#he was SO fun to sketch!!! it was expression practice ;]]]

[diekleinesuesse]

Being best friends with Hyunjin:

Being best friends with Hyunjin would be an unforgettable, whirlwind experience filled with laughter, deep conversations, artistic moments, and pure chaos. He’s the kind of friend who makes you feel truly seen and appreciated, and life with him would never be dull.

The Instant Connection

Becoming Hyunjin’s best friend wouldn’t be an overnight thing, but once he lets you in, you’re in for life. At first, he might be a little reserved, observing you and figuring out your vibe. But once he decides he likes you, his warmth and affection would be impossible to miss. He’d tease you constantly, pull you into spontaneous activities, and make sure you always feel included. He’s the type to remember small details about you your favorite snack, the way you like your coffee, or a random comment you made weeks ago that he surprises you with later.

Chaotic Energy and Endless Laughter

One thing about being best friends with Hyunjin? You will never have a dull moment. He’s a mix of high-energy chaos and soft, artistic soul, so you’d experience both sides constantly. One moment, he’s dancing around like a maniac, challenging you to a freestyle battle in the middle of the living room, and the next, he’s dramatically acting out a scene from a movie with exaggerated expressions just to make you laugh.

His laugh is infectious, and he’d find the dumbest things funny he’d randomly burst into laughter over an inside joke from months ago, leaving you both in tears. If you’re having a bad day, he’d do everything in his power to cheer you up, whether it’s making funny faces, telling the most ridiculous stories, or pulling you into a spontaneous dance-off.

The Deep, Emotional Conversations

Hyunjin is incredibly expressive, not just in dance but also in his emotions. He feels everything deeply, and as his best friend, you’d be one of the few people he truly opens up to. He’d talk to you about his struggles, his fears, and his dreams late into the night. You’d have deep conversations about life, happiness, and what truly matters.

He’s the type of friend who listens intently, giving you all his attention when you need to talk. If you’re feeling down, he’d remind you how much you mean to him, using heartfelt words that make you tear up. He doesn’t hesitate to express love and appreciation for his closest people, and he’d make sure you know how important you are to him.

Artistic Moments and Creative Inspiration

Being best friends with Hyunjin means being constantly surrounded by art. He’d always be sketching something, whether it’s in a notebook, on a napkin at a café, or even digitally on his tablet. He’d probably draw you a lot, capturing your expressions in different moments your focused face when you’re talking about something you love, your laughter, even your sleepy morning look.

He’d also love having creative days together painting in a park, visiting art galleries, or just sitting in a cozy café sketching while sipping on iced Americanos. If you’re into any form of art, he’d hype you up endlessly. If you can’t draw, he’d try to teach you, holding your hand to guide your strokes (and then making fun of you if it turns out bad, but in the most affectionate way possible).

Dance Battles and Late-Night Studio Sessions

If you’re a dancer, Hyunjin would be the best hype man and the toughest critic all at once. He’d push you to be better, constantly challenging you with new moves and freestyle battles. If you’re not a dancer, he’d still try to teach you, laughing at your attempts but also being super encouraging.

He’d drag you to the JYP practice rooms late at night, where he’d go all out in a freestyle session, completely lost in the music. You’d sit on the floor watching, amazed by how effortlessly he moves. And then he’d suddenly pull you up, making you dance along even if you protest.

Protective and Loyal

Hyunjin is fiercely loyal to the people he loves, and as his best friend, he’d always have your back. If anyone says anything bad about you, he’d be the first to defend you whether it’s in person or online. He’d glare at anyone who disrespects you, and if someone hurts you, he’d go into full protective mode, making sure they regret it.

If you’re in a crowd and feeling overwhelmed, he’d stay close to you, making sure you’re comfortable. If you’re out at night, he’d insist on walking you home or at least texting you until you’re safe. He’s the type to remind you to eat, check if you’ve gotten enough sleep, and scold you if you’re pushing yourself too hard.

Fashion and Matching Outfits

Hyunjin is one of the most stylish people ever, and he’d definitely influence your fashion sense. He’d take you shopping, making you try on outfits and giving you brutally honest opinions. He’d probably convince you to get matching clothes, whether it’s similar jackets, shoes, or even a simple bracelet that symbolizes your friendship.

Sometimes, he’d steal your clothes just because he thinks they look good on him. If you’re ever wearing something oversized, he’d dramatically claim it’s his now. But if you try to take his clothes? Good luck. He’d fight you for it (but secretly love it if you wore something of his).

Random Midnight Adventures

Being best friends with Hyunjin means spontaneous adventures. He’d randomly call you at midnight, saying, “Let’s go for a drive” or “Let’s get snacks.” You’d end up at a convenience store, sitting outside on the pavement, eating ramen and talking about the most random things.

Sometimes, he’d just want to escape the world for a bit, and you’d be the person he calls. You’d find a quiet spot to watch the city lights, listening to music in comfortable silence. He’d play songs that match the mood, occasionally singing along softly.

The Soft and Affectionate Side

Hyunjin can be chaotic, but he’s also one of the softest people ever. He’s affectionate with the people he loves, and as his best friend, you’d get the full treatment random hugs, head pats, and leaning on you when he’s tired. He’d rest his head on your shoulder without hesitation, and if you ever seem upset, he’d wrap you in a tight hug without saying a word.

If you ever cry, he’d hold your hands and wipe your tears away, telling you it’s okay to be emotional. He wouldn’t let you go through anything alone.

The Friendship That Lasts Forever

Being best friends with Hyunjin wouldn’t just be for a short time it’s the kind of friendship that lasts a lifetime. No matter how busy life gets, he’d always make time for you. Even if you’re in different countries, he’d send you long texts, voice messages, and random pictures of things that remind him of you.

He’d be the friend who hypes you up in everything you do, reminding you that you’re capable of amazing things. He’d celebrate your achievements like they’re his own, and if you ever doubt yourself, he’d be there to remind you how talented and incredible you are.

Hyunjin isn’t just a best friend he’s a soul connection, a constant in your life, and someone who makes the world feel brighter just by being in it.

[chocokeyboard]

Some warm ups!!

[myscultra]

mobu

[missmisnomer]

i'm the main character and you have to like me

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

how the FUCK has lovestruck jeong jeong been on this site for over two years and i'm only just now seeing it. my blorbo senses should've been tingling

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

One of the things that gets me about Bells Hells unilaterally deciding to reorder the world based on what they think is the best third option (and for the sake of argument right now let's assume it actually is) of having the gods turn mortal to hide from Predathos, is I don't have any confidence that most of the party is going to be willing to knuckle down and do with the work of dealing with the political specifics of mortal gods. How will religious institutions handle this in the day to day? How will we deal with the fact that the Betrayers are now going to be on the mortal side of the Divine Gate with armies at their command? How are we going to manage the practicals of constantly reincarnating mortal gods?

Bells Hells are notorious as an adventuring party for constantly dragging their feet about actually going to go save the world, with Laudna in particular constantly fielding the idea that they could just ripcord out at any time and leave this all behind. With the threat passed, would she be willing to stick around and help deal with the particulars? Imogen seems like she would be willing to work on these things, and indeed would have to as the Vessel, but she would be doing it, as she has all campaign, with Laudna whispering in her ear that she could just leave it all behind to go live in a cabin in the woods if she doesn't like the pressure. How long could her resolve hold out, especially since she is also restraining the god-eater? Would Ashton, a nihilistic punk who didn't believe they'd live this long have enough vision for the future to help sketch it out once things have burned? Would Fearne, who just wants to explore the Material Plane and have fun with her friends, be able to deal with the monotony of politics? Would Chetney, who is most interested in creating a legacy through his craft, be willing to give up spending whatever remaining time he has honing it to manage institutions?

