#hence the muted colors and such

[righteous-r0de0]

Vincent and Lovely’s House

they have a smaller, modern house. they’ve downsized since leaving the house, but vincent has an afterlife’s worth of savings for their home’s upkeep. it’s a couple miles outside of dahlia, 3 bed/2 bath

the master bedroom is very big, with the sleeping area secluded from windows (like the first picture)(just in case) and a sitting area that leads to a balcony for stargazing and other activities (a la freelancer and gav). they both have a penchant for the finer things in life including expensive furniture and the nicest bedding and mattress that money can buy

do they have guests? no. not very often. but do they have enough seating to host a small army? yes. and a reading nook. they’re both avid readers

the entryway with the baby grand piano (vincent is in the process of teaching lovely how to play) off in a nook to the right

rain shower. need i elaborate?

they don’t cook much but they sure do love slow dancing in the kitchen together sorry sorry sorry

color palette

pinterest board and taglist below the cut!

@froggytimemachineinternet @zimix-whispers @int3rtwiningh3artstrings @milogreersleftdresssock @aghostswhisper @wilted-rose-posts @starvin-darlin

[crunchycoookies]

Art for my country Branch au 🥰 Details abt it under the cut ⬇️

Here's my silly little au! So basically Branch ran away from Pop village because everyone (minus Poppy) treated him terribly. While exploring he stumbles upon the outskirts of Lonesome Flats, where he trips and sprains his ankle. Delta finds him and is like "What tf you look weird but ig ur my son now." And from then on she takes care of him. Somewhere along the way Branch starts to call her Mom (or Mama/ Ma). Clampers is born at some point, making her Branch’s cousin. They love/hate each other and have that unhinged sibling dynamic. They just turn into a cute little family and I love em sm.

Delta also helps Branch regain his colors, although they are slightly muted tones of his true colors. Because the county trolls are so adept at dealing with grief, Branch is allowed to process his grandmothers death and his fear of singing with a good mentality. This leads to him slowly gaining his colors back (hence the blue streaks in his hair) and learning to be happy again. He does start to sing again but it's a mix of country and Pop. (Which comes into play during TWT, but more on that later).

Also I made Gary (the remote Imao) into a goat critter. He's stupid and I love him. Delta has an ongoing feud with Gary bc he constantly tears up the garden but she can't do anything brash because Branch absolutely loves him.

There is more but that's it for nowww! Feel free to ask questions and I’ll do my best to answer them! Give me ideas for this aus name pls I have nothing

[astralnymphh]

stuff you up ౨ৎ

aestras thanksgiving smut special

' so who's getting stuffed, you or the turkey? '

HELP PALESTINE . DO NOT BUY TLOU2

♡. summary; fuck the festivities, who actually cares about all that sappy shit. instead, embark a newly founded festivity– fucking your girlfriend up in the dusty memory of your old bedroom~ ♡. a\n; late af as fuck but just a fun little smut, nothing too serious, a bit rushed but here y'all go ♡. CW; groping under the table, fingering (r), clit stim (r), strapping (r), horndog!ellie, dom!ellie, tipsy!ellie, risky sex (joel almost catches u), cock referred as 'her' + referred as ellies, cocktip teasing, ass grabbing, some ass smacking, some plot, jokey bickering, readers a bit bratty, a slight brat-taming moment if you squint, mouth muffling, squirting, petnames; babe, baby, babygirl, princess, good girl, (lmk if i missed anything)

♡ WC; 5.5k ♡ masterlist ♡ thanks 2 @fleshunger 4 proofreading the intro ♡

Paired minds savor the embellishing glow of lit stick candles settled before them in a ritzy manner– shedding light over plates of arraying colors. Marination that glistens, crispness that scrapes, and mushy mesas' of garlic herb potatoes that delicately slump in the cradle of a spoon. Consume with your eyes first, then your cameras– and conclusively, your rumbling tummy. 

Rather to consume what's meant to be, than to gorb the scruffy haired girl next to you– at least for now, yes? 

It's your first Thanksgiving with Ellie, being that you two only linked heartstrings this year.

You, the possibly innocent angel that you are– right now, serve clement smiles to whomever talks to you, be it Joel or some random relative who’s name only just surfed your ears this night, it doesn't matter. De rigueur, wear it well.

A baser mind– I mimic regret while telling you this– tumbles far from the garden of Eden and slips away into a daunting realm, the underworld. By under, I mean downstairs, below the button, the internals. Ellie straight up, served hot, was just bursting with hormones. The tender meat oozing with buttery slick melt fell short in maintaining the contact of those chartreuse eyes, instead, suffering the envy of them rooted to your thighs beneath the oak. 

Noses immerse themselves in salty goodness, eyes feast before gobs could, rolling molars gnaw turkey off the tines of forks, but her, her cunts' the only organ thinking right now.

Especially while seated adjacent to you, her clit was throbbing past the hard material of her jeans.

"You both settlin' in your new apartment?" Joel's bellowed drawl carries over the other muted chatter, low in the background.

"Mhm," your hum slopes and rises behind lips sealed to a glass rim, then part with a smack, "Ellie’s definitely settled more than me." ending with a giggle.

Her ear pivots from you, dirt–dappled nose at the fore, "Oh? What's that 'spose to mean babe?"

"Can't keep your hands off that shiny new Playstation, hmm?" 

"Tchh– you bought it for me." replied her with a skosh of sass.

"That I did."

"Uh–" Joel bumbles.

Els drones out, "Andd all my video games–"

"Where's my thank you?" you pout in frolick, forwarding your face for her view.

Hmph.

Her miffy eyes bounce around her skull hence to piloting back on yours, her own pout puffing, "Okayy, here," she sighs lowly, nosing her lips down to pucker a peck– smacking together.

A shared hum in approval vibrates between the bond of skin, half–approval, a kiss was meager in your book of play, and you felt particularly playful this eve.

With a finished kiss, leaves your mouth to mouth a sneaky little quip, fruitful in a whisper, "Didn't hear a thank you~"

"Hmm?"

"Els.." 

Faces still bathing in transferring warmth, her breath hitches on your mid–face, a sigh to end all worries, "You'll see, just wait." Her voice cracks a bit, silken on your ears.

Waiting wasn't even on the table. 

Not when a brawny hand suddenly gropes your inner–thigh, squeezing the fat in little wags.

Give thanks to whomever, thank fuck for being at the tables edge, where nobody else could witness this.

"Anywho–" Ellie grogs her throat clear of those debaucheries, returning to her normal seated poise, "yeah, like, we're settled– thanks for helpin' us find that place." her pitch heightens, flowing into a nosy chuckle.

"Course, kiddo." softly spoken off Joel’s sentiments, but minding less attention and returning his mouth to something more, toothsome. Foodsome.

Goddess, her grip is mighty.

Devious fingers– they found their way, quick. Fingers such as hers, waxy and pale, rigid and calloused, stamping up your hip and giving firm pressure to the bone. Knuckles flushed of pigment, they dig around the crest wanton, nudging you slightly.

"Seriously?" you spit through grit teeth, wiggling your hips in reaction.

Ellie harks your mutter, tugging those smug corners into a cocky smile as her nervy nature would plant her in, naughty–toothed smile, "Huuh?" that bastard coos, "what's wrong babe?"

"You dickhead." 

"Me, dickhead?"

"Yes, you, dickhead."

"That's a lot of dicks n' heads, what is it with you and dicks n' heads?" she creeps her face closer, squinting dumbly– which only made her onslaught of 'heads and dicks' more peeving now that you really loured at her.

Grimacing at her dense brows queller than a storm, blushy nostrils taunting in a wiggle, it subtly made sense– impish coquetry. The kind of shit you toss like a game of ball, prior to the main event. An event, to be seen.

"Why you givin' me that look, huh?" she squints lower in return, flaring her nose, "Do I have a dick for a head?" 

"I would not kiss you if that were the case," you claim advantage of her closeness and peck her goofish scowl, forcing a crescent to spry on that mouth, "Dork."

Hooks on your hip palpate harsher on the jut, her thumb swiping where the cushion and your butt cleft. Pressure given, when words pique her interest.

"Babe," Els murmured with fry in her chords, "d'ya want it?"

"It?" you gulp.

"Mhm.." thrummed she, eluding, "c'mon, you know.." said with that chilling husk, whew.

Okay, maybe it's clearer–than–a–midsummers–noon clear, that Ellie was a tad tipsy. Pink worm of hers just couldn't resist the samplage of some bourbon, sweet oakey notes that evoke memories of bourbon skies hence, quite the beautifying thought. Skies where you play a shrouded silhouette to her line of sight, tapping thumb to chin in ponder. Ponder, pondering.. for what were you pondering those sunsets?

Yet now you lacked a ponder on whatever the hell she was hinting to, only for it to ferment suddenly.

"Ellie, what are you on–"

"My fingers," a blurt wets her whistle, cocking her head dear to your poor ear, "do you want.. my fingers– in.." you feel her dual digits dive in the crevice of your thigh and groin, curling snugly.

"Ellie.." you hiss, pinching your brows in honest bewilderment.

Her pinkie roves over the bulge of your crotch and punctures the inseam right above your clit, stinging the little bud– which throbbed at her press.

"Do you?" her breath wanes, speech sedated with the aim of persuading you.

