#his whispy hair is fun

[irafook]

Nika x Law sketch for @nimudae (part of @lawluevents gift exchange)

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

For @orange-artist ‘s ASL god AU DTIYS! (congrats on the milestone!)

This was really fun, I absolutely love drawing ethereal designs

Additional notes 👇

So i adjusted the original designs ... a bit... To draw in my style means that i have to make everything extra, sorry.

Ace:

I like the base design for Ace a lot! i looked at other posts to get more context to these outfits and i say this draping billowy pants design that i liked a lot more, so I used that instead of the ones he has in the picture.

I love his cute little star crown, i think it looks dope as hell. I wanted to bring it to other parts of him too, so I gave him an arm cuff with it, too! If i had drawn the front of him, you would also see that crown design around his waist as a belt, too.

i originally had him in a pose similar to the one he has in the original, but after i sketched out the other two poses i found he looked a little two flat, so i brought his hand out to the foreground.

I like the choice for his hair to gradient out to look like a comet! I had a lot of trouble trying to make it look Just Right, but i think I nailed it

Luffy:

I didn't change much about his design, I really just made him a little more yellow than he was before. Its hard to improve an already banger design. He's my ethereal silly guy...

I really love the idea of Luffy's scars looking like gold, that's really cool.

I wish I could've added that cold crown he has around his head, but i didn't know how to without it looking sloppy so i had to leave it out.

Sabo:

I changed so much about Sabo's design, i would like to send out a formal apology for it, I admit I went a little too ham. I had already completed the picture before i went back to look at the original post and saw the comments about how Sabo was supposed to look... discreet...... I... Did Not Make Him Discreet. In The Slightest. :DDD ehe

I needed help for Sabo's pose because i was having so much trouble with the hand, i called upon my good website friend JustSketchMe to get it right. I had this idea for the pose because i wanted the claw to look like a crescent moon, I think it looks pretty good.

I would've given him normal snakebite piercings too but i felt that the ring piercings looked more Crescent-like, so i went with that.

Moon belt. i want that moon belt. I have no outfits it would go with. but i still want it.

I love Sabo's whispies that he has in the original design, but when I put them in the art i had, it cluttered up the piece too much and I had to get rid of them. A moment of silence for the fallen whispies...

Noticing now I forgot Sabo's Cane..... oops.

General:

I shaded Luffy to be lighted by the sun, Sabo the moon, but i made Ace be the light for himself. There's some deep meaning to that, but I cant think of one right now.

I had a lot of fun drawing this, i hope i was failthful enough to the original designs even though i changed everything a lot :)

Drinking game: take a shot everytime I used the word "I", take a double shot each time i forgot to capitalize it, too. You will be Dead by the end of the post, though.

[hausofanya]

“wasn’t she sweet? she really set the tone for the night.”

cléo’s smile is easygoing as she talks to the camera, essentially making small talk with the viewers before someone catches her eyes off camera. she immediately breaks into a wide grin, turning back to the camera. “you guys are gonna love this one.”

it’s not long before another figure appears in view, cléo unable to contain her happiness any longer as she’s quick to extend her arms towards her. before she greets the camera, she lets out an excited squeal at the sight of cléo. she wraps her arms around the girl tightly, beaming as she pulls away, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder.

“hiii~” baebi waves to the camera with a beaming smile, “i’m venus’ leader and main dancer, baebi!”

“you look so good, what the f—oop. edit that out. hi! it’s good to see you after so long!” cléo’s excitement is infectious, practically spilling over. “you need no introduction to me, though. we need to hang out soon. maybe you can dress me up, too? you seriously look amazing. what are you wearing?”

“i am proudly wearing archive bob mackie from 2001,” baebi tells cléo as she puts her hands on her exposed waist, “it's cher inspired. i love cher. beautiful gowns, you know what i mean. i like how it makes me stand out. it's very baebi, if you know what i mean.”

“beautiful gowns is an definitely understatement. what are three things you absolutely cannot live without?”

baebi looks up in thought, her whispy lashes nearly touching her eyebrows as she does so. she hums, glossy lips quirking to the side before she nods slowly, coming up with her answer in her head.