Honestly, of Bells Hells, I can only see Braius, Orym, and (due to some personal breakthroughs he made last episode) Dorian actually willingly taking up a role in the managing of a reorganized world. Braius, devoted as he is to Asmodeus, would probably take it upon himself to help his lord adjust to mortality and continue expressing his will on the Mortal Plane. Orym is dutiful, incredibly so, and since he started all this he would see it through, whatever that demanded of him. And Dorian, having recently reconciled himself with the fact that he is royalty, and that with Cyrus's death leadership will be demanded of him, will have to tend to the people of the Silken Squall, especially since the Squall's representation in the Exandrian Accord indicates it's going to be less isolationist going forward than it once was. These three I can see doing the work, but they're also a minority of the party, the others seem like they'd set the gods up as mortals, and then just leave it at that. Even though that is just step one of making a new Exandria.

[skycowboys]

Hey!!! You made a "how to draw wings" sheet, but— how on Earth do you draw horse!?!? The bane of every artists existence

Yeahhh horses are hard. They have lots of little nuances on top of complex anatomy and weird ass shapes (literally and figuratively). Drawing them requires lots and lots of practice. And this is like...entire art book levels of subject matter but here are a few tricks that I've picked up over time -

Key body shapes - shoulder, barrel, hip

I won't go too far into this one because Ken Hultgren does a much better job in his book The Art of Animal Drawing. But TL;DR - a horse's body has three main masses - the shoulder, the barrel, and the hip. Each one is tricky to draw on it's own since they're all weird shapes, but it's helpful to me to break a horse body down into simpler terms.

Key muscle masses

When I draw horses, I like to emphasis curves vs straights. Horses have that built in naturally as their body is often either "pure muscle" or "pure bone". There's some really nice details at the intersections of body parts, like at the front elbow and behind the ears along the neck (aka the "poll") where there's highly definable muscle groups that can help with visual clarity.

Fun fact, young horses grow hip-first. The horse in the photo above is 8 years old. That same horse at 4 years is below. Cracks me up how much taller his hip was at the time.

Ok so the muscles on the front legs combined with the shoulder mass is a fave combo of mine. The shoulder mass itself is something that I've found that is particularly horse-ish. For me, it's a pretty big visual signifier - almost more important than the neck. You can show a lot of tension/action in the body with the shoulder depending how you simplify it. Horses use their shoulders A LOT (too much if you ask any dressage rider or reiner), so emphasizing the shoulder can make a horse more expressive.

Legs. Oh heavens, the legs.

Yeah ok so again, Hultgren goes into fantastic detail on legs and hooves (I still follow how he simplifies hooves to this day my gosh that guy is a genius), but I often break them down like this for quick sketching. Are horse's legs realistically this emphasized? No, but I like the visual language; believable but expressive. This can apply to any size/shape from arabians to drafts.

And finally...

A few head details -

Overall horses have SO many variables. The fun part about that is that they're highly customizable and able to be endlessly stylized. The tough part is that they're hard to draw strictly because of all of the little things to keep track of to make sure the horse reads as "horse".

And so because third time's the charm, Ken Hultgren's Art of Animal Drawing really is one of the best I've seen for breaking down, simplifying, and applying horse anatomy to active drawings.

But most of all, the more you draw horses the easier they'll be.

–

Discord | Patreon | Art Prints

[ivy-elle]

Carry The Moon / Part 3

Xiangli Yao x Reader

Summary: From first meetings to searching your voice in every room, how very intriguing you’ve become to him.

As a spirited adventurer, you’re used to a life of action and impulse, having little interest left for the world of data and deduction. But when you stumble upon a rare mineral, you find yourself drawn to the unexpected warm soul that resides within the logic-stricken researcher Xiangli Yao. And as your practical instincts clash with his world of science, sparks fly in more ways than one.

Part 1 ~~~ Part 2 ~~~ Part 3

When Xiangli Yao enters the Academy this morning, his eyes instinctively search for your presence. Perhaps he’ll catch a glimpse of you in the archives or hear the trace of your voice echoing somewhere in the hallways.

He has noticed your reluctance towards the art of science, and perhaps even the Academy as such. And yet, he finds it – you - amusing, in a way it’s impossible for him to deny. Your presence, along with your effortless humour has brought a refreshing change to his usual structured days and the rigid atmosphere of the Academy.

With one last subtle glance around the Academy’s halls – gathered with people who aren’t you – a certain strange sense of disappointment settles over him, and thus his day goes on in its usual rhythm.

---

Your sole reason for returning to the Academy is to ask Xiangli Yao about the data logs he sent you yesterday morning.

But the moment you reach the archives in the late afternoon, you stop dead in your tracks as you notice the stuffed crowd of people. And up there on the pedestal? None other than Xiangli Yao himself.

Wait, he’s a teacher? Or professor. Or whatever else his fancy title is.

You haven’t been aware. Then again, with his rank and brainpower, it’d be a waste not to have him teach other smarties.

And it’s quiet. Like seriously dead quiet for a class. You can hear the sound of your shoes scuffing the polished floor, that’s how hard everyone is clinging to his every word.

Great.

With no way out that wouldn’t cause a fuss, you’re stuck here for the rest of the lecture. At least you’ve found refuge in the farthest corner of the room, where you can at least breathe normally.

Then your eyes settle on Yao. And as much as you’ve made fun of the zombie-like scholars around you, your words come back to bite your ass the second you start listening to him. It isn’t… it’s not quite what he’s teaching – something about auto-mechanics, or whatever. But it is more the way he is drawing you in. Drawing every one in. An older guy next to you is fervently writing along in his little notebook, not daring to miss a word that leaves Yao’s mouth.

Damn it, he’s good. For a science guy.

He manages to pull the crowd into his world, making it seem like he genuinely cares about the publicum. Which, knowing what you’ve learned about him so far, he most likely does.

Xiangli Yao is standing next to the blackboard, gesturing to a few sketches to emphasize his explanations. “Many times, in your careers, you will find yourself at a dead-end, caught between what seems possible and what feels just beyond reach.”

He circles a particular sketch and crosses out another one. “It is inevitable to face the limits of your knowledge, and research won’t always bring you forward.”

His gaze sweeps across the room, ensuring he makes eye contact with as many students as possible. Then his eyes find a familiar face among the crowd of listeners.

Your eyes meet and you could’ve sworn his expression softens for a second.

“But sometimes,” he continues still holding your gaze, “you will only bypass that blockage with enough dedication, courage and of course a little bit of madness.”

An amused smirk tugs at your lips, knowing full well the subtle nod in his words was directed at you.

Once the lesson has ended, quite the crowd of students immediately gathers around him and starts swarming him with questions and requests for further explanations.

You remain standing a little stand-off-fish-like in your little corner, waiting for him to handle his affairs. Heavens, you hate that feeling of being crammed into a room, even if ‘s a whole-ass lecture hall.

“Unauthorised personnel are not permitted to attend or observe lessons.”

Too caught up in your thoughts, it takes you a minute to realize the man is addressing you. You blink, turning to him. “Hm?”

“These lessons could contain sensitive information or discussions, not yet approved for public dissemination. Please remain outside.”