Contemplation was considered– maybe too carefully, maybe not. Problem one, legitimately most if not all of your family was within spitting distance of you, but on the other hand, the gutsy hand, weighed her offer slacker than a greedy businessman. In precis, her puppy eyes of coveted sanction, rears triumph. Dickhead.

A caught gulp squeezes down your gullet, puffing your chest out, "Mhm.." 

"Okay.. mhh–" she giggles with husk, creasing up as her lithe fingers trace and wrest your fly open, skulking her hand beneath the hood, "Just focus on dinner baby, I got this.." wisped soft, kindred to cashmere.

The unyielding stretch of your denim fastens around your hips in the act of her palm ramming inside, yanking you forward. Pursing your lips in elated exhales, you try, try to winch meat to mouth and void the tamping of your clit, try as you might– the pleasure is dire.

Ellie’s prints depress a lewd discovery, the stub of her smaller knuckle thickens itself in leaky panty, secreting from your eager hole. A discovery, worth a hushed gasp, "Ooh? Wet already babe? God damn.."

"Shut.. up.." choked you, only reaping a laugh from her.

"Fuck, I do all this?"

"Duh."

"Hehe– fuck that's hot.."

She withdraws her fingers half–way, to slither them under your panties. And without a foraged bit of foreplay, dilates your labia with her furled digits loading inside of you.

A squishy nub brushes your sweet spot.

Your pipes in turn swell with sharp intake, wall of your throat cooling instantly. Fuck, bona fide fuck. Enormously fucked when her pumps wreak gentle squelches from your dewy core.

"Jesus, mhphh.." a gruff of air susurrus from her, starkening her torso in an 'appeasingly normal' angle so she may, blend in, bemusing your mother with small–talk, "So, d'you always have a gathering this big on Thanksgiving?"

Out of all people, really, Els? 

She indulges with a smile, purely answering, "Oh yeah, every year– whole family, too many relative I suppose." fading erratically into a giggle.

"Heh– ‘least you got a big house, shitt– I mean," In spite of sounding casual, slips into a grit curse when your wet walls clench her in, "–dang, what I wouldn't give to live here, right babe?"

A mere butt of her elbow nearly dips you into the waters of appearing– deviant of natural, those slender digits, twisting a tender knot inside. She pumps at a canter, lesser than brisk, swifter than a slug. Beat, beat, beat to your g–spot, akin to the pitter, pitter, pat of your whizzing heart.

"Y–yeah, soo jealous, even though I did as a kid.." laughing it off awkwardly, a bask of 'Please let that be the only time I talk.' relief uplifts your sunk gut, momentarily.

"You still eating well livin' on your own?" your mother queries, tuning that time–old maternal charm.

"I mean, d–decent, enough–"

Ellie thrusts her fingers faster, fashioning a trickle of ooze to froth out onto your underwear. Pacified by the sensations, you clamp tighter, knocking a winded hitch to your staggering speech. Fucking inconvenient. Olives of her eyes binge a glint so bawdy, yet inlaid in a bad case of puppy–face, bullshit purity on her glossy lips. She knew the consequences, and consumed them like nothing.

"Pshh– decent? Babe, please, I'm like the microwave master!" exclaimed she, feigning a biggety tone atop her rasp.

You scoff, "Ah–" shuffling your thighs in light see–saw motions, "again, decent."

The knot squeezes as she finger–fucks the tranquility of mind from your pussy, staring knives at you when her supple thumb drags your clit in flicks.

"Sure it's not good?"

"Mh–mh.."

"Like, really good?"

No way she was referring to the microwave meals anymore.

Your mother intrudes softly, "Honey I can start bringin' you my homemade food if it's not–"

"It's okay, she's just playin' around–" Ellie replies before a vowel can flutter your lips, proceeding to eye–fuck you with a smug visage, "she loves my cooking." she rasped, eyes slimly showing.

All you can spotlight on is her gropey hands, jerking you like some toy, it felt too fucking good. Too pleasant to snuff, too divine to scold, exhilarating to your veins sore with salaciousness. Then, you route back to a ponder, what more could she stipulate? 

"M' gonna go to the bathroom," you swat her hand out and jostle your fly up, netting a coo of amusement from Ellie– secretly.

"You good babe?" she vocalizes after, keeping her pussy–prune digits free of smear.

"Come with me." purred you, hoisting from the oaken chair.

Ellie's lids arise with tangible hots– an aphrodisia densely potent of kindiling her eyes. No anointing of sanctity will ripen her intentions, nor anchor the even throb of her cunt. For a throb is a hymn, to you. She wants you, and she's going to have you. Moments and minutes hence, falter to compare in energy.

Cue her cheek pleating smile.

"Okay–" a light snort prances off her open lips, whirling her lap aside to skim through the tight wedge and stumbling to you, "which bathroom we doin'–"

"Just follow me," your voice aspires over, cusping your hand and snagging her calloused ones in the curve of it, "gonna' show you somethin'."

"Heh–" she chuckles dryly, tailgating with a gentle pull of your forearm.

You two whip around a door nook, glide through the foyer and advance upon a staircase. Your cotton–clad heels stroke wood planks beat by beat, soft wallops that carom off skyscraping maroon wine walls. Ribbons of lunar light dangle on and off your heads, crafting gauzy shrouds that mix and mingle off the corners with a bobbing ascent. Every wall laid reminiscent of a ritzy manor, a lacquer of lavish. 

The flight of stairs then ingress into a much thinner hall, in a much quainter space, and fitted to each doors awaiting enigma. Duller light spills through, glossing the path you took towards a fawny brown door– your bedroom.

Ellie espies the cleave of an abutting door, aiming a bead on with her index, "Wait– isn't that the–"

"Shh," you gingerly rustle air on locked teeth, shifting your arm towards the gilded rotund knob and twining with metal clicks and clacks, "bathroom was just a cover up."

"Oh~" 

"Hmm hm~" you kittenly croon.

The barrier pendulates sideward from your stride, only to be elbowed soundly back to a wisping shut.  You pinch the little knob's notch and, click, lock the door. An amused flit of breath pours from her agape lips, catching your wordless gist bereft of another second.

Ellie thrums that same old rasp, sweetening you up, "Real smooth babe, takin' us up here.." her feet coast her closer to you, kitty–cornering you to a rearwards stumble.

Plaster bumps, a welting sharp ridge– they trench in your ankle and up as your calves butt the wall, inevitably backed up. Trapped, positively trapped. 

"Well–" a scoff enlightens your latter words, "couldn't just stay there with you two fingers deep, hm?" and your 'hm' asks for her agreement, pitch yawing.

"Was 'gonna make it three, but.." 

"But?"

Her head shrouds yours in a gray penumbra, orangey–tint nose a scant whisker from brushing yours, and sends you into a conundrum with a mere utter, a tepid utter, "got uhh', something better for you." tying off with a willed lip bite.

"Oh really?" you moon with pep, hooking a calf around hers.

She smokily coaxes, "Fuck yeah– look." her knotty digits then cruise around her hips, meeting at her denim zipper and tugging that metal tab down. Fleeting as starlight, she thumbs the belt–band and chucks her jeans just beneath the ruck of her asscheek, chafing fabric to fabric with her lax boxers.

A lone brow quirks, expressing the fact that with the way she juts hers hips forward and palms her crotch weirdly– it reared too obvious, "Ellie, don't tell me–"

A springy mass wiggles against the front inseam, held in her teasy tauty grip– veins popping of course, "Tell youu whaat?" her words muff in hoarse laughter.

"Baby.." you exhale, adjoining a whiny moan. Ellie's such a goofy tease.

That simple mass in her crotch, was a sign– a clear, lucid, taintless and foretelling, that you were getting stuffed like a turkey tonight.

In counter, her exhale fuses with yours in dancing particles, so gentle, finer than purity made flesh, "Babe.." and such gentleness caresses your ears, a pureness forgotten in those divinity forsaken puppy eyes– pout moist.

You can't rend your pupils elsewhere, trapped like mice, you gape with encroaching arousal dowsing out your nerves– and drenching down below. Markedly, where you gaze now– her fingers tug the waistband down, exposing the bulbous green head of her cock in her boxers tight band, barely, literal orb of luster dabbled on the tip.

Now your eyes truly cannot escape.

Cotton tenderizes in lines around the bulge, her hand stroking above the shape. And the way you stare, fucks her mind good, speaking throatily, "God," a gulp bubbles, "can't stop starin' hmm?"

"Hehe– couldn't help but wear it?" you snap back.

"Yes ma'am," said off a grunt, pushing said bulge to your curious hand, pleading for a rub, "you gonna' suck her?" soothing is her tone, a breathless moan.

You coo, "Want me to?" and weasel your palm in circles, watching her pelvis follow.

"Uh'huh babe– mhh, need it.." she rolls the hem of her shirt up to her ribs, flaunting that strapping waist– perfectly toned.

Appetent with sure appetite, you nod, a nod that tows her lids down, down.. down, till the green born of her eyes rely on a thin horizon hawkeyeing you. A sliver of sparkle, eager in you. It only takes you dual bends of the knees, stamping chiffony flesh to cold oak and your fingers tucking in her underwear– to excite Ellie.

"Yeah, m'gonna suck her, suck that cock." you mouth in broken vowels, steeping breath on her firm navel pouch.