“so, i can’t live without my lipgloss. i don’t care what lip gloss it is, i just need my lips glossed at all times, like, i’m pretty sure that’s how they retain their moisture at this point so...lipgloss, one. two, probably finn lee–i’m just kidding, oh my god–” baebi laughs as cléo instigates silently with raised brows, covering her mouth her hands before playfully hitting cléo’s arm and resting her hand on the other girl's arm as she continues.

“but, seriously, two, would totally be a weighted blanket. my ex-boyfriend got me one and i will say that was the most beneficial thing he’s ever done for me. life changing shit. and three, probably...music! i can't live without music, obviously!”

“what would the world be without music? a soulless chunk of rock, i’ll tell you that.” cléo sends a pointed look to the camera before continuing. “let’s hear about the most insane thing that happened to you this year, hm? was it good? did it make you miserable?”

“well, you know, we did lose a member,” baebi says bluntly with a nod, looking into the camera before making a 'yikes!' face, turning her gaze back to cléo with an awkward laugh. cléo’s gaze turns sympathetic. “that was honestly very crazy. it was a very... dramatic thing...” she puts her hands on her hips taking a deep breath trying to find the right words to describe what it was like for venus to suddenly become four.

“it was a good thing but it wasn’t a bad thing. it was just how things were supposed to go and... they went. hell, and so did bliss!” baebi jokes with another awkward laugh, throwing her hands up and shrugging. “but, we’re trucking along and doing great. hopefully she is too. we haven't spoken since she decided to stay with angelico. so—” baebi shrugs again, looking a bit sadder in her gaze even if her smile never falters.

“all of you deserve a vacation, truly…” cléo narrows her eyes at the camera, seemingly in jest—then turns back to her friend with a smile. “the next vacation i have, you’re coming with me. let someone try me. i dare them.”

shaking her head is disbelief, she moves along to her next question. “here’s something a bit more fun to talk about—what are you thoughts on any of the nominees?”

baebi blinks at the question, thinking for a moment before leaning in to cléo like she's going to tell her a secret, the camera zooming in as well. “i don’t know a lot of people here. i gotta be honest...” the two of them laugh, baebi covering her mouth before regaining her professional demeanor, shrugging her shoulders cutely.

“um! i don't know! you deserve everything you get tonight,” cléo winks at the camera, “and, umm, i think deepdive is pretty deserving. sourcandy kills it every time... um...”

baebi looks up as she tries to remember the other nominees, is stupid cupid nominated? truly, guys, i only know what my girls are nominated for. i’m sorry,” she says truthfully, giving an unapologetic look to the camera with another laugh.

“what about the weirdest thing a fan has done to get your attention? i’m sure you definitely have to have a story for this one.”

“one time, a man got my face tattooed on his chest and he—” cléo’s eyes widen before she snorts, her hand moving to cover her mouth. “okay, honestly, he was pretty ripped so this wasn't that bad for me–he was at a venus fansign and he stands up, takes his shirt off, and shows me my face tattooed in the center of his chest and i was like woah!” baebi puts her hands up with a suprised look on her face as cléo laughs, giggling as she retells the story. she lets out a dramatic sigh, looking at cléo with a raise of her brows.

“men.” baebi shrugs again, chuckling dryly, clearly fighting off the urge to laugh again. cléo raises an imaginary glass to that.

“what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever googled? even in secret!” cléo raises her brows, interested in her answer. baebi looks to the side as she thinks the question over, shaking her head slowly.

“i don’t google weird things...” she starts, staring at her friend’s face for a moment before laughing at herself. she hits cléo's arms playfully. “i've actually googled bang chan happy trail before, i won't even lie to you.” baebi covers her mouth as cléo short circuits, laughing at herself as the tips of her ears turn pink from embarrassment.

“girl—?!”

“he's so dreamy! i’m sorry!”

cléo pretends to gag, shuddering for dramatic effect as she immediately changes the subject. “maybe i shouldn’t have asked that. moving on! what’s your dream role?”

“i want to be angelina ballerina one day,” baebi says with a fond smile and nod, the atmosphere soon softening. “she's a mouse that does ballet... i deeply resonate with her and have since i was little.”