You take a step back, eyes falling to the name card pinned on his chest that reads Shiyan. But it’s the monocle and his air superiority that outs him as a clearly pompous ass.

There you go. A true member of the Academy. You’ve already started to get worried that Xiangli Yao is messing up your statistics with his unforeseen kindness and all.

You drag your gaze back up to Shiyan’s eyes, which are fixed on you with thinly veiled contempt.

You lift your chin slightly, meeting his stare. “I’m here on commission. Do you want my pass?” You don’t exactly have a pass – just that commission from Mortefi a few days ago. But that should do its job if you use the right words.

But Shiyan, too, is persistent. “I’m sorry, but I must still ask you to wait outside until authorized personnel will retrieve you. This room is not for the common folk.”

Common folk, my ass. What is this? You huff at his arrogance. “This is basically a library. I’m not here to steal your precious knowledge.”

“Mortefi will not be pleased to have a-“

But whatever subtle insult he is about to throw at you next, the words get stuck in his throat.

“Shiyan,” Xiangli Yao’s voice is gentle, but firm. “Thank you for your concern, but y/n is authorized to be here. They are my partner in a project we’re conducting.”

You look towards Yao, grateful for his interference, otherwise this might have ended up slightly awkward. His eyes find their way to you for a moment, before focusing back on his colleague.

Shiyanhesitates, clearly reluctant to have you stroll around his holy Academy halls, but in the end, he complies with a stiff incline of his head. “Please, next time, ensure your guests wait outside the lecture hall, Mr. Xiangli.”

Yao nods in return, and Shiyan finally leaves.

Tipping your head back against the wall, you regard Yao with a blissful expression “Alright, partner. Are you free of duty now?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, making some dimples appear as he turns to you. “Yes. I’m all yours now.”

“Oh, I’m afraid, you shouldn’t say those things, pretty boy.”

---

“Speaking of,” you exclaim a little while later, turning around and leaning back against the counter in his workshop. “I noticed some discrepancies in your notes to what I saw at the Sea of Flames.”

Xiangli Yao leans forward in his seat. “Discrepancies? Of what sort?”

“In your reports, you’ve mentioned the blue kind of Ardores Lapis. But when I went back yesterday morning, I found crystals in different colours. Similar structure, but definitely not the same. I could be wrong of course, and it might be a different species altogether. But… does that ring any bells?”

“A new species?” Yao’s brows furrow in thought. “Huh, I haven’t come across that specific aspect in any of my research. If that's true and there are variations of the crystal…”

His expression shifts into one you’ve become familiar with over these past days. Zoning out, mentally connecting dots, running through the endless data the man has stored in that brain of his. Clearly, the revelation of anomalies has left him quite intrigued.

You let him pounder for a bit, your gaze idly wandering across his workshop. The high ceilings, with lamps hanging low, cast the room with a bluish glow. It should feel stifling, but somehow, you’re rather hit with an unexpected wave of calmness instead.

“Could I ask you for yet another favour?”

You turn to meet his eyes. “Damn, you’re about to be the main contributor to this week’s salary,” you joke. Sort of… “Shoot, prof.”

“Would you allow me to join you on yet another trip to the Sea of Flames?”

You can’t help but raise a sceptical eyebrow. “Um… sure. But as you’ve noted, it’s not exactly an all-sunshine and rainbow place. There are a lot of TDs gathering there.”

“Are you questioning my combat abilities?” He tilts his head and smiles, and the way his eyes look at you makes your heart skip a beat. “I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you, my skills as a resonator and fighter won’t weigh you down. I promise. Besides, I'd like to test out the new update I added to my mecha arm in the field.”

Your gaze flickers to his prosthetic arm, noticing the resonator insignia there for the first time. A true wonder of the stars.

“Very well. But if I have to save your ass, I’m doubling my fee.”

“Deal.”

Being more of a lone wolf, you’re not exactly used to having someone join you on missions - let alone in a fight. And a part of you dreads to be responsible not just for your own life, but also for the life of the damn protégée science guy with eyes deeper than the universe.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are so appreciated

Part 1 ~~~ Part 2 ~~~ Part 3 ~~~ (Next Part coming soon)

[beatcroc]

a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

[headachecat]

My favourite parts from Rookanis Epilogue (WIP in no particular order)

Enjoy!

--

‘Spite. I’ve missed you,’ she murmured with affection. Spite smirked, as he held her there, his hands steady, possessive. Lucanis felt a rush of hunger, as he allowed the demon to guide him. He leaned in, brushing his lips against her neck, ‘Rook. He’s glad. You are back. I am too.’ He kissed her neck, savouring the way her pulse thrummed beneath his lips. His eyes darkened with approval, as Rook’s hand pulled on his hair harder. Spite led his hands wonder down the side of her thigh, lifting her leg and placing it on their hip. Rook chuckled, letting herself lay helplessly in his embrace, playing into his little game. His grip tightened around her, pulling her even closer for a moment, before releasing Lucanis’ body entirely. He stepped away from the scene, his gaze lingering on Rook, assessing her with certain admiration. ’She’s fun. I like her’ Spite hissed, fading away into Lucanis’ mind. ‘Make her stay. With us.’

--

Harding paused, watching him quietly, her eyes softening as she tied the bag closed with a practiced motion. ‘From Rook?’ she asked, her voice gentle, a knowing glance crossing her face.

He nodded, his fingers tracing the creases of the letter, as though making sure it was still intact. He slid it into the inside pocket on his chest, close to his heart. Harding smiled at him reassuringly, before turning her attention to the window through which they had entered. ‘I’m certain she’s all right,’ she said, ‘Unless they ran into the bears in the Hinterlands. Maker, those just never give up.’

--

It was a charcoal sketch, clearly drawn up in a rush, although with great skill. He made out Rook’s silhouette as she stood in front of a stone Wolf statue. She was smiling widely, beaming with laughter, as her arms resting confidently on her hips in her usual manner. Lucanis noticed her hair grew longer. Perhaps more frizzy in the moist Fereldan weather. Right next to her stood a taller woman, her hair short and black, a scar piercing her cheek. Her hands were rested comfortably behind her back. Her expression betrayed a slight amusement at the situation she has found herself in. He glanced at the description written hastily towards the bottom of the picture.

We found Solas! How could anyone take TEN YEARS to do so? 

R --

Rook traced the line of his arm with deliberate care, her touch gliding over his wrist, her fingers curling around his own. She lifted it toward her face, cradling his palm in hers. Her cheek pressed into his hand, warm and familiar, pulling his focus back to her face. ‘I’m here, vhenan,’ endearment rolled off her tongue with an intimacy that made his chest tighten. She reached towards his face, her fingertips brushing against his skin. The sensation sent a spark racing along his nerves, the kind that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. ‘Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.’

Lucanis smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers as they traced the line of his jaw. ‘What are you doing–‘ his words cut off abruptly, his gaze falling to the side of her face. It froze there, locked on her ear. He reached out instinctively, or maybe in shock, to touch it. Her beautiful, long ear was cut off. The extended tip was gone, jagged and uneven, the edges ruggedly scarred. Though the wound was healed, it hadn’t been treated with proper care. He traced the faint ridges of the initial scarring with his fingertips, feeling the calloused texture of the skin that had mended poorly. His stomach churned at the sight, a hot knot of anger beginning to form in his chest. His jaw tightened, as he locked eyes with her once more. ‘Who did this?’