"Fuck.." she nimbly grunts and tosses her head back, tightening skin on the jounce of her adams apple, swallowing.

Giving tender pressure on her boxers, you slither them netherward until they sojourn atop her bunching jeans fixed above the knee. You swear, those quads of hers clench at your brushing touch, causing your sights to skip up on that dangling cock. Wow. The fat head pokes your nose–tip, curbing up as she cradles its silicone girth to palm.

"Hold uh'," what you expected to be 'up' erupts as a tiny grunt snuffing, eyeing her other hand concealing her lips with a muffled 'puh' to top, "there we go." that hand draws down to smear her spit along the length, squelching mildly.

"Mhh–" you hum shorn of audible sound, batting keen breath on her strap, "–so big.."

You tell her that, everytime. And everytime, she revels in that negligible fact, shutting her eyes in skin–sheathed darkness– pinpointing on how too–too hot that seems. And the way you say it? Oof.

Ellie tacks five fingerprints on your head's crown and coaxes in flits of force, easing you on, "My god, babygirl– oooh.." she relishes an oval–mouthed moan, watching your lips wrap her cockhead.

And it's warmer than anything you've gobbled so far this eve.

Balming a heat like that, tucked in her boxers so neatly and snug– it tickles your gums. Soft and pliant, your lips are, they crease and roll under as you swallow her in, impressing a pit on your tongue when they meet.

"Hhmmm.." you moan a mouthful on the frothed up silicone, dragging your lips back over to motion a bounce of your head.

"I know~" she coos to your bumble, pucking her hips with an equal piston to her pelvis, "them' lips feel goood– fuuckkk.." as if you can feel them, dork.

You clasp her thickness in hooks of your tongue, sending splotches and globs of spit to pool around your oval–ringed mouth, courtesy of her tip bumping your throat in, "Guh- guh, guh, guhh–" prods. 

Ohh, that birdsong. The quaffing of your vocal bands subject to her humps, producing a rhythmic beat to alight her hormones. Your song worthy of hearing. You wimp the swelling sink that her nails wreak, a flicker between cuspate tapering and a meek love– a calling for more.

Enlighten me a morsel of those twisted, dirty thoughts, auburnhead devil.

Leathery wads of her free digits roam hot on your pulping cheeks, chiseling out as you suck. Her fingers then find themselves arcing a tuck behind your ear, thumb printed to your temple. A dash of encourage, she presses, a truer than blue visage, she contorts ran by pleasure. Squelch, suckle, drag spit, and repeat.

Due to your stretching spread of lips taking her well, likeness of a blockade in your mouth, you couldn't speak. Obviously. So over the wish–wash of saliva, Ellie tunes you in with her filthy comments.

"Suckin' my filthy cock.. fuck–" she pauses with a gruff moan, baking in your brain deep, "gonna' make me cum so goood–" her vowel strains, clenching her pussy lips around nothing except the cool, cruel air, "yes.." 

A reed of cold nips your chin, seconds hence realization settles; you're getting sloppy. A manifestation of Els actually fucking your noggin to slosh, wouldn't spark surprise if liquid poured from your cranium at this point.

Her own arousal rots you further down, too.

With the feeling of her cock climbing near hellward down your throat, smacking on the gummy walls, and the husk her moans endure, crucifies your pussy with an ache of want. Fabric of your jeans suffers a beat, your clit, throbbing. It hurts so good and it stings so right, so tight, you need her now.

A faster bob you give, the more Ellie can't take it either. 

"Babe–" she hawks out, but fails to halt your bopping movements, "babe, fuck–" the digits parked behind the conch of your ear skip and push your jaw up, staking her cock out with a spring. 

"Ghh– schhlp, huh?" a chuck of spit muddled your words, unfurled tongue lapping up every web left by your messy, messy mouth.

Nook of her hand like a cusp to your jaw, she beckons you with a nudge, and rasps, "Up– c'mon, n'turn that ass around." 

Ass. Something about that word reverberated in you, bothered you hotly, made a tepidness leak from your cheeks. The rasp she rung it with, eyeing you with twin fern flames for irises– an approaching engulfment to marry your skin with ashen blessing, more consuming. Ass, Ash, haha.

A flutter in your hips spreads like fire across your legs. It weakens the muscle you bend, standing upright challenged resemblant of a feat, especially when Ellie's grabby gropes found purchase in the crevice of your hips, spindling you on a quick axis. It wanes the composure you hold like a goblet, dwindling to shattered shards across the floor, primarily as those bedeviled claws slot under rough woven denim and remove them false of trouble and trick– ruching to nothing at the root of your ankles.

Where happy hubbub clamors downstairs, pleased pandemonium moans upstairs.

A jut of two knobby hip bones thump into each asscheek, denting the skin into a gully. Warmth, a ligature of it rides through your backside, making you shake. Not like her hands would let you tremble, one being so immovably returned to your hip.

"Fuuck that pussy 'been waitin' for me, huh? Can just tell.." mumbles her with vocal fry, pupils ogling bare of shame at your cinched folds, clasping nothing.

"Your fault."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm.." you hum timidly.

"Gonna call me dickhead again, or–" a fat ball teases the dripping lips of your pussy, spreading them slightly and sloshing the skin around, "Is this enough?"

To give way, was a mistake, buckling your pelvis deeper on her cock which faces a grip ardent to shaft– teasing with rolls of her wrist. The cockhead, or literal dickhead, warps and smooshes against your clit as she toys with it. A whiny, "Huuh– Els.." mangles in your larynx, pitching.

"Yeah, you like that? Know you do." that damned smirk lives in her curving tone, sweet with a dash of tang. Her cock dilates your delicate folds further, exposing the velvet flesh to cold air and an intrusive visit. 

Your fiendish pussy kisses her cocktip and ceases its movement, clamping her in place, whimpering, "Mhh, ahh– ah.." 

"Hey, 'lemme go– was just getting started babe," she laughs crisply, landing a fine plume touch to your ass, "c'mon.. loosen up.."

A flux of slacken tires the muscles that clamp her in, hugging your entrance more softly around her tip.

Ellie winches weight on her knees, crouching her groin into you with a slow swerve, "There we go.." she purrs with tension in her tune, relieving a sigh when her cock pops in silkenly.

You seize up, gasping sharply, hips begging to break brittle in her grasp of iron– but iron does not deform easily. Pressure stays pressured, and digits knurl over the hill of your hip bone to prop it upright. With walls expanded on her cock like your pussy was made for her, it humbles you, belittling you to sludge in her metal caress.

"Fuuckk yeah–" she broadens her sigh of bliss, abrading on the 'K', like a crackle. Pleasure kills neutrality in the smoothest way, gathering grooves in her forehead, "y'feel so warm baby.. mhmm–" 

"That's not even your dick.." you half–way give a giggle, suppressing the moans you choke up.

A tense whistle of air sounds from Ellie's nose, a reaction of vague irritation, "Swear to god.." her tongue smacks after and a sudden thrusting of her fat cock catches your mind astray, winding those choked moans out. 

"Uhn– uh fuck, huhh–" you babble.

"Not my dick huh? Who's fucking you? Tell me, fuck– yeah?" Her words warble where skin smacks, wetness palping in obscene squelches. 

Does she really expect you to answer when her cock continually swells your cunt and abuses your g–spot? Yeah. Ellie will fuck the answer from one hole to the other, if she so feels compelled to.

But of course, you don't answer.

"Baaabeee," she taunts, "baabyyyy," and tortures, "who she getting fucked by right now, tell mee.." and fucks, cooing purer than vernal spring washed in the rain, mushing globs of pre–cum all over your cervix.

"Y-you.."

"That's right."

This feels almost violating to your vagina, to be stuffed like this. Did she size up? Get a new strap? Whatever the case presents itself as, it felt fucking good. Made you woozy, each bop she played like a drum on your sore ass, summoning a white ring of creamy sap to veil around her cock's girth. White droplets failed to envelop her cock, though, each jiggle of your muck bodies lashing beads of it onto the oak boards, your thighs, her pretty auburn bush, etcetera. Attempting to grab the wall, duh– that fails, then you scramble jittery digits across said wall, awkwardly finding a rigid door trim to grasp at long last– speak of the devil, Ellie laughs at that.

"Haha– aww, too big for you princess?" she utters to you like a dumbass, ego brimmed with the pumps her cock skids on your gummy walls, smirking with thinned lips.

Vulnerability loathes humility, "Fuck y–you."

"Sure."

Her perception of sight, harboring verdancy, drops low to your bulging hole that swallows her good– as you should, tender milk that pools inwards as she slides out, and froths a flood of slick when she humps it back to the same hole it spilled from. 

Might she indulge more sampling?

Ellie's hell–sworn index traces your swelling folds mellowly, togging a cap of pearly cum on her finger pad. Scrutinize, then she licks. Her peach lips kiss her finger softly, puckering wrinkles as she sucks the sleek off, "Sssmhpt–" her lips zip, "yeah–ha, that's what 'm taking about–" delighted, she is.

The knot in your womb begins to coil and fill, a rapturous sting impaling inside. Your folds, springing on her friction, sends a ripple to fluctuate in your ass cheek. Enticing. So enticing, Ellie grabs a handful, bloating fat strokes of your buttcheek between the webs of her delirious fingers.