“that’s so cute…” cléo pouts at the camera, placing a hand over her chest to show how touched she was. “hopefully they don’t consider your search history if a film or series comes about about.”

cléo laughs as baebi halfheartedly swats at her arm. “cléo—”

“one last question!” the taller grins in good nature. “kind of horrible timing considering two questions ago i got an answer i didn’t expect—hi chris, if you’re watching!—but to be honest, i’m nosy and i don’t care if fans lose their heads over this. anyone special you want to let the public know about?”

baebi laughs nervously at the question, raising her brows at cléo as if to silently ask her, ‘why would you do this to me?’ before tucking her long hair behind her ear. cléo offers what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

“everyone would hate the answer, so let's say no!” baebi answers cheekily, giving the camera a finger heart to distract the viewers from the question she just dodged.

cléo boos the non-answer and sighs, shaking her head. “well, i tried. thanks for hanging out~!” she waves as her friend says her goodbyes and walks off, blinking a few times before she makes a face upon remembering her shocking answer.

“of all things to google…”

you can find baebi @venusvity ! thanks so much for joining the event !

[creaturefeaster]

What would itzels hair feel like? Same with funfettilla, Cleo, and oxaclock. I'm curious!

Itzel's hair is like a kinked up mop, in puppet form but especially in her true form, where her hair is often clumped together and somewhat rigid. It's pretty to look at undisturbed, but whenever she ties it back it becomes a bit of a mess.

Funfettilla's hair is just like piñata paper. It probably sucks to get wet.

Cleotide's... I'm not entirely sure. But something in me feels like, if you reached in to touch his hair, it'd irradiate your hand. Bones would melt or something. You'd get cell damage.

Oxaclock's hair is like a galloway cow's hair. Curly, fluffy, whispy. Probably fun to play with, though I wouldn't attempt it.

[sp4ceboo]

You're Not The Only One

A/N: my apologies for the millions of time skips, this was originally two parts but i merged it

Warnings: swearing, loneliness, self harm (with a taser and with blades), so much pain im sorry, sleep depriavtion to another level, more pain, this shit is so damn painful ok be warned,

Word count: <3500

Your eyes are drooping as you shade them against the sun. Above you, a ship so battered you're surprised it's still airborne is descending, and you reach for the cup of caf beside you, gulping down the last of its cold dregs before groaning and rubbing your eyes. You work and live alone, so no one's around to look after you, to make sure that you get some sleep, to see the burns on your forearms. As a result of your damned isolation, and the fact that their are rumours about you being the best and the fastest mechanic in the galaxy, you constantly have clients, and you constantly work on no sleep.

In fact, you can't remember the last time you had a full night's sleep.

Or half a night's sleep.

Or an hour of sleep.

Actually, excluding blinking, the last time in your recent memory that you closed your eyes was when you sneezed an hour ago because of the dust that flew off your bed as you stumbled past.

Smiling tiredly, you look up as the ship lands. You're not quite sure why your eyes can't focus on the Mandalorian's helmet as he walks down the ramp, but you run a hand through your hair and tug hard at the whispy strands to wake yourself up at least a tiny bit. Appraising the man's ship, you raise your eyebrows as he approaches, dropping your gaze to give him a once over. Somewhere in your half functioning brain, you realise that he's the itimidating type of attractive, and that if he wasn't paying you, he'd be the type you'd try to woo into bed, just for the fun of it.

But right now, even the thought of a Mandalorian in your bed doesn't break through the thick, clinging fog in your head.

'I assume you're here for repairs,' you say, forcing an echo of brightness into your voice. 'Well, I didn't come for a free blowjob,' he mutters, or maybe you imagine it. 'What?' You ask, feeling awake for once in the last seventy two hours. 'Yes,' he replies shortly, in a way that tells you, no, you had not misheard him. 'I'm here for repairs. No droids.' You huff a laugh. 'You see any droids, tin can? It's just me in this miserable hangar.' He grunts. 'Good.' You squint at him. 'Need a place to stay, Mando? I could use some extra credits.' He shrugs. 'How much?' 'Oh, just fifty credits or so,' you estimate.

He'll find that it's cheaper than any of the rates he'll find in town. For some reason, you want him to stay, either because your addled brain has taken on the challenge of wooing him into your bed, or just because his presence is filling up the room in a way that makes you grateful, because it feels like you haven't had any sentient in years. The Mandalorian tilts his head in a nod, and you smile, clapping your hands together.