-- Cassandra touched his shoulder reluctantly, as if she wasn’t used to performing such gestures. They stopped for a brief second, alone in the darkness. ‘I’ve once known a man who evaded his love for ten years because of duty,’ she said slowly, her eyes making sure he paid attention her words, ‘And once they reunited, it was clear that it was a time wasted. So they tell me. I admire your acceptance and dedication to the path thrust upon you. But make sure it doesn’t stop you from finding your own way to what your heart wants.’ --

'Just don’t leave.’ Lucanis tiled his head, the pain in her voice tearing a hole in his chest, ‘Never.’

The gleam of her usual happiness crept back into her eyes, and he smiled, bringing her into another kiss. She pulled him close, as he gasped breathlessly at the unexpected rush of heat running up his neck. Lucanis wrapped his arms around her. He guided her carefully to rest on the wooden deck. She tensed underneath him. He groaned, feeling his wings extend and cradle both of them in a protective embrace. They got lost in the moment, their breaths mixing, their hearts racing, and their hands yearning to touch. To explore. To remember. --

It took a moment for their chuckles to die down. And then, the silence stretched between them as they perceived one another. Rook’s face was flushed with excitement. Lucanis, looked at her tenderly, trying to keep his eyes from watering. He observed her face with emotion, his gaze flickering down to her mouth. He really shouldn’t, not until they were far away. Not until they were in safety. She pulled back her hair, exposing the side of her neck ever so slightly. Maker’s breath. Rook opened her mouth, as if to speak, but Lucanis didn’t wait for the words to sound out. His breath mingled with hers, slow and steady, before he leaned in swiftly, capturing her lips in a kiss. 

It wasn’t gentle. There was nothing cautious about it – just pure, unfiltered need. The months apart had built up an ache neither could ignore, and now, with her so close, he couldn’t keep the hunger under control. His hands found her waist, pulling them together as if he couldn’t bear the space between them any longer. Rook responded instantly, her hands wrapping around his neck, tugging him closer. She, too, had been waiting for this moment.

Lucanis’ heart thudded in his chest, louder than the faint rustling of the leaves around them, louder than the distant hum of the party.  He could feel Rook’s body pressed against his, the soft curve of her shoulders, the steady rhythm of her movement matching his own. She pulled back briefly just enough to catch her breath, her lips still hovering near his, her chest rising and falling with effort. She searched his eyes with visible joy, the crinkle of her nose noticable in the faint light. ‘I promise to be a better assassin from now on,’ she whispered. Lucanis placed a short kiss in the corner of her mouth. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’

--

I hope it will be a crown jewel of the anthology you can find here https://archiveofourown.org/works/60395146/chapters/154153939

Let me know what your thoughts!

[prismuffin]

How would the bat boys, Conner and Wally (separately) react to being caught stealing their masc crush's hoodie?

So maybe Reader is gone on a trip or missing, or just went out for the day and forgot his jacket on his way out.

They see the left behide hoodie, and try it on really loving how it your hoodie looks on them. Maybe they end up falling asleep snuggled into it, when watching a moive in the common-room? Or were just going about their day wearing it.

Either way, at some point they get caught red handed, the Reader being flirty with them about the hoodie. Saying how they look good in his hoodie and they should keep it.

The guy crush asks are kinda my faves idk KSBDHSBDJS LMFAO these got king asf sorry?- anyways lol I think that-

Jason would rather die than be caught doing something like this. That’s why he’s being so quiet, putting on the hoodie he found laying over the back of some chair, your hoodie to be exact. Your scent filled his nose as he slid the jacket over his head, inhaling deeply. The original plan was to just try it on, he wouldn’t wear it for long in fear of being caught. But as he sat down on the couch, imagining your arms wrapped around him as he snuggled deeper into the fabric, he wasn’t so sure about taking it off just yet. Eventually he awoke to you shaking him, his brain not even rendering what he was wearing until the words left your mouth, “you look real cute in my hoodie Jason, but it’s cold as balls outside so I’m gonna need that back.” You smirked as his eyes widened. Shooting up here was quick to stutter out an attempt at an explanation though your laughter cut him off. You said he could keep the hoodie on since he likes wearing it so much and you’ll just go find another. It didn’t even render to him that you’d previously called him cute until you left.

Dick would probably not even be trying to find your hoodie, you left in quite a rush, saying a quick goodbye as you passed him. He just wandered to the common room where he saw your hoodie laid out. It was practically calling him, and he knew you wouldn’t be back for a while so he just threw it on. His hearts racing as the scent of you engulfs his senses anddddd now he can’t take it off. Loves just going about his day in your hoodie and just smelling it every now and then it’s very relaxing. Eventually though you come back and see him strutting through the halls in your hoodie and some sweatpants. You clear your throat and he spins around so fucking fast. He’s speechless as your raise your eyebrow, eyeing you hoodie before looking at him again. Welp, he’s been caught red handed not much to say. He’d shrug it off with a sheepish apology, getting ready for his fun to end, but the second you start flirting with him by telling him he looks good in it and that he can keep it he’s beaming. He’s never been so happy. Proudly wears your hoodie for the rest of the day.

Tim would noticed your hoodie, grabbing it with a confused expression. He knows it’s rather cold out and that you were in a rush so he tries to catch you before you get too far only to find out from Dick that you already left. He’s not sure how, perhaps he leaned too deep into the temptation of it but he was somehow wearing your hoodie sitting over his desk as he sketched out some blueprints. It was comforting to wear, it fit him well and it smelled like you, one of his hands would perpetually be holding the fabric near his nose because of this. You come back wayyy sooner than he expected you to. Busting in his room, you ask if he’s seen your hoodie anywhere. “Dick said you were the last person to-“ the silence that fills the air is suffocating. He doesn’t know if you’re gonna yell or laugh and he just stares, his face getting increasingly more red. Eventually you just blink and tell him he looks good and he’s quick to say sorry and to start taking the jacket off. You stop him, telling him you’ll just find another, winking before you leave. He face plants into the desk afterwards.

Conner would most likely put it on by accident. It was in his laundry so it had to be his, though he quickly realized this wasn’t the case. Even then he couldn’t help but wear the comforting jacket after learning it was yours. You weren’t at base today anyways so it shouldn’t be a problem. Like Dick, he’d go on about his day just wearing your hoodie while doing menial tasks. He feels much closer to you while wearing it and finds himself often hugging the fabric closer to him. When you come back and see him he’s pretty embarrassed, he hadn’t expected to come face to face with you when walking into the kitchen, let alone while wearing your hoodie. “I’ve been looking for that,” you gestures towards the hoodie, smirking while crossing your arms. He apologized immediately and quickly explained how it ended up in his laundry. He asked if you wanted it back and you said no, that he should keep it because it looks cute on him. You looking him up and down like that is gonna make him pass out.

Wally would have been resting in your room as you got ready to leave, saying goodbye as you finished and left. His eyes would drift over to a chair where your hoodie rested on the back and he’d gasp. “Oh no! Y/n left his hoodie!” …. “Y/n left his hoodie~” He’d practically skip over to the chair, almost tripping in the process as he throws the garment over his head. “and it smells like him too,” he’d dreamily sigh before deciding to go watch a movie! He’d totally forget he was even wearing it to be honest, well not completely. He’d still know he was but he’d forget that it was something he technically shouldn’t be doing. “Having fun in my jacket?” His eyes shot in your direction, his hand full of popcorn pausing near his mouth as he stared at you. He gulped down nothing but his embarrassment as he tried to sheepishly greet you, his blush creeping down to his neck. He’d try and use an excuse but you’d just cut him off, saying that he should keep the hoodie on since he looks so cute. This man almost exploded at those words, his heart was definitely beating faster than any normal humans should. You’d wink before he left and he’d practically crumple in on himself. He’s like water in your hands at that point.