"Ghh– yes.. yes–" she growls, deep in her lungs. The harness in return rubbed her clit in all the right ways, electrocuting her legs with a twitch, "arch that bsck f'me baby, c'mon– arch on my fuckin' cock–" 

Harking her, you heed. Heed with a convex draw of your back, protruding your ass out for her messy usage. That– that was the last straw, her only straw. You being so keen. Something less than a mutter of, "Good girl." was the last audible voice you could pick up, her game swapping to a faster ramming into your sloppy pussy.

"Ellie!" you wince, praying on a star, "So g–good.." you gape and fall forward, smearing slobber on the drywall.

Her cock was too much. 

A tear soaked upon that very wall, gifting it a taste of your salty heaven.

"Mhmm– god, fuck fuck fuck! You're so good, s'good t'me.." a breath shuddered, she limps forward onto you. Her pale hips still punishing with a litany of humps, now scores deeper on your gushy cervix, her drenched chest marking hot on your clothed back.

"Needa' cum– Els, babe.." why you were even asking, might flummox a future specter of yourself– purling on her thickness, feeling the endless tension pull from you in strings of cum, kissing the head of her cock, you were on the train track to cumming already. Dumbified questions really egged Ellie on, luckily.

"Yeah baby, want'chu to– all over her, she needs it, mhm–" she assures you, two foam–spit lips stamping your lobe, "feel that baby?" her elbow mounts like a belt to your hip crest, ducking under and tamping your womb, palm to pudge, and intones, "She's so fucking deep– shit.." 

Spade of her cock punching your walls, over and over, you finally snap. The added hand to your belly, sought it done. Done well, pronto. 

You convulse in tight vices to squeeze her dick, orgasm shaking you to the literal core, "Huunhh– Ellie, Els! Ssuhh– Ell–" a clammy paw wedges your mouth from splitting the walls with your uproar, fingers tender on your lips cushion.

"Shh– shh.. not so loud babe, take it easy–" snuffing you, she talks clemently, little grunts detailing you on how close she was, too, "that's it.. don't hold back baby– uh, fuck."

Her cock fucks you just right, blows you fried so easily, with every heavy lunge– you weep.

A pang twisting inside averts a sightly gaze to the beautiful coastline of darkness, pure oblivion. Fuzzy dollops of faded splotches prance your vision like a sick joke, mocking your high. You can't even croak, not even a peep, just sit back and let cum dribble from your hole, plashing her filthy cock in a sick mess.

Right on a dream��like cue, a snarled groan mauls from the deepest depth of her diaphragm, fresh on your ear, "Ghhodd– fhmm, good fuckin' pussh– mhh!" 

Splash.

Her lids squinted tight, nose flared wide, she came. In waterfalls you couldn't observe, but swore you heard. A geyser to the floor, hyaline ribbons of her precious flavor taint the floor so disgustingly, so vividly, it shines.

Guess the wine loosened both of her lips.

She usually does not cum like that.

Damn.

Muggy exasperation fans your neck in ghostly hands that wrap, a recalescent mist baying for some kind of relief in dramatic swells and shrinks her chest pushes into you. Then, something moreso flobbed, a chuckle.

"Heheh–" her fingers slip from your lax lips, tapping kittenly on your chin.

"That's was, mhh– um–" you huff, dead of air just like her.

"Good?"

"Yup, just– couldn't.. oof.." 

Her lips purse and plant a kiss to your scruff, grinning against the flesh, "Did good for me," moist smacks besmirch further, rasping, "felt so good t–"

A beating of hardy steps peals through the door's underside, sending a wash of shock over both of you abruptly.

"Fuck." Ellie's voice muffles sotto voce, darting grips to your folded hips, thumbs tacking on the streched knoll your ass provided.

You perk your ears in tune of this noise, gut instinct curls and kicks your body to move, bucking back on Els– who mind you, was still sheathed inside you.

That knocked another grunt from her, "Hmmph– don't do that– god, babyy.." she whines, runting back into you.

Hole stuffed back up, you clench your fists into a ball. This idiot.

"Ellie? You in there?" A familiar, dense, Texan drawl aptly known as Joel's, beacons from beyond the door.

That's bad.

"Shit what do I–"

"Get off, for onee–" a tense on your chords, you huff, bucking her muck sweat thighs off your hind and skidding out her cock pronto. The sudden emptiness was jarring, but, no time to waste.

"Fuck! Again–" she hisses.

You crouch your bare bum inches from the floor and swoop up the pooling pile of denim and cotton panties, rearing them up and fiddling with the metal button. Ellie followed suit, the best of her abilities– sex really fogs up her faculties, and pressed her cock plumb to her stomach as to tuck it properly her boxers, letting the band snap in place on waist– gently.

Triple knocks erupt, and then his bellow, "Kiddo?"

"We're good, we'll be down!" she calls back, eyes far from not studying your scurrying silhouette, just has to comment, "–fuck that ass." like she wanted more.

A grumbled 'Hmm' vibrates on the oak, trailed by fleeting footsteps that trudge away, thump, thump– you get it.

"Oh?" you kink your whisper, foxily, "second rounds?" and pivot around to face her.

"Mphht– not what I meant, dickhead." her voice deepens weirdly at the brink her sentence plonked upon, cocking her head with a smirk.

"Whatever." your eyes roll, capering off the room's corners.

"Hmph–" gruffed in amusement, "Cutie." gingerly steps huddle you right against that wall again, two biceps meeting warmth–to–warmth with your soaken shirts waistline.

Scoff, just scoff, "I think this is how second rounds start, liar." 

She goes all bumbly, furrowing those bushy orange brows and frisking her eyes in a roll, copycat, "Don't get me started, pleasee." she begged fakely, cadence dense.

"Too late."

"You're right." her lips, wisp to yours so perfectly timed, interlocking one pink bud under your top lip and butting noses, plushing together in tide. Even plopped a little smack to the clad meat of your ass, how sweet.

A scant hint of dinner lingered on her breath, passed to you like a spill. Makes you want to slink those stairs in one go for a different palate of seconds. But, alas, you two bet smooches on the hope of no further interruptions, scarfing up kisses like hungry dogs.

(pls lmk if u wanna be added to the perm list, some mentions didnt work!)

@whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss

[acid-ixx]

I love your Batfam series! When I saw that you accepted fanart, I scrambled immediately to make a quick, rough WIP

I kinda like the visual idea of reader trying to study or sort a plan to figure out how to settle their debt while their phone won't stop ringing

Tried my best to make it as gender neutral as possible, threw in some reading glasses, and just stuck a few pens and pencils in their hair that they just tend to forget about

I'm not sure how you visualize their coloring, but I like to imagine they have brown hair and eyes

That despite being Bruce's biological kid, it doesn't match his and they feel like it's another thing that separates them from the family

— masterlist !

this is so... ong u guys are feeding me such good food !! i feel so honored to just see this 😭 !! the lighting, the expressions and the overall mood of this really solidifies the piece and i love every single thing about this, ur so talented frfr !! tysm for bestowing me the very honor i am blessed.

this would be an accurate representation of them trying to study for their finals whilst trying to block out the endless ringing from their (most definitely) hacked phone— it gives them an excuse to leave gotham even further, hell even dropping off from college because they'd rather stay up by cramming countless of information into their mind than hearing that dreaded ringtone one more time.

and no, they can't even fucking mute it because babs and tim had already hacked through your phone's system! not even burner phones are safe from them. so yeah... they're definitely bound to throw their phone across the room.

the reader can be interpreted in any way or form and i like how you and @/luffyadolover settled on giving them baggy clothes and oversized jackets ngl !

and i love your ending sentence because this is actually factual from the canon lore of my series! you see, you sport more of your mother's physical traits than that of bruce's, which further sets you apart from, you know, finding at least a semblance of similarity you share with him. and that only worsens the bitterness that resides in your heart once you see damian, who's almost like a picture perfect representation of bruce.

but it doesn't take away the fact that your mother's beauty, unlike your father's rigid edges or his stoic yet charming expression, settles more into the ethereal zone, she could've been a model in another life, hence why she was oh-so successful in pocketing the money of many rich folks.

[deadbeat-motel]

ᑕᖇYᗰIᑎI ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

So this redesign is on a character that doesn't appear in the series proper. This is Crymini.

Her purpose in Deadbeat is to fulfill the sloth part of the 7 sins theme and be the most modern character we have in the roster (still debating whether she should be from the 2000s, 2010s or the 2020s).

Theres really not much I can say about this redesign.

My issues with her Original design:

A "Punk rock" character who has a pretty bland design. Her outfit consists of only two things, a skull print dress and a black jacket.

How in the 9 hells does that hair work??? Two segments are fighting for space on her head while the third one acts as a giant ponytail???

She suffers from the same problem all anthro female characters from Viv suffer from: they're made from the same hourglass body wolf base. If I were to take out the spots from her body, could you tell that this is a hyena and not some generic cat/wolf character? If she ever gets into season 2, Hopefully, she gets a second redesign to give her a unique body.

The thought process behind the design:

Gave her a nonfeminine body, or more like a body type where she doesn't have a cinched waist.

My roster was looking a little bit too muted and she needed a pop of color to distinguish herself from the others, hence the blue stitches on her grey hoodie.