'Alright then. I'll start up on your ship, and you can wander around or whatever until you want to turn in for the night.' 'Thank you,' he says. 'I'll be back by nightfall.'

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pressing the black metal to your skin, you grit your teeth against the pain and ignore the way your muscles jump and spasm as the taser's white light flashes in your eyes. With a gasp, you drop it back down next to your refilled cup of caf. It's been a while since you took the taser out, but work has been busy recently, and you need to stay awake to get this Mandalorian's ship fixed. You're not afraid of the scars any more; it's more necessary for you to keep yourself conscious and working, and besides, the caf stopped being effective two hours ago.

A new dose of adrenaline from the pain the taser caused you streams through your system, and ignoring the smoking mark on your skin and the jittering in your fingers, you stand. The Mandalorian said he'd be back by nightfall, but the moon is high in the sky now. Something tells you that he's out hunting a bounty that gave him more trouble than he expected, so you decide to get back to work on his Razor Crest. When he landed it in your hangar, it was crumbling apart with startling speed - a panel had actually crashed to the ground when he was still twenty feet up in the air. Now, one side is already fixed up and gleaming, ridded of the awful carbon scoring slashing across the silver metal, and the other side is well on its way, the wires sorted neatly and all holes soldered up and patched.

To him, you're sure he'll see it as a miracle. To you, it's just the smell of your own burnt flesh each time you taser yourself.

You need this. You need the constant grind of work, you need your hands always full of the wiring of some ship, otherwise you'll go spiralling; the loneliness will bring you to your knees, the hollow rooms of your hangar will stare at you accusingly, your empty heart will torment you until you're screaming for it to stop. The pain from the taser hardly stings compared to the ache in your chest.

You're own heartbeat feels like a chant: alone, alone, alone, alone -

You gasp as you press the taser to your arm, the inside of your skull lighting up bright white as the energy courses through you. Blood fills your mouth from where you've bitten your tongue, and you wash it down along with the bitter taste of isolation with a sip of caf. Glancing over your shoulder as you brace yourself against the table, panting, you glimpse the silhouette of the Mandalorian as he approaches.

Shit. Did he see you taser yourself? Shame rockets through you, sharp like the edge of a knife, and you dig your knuckles into your eyes. Don't be ashamed, you tell yourself. You're just doing what he's paying you to do.

But other mechanics don't do this to themselves, do they?

No, of course they don't. Ironic, that you're alone in your loneliness. No one's there to share your solitude, because then it wouldn't be solitude, would it? No one's there to witness your pain, because then you wouldn't do such things to yourself. You'd be too embarassed, too conscious of another presence, because you don't know how to act around people who care for you any more - and the reason for that is that there is simply no one who does. Your work has become your life, the broken down ships your family, and even they leave you once you fix them. No one is even present long enough to watch your steady decline, to see the dark circles grown beneath your hollow eyes, because once you fix their ship in lightning speed, they're gone again, their bags of credits the only remnant of company.

'You're... you're fast,' a voice says behind you. You turn around with a forced smile. 'That I am.' 'It's barely been a day,' he says. 'Do you know what time it is?'

This time an edge of something like concern fills his voice. You're speechless. Maybe you're imagining it, because why would a Mandalorian, a man who won't even show you his face or give you his name, be worried about you? Stars, you're just the mechanic he hired, and forget that you're unnaturally fast, forget the damned scars littering your forearms, you're just a stranger, just a person in an orange jumpsuit smeared with oil who he could have met on the street.

'No,' you mumble. 'I don't know what time it is.'

He tilts his head, and you get the impression that he's studying you, that he's looking at you like no one has for a long time. You can't help but wonder if it's because he saw the light of your taser, and for a moment you entertain the thought that he might think you were torturing some slave you had in your cellar which you made do all your work for you. But that's ridiculous. If anyone's the slave, it's your body; the slave driver is your unrelentless mind, and you're trapped in the never ending cycle of fixing ships, drinking caf and tasering yourself until eventually, you'll drop dead where you stand. You haven't tried counting the scars on your arms - the old or the new ones - but you know that many taser bolts can't be healthy. And still, you carry on.