———

Directory

[old-lemon-tree]

How the Old Guard Deals with Grief

How about headcanons on how the old guard deals with grief/loss? They've all experienced significant loss and we see glimpses of how they deal with it.. Dutch channeling each loved one's death into justification for his anger, Hosea's fond reminiscence of Bessie, and how Arthur avoids it, buries it and only speaks of it to his journal or in passing.

Requested by @kelpiekidd

Thank you for requesting this! I had fun writing these (fun!?!) it was very challenging but also extremely rewarding. I may have wordvomited all over this ops! I hope it makes sense.

TW: talk of death and grief.

---------

Arthur

When the wound is fresh he won’t cry about it. Not unless he’s sure he’s completely alone. Even then he would feel watched all the same, not realizing that feeling is his own pesky mind. If it happens, though, he’s not too pressed about it. The tears are already out, what’s he to do? Trying to wipe them off would just make him feel more guilty (of what? Nobody knows)

Isolating is not quite the word. He can’t very well take his sweet time coddling his aching heart, not when there’s people that needs feeding and depend completely on him. He will keep to himself more often, though. He will avoid the campfire and retire to his tent earlier, and he will eat at odd hours so nobody else is around the table, so he can avoid their worried looks. He doesn’t like to be looked at like he’s broken.

Mostly, he talks to his journal. All those words he feels he can’t string together with his voice turn out not so daft once he writes them down. He’ll be honest with himself in writing, nothing to hide from those pages, they’ve seen all of his ugliness already, they may as well see his sadness. He will write their name and a short goodbye, draw sketches of their face before time washes away the memory. Sometimes he will return to the page when the ache of loss comes biting in the night, or when he’s too far to go visit their grave. He’ll sketch a flower then, right above their name, to make up for the one he couldn’t bring in person.

He won’t talk about it with others for a while, but when he does, is only with Hosea. (and maybe Mary-Beth, but only if he doesn’t feel too much like a pathetic beast that day). Still, he won’t tell Hosea all that his journal gets to see. He’ll be pragmatic about it, practical. He won’t talk about feelings, he will talk about tasks. He’ll express frustration he can’t shoot as good recently because sometimes his hands shake. He'll lament that he hadn’t found the will to walk too far from camp to hunt them some better game. He won’t link those things with his grief, but he doesn’t need to. Hosea knows.

---------

Dutch

Somewhere down the line Dutch forgot that not everything he does needs to have a purpose. Grieving shouldn’t need other purpose than to stop feeling broken. But he can’t live with it if he doesn’t turn it into something he can do. Vengeance is the easiest and the one that serves him better anyway. He’d rather fantasize about Colm’s undoing, than lay in his bed at night and reckon with the fact he doesn't feel as broken as he should about Annabelle. He'd rather wander a cave and ramble about all the way everyone is wrong, than admit he’ll never again get to ask Hosea if he's doing the right thing.

His grief is spoken of only among closest ones, and once Hosea dies the number of those closest ones is drastically reduced. Mostly, he will talk about how much he misses. What he’s lost, what was there, what is now gone. He’ll miss their voice the most. Their face, that was theirs, he will live with forgetting it eventually, but their voice– when they spoke to him, in that moment their voice was for him. That was his. Most of his longing comes from how easy voices are to forget, much easier than words. So, in the end, all he’s left with is his own voice, parroting the words back at him.

Dutch has a hard time coming to terms with the fact not everything can be taken back once lost. America steals his freedom and he takes it back, Bronte steals his dignity and he takes it back. How is it fair that he can’t take life back from death as well. Dutch doesn’t think himself a God, not in the biblical sense at least, but it’s hard to accept how powerless he is in those situations.

Raw, unguarded emotions are something reserved for the moments right after death. There’s something in death being so close that makes him feel raw, like there’s nothing he could possibly hide anymore. He’ll get angry before he'll get sad, and they’ll both be equally destructive. He will break things, leash out on what he’ll perceive as guilty; his gun if it didn’t fire quick enough, or their deathbed for not keeping them alive. And only once the fury has simmered down he’d cry. Not always. Sometimes crying doesn’t feel like enough. Sometimes all he wants is to sit in the wake of his rage, thinking of how to turn the hollow in his chest into something with a purpose.

---------

Hosea

Hosea is open in how painful Bessie’s death was, in how much his life changed before and after her. The exact same difference goes for his grieving. He will never feel a pain as profound as he felt when Bessie passed. It’s not a lack of love or fondness, he will still feel sorrow. But now he is just incapable and unwilling of letting those feelings consume him, not again, not after her. Somehow selfishly, he’d like for that pain to only belong to her, no one else. Sometimes he fears going through the same with another would cheapen the feelings he had for her.

As soon as it happens, he’ll ask to be left alone. Which is unsettling for the man always first in line to comfort someone, but he’ll mean it, and he’ll be adamant about it. He needs the time to process what happened, he’s too dazed in the wake of it. Even before Bessie’s passing, death had an effect o him, like something utterly alien befell the Earth and he got left there to pick up the pieces. Loss is unsettling, as is the feeling of helplessness that washes over him in those moments. How does one cope with a thing so massive as the end of someone’s time.

He won’t cry, not after Bessie. Sometimes he’d joke he cried all his tears back then. Jokes. Yes, of those he still has plenty. Now the punchline has turned inwards, though. He’ll become the butt of his own jokes, the humor twisted meaner somehow, like he can’t let himself the benefit of too much pity. He’d hate if anyone pitied him, if he can help it, he’d rather they called him an idiot and moved on. Still, only because he’s flippant about it, doesn’t mean he will take it kindly if anyone takes it too far. God help him, Bill keeps testing him on that.

After, once the sharper edge of the pain has gone, he’ll come looking for comfort. An ear that would listen, a hand on his shoulder, just something to keep him grounded as he reminisces. He loves talking about the ones he’s lost. He may not had become a priest like he wanted, and never believed in any God up there, but that part of him that longs to celebrate the immortal soul is still there. And what better way to do that than telling stories, keeping the memories alive.

[estrangedandwayward]

Woo first (successful) watercolor portrait

Sketch and a little back story under the cut

So I've got a project I want to do involving drawing aegon, so I wanted to practice with a couple of standard portraits because I realized though I've probably done at least in the low hundreds of portraits with charcoal, And a few with colored pencil or marker, but I've never actually painted one. Most of my art is still of people, but usually full bodies and very small so I don't really have to worry about facial details all that much. Anyway, I tried last night to paint aegon

It started off well, I liked the sketch a lot (even the nose looks good), the line art was fine (I even gave him an earring because I saw that Tom glynn carney has one irl) but oh god it went badly fast, the shadows were too dark, I brought in the green way too soon so the whole thing had a weird undertone, the expression looked weird, I was getting impatient so the colors were smudging together. I tried to fix it with a little bit of gouache and that made it SO MUCH WORSE

He looks insane hungover. His eyebags (which i considered key in capturing his 'ive been drunk for the last 23 hours' essense) we making him look 50 years older than he was supposed to. I just decided to scrap it, didn't even peel the tape off, didn't bother doing cross hatching on top and went to bed. I decided to give it another shot tonight and I'm very happy that I did because I LOVE how the second attempt came out. It was also honestly pretty fun to paint, kinda wanna do more, haven't done portraits in a while so it might be fun to get back into it. I'd love to do one in my more impressionist-y style or one fully with gouache or with weird or interesting color pallettes idk