The collar is a manifestation of her feelings of being controlled by her family, being visually too tight and almost suffocating. Despite being far from her family now, she hasn't outran the issues they cause for her

Her clothing choice is pretty bland since I don't think she would be the type of person to have a fashion sense. As long as it feels good, it's nice enough for her.

[demonlovingsheep]

Headcannon Demon Anatomy

**SPOILERS**

(Source - my head)

I think demons are just blobs of sentient black energy that can take on any shape or form. Like the black substance from Venom, but more powerful.

Each blob of a demon is muted for different purposes. Aquatic, flight, fight, speed, etc. Defining a demon’s attributes and identity. After all, they have been around since the dawn of time. And with their dark energy, I’m sure powers and magical capabilities could evolve too. Such as growing stronger through other’s emotions and/or sins…?

On the surface, one can see a demon’s teeth, skin, eyes, but more powerful ones are able to better their crafts and morph into bigger and stronger forms. Or even multiple forms.

However, on the inside, there is no internal organs like humans. At least ones like human organs. Put them through a MRI just result in emptiness, but in fact the blob can take on the role of organs if needed.

As an example, there is a scene where Beelzebub was able to devour an entire flipping pillar in the Demon Lord’s castle (I think it was from a Christmas pop quiz).

How TF he ate and digest the pillar with such speed? Answer: he has no stomach. The dark energy blob in him just mutated with an insane appetite, and melted the pillar away as Beel devours it.

Mentioning Beel, the “Say My Name” Card contains a scenario where a dark-mist form of Belphegor threw a tantrum of how Beel was getting close to MC and forgot about him, literally ate both of them, and only allowed them two out if they could guess his name.

Beelzebub thought they could easily punch a hole in its stomach, but no matter how far he ran or search, it seems like there is no physical space. As if a void?

Like ur one to talk Beel. Others described your stomach as a blackhole…

I think the black blob also explains why the fur on Belphegor’s tail is a different color from his hair (unless this bish dyed his hair…).

I keep calling it a blob, but it’s more like energy. Every time the brothers get mad, a black form of energy emits around them. I think this energy is powered by souls demons devour.

Think in the game, it mentions that the taste of souls is like the most delicious thing a demon could taste? Even looks shiny depending on who it’s from. Hence why part of MC’s task as the exchange student is to learn how to protect their soul from harm by strengthening it.

So what? Is this all speculation and trying to fit clues and puzzles in places where they seem to fit but not quite?

Alright then, explain the existence of little D and this:

I rest my case 🙌

———————————————————————

Author’s note: Alright, let me take a step back. I’m afraid if I go any further, I’ll be entering FNAF territory and I’m not willing to go that deep to theorize about shadow brothers lol.

I need to lay off of them horror analogs….

As for always, don’t take it seriously. It’s all in the name of fun 👉👈

[craykaycee]

sneaks onto ur dash to talk ab one of my aus with these magma doodles------

This is a Street Artist AU I-- basically adopted from @starrspice (thank you, lovelyy!!) This is a post-fire AU where the DCA escapes the fire themselves and into the city. They're stripped of the proper prompts and triggers for their childcare and entertainment programming, but are able to find something their coding can latch onto: a group of children who need entertainment. They modified their performance and entertainment programming with their arts and crafts protocols to create art as a performance!

More details (so many details-- I went off xDD) and designs of the AU, of which I've titled "City Lights and Paint Water", under the cut :3c

They're pretty beat-up from the fire, and without proper access to maintenance, they've retained the burn marks, splattered paint, and other grime associated with being outdoors. Over the months as street artists, passersby donate their old paints and other supplies, hence the oversized trousers and worn apron! (P.S.: cloth placement is more accurate in the magma doodles)

Sun and Moon each have preferred mediums and styles!

Sun prefers acrylic paints and spray paint, his paintings a controlled chaos with loud, scattered colors, large brushstrokes, and splatters. His paintings always have a lot of movement due to his freeform painting style, splattering paint and getting a laugh from the kids.

Moon like to work with watercolors and colored pencil, the colors more muted with small pops of brighter colors (such as lights within windows). He likes to capture the lights of the streets, wondering what the true night sky looks like, his art giving a soft and ethereal mood.

Then we have our Main Character (MC), the viewer/reader! They're a graphic designer for a big corporate tech company, tasked with making pamphlets, brochures, posters, et cetera for the company. Though they do good work as a graphic designer, their true passion is fine arts, but their work isn't taken seriously due to its "childish" appearance despite the real-life deeper meanings. In the meantime, they create for themself, crafting and making trinkets for their apartment. They even make some of their own clothes, made up of several different garments to make something one-of-a-kind. Their outfits are fairly chaotic, typically accompanied by a hair accessory, but the patterns and colors compliment each other well.

MC grew up in a rural area, and still love the open and free areas it provides, but they had to move to an urban city for work and better opportunities. It's a big step up from their small town, overwhelmed by the activity. At the start of the story, they feel disconnected from their work, drained by the cookie-cutter bland work of their graphic designer job, but it's the only way they can reliably earn income.

The story starts with Sun spotting MC beyond the crowd, rushing somewhere. He continues to see them in the distance, unable to approach them due to their haste. He's mesmerized by their appearance, drawn to their creative expression just in their outfit. Moon catches a few glances of MC in the evenings, but doesn't have the same draw to them as Sun, figuring them as just another "everyman" in the crowd. One day, in MC's haste, they lose a paper from their portfolio. When Sun catches it, he sees a presentation sheet of several different designs meant for a business card or a t-shirt emblem. Sun is astounded by them, making MC more interesting than they already were.

It's not until about a week later that Sun takes an opportunity to return the paper and give his compliments. When he does this, however, MC's face falls before forcing a polite smile, thanking him. Before Sun could say anything more, they're gone.

There's so many small moments I'd like to explore, but that's the set-up :3cc I nearly have chapter one (1) completed, two (2) chapters after that already planned. The chapter length is pretty short right now, but I don't know if I wanna beef them up or keep them at this shorter length. We'll see! :D

Welp, these are my boios! I hold them gently in my hands and present them like a proud parent

[devilheartsblog]

Dark Bloom 🔥💜

This is a month old drawing since I went back on even older art and decided I like using polka dots instead of hatching (hence you can see the dots on her). Anyway I think the more muted colors on this still pop well. Dunno what took me so long to draw her too lmao

[ego-osbourne]

Erandur (Revamp)

Happy Holidays… it’s Pa!

Gave him a whole new look and vibe. Really wanted to work towards a softer, fatherly, huggable presence. Had a lot of trial and error with his beard shape but I eventually found a design that I liked. I put a little more chub on him since it’s cold in Skyrim and he needs it. Gave him more muted colors so he might not stand out so harshly, and along with that made his clothes resemble a priest’s moreso than his previous iterations.

I have some thoughts on Mara worship below if you’d like to read! It explains his bracelets and his makeup

(This is pretty much all headcanon)

The brightest colors on his person are for sure the blue beads of the Mara amulet and his prayer bracelets. They’re meant to resemble teardrops, as a common symbol for worshiping Mara is weeping. As a priest, he’s always wearing an amulet of Mara, but it’s been modified with the teardrops to signify that he is a clergyman, not that he’s open for marriage.

As for his bracelets, they act as in-lore rosaries; the beads act as tabs marking a cycle of liturgical prayers. The metal bands signify the start and end of the cycle, and are associated with an introduction and conclusion prayer. The teardrop beads signify a weeping prayer, which is a longer prayer that involves weeping as you wish for the well-being of others (like orphans, parents who have lost children, those who have been disowned by their families, etc. Each teardrop would resemble a different people group to pray for). The brown beads signify regular liturgical prayers and are rest periods between weeping prayers, hence five being in a row for optimal rest time.

So, one cycle of prayer could look like this: 1) introductory prayer, 2) weeping prayer for orphans, 3) a liturgical prayer aimed toward orphans repeated five times, 4) weeping prayer for widows, 5) a different liturgical prayer aimed toward widows repeated five times, 6) a weeping prayer overviewing the previous two weeping prayers, for orphans and widows, 6) a conclusion prayer.

This cycle is done four times (hence the four bracelets), with each weeping prayer focusing on a different people group relating to familial loss (or gain! Weeping prayers can also celebrate joyous occasions). Depending on the priest and their ideals for devotion, these cycles can be completed daily, weekly, monthly, on holidays, or whenever the priest is able.

Along with weeping prayers, Mara priests partake in ritualistic eye smudge. This smudge (essentially eyeliner) is applied so that, when the priest cries, their tears will stain their cheeks, showing that they performed their practice even long after they concluded their prayers.

With all the crying that Mara priests do, hydration is very key to Mara worship, too!

And, I’ve mentioned this before, but as an aside about Erandur’s long hair: Mara priests are very often seen with very long hair. Though it isn’t a mandatory requirement, it is based in a long-standing tradition that Mara priests grow their hair long. This practice comes from the idea that good parents will know how to care for their children’s hair; so, to practice, these parents would grow their hair long just to maintain it and prove that they could do the same for a child. Mara priests follow in this fashion to an extreme, usually—Erandur being one of these priests!