'Hey, you wanted a place to stay, right?' He nods. 'Yeah.' 'Right this way,' you say, gesturing inside. 'Welcome to my humbe abode, Mando.' 'You - you live here alone?' Your throat closes up. 'Yup.'

Mando looks at you again, and somehow that blasted helmet seems to convey something like empathy. It's then that it occurs to you that he's all alone too, surrounded by the silver walls of his ship and the silver slabs of his armour. Maybe he knows what it's like to feel that soul crushing loneliness... Or maybe he's just happy with his solitude, like you wish you could be. Maybe he's happy to be alone with his thoughts.

'In here,' you say, pointing into your bedroom. You'd changed the sheets, and although you don't have another bed for yourself, you doubt you'll be sleeping. 'Where are you sleeping?' He asks. 'In my room,' you lie. 'Mm,' he hums, casting his gaze around. Your room isn't specifically personalised to yourself, there are no heirlooms, no keepsakes; you've been alone what feels like your whole life, but under his scrutinous gaze, the dust on the bedside table could be your dearest possession. 'I'll go, now,' you say quickly. 'I want to work a little more on your ship.' 'A little more, or the whole night?' You freeze. 'Uh - we'll - we'll see.' You turn, pausing in the doorway, looking back at him. 'Sweet dreams, Mando.'

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The sun has been up for precisely an hour when he walks out into the hangar, looking identical to the way he looked the night before. Unruffled, cool, layered in that deadly silver armour. His gaze piercing right into you, spilling secrets you keep even from yourself, pins you down as much as it did yesterday, and you fiddle with the spanner in your hands.

'I finished up with your ship.' He cocks his head. 'And you didn't sleep.' You grow angry under his scrutiny. 'Anything wrong with that?' 'No, except for the fact I bet you haven't slept in three days.' You chuck your spanner into the toolbox. 'Whatever. I'm not some lab womp rat for you to inspect and dissect with your words, Mando.'

Striding past him, you head for the shelter of your caf maker, but he catches your wrist as you pass. Pain splinters through you as his fingers press into your most recent wounds, and you gasp, slapping his hands off you, backing away as he glances sharply towards you, head cocked at the sound of your harsh inhale. No, no, no, he can't see you like this, he can't find out about the scars on your forearms, he can't -

'What's this?'

Your world shatters. In his orange tipped gloves is your taser. Everything disintigrates then, everything you've built around yourself to hide your aching fatigue, your aching loneliness, dissolving because of two small words and a tiny gadget in a masked man's fingers. You want to collapse, to fall into the dust beneath your feet and plummet until even gravity grows tired of you. You want to smack him, to hit him, to say something, but all you do is stare. Stare and stare and stare, your eyes wide with panic.

Finally, your brain catches up, and you take a step back. 'You know what that is.' You spit. 'You know what it means, too. You know what I use it for, you know how I work so bloody fast, so don't fucking ask me what it is when you know full well!' You scream. 'Or maybe you like it, huh? You like the fact that my eyes are bloodshot and I can't stand up without a cup of caf and my fingers won't stop shaking and my head spins every time I fucking move - is that it? Do you - '

'No.'

You freeze. You look down at the cuffs of your jumpsuit around your wrists, and slowly, you pull them up to your elbows. He takes your hand in his, gently turning your arm this way and that as he looks at your scars. Half expecting him to stare at them, disgusted, in the same way that you do, but he lets go of you after no longer than half a minute, slowly opening his arms. Something like hope shoots through you, and your legs buckle as you collapse into his embrace, sobs tearing through your tired husk of a body.

You're not sure you can remember the last time someone held you. The feel of a pair of arms around you is so unfamiliar that all you can do is tremble, fingers fisting in the Mandalorian's cloak as your face instinctively finds itself tucked into his neck, your head fitting perfectly under his chin. Maybe it's ridiculous how much you're trembling, maybe the dig of his armour into your ribs should be uncomfortable, but you don't care because he's letting you lean all your weight against him, he's letting you sob onto his shoulder, Maker, he's letting you cling onto him because he's the only lifeline you have left. It feels as if you've been teetering on the edge for so long, and you only realised how close you were to falling when he pulled you to safety. When he pulled you into his arms.

