is stupidly self indulgent because I like 80s fashion and clothing. I have not even thought about the 90s section because I don't want to 😊 (I HATE 90S FASHION.)