Thanks for listening to my ramblings :]

[grimmcheems]

Yakuza Hinami AU🌸

This has been brewing in my head as an idea for like years lmao😭. Idk but I always thought it’d be kinda cool if Hinami’s father was also an important figure in the underground of ghoul society aside from being a doctor bc Jason fr tore him up and Mado was on his ass too. That mixed with the fact that Hinami does become involved with ghoul society later on in canon made me love her even more.

They have her father’s kagune up on display as decor, she obtained it at some point and Akira is pissed about it(though she does not know it is being used this way), newer members don’t know why it’s there and think better than to ask directly, so the older members just got used to referring it as “Daddy”😬

I rly need to start providing the initial context to my ideas bc there’s so much that goes on in my head for my AU lores before I draw a particular setting of it and which characters I choose to include. Hinami is basically a selective mute in the beginning of this after her father is killed by Mado and her and her mother form a close relationship with a ghoul investigator (Nakajima, but before they figure out that Ryouko is one of heir suspects but after his partner is killed by Touka) Later on Hinami is on the run and living in disguise with Touka until her parents followers find her and try to raise her to be the next leader of the group.

The yakuza group is named “The Winds , which is sort of a play on how her parents were inspired by it when naming her, and sort of used as a one liner by elite group members and those who manage to escape the hands of the Doves by saying “it must’ve been the wind”(or something similar to that phrase, it it also how the Doves speak about them in public settings as to not cause alarm and used to brush off any inconveniences they experience from the group itself).

Uta is the spokesperson of The Clowns and they often butt heads with Hinami over territorial disputes and whatnot, so his visits are frequent and he is rather surprised when he sees her for the first time again when she’s older and sees just how far and high up she managed to climb in ghoul society. He mostly teases her and Yomo does not appreciate it. Yomo joined her group at some point because he wanted to maintain ties with Ayato, and he does reveal himself to be his and Touka’s uncle and last living relative (it always bothered me that he never said anything to either of them about that in canon but at least he treasures his niece)

I also gave Uta a lot of color, he was gonna be paler but I thought more color to his face would suit him. He also has a soft expression bc his eyes are closed.

Banjou sort of takes care of the more visual side of things when it comes to Hinami(he does her hair but who does her nails?!?), I love how they have a bond in canon but in this he’s mainly like a big brother and he is always concerned with the way she is presented to others because she’s their leader.

She practically becomes like a legend and spoken of like a myth by the CCG and has a SS(-) rating. They’ve never seen her in combat and only have her combat with Mado on her file record so they base it off that, and she never really has to step in because other people take care of things for her. However being the head of the group they gave her a high rating as well as factoring in her chimera type kagune she’s sure to deal a lot of damage to anyone who’d cross her path. A lot of the wierdo investigators dream of having parts of her like a trophy someday, hence the dialogue of an investigator wishing he could see her kagune up close and in action someday.

[stars-n-spice]

Clone OCs: Dusk Company

I made these guys waaay back in March (?) of last year and for some reason never posted them here-

Randomly I decided to go back to them because I think I stopped working on them simply because I couldn't decide on a name for the group/color scheme but I got ideas and the time/motivation to digitalize my initial doodles, so introducing members of Dusk Company!

Dusk Company specializes in (surprise, surprise) stealth missions, thriving in the darkness and all of that. They're great to have when you need a retrieval or assassination mission done! Still working on their Jedis though.

Check out Dawn Company as well!

Close ups and brief Introductions under the cut!

Commander Milo:

- Just thought it would be a neat name - Mom Friend (Squad jokingly calls him 'Commander Mom-lo") - 2W1 on Enneagram - Constantly stressed and worried over his men (it's a wonder he doesn't already have gray hairs) - A very good listener - Hanging on by a thread guys please do not push him, he is one really bad mission away from completely snapping

Captain Eclipse:

- Eclipse because of night and also because he likes to 'eclipse' people and show off whenever he can - He's like subconsciously a show off though, he doesn't really mean to, it just happens - 3W2 on Enneagram - Has a tough time talking about his feelings and likes to pretend nothing is wrong and will laugh anything off - On a completely unrelated note, totally having nothing to do with all his bottled up feelings, but does someone want to hold him tenderly? He just wants to be held. - Incredibly stubborn to the point where it's almost reckless; has cheated death probably four times now

Ranger:

- Just thought it would be a cool name - Sharpshooter - Mute, uses sign language to communicate - Tongue piercing and eyebrow slit just because - Cool older vod kind of guy; will give you candy before dinner and won't tell your parents kind of guy - 6W5 on Enneagram - Really great at keeping secrets - One of the more reasonable clones in the Company and keeps the others out of trouble (if only they'd listen and take his advice)

Chip:

- Got his name because he's a technology buff - Was born with a mutation in his eyes for some reason and now needs cybernetics (like Wolffe) to see - Has orange tattoos just because why not? - 4W3 on the Enneagram - Doesn't like to talk much and will talk when needed (so he gets along with Ranger pretty well) - Eyes give him an advantage in the dark (sees a little better than his brothers) - Eyes are also reflective when you shine a light on them in the dark and this has scared a few of his brothers shitless as a result

Clicks + Buttons:

- A set, do not separate - Clicks has a nervous tic that causes him to make a 'clicking' noise, hence the name - Buttons likes to push buttons, both in a literal and metaphorical sense - Buttons is their pilot (he's not a great one but in his defense they haven't died from a crash landing yet) - Clicks is a 6W5 - Buttons is a 7W6 - Fives and Echo type of dynamic (Clicks is the only one who can tolerate Buttons) - Dye each other's hair

Tats:

- Clone Medic - Got his name because of all his tattoos and because he's the one to go to to get them done (he's got a ready steady hand) - Really chill kind of guy, has an incredible amount of patience - 9W8 on Enneagram - Keeps the Company together (is usually the voice of reason outside of Ranger) - Whattaman wattaman; knows how to treat people right - Extensive hair care routine

ARC Trooper Shark:

- Thinks sharks are cool (pretend there's sharks in Star Wars) + used to bite people as a cadet - Are his teeth sharpened? Maybe. - Not much of a conversationalist; mainly speaks in grumbles, growls, and groans - 3W4 on the Enneagram - Usually grumpy and tired (he's gotta put up with all the other knuckleheads of his company) - Honestly has no idea how to interact with others in a normal way - Is a little off-putting but I swear he's trying his best. Maybe.

ARC Trooper Leo:

- No real reason why he's named Leo, just thought it was a cool clone name - He's an ARC trooper and sometimes people question how and why - A little cocky and stuck-up but means well - Loves his time off (don't ask him what he does during it) - 7W8 on Enneagram - Dyes his hair that color; tends to dye it different browns/reds at a time - Got clawed by a juvenile Nexu once (hence facial scars)

[aujbabeyy]

in desperate need of assistance. i’ve seen a comic artist somewhere online (most likely platform is instagram) that makes star trek fanart in the form of comics. they’re usually square (hence instagram being the most likely culprit) with four? panels and there might be one or multiple pages per post, unsure on that front.

i think most of them are spirk-focused but i could be wrong! the linework isn’t clean, i don’t think, and this makes the style really distinctive. iirc they do use color, often muted or warmer colors i guess? unsure tbh.

my girlfriend’s gotten into star trek lately and i’m just trying to show her these funky little comics that talk about spock and kirk and for the life of me i can’t find em. please help me not drive myself insane looking for this artist

[apocalyp-tech-a]

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW 🌈 (TechxReader)

Hello! This is my Bad Batch XReader Exchange gift for @deezlees for the @cloneficgiftexchange run by @ghostofskywalker!!! 💜

Prompts: Learning to ride a horse || Going on a vacation together || His first time at a history museum || Confident reader persona

Words: 2500

Warnings: None except flirtation maybe

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55173340

A/N: Having background in public history and having already written Tech at museums, this was a perfect matching!!! Hope you enjoy it! 🤓 And thank you to @cloneficgiftexchange for running it!

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW 🌈 (Tech X Reader)

The sun shone through the early morning commute of speeders and ships traversing Coruscant's sky, its pale blue color muted by smog that even the planet's filtering system could not alleviate. Towering skyscrapers of grays in every hue passed by as you navigated to the Grand Army of the Republic's base.

Upon pulling up in your speeder, a bright millaflower red Mustang XD38, you saw your future passenger salute you by casually flicking three fingers from his brow. You brought the speeder to a stop and flirted. "Hey good looking. Looking for a ride?"

"That depends," he said as he hopped into the passenger side with one dexterous and confident move.

"Depends on what, Tech?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"On if I can be the driver." He adjusted his goggles hopefully.

"Can I pilot the Marauder?"

"No."

"Then you can be my CO-pilot. Just remember, I am the Captain here." You winked at him playfully.

You revved up the engine, but it wasn't loud enough to cover Tech's large sigh of frustration. You chuckled to yourself proudly before shooting him a grinning glance. "Aw, don't be like that, maybe you can drive back."

"That is exactly what you said on our previous two outings." Tech held up a pointed finger in a very casual, yet disgruntled manner.

"Yes. Hence the word "maybe."