Mando slips his forearm beneath your knees, smoothly lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into your room, sitting down on your bed with you still in his lap.

'I knew this was your room, you know,' he says, stroking your hair as you curl up on his lap, unable to speak. 'I knew as soon as I saw you how many hours you had deprived yourself of sleep, because I used to do the same to myself. I... I would strap viroblades under my armour, so that if I relaxed for even a moment, the feel of the points against my skin would wake me up again. I thought I was the only one who... who did that to themselves.' He sighs. 'I'm not much better now, but I - I've stopped hurting myself. It's... not healthy, you know?'

It hits you then. This Mandalorian, this man who holds you in his arms has been through what you're going through, and he's living proof of someone who got through it. Your head spins, your chest heaves, and all you can focus on are his words: I thought I was the only one.

'You're not the only one,' he murmurs into your hair. 'There are millions like you out in the galaxy. There always will be. Don't forget that.' You look up at him then, tears in your eyes. 'I - I won't.' 'Good,' he says, and you get the impression he's smiling as he tucks you under the bed covers. 'Will you - will you come back?' You ask, voice small as he turns to the door. He glances over at you. 'Sure.'

You hum, finally letting your eyes close and tugging the blankets tight around you. Mando's soft chuckle is the last thing you hear, the gentle brush of fingers on your cheek the last thing you feel before you fall into the sweet bliss of sleep.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When you wake up, there are only three things that signal he ever dropped by. The first is that the batteries have been taken out of the alarm clock by your bedside, the second is that the remains of the taser - which has been crushed under the heel of someone's boot - lie in the corner of the hangar, discreet enough for only you to notice them, and the third is a note.

It's written in black on a crinkled piece of paper, the letters scrawling yet easily legible, extending across the expanse of yellowed white like the stretching out of a bird's wings.

You're not the only one.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You don't ever remember being so happy to see a ship. But now, as a familiar ship, glinting silver in the sunlight, touches down in your hangar, your face aches with how wide your smile stretches. The Razor Crest has been a regular appearance in the last few months, and each time it touches down, the burden you carry with you seems to disappear. Dropping the spanner in your hand, you race out into the sun as the cargo ramp lowers, not breaking your stride as you launch yourself at him, your bell like laughter ringing in harmony with his. He catches you in his arms, lifting your feet off the floor as he holds you tight to him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you relax into his grip, breathing in his scent.

'How are you?' Din asks. You smile. 'Good. Better now that you're here.'

Still looking at you, the T-shape of his visor boring into you, he reaches down and intertwines your fingers with his, lifting up your arm and pushing back your sleeve. The happiness sours on your tongue, and you look away, shame dyeing your cheeks red. Your other hand fists by your side, and you can't bear to meet his gaze as he stares down at the fresh wounds on your skin; less frequent than before, only two or three, but still, they aren't gone.

'Why did you have to look?' You whisper, your voice breaking as you pull out of his grasp. 'I want to look after you,' he answers simply. 'I want you to look after yourself.' 'Why does it matter to you, Din?' You demand. 'Why do you want that?' He pauses. 'You know why.'

You do. You heard him the first time you met - he was the first person who found out about the taser, he told you about how he kept himself awake, and somehow you still feel bitter that he had to check. Swiping tears out of your eyes, you turn away from him, waiting for him to touch your shoulder, do anything, but he just stands behind you, his presence large and expectant behind you. He's waiting for you to turn to him, because he knows you inevitably will, and for a moment, it hurts you deep inside that he knows you so intimately, knows every facet of your soul, and you spin around.

'Do you not trust me, Din?' You spit. 'Will you check my wrists every time you land your damned ship in this hangar? Because if so, get out, and don't come back.'

You stare up at him, and he towers at you, stoic and impossibly still. You feel terribly small, your words feel stupid and useless, bouncing off his beskar and lodging right back into you. The sunlight breaks through the clouds above and begins to reflect off his armour and into your eyes, and you tell yourself it's that that is making your eyes begin to water. You despise the way he's just standing there, lit by a column of golden light, as you crumble before him, the distance between you too far to cross.

'I trust you with my life,' he says softly. 'I just don't trust you with your own.'