Point is, glad I didn't give up because now I have one more painting that I like

[ave09]

Do you still do jay gatsby request? If so.. Can you make a fluff with him and a painter fem s/o? Or just someone who can draw i guess.. It'll be cute to see his reaction when he became a muse and some inspiration of his lover's art

muse

jerjordan!jay gatsby x female!reader

note; i loved this idea! it was a tad bit rushed, but i still think it’s cute! pls keep the jeremy content coming, i have so many almost done in my notes app! fun fact about me, i usually write prompts way out of order! but i will get to them all, i promise!

her brows furrowed in concentration, her tongue protruding out of her pink lips as she dragged the brush across the canvas, the colors swirling right before her eyes. it was all coming together. no longer a blank canvas sat before her, but instead a man. the very man who held her heart. it was a rather good depiction in her sense. he was practically alive on the canvas. and he was… well… beautiful.

she was so engrossed in her work, she found herself unable to hear the quiet footsteps of the very man she was painting. 

and what he saw… made him speechless. he always knew she was an artist, hell, he’d set up this entire room dedicated to her craft. dozens of paintings of the estate, of that green light across the bay and so much more littered the walls. but this… this was something entirely different.

there he was, sprawled upon the canvas, so very realistically. but it was the image that truly made a difference. he wasn’t clad in one of his nice suits as many pictures and paintings had previously depicted. but instead… he seemed rather… simple. his hair a tad messy, clad in a button up that was slightly unbuttoned, the strap of his suspenders sliding off of his shoulders. but it was his expression that truly made the image. he looked so… happy. the crinkles around his eyes were prominent as he smiled, his eyes almost twinkling. it all seemed so lifelike.

“flower..” his voice was so soft, but even then it surprised her. the brush almost fell from her fingertips, “jay! darling, speak up next time.” she hummed, swiveling around in her seat, a relaxed smile on her lips. the furrow in her brow deepened as she took in his expression. “dear… are you alright…? you look rather flushed.” 

“you…” he was unable to find words as he stepped closer. “you did this..?”

she glanced back at her painting. “it’s barely even close to finished.” his soft eyes traced over it before meeting her gaze once again.

“do you always..”

“do i what?”

it was a silly question. 

“i just-i have never seen… never seen you use your talent to… to depict me.” she arched her brows, “you haven’t?” 

this caught him by surprise. 

“jay, darling, how have you not noticed?” she asked softly, setting the brush down, standing from her seat. “come, come,” she hummed, beckoning him over. 

confused, he followed close behind, watching as she retrieved a sketchbook of sorts. he’d always seen her painting, it was her signature piece, always painting, sketching had never seemed her forte.

she passed it to him, which he took gingerly. she gave him a nod, as if giving permission for him to look. he began to flip through and found that every page, every single page, was him. some sketches were simple. his hands, his face. whereas others were absolutely beautiful. full page drawings of him just… just being him.

it was breathtaking.

“my flower..” he breathed, glancing up to meet her gaze. “this is..”

“it is quite a lot to take in, i’m sure.”

he nodded. 

“you’re my muse.” she said, as if it was as simple as can be. 

jay gatsby had never felt more honored in his life. a small smile tugged at his lips. “your muse?” she pecked his cheek, “my muse.” 

“will i always be your muse?”

“forever and always.” 

his smile only grew as he carefully closed the book. “might i watch you paint, darling?” 

“you may.”

jay gatsby quickly found his new favorite hobby. watching the love of his life portray him through her own eyes, and realizing truly how much love she had for him.

and it only amplified his love for her.

after all… everything. every small thing, everything big thing, it was all for her.

[lint-beetle4]

*Kicks door down with a feral expression.* Oh sisters im back from war! Anyways as soon as i saw your asks are open i back bursting in lol. Okay but to the point, i would like to ask for Wukong x m reader x Macaque fic. I dont care if its kicking my legs fluffy or jaw dropping smut i just wanna eat up some more of your work.

(^If your not comfortable with the request feel free to ignore it and leave it be, thought dont forget to take care of yourself and have a lovely night/day!)

((If there's already a 🦝 anon i will be really sad if not i won the prize :D))

REDACTED asked:

 please make a fic or pic of Macaque and Wukong fucking the shit out of a male!reader (or each other) and the bottom is so full of cum that there's a lil cum belly appearing. I'd love it if there's a praise kink involved and or their body weight is crushing the other. (If you do reader, since the monkey's are cannonly 4 ft, the reader could be a lil taller than them.) Neck shit is so hot to me and extra points to bite marks! And a few more for licks and kisses on the body, starting soft and teasing the neck then get overstimulated as time goes on.

At the start if you want, Macaque can tie reader down with his shadows but that is purely an extra…just an FYI I love chubby and strong guys (soooo chubby Wukong is a plea) (Also also reader is a bottom lol)

Muses and Messes (Macaque x Male!Reader x Wukong Smut)

Alrighty chat, we're kicking off with a rare triple-combo-request the only smut I'm doing this round since I had this fic in the fucking oven for too long, it was fun writing though, plus the peeps over on AO3 get some smut art (I'm afraid of Tumblrs policies, so you guys over here get it censored like the holy children we are)

You know the drill, porn below with an image this time!

“Honestly, I just don’t understand how you can make shapes turn into a whole human being.” Wukong hummed, Macaque smirking behind him.

“It’s easy, Wukong. You just need to do it piece by piece–you know, instead of trying to draw the whole body in one go..” Macaque’s tail flicked as he sketched onto a new sketchbook, pages already filled up and wrinkled with countless eraser shavings that thinned out the page significantly. Macaque mumbled to himself, practically hissing at his paper, “If only the shapes could orient themselves correctly.”

You looked between the two as they drew. It was a strange request to have the equivalent of two gods knock at your door and ask for art lessons, but you couldn’t complain with the amount of money they were eager to give you. You could easily have your rent and bills paid for the rest of the year with that kind of cash. 

“It’s all about practice mostly, not everyone draws with geometric shapes, some people just freehand it.” You explained, quickly sketching out the two styles, a messy yet natural human beside a stiff yet cleaned up person. “It’s all about how you prefer to learn and what style you’re going for.”

“You think you can find your style, Wukong?” Macaque teased, sticking his tongue out at the king. Wukong rolled his eyes.

“I could do it today if I keep it up!” The old monkey chirped proudly. “I’m already getting a hang of everything.”

You sighed internally, watching as the two of them began to race over perfecting human anatomy. Their eyes glanced over to you occasionally before more scribbles filled the room. Contently, you drew out the two before you, figuring that they would forgive you for using them as subjects–an eye for eye, you mentally grinned.

Their bodies were pristine, sculpted by time and the godly nature radiating through them. You knew well of the tales between the legendary Monkey King and his adversary, the nigh-omniscient Six-Eared Macaque. The power the two held rivaled that of heaven and the Jade Emperor himself, and the power of Buddha was the only thing that could keep them down for the count.

As the years passed, the world grew to know less of them, both of them disappearing to their own journeys and fates.

It was only until a few months ago that you were even aware that the two had returned to the public eye–in some fashion, at least. It was until now that you were aware of their healing bond, an interesting detail that had you wondering for more about the two.