Tech's propensity for arguing about who was driving dissipated as the museum came into view. His eyes were wide with excitement, though you knew he was trying to keep that emotion at bay. You had seen him go on one of his excited know-it-all rants before. You found them amusing, endearing, and most of all impressive. He was the smartest person you knew, whether it was from Kaminoan meddling or not, didn't matter.  You loved listening to him, and he loved to talk. And you didn't just like listening to him because of the pleasing sound of his voice and looks, but because he actually did talk about things that were interesting. 

After parking, you both walked to the museum's main entrance. Tech adjusted his goggles as his head tilted back to take in the much larger than necessary doors adorned by a full arch of sculpted marble, stone, mythological figures from all over the galaxy.

"Shall we?" You suggested with a smile.

Tech nodded in the affirmative. "After you, Madame." Tech took note of the strange face you gave him upon being called 'Madame.' Perhaps it was a little old fashioned, but he still had not figured out what else he could use in place of your name without being too forward or disrespectful. Sometimes you called him 'Hot Shot' or 'Ace' which were exceedingly better than the names his brothers called him.  

As for you, his brothers were not without suggestions. Crosshair suggested 'Doll,' Hunter suggested 'Sweetheart,' Echo suggested 'Dearest,' and Wrecker suggested 'Booboo-tooka.'  

None of those monikers were quite sufficient, however, but Tech knew a solution would eventually present itself.

Since you had already purchased tickets as a surprise for him since he had not only repaired, but upgraded and heavily modified the repulsor system for your speeder, you were able to acquire visitor badges quickly and began your mosey through the museum.

With twenty levels, there was no way you could see everything in one day let alone a few hours, but you knew Tech had marked out an itinerary on his datapad to follow at your suggestion. You knew he only had so much leave to see what most piqued his interest. Even though he wanted to see everything, you finally convinced him to whittle it down to four floors.

"Let's start with the Paleolithic and Neolithic," he said with a tweak of his goggles. He started walking toward the lifts as if he had been there before, but you knew he had simply memorized the entire museum's layout.

"Sounds good to me," you said walking beside him. As you stood in the lift, you tilted your head up to study his profile as he continued to look down at his datapad. You wanted to blame the movement of the lift tube for the slight buckling in your knees, but you knew it was all due to his handsomeness. 

Your heart pitter-pattered the moment you had seen him at 79s three months ago. You weren't one to go pick up guys at bars, but there was something unique and enticing about him. You thought little of it or him, figuring to never see him again until he came into your electronics shop in search of a capacitor.  

Apparently your knowledge of computers made an impression because he came in the next day looking for a hyper-regulator. With fate on your side, you asked if he wanted to meet you for a drink and after some adorable awkwardness, he agreed.

The lift doors slid open and you stepped into a carefully curated world of wood and stone. Dioramas with the first humans, the first Trandoshans, the first Rodians, Twi'leks, and Pantorans were set up along one corridor.  

"It is fascinating, the similarities between different species as pertains to the genesis and evolution of technology," Tech marveled as you came to the exhibit of like tools from all over the galaxy. "The Twi'lek arrowhead is quite similar to the Devaronian and Human. The same goes for ax-heads and needles. But once you get to items like beads and pottery vessels, you see the cultural trajectory lose conformity and develop based on materials available by individual local environment and customs."

"I had never really thought about it like that. I'm used to technology and more recent history I guess."  You shrugged.

"Indeed. One can hardly expect the modern mind to memorize all of the information whether historical or technological. Though I do try."

"You have some 'exceptional' advantages that the rest of us do not," you teased. You had not known him three rotations when he went on a detailed explanation of he and his brothers' 'defects' which did not sound like defects at all to you. Then he continued to explain how those traits made them more deviant than defective. You certainly understood that side of him as he often met with you when he should have been attending to GAR duties.

Satisfied with your visit to the 'stone' ages, you next traveled through time and to the fifth floor to the rise of cities and nation states.  

Tech stared at the first exhibit with fascination.  "The agricultural revolution varied by planet. Those that did not have crops that could be mass produced could only sustain small settlements, whereas those with large crops could maintain large cities that grew exponentially into kingdoms and nations."

"And wars and starvation."

"Yes," Tech turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern at your statement. Did you not find history as fascinating as he did? He knew your views on the war and cloning. He dared not ask, but all he could do was agree with you.

When Tech continued to stare at you, you realized maybe you had gone too far and put a damper on an outing that was supposed to be fun. "I'm sorry, Tech. I didn't mean to rain on your parade."

He adjusted his goggles thoughtfully. "I have seen plenty of rain on Kamino," he said understandingly. "You need not apologize. That is an unfortunately correct assessment of civilization. With growth and progress comes conflict and suffering. The two seem to go hand in hand, but I think rather to have faith that intelligence and good intentions have the advantage."

"In that case, it's almost as if sentient life is collectively "defective." You smiled, grateful for his understanding and wisdom. For being a clone maybe a third your age, if that, you can not but admire his calm and collected approach to situations and problems. The only thing he seemed to ever be nervous around is you, but that was understandable because you knew the clone troopers didn't exactly get lessons in romance in the GAR.

Tech merely pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose with a knowing smile. He was never quite sure how to take your sarcasm, probably because he was self aware of his own and that of his brothers, Crosshair in particular. But the affectionate twinkle in your eyes and gentle flourish of your smile made his heart beat a little faster and the tips of his ears feel a little warmer.

He had not expected to become interested in a female. He was engineered to be a soldier, nothing more. Yet, you made him feel like he was more than that, that he wanted more even. He found himself returning to your shop even though he really did not need to.

And yet he did 'need' to.

Tech found himself smiling back at you. "Indeed. I must apologize. We have been to two floors of exhibits that I wanted to see. Is there something you would like to see?"

"No, Tech. This was all for you."

"I should very much like to learn about what interests you."

"Well, there is an atrium level. Gardens and ruins from other worlds. I remember being taken with the one from Naboo when I was a child." You felt a little weird saying that considering Tech was technically the same age as you were at the time. "You can actually sit there and relax. Or meditate like a Jedi." You shrugged.

"I would very much like that."

After browsing the garden exhibits of Kashyyyk, Chandrila, Selonia, and Old Coruscant, you settled in the Naboo section. A small waterfall splashed down a rock cliff before flowing through a makeshift river that encapsulated the area and then recycled back to the top of the waterfall. Lush green grass spread across one half before melding with a more tree and moss covered rocky area that housed some Gungan head statues. But what really amazed you not only as a child, but as an adult as well, were the guarlara statues that guarded the Naboo area.  

Tech studied you as you gazed upon the statues, content to witness your own fixation with something in the museum since you put up with his. "The guarlara, a quadrupedal mammal native to Naboo, having evolved the physical trait of speed on that planet's grassy plains and also a long mane of hair. Used as transportation before the speeder was invented and now only used for official royal business such as coronations."

"Sadly, I don't think I'll ever get a chance to ride one."

"No. They are reserved for royalty," Tech said a little too bluntly. But you knew he didn't mean anything by it and that he for the most part sympathized with you.

"Indeed," you echoed a word he had a habit of saying. "Let's sit over on that fancy stone bench. My feet are a little sore from all of the walking we've done."

"Indeed," Tech said in reply with a grin. He forgot you were probably not used to walking five or ten klicks or more as he was.

You both sat in silence as the sound of the waterfall drowned out the low chatter of the museum. You took extra satisfaction because Tech is sitting right next to you, so close that your arms and legs were touching.  

You knew he was a little nervous because he continued to look down at his datapad rather than enjoy the soothing sound of the waterfall, but maybe water just wasn't his thing.

“Hey Ace. What cycle are we heading for next?”

There it was. 'Ace.' One of your pet names for him. He wanted so badly to find one for you as well, but he wanted a special name, not the usual. He knew you liked driving and piloting as he did, but Ace could not work for both of you. He knew you also liked guarlaras, but there were not many equus related monikers that seemed suitable. Guarlara itself did not roll off the tongue very well. Pony was not very romantic. And mare simply sounded unsuitable.

Tech's eyes went from studying his datapad to studying the floor. He was disappointed that he could not find an ideal solution to this very simple quandary.

He now turned to you, studying your delicate features, so content to be in your favorite part of the museum, yet you were so colorful as well, not like anyone he had ever met before. When you turned to him, he took to studying the sparkle in your eyes, that seemed to represent everything he admired about you.

“What is it?” you asked, noticing Tech staring at you strangely.

He took your hand in his. "I was simply thinking about what an extraordinarily colorful woman you are. You remind me of the rainbows on Kamino. They were always so vibrant after a storm. And you are a vibrant beacon after all of the missions we go on. You are like a rainbow to me, albeit in adult human female form."

“Awwww...” You squeeze his hand and place your other hand over your heart. "I think that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Tech could not help the large smile that spread across his face. “Then it is settled, Rainbow.”

You could not stifle the huge goofy smile that was spread across your face, beaming with happiness at Tech, whose eyes reflected your contentment. “You know, Ace, I think you might have earned the title of Captain.”

“That is not possible. Hunter is our Sergeant and first in line for that- Oh. You are referring to your speeder. You are going to let me pilot it?” Tech asked with a hopeful tweak of his goggles.

You laughed at him. “Come on, Captain Tech. Let's finish out the rest of the museum, then you can take me for ride.” The sly wink you gave him gave you exactly the fumbling reaction you desired.

Tech pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose nervously and cleared his throat. “Yes. I shall take you for a ride in your speeder.”

After you were all done at the museum, you took note of Tech's excitement to sit on the pilot side of your speeder while you took the seat he had earlier.  Before you knew it, you were speeding away from the museum, up into the sky at a breakneck, but controlled speed, but it didn't matter, you knew he was a skilled pilot, and you trusted him with your life, and your heart.

Tech looked over at you, a huge smile spread across your face as the speeder breezed through the bright, neon signs and beaming lights of the other vehicles in the skylanes and shining through the windows of the skyscrapers.  All of the colors of the Coruscant evening did not compare to the lovely colors of you, his own personal Rainbow.

[empressgeekt]

Could you tell us more about brozone brothers children (next generation) in your aus. I know that Branch and Poppy have a daughter and Floyd has an adopted son (Veneer reincarnation?)

Branch and Poppy:

They have three kids, two boys and a girl.

Rose, is their only daughter and first born. She has Branch's temperament, being more on the calm side (as and adult as a kid she was a lavender version of her mom), however is extremely passionate like her mom about keeping her subject safe and happy. In terms of appearance, she has dark blackberry purple hair, and her father's eyes, however most of her facial features are like that of her great grandmother, Rosiepuff, hence her name. She loves story books and archery.

Their second child is Flint. He was adopted after a flooding disaster in Rock Hallow left him orphaned, and Branch pulled him from the rubble. He was quiet as a kid and quiet as an adult, often feeling awkward with his genre identity as a Rock troll raised by a Pop family. He has black messy hair, muted purple complexation, and blood red eyes. He play guitar and does metal work for a hobby.

The final child is their youngest, Ash. He's a quirky kid, bit of a dreamer, off in his own world most of the time (in Burning Branches this is explained by him sharing a strong connection to the world's hidden music like his dad). He has royal blue hair, pink eyes, and peach skin just a shade in between his mom and grandfather. He loves to pencil sketch, with out color.

Clay and Viva:

They have twins, and after that they stop, because those kids are a combination of Clay's brains and Viva's chaotic energy, they are wild tornado like trollings who are far too smart for their own good. They had nearly destroyed the village on a number of occasions.

Their twins, are Cricket, their son, and Calypso, their daughter. These two are inseparable, and almost identical in appearance. Their pale purple trolls, who are both born blonds, but Cricket's curls go green as he gets older, and have bright pink eyes. Their hobbies include story times and setting up traps around their house and village.

John and Delta dawn

If they end up together, they would have two children. Both of which would have hooves but only two feet.

Chip is their son, he looks like a purple haired version of his mom. He's an adventures boy, always finding trouble. And loves to bake.

Perry Kate, is their daughter, and she's red headed version of her father, with her mom's eyes. She's a bit of an attention hog, loving being in the spot light, and a total daddy's girl. She becomes a song writer and singer like her dad.

Floyd (and maybe Jovi)

He ends up with two kids.

Vinyl is his eldest son, that he found as an abandoned egg on a river bank. Vinyl a minty green reggaetón troll, with black and gold patches on his body. Along with blue eyes and green and gold dreds for hair. He's mellow and smart, but also very nervus at times (He's also Veneer's reincarnation so he feels a lot of guilt for his past life, making him very loyal to his family).

Besides Vinyl, Floyd also has a bio kid. His daughter Piper (usually with my OC Jovi, who is a mixed troll, Rock and Celtic). She's a smiley yet calm person, however also has a very protective anger streak. Her fur is a deep royal blue, with sky blue hair with hot pink streaks (and hot pink star spots and a single marble horn like Jovi). She loves music, however was born with extremely damaged vocal chords rendering her mute. So she learned violin and make the instrument sing for her. She signs to communicate with others however it is rather difficult to get others to listen to her.

Bruce...Does not need anymore kids.

[squirrelwrangler]

heget’s Silmarillion Sigil Set

your daily dose, (51/?)

Disclaimer: Here is a blend of Original Tolkien creations (aka my best efforts at recreating the author’s drawing), modifications on the original, and designs completely from cloth.

Please credit if use.

In order:

Glorfindel, Ecthelion, Duilin

Previous Entries:

HERE is the master-list.

Notes:

Happy Holidays- bet y'all thought you'd never see a new one of these posts. Well, as I'm slowly reposting all the sigils on Bluesky, I found the few finished Lords of Gondolin before the program I used completely died on me and I refused to buy the new version.

So the Lords of Gondolin have sigils, conventional ones, described in "The Fall of Gondolin" which is in The Book of Lost Tales II and is the earliest piece of the legendarium, written in 1916 and amended in 1920. So oldest of old draft that is still canon. But that means that what's described is not the wacky radial symmetry in lozenges that I mentally label the Eldar-mon. So:

Glorfindel was Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, and he personally wore a green mantle embroidered with golden celandines (which those flowers aren't a perfect match for). To be fair, the sigil started off as something else, but afterwards I realized that yellow flowers on green, even if of muted tones, would not read to a Tolkien fan as anything but a sigil for Glorfindel. Now, we can be cheeky and say this is the sigil for Glorfindel of Rivendell, and thus any inaccuracies are either a subtle nod to there being two Glorfindels- or the reembodied Lord of the Golden Flower is trying to hide his identity.

Ecthelion was Lord of the House of the Fountain, who delighted in silver and diamonds. So, pale grays and silvers and stars and a design that invokes the multifaceted cuts of gems. Also the suggestion of pipes, be it the flutes that they played into battle or those of more mundane plumbing.

Duilin was Lord of Hosue of the Swallow, his troops famous for their archery, hence an arrowhead as sigil, feathered helmets, and their colors were blue, white, purple, and black.

[blood-n-candy]

NEW UPDATE'S COMING SOON, SO I'M SPEEDRUNNING HEADCANONS PART 2: GROUP ENTITIES + GOOD PEOPLE

For the entities that have multiple instances canonically, meaning that I can't go into specifics. Also Good People is in this post because I procastinated any thoughts about them for far too long, but I prefer dedicate the upcoming entities to their own post-

Oh well, enjoy!

PUDDLES OF VOID-MASS (Collective It/Its, each puddle can have additional pronouns sets)

Collective unknown age, voice varies from puddle to puddle

Used to refer to itself as The Void Children, it nows uses Larry because it sounds nice and it's Mother-approved

Speaking of Mother, it's the giant Void Egg that spawns all puddles. Even if physically separated, each and every puddle is biologically connected to the rest of the void mass and Mother in a tight hivemind, meaning there's a costant exchange of nutrients and information through every puddle you spot

The colors indicate the puddle's role! Purple puddles are scavengers/main eaters, Green ones are explorers (they check spaces for colonization), Red ones are defenders of the hivemind space, and Gold puddles take care of the exchange of information between Mother and the puddles

Each puddle can eat and defend itself, it's just that purple ones digest faster while red ones have more range of attack and can throw targets away

Mother is supposed to be white, but with containment it turned purple out of stress. Stressed Mother = More food is needed for Mother, and once a certain quota of nutrients is met, Mother has the possibility of getting the entire hivemind to safety

SQUIDDLES (Don't have collective pronouns despite their status)

Semi hivemind for the same reasons of Puddles of Void-Mass, but they don't have a central figure and each Squiddle is more unique

Part of the information exchange is about what faces are potentially scary to humans/enemies, and those faces are displayed on their masks

They can all deny it, but they're a cult worshipping the Death Angel. If the latter actually becomes one of the new entities, that is because all of the Squiddles summoned him in one big ritual circle, and the amount of summoning was such that now his manifestation is stable enough to stay in the Blacksite instead of instantly disappearing upon claiming his victims

Footnote to the aforementioned headcanon, they learned the summoning spell from the devs :D

They really like Pinkie's leadership, they wish to add her to their cult. Pinkie is unsettled by the idea, but hey, at least they're competent in the tasks she assigns them to!

WALL DWELLERS (No collective pronouns, but a lot of them go by Ze/Zir)

Philogenetically-wise, they're the modern cousins of the Candlebearers! In the course of evolution, they've adopted a more aggressive hunting style that however made them physically weaker to attacks, hence why they rely on the surprise factor and camouflage

There are two other variants of Wall Dwellers that are more adapted to dwell on outdoor walls: one with a concrete camo layer and one with bricks. The first one hides better in concrete walls, while the other in any brick and stone-made wall. Urbanshade hasn't foudn them yet...

If you see objects floating around one of them, don't panic. Why? Wall Dweller secret ;)

Some of them are trying to find a way to hide higher on walls. Apparently the goal of these individuals is to colonize the ceilings for even more effective attacks (HELP)

George (aka Good People) (They/It/Fae/Ze)

Unknown age, seems in their mid 30s

Boyflux Demienby, t4t bisexual

Mute, speaks with BSL (British Sign Language)

Didn’t know anybody at all prior to the containment breach because faer body materializes only with a starting host, started roaming and killing both out of hunger and pure panic. Currently in the process of meeting the rest of the anomalies

Incredibly strong, a 1v1 with Pandemonium would be quite the spectacle (I do not recommend trying to spectate it tho, you might die either as collateral damage or because the focus of the violence shifts onto you)

Despite the asocial nature, p.AI.nter knows a lot about George. If anything, he’s the only friend ze has. Guess that accidental broadcasting of the Hamlet recording proved to be useful after all…