For now though, you were content in simply drawing them.

“How’d you do that?” A voice had rumbled behind you, causing you to yelp and jump from your seat. Macaque leaned against the chair, his expression never changing but briefly, you swore you saw the curve of lips and a flash of teeth.

You glared at the darker simian, sitting back in the chair before opening up your sketchbook again to the doodle of the two monkeys you had centered on the page. “Practice, mostly, that and you two were so focused on drawing that you were still enough for me to get the pose right.”

“Hmm,” Macaque leaned in closer, his fur tickling the side of your arm as he inspected your work. “Interesting…”

“My people don’t look like that.” Wukong appeared beside you, his tail grabbing your sketchbook while he looked closely at your drawing. “How do you make them look so…unique?”

“Oh, well, it’s about shapes, mostly–again, heh.” You stumbled over your explanation. “Design is kind of a personal thing, like–I would say you choose your designs based on what you feel is right.”

“What feels right, huh?” Macaque purred in your ear. “Hmm, that’s a unique way of saying it.”

Macaque’s breath tickled at your neck, blowing a puff of air into the shell of your ear with a wide smirk. Wukong’s tail had long since wrapped around your arm, a knowing glance shared between the two of them.

Macaque whispered to you again–somehow closer, yet almost hesitant. 

“Could we explore your body, see how right it feels?”

You shivered, your heart thumping loudly against your chest. You didn’t expect your lesson to end up like this, but…

It was…tempting…

Wukong’s voice whispered in your other ear, impossibly quiet for the boisterous sage. “We’ll make you feel good, give you a reward greater than the riches we could offer.”

You couldn’t resist the warmth of their breath nor the way their touches soothed invisible pains in your body. You didn’t know you were so tense, yet at their gentle command, you were caught in a willing trap, a net that embraced you yet restrained you.

On your knees, you were tied up in shadows, naked before you knew it. The shadows were chilled, not quite cold yet definitely not warm. You shuddered at the sight of Wukong and Macaque’s glossy fur, half-hard dicks presented to you. A silent question rose, and you answered, licking along Wukong shaft while Macaque’s hand stroked his own cock.

Wukong’s cock pulsed against your tongue, throbbing as he became fully hard. You whimpered under your breath, brain mulling over the next steps. You felt a hand–Macaque’s–stroke your hair comfortingly.

“Do as much as you can,” Macaque’s voice was sweet, slightly tense as he forced himself to stop stroking. “You’re doing great.”

Your brain felt mushy, cloudy–like the world had stopped spinning and time only waited for you to begin anew. Macaque’s hand never left your hair, never stopped petting you in his show of support. You took the tip of Wukong’s cock into your mouth, hearing Wukong’s breath nearly hiss out in your sudden movement– it sent waves of pride through you.

Slowly, you lowered your head, relaxing your jaw as you took Wukong’s entire length, feeling his tip hit lower and lower into your throat.

You looked up, feeling Wukong twitch in your mouth while your tongue lapped up what it could. Wukong’s eyes were glazed over, looking down at you in anticipation yet pride. You hummed, smiling to yourself as you began to move, hearing Wukong’s breath stutter again as you bobbed your head enthusiastically on his cock, tasting the salty yet strangely fruity precum that your throat practically milked out of him.

“--Fuck,” Wukong groaned, his hands clenching at your hair like a lifeline, sending shocks of pain and excitement through you. “You’re real good at this, y’know?”

You felt your core coil at those words, warmth spreading through your body as you continued to lap at Wukong’s dick, the taste slowly consuming your thoughts.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Macaque muttered behind you, his hands rubbing your back while you focused on Wukong. “You like being praised like a good boy, huh?”

You couldn’t answer in your position, but Macaque still chucked to himself. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’re headed for a looong night.”

Your mind quickly came back to you; memories flashing through your mind before a particularly calculated thrust jolted you back to the present. Macaque growled behind you, low and rough grunts from Wukong joining in as they continued to abuse your asshole. You couldn’t feel your legs, but the warmth from Macaque’s chest nearly burned you while Wukong’s movements sent waves of pleasure through your tired body. Everything ached, yet you craved more.

They were as much animals as you were a toy to them, and your core clenched at the thought. You felt something sloshing in your stomach, warm and pleasant inside of you.

“Hey–” A hand lightly slapped your face, Wukong slowing ever so slightly to look at the mess you’ve become. “You with us?”

You nodded, groaning as Macaque had stopped entirely.

“Keep–mng–keep going,” you pleaded, feeling the low rumble of Macaque’s chuckle.

“If you say so,” and they continued, not bothering to start slowly.

Low whispers sang into your ears while your cock bounced against your stomach, Macaque and Wukong pressed against you, nearly crushing you.

“Such a good boy for us,”

“Look at you, taking us in so well,”

“What a cute boy you are.”

You whimpered against the heat surrounding you, feeling your stomach tightening as you slower creeped to your edge.

Suddenly, they stopped again, warm cocks still inside of you. You groaned, your head slamming into Macaque’s shoulder while Wukong chuckled.

“You aren’t finishing yet,” Wukong purred, licking your neck. Macaque hummed behind you, kissing your cheek before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, pain sinking into your sweaty skin. You whimpered, feeling tender kisses and light nips across your neck. Wukong went lower, pressing more kisses along your body and giving your dick a teasing lick to your dismay.

Macaque lowered you slightly, shadows cooling your heated skin while you hummed in question, trying to ignore the pained ache in your body. Low purrs rumbling through his throat while his hands caressed your chest.

“Wukong, you done over there? Our muse here looks like he’s going to explode.”

Wukong muttered under his breath, something about the importance of patience and care. Macaque chittered to Wukong, the sound almost a warning to your ears, but Wukong gripped your legs, looking at you with lust-ridden eyes.

“Ready?”

You nodded, your own hips bucking with need.

You were quickly filled again, Wukong growling into your ear. “Hope you’re ready for this round.”

In one thrust, he bottomed out with a grin, eye gleaming with finality. “You’re not going to be able to walk after this one.”

“Enough chit-chat, Wukong.” Macaque groaned, desperate thrusts from his hips. “Your voice is grating enough.”

Wukong’s hips moved, hitting your G-spot with impressive accuracy. You melted into their crushing touch, eyes closed as bliss overcame you. They slowly sped up, your hips bucking up in your quite loud desperation for release. Your moans echoed through the room, growls from all sides of you joining in on the sex-filled duet.

You felt a snap in your core and screamed out, feeling the cooling touch of a shadow stroking you off as you came intensely, more cum filling you up while Macaque and Wukong pressed against you.

The three of you panted intensely, shadow tentacles releasing you gently onto the couch while cum poured out of you. The two monkeys seemed barely phased, sweat being their only marker for any sort of exertion. They grinned down at you, kneeling down by the couch to hum their praises while they cleaned you up gently.

“You did so well for us.”

“What a good boy.”

You drifted off into a blissful slumber, your lower half practically numb yet shaking at the same time as the sounds of quiet cleaning sang you to sleep.

[notsosubtlequeer]

Happy holidays! @cowboy-bec I hope you like it <3

This was such a fun prompt to work with so thank you so much for letting me write for you. I got a bit sappy with it.

This was made for @phandomgiftexchange their event!

Here's the A03 link. Under the cut is the full fic as well. Merry Christmas <3

Something Precious

(1639 words)

“Hey, skink, look at this.”

They're curled up on the cream sofa in their living room, the thing large and intentionally selected for their long limbs to fit comfortably on.

They're sat pressed against each other in the very corner in spite of all of this. Dan is practically in Phil's lap as they both look at their phones.

Dan is watching a documentary on a species of seabirds, the commentator's voice drifting through their living room.

Phil as he tends to be, is scrolling his socials and trying to catch up on what their fanbase has been saying.

Now, he's shoving his phone into Dan's face, almost knocking it into his nose with the force of it all.

Dan, eyes squinting at the offending light-mode twitter layout, sees a piece of fan art.

He almost brushes it off as another sister Daniel piece when he looks again.

It's Phil. Dressed up in a nun costume not unlike the one he had in a bag in the back of his closet. The thigh high stockings and garter belts sketched onto art-Phil are different though. And so is the choker around his neck.

It looks nice. It's a good piece of art and nothing they haven't seen before.

“That's a cool drawing bub,” he mutters, already slumping back down to get back into his previous position of Phil's chin jabbing his temple as he lies against his chest.

He is stopped by Phil pushing the phone into his face gently.

The tip of his nose touches the screen and the image zooms in on the exposed thigh of art-Phil.

“It… would look good on you?” he tries.

Things like this are a little bit of a guessing game with Phil sometimes. Not that he minds. Far from it even.

“You think so?” comes the soft reply, and Dan knows he's cracked the code.

-

Despite Dan’s insistence on them being the exact same size, they know Phil won't fit comfortably into the Sister Daniel costume.

So, Dan goes on a hunt.

Many online shops that only ship to America and dodgy websites full of things he's decidedly NOT looking for later, he ends up with a decent selection.

He shows Phil when they're sitting on the couch a few days later, pasta with white sauce on deep plates carefully balanced on their laps. On a side table next to him, Dan has got a glass of red wine, while Phil has a glass of ribena he pinky promised Dan he wouldn't spill.

“What do you think of this one bub?”

Phil's fork pauses halfway to his mouth and he makes wide eyes at the costume Dan is showing him.

The woman who's wearing it looks into the camera with a sultry expression and Phil feels the need to avoid her eyes.

“I have some accessories too. Like in the drawing. Only if you want of course.”

There's silence then as he patiently waits for Phil to get his thoughts together. He knows how confusing and scary the whole gender expression ordeal is, and he knows that whatever Phil wants to accomplish with this new little adventure of his, Dan wants to make sure they get it right.

“I think that one would look nice yeah,” comes the soft reply from Phil, barely above a whisper as he studies the costume.

“I like the layers on the skirt.”

“You'd look so pretty, bub.”

“Hmmm. You think so?”

They chat quietly for a while as Dan shows Phil the accessories, and the latter agrees with every single piece he’s presented with, his skin tinged a light pink when it comes to picking a collar from Dan’s preferred selection.

After the conversation, they continue with their evening, sitting so close their thighs press against each other lightly and Phil's arm jostles when Dan moves, almost spilling the Ribena.

They talk about it again right before Dan places the orders. But for now it still feels light. Like another thing they're trying just because they can. Just because when it's just them, none of it feels heavy or strange, because how could it?

-

It's two weeks later and Dan has been kicked out of their bedroom.

He waits patiently. Busying himself with putting away the dishes and wiping the counter and table free of the few crumbs gathered there since morning.

He's about to get the bag of coffee beans out to refill their machine when Phil calls out to him.

“Can you come in here?”

He sounds small. And when Dan walks up the stairs and into their bedroom he looks it, too.

The expression on his partner's face iwas something timid and frightened, vulnerable and raw.

He's stood in just his pants, arms wrapped around his naked waist and eyes searching for Dan's.

Dan wanted to gather him up in his arms and protect him. Pepper his face with kisses until his eyes lose the fear that's swirling around in them.

“Hey bub,” he says instead. He walks over to where Phil is standing next to the bed. All the items that had arrived today are laid out neatly on the sheets.

“What's happening?”

“It's stupid but. I'm scared? Clothes aren't scary but…”

“Not stupid,” Dan replies automatically, and reaches past Phil to pick up the nun costume of the bed.

It's slightly more frilly than Dan's and has a few layers to the skirt. There's a hole in the shape of a heart right on the chest of the dress and Dan can already imagine running his hands over the milky white skin that would be peeking out of it.

“Let me help you?”

He gets a nod in return from Phil and then he's kneeling, the costume held in such a way that Phil can step into it easily.

His hands brush Phil's legs gently as he moves the garment up his body, quietly instructing him to hold it in place while he gets up and moves around so he can do up the zipper on Phil's back.

The moment is quiet and there's warmth roaring through Dan's chest like an inferno. Urging him on to touch, to kiss, to keep safe.

So he does.

He noses into Phil's hair as he does up the zipper of the costume. Presses a warm kiss on the junction of his shoulder and neck as he fastens the clip to keep the zipper in place.

Sneaks his arms around Phil’s waist as soon as he's done just holding him close.

“Dan,” Phil hums, voice dripping with fondness and sweet like honey.

“You look so pretty, love.”

Phil's face, neck and ears are flushed a lovely pink when Dan moves away to grab the other items still laid out on the bed.

The gloves are next, he helps Phil slip them on, fingers trailing over soft skin and barely-there freckles as he adjusts the elastic fabric. It digs slightly into the skin of Phil's forearms and Dan zeros in on it for such a long time that Phil slaps his arm playfully and tells him to get on with it.

Phil puts on the stockings himself, tracing the black cross embroidered onto the material before reaching for the next item.

Once everything is done, he looks up at Dan, who had been hovering by the closet rummaging through the barely used makeup supplies he had laying around.

“I was thinking some eyeshadow might be nice,” Phil says. And there's still the nervous edge to his voice but there's something else now too. Something fond and familiar. And Dan feels the inferno in his chest roaring to new heights.

“Okay,” he says simply, and he takes out a makeup palette.

Hovering over Phil like this, his face so open and trusting as Dan gently puts a bit of black eyeshadow on his lids, makes the inferno in his chest blaze to never before seen heights.

It's the trust of it all, he thinks.

It's how Phil from 5 years ago would have shrunk away at the very thought of putting on a dress as a joke, let alone as something more.

And it is.

There's something else underneath all of this that isn't just nerves for a jokey Instagram post.

The something that makes Phil's fingers shake when he tugs at the hem of the skirt.

The something that made his laugh bubble out of him, bright and unfiltered, as he looks at the slightly messy smokey eye Dan had given him.

The something that now, as the costume is fully complete, makes him wrap his arms around Dan's neck and lean into him.

Dan's own arms circle Phil's waist as if it's second nature and they sway gently. Standing pressed close together in the silence of their bedroom.

“We made it. Didn't we?”

It's a nonsense phrase that should have Dan confused.

But then he thinks about the time Phil tried makeup and he'd come into their lounge crying because he couldn't make it look right.

Then he thinks about a 19 year old boy in Manchester looking at the women's section in a clothing store and feeling a pang of jealousy at the amount of options they had.

Then he thinks about messily painted nails and makeup palettes long abandoned because he was too scared to use them. About the skirts that got sent their way for a ‘viewers pick my outfit’ video.

About how, when he'd first put on the sister Daniel costume, he'd felt like a part of his brain that was constantly screaming had suddenly gone quiet.

He'd felt sexy for the first time in a long long time and had felt open enough to share it with the world.

And then he thinks about Phil, and the paths they walked together, and he gets it.

“Yeah. We made it bub.”