And then he holds out his arms again, and it's like the first time. You're falling, and he's catching you, holding you tight and stroking your hair, grounding you and holding you down, keeping you from floating away in a sky of pain and sleepless nights. Whispering reassurance in your ear, he rocks you, his touch a sweet, steadying comfort.

'You're okay,' he whispers. 'It's okay, I'm proud of you, cyar'ika. I know it's hard to just stop, and you did so good, alright?' Gently, he prises you off him, holding you at arms' length and making sure you look at him. 'You know I can't destroy every single torch and whatever tools you use to solder ships,' he murmurs. 'So I want you to comm me every time you feel the urge to use them on yourself, and maybe we can keep you awake by talking together, okay?' You nod. 'O - okay.' He wipes your tears away with the back of his hand. 'I care about you a lot, sweetheart. I - I don't like to see you hurt.'

You stare up at him, his words washing over you, slowly circling in your thoughts. Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart. Your heart swells, and you curl your arms around him again, resting your head on his chest and threading your fingers through his.

'I - I care about you too, Din.'

And as he leans down, gently touching his forehead to yours, you know that under his helmet, his smile mirrors yours.

[glitterguts13]

Stalker Ex Boyfriend Scar finds HIS Rover after 9 1/2 months.

Then Scar hears a baby cry and is seething, thinking that Rober would have the gall to carry another man’s child.

Rover is pleading for Scar to not hurt his baby until Scar sees that the baby looks similar to him, and the rage dies down to joyous obsession.

I love the stalker ex-boyfriend troup, so good so good.

TW: toxic relationship and abuse

The chase at been fun, at first. Tailing Rover around the city, laughing at how unaware he was. Not a clue in the world that he was being followed, his every move written down and his routine memorized like a prayer.

Scar knew he'd come back, he always did. Rover was nothing is not predictable, it was one of the many things he loved so much about him. They'd fight, break up, and before long, Rover would be back, and they'd make up like nothing had happened.

Except, this time, one month became two, and two became three, and suddenly, Rover vanished.

His apartment was empty, his job opened up for another, and all his usual haunts left not a trace to be found.

A piece of Scar died that day, and what little of his sanity remained did as well.

Really, he was a bit impressed. Sweet little Rover, finally managed to give him the slip, and not just for a few days, but almost seven months. It was too long, the separation was too much, and Scar felt himself spiraling further and further each day he wasn't with his Rover.

Finally, he gets the call he was waiting for.

A friend of a friend who worked with a cousin at a coffee shop owned by a neighbor of the landlord who was housing Rover gave him the address he was looking for.

Best money Scar ever spent.

It's nearly five towns over, nestled in a quaint part of the countryside. Bum-fuck-nowhere, with barely any cell reception. This was no place for Rover to be living, in a rat-run shack connected to a barn of all things.

Scar's boots click against the stone walkway, his smile dropping as he moves closer to the door.

That sound.

Swallowing thickly, he feels his fingers twitch.

A baby?

Rover...has a baby.

"Son of a bitch." his heel makes contact with the locked door, breaking the flimsy chain with ease. The sound of the crying newborn fills his ears, and he's shaking, violently from rage.

No wonder Rover vanished.

What a secret to hide, what a pathetic, no good, sick, disgusting sack of shit-

"Scar?" Rover is there, just as he was promised, a bundle cradled tightly to his chest, "Scar, Scar, please, just go, don't do this-" the fear in his voice only edges him on further, the vitriolic hate burning in his chest flaring up.

"You cheated on me?" he slams the door behind himself, causing the baby to wail louder, "Fucking whore, you cheated on me and got knocked up? What the fuck? We were only broken up for a few weeks- was it before? Did you meet them before we broke up? Eh? Who was it? That guy from work? The red-head? Or the security guard-"

"Scar I didn't-"

A shrill shriek escaped Rover's lips as his baby is yanked from his arms.

"SCAR DON'T HURT HIM!"

Opening his mouth, Scar shuts it again just as fast.

The baby was wailing away, tiny fists waving in the air as Scar blinked in confusion. Whispy white hair, pale skin, and bright red eyes.

"Scar, please, give me back my baby-"

"Our baby," Scar corrects him, a smile starting to form on his face, "Rover why didn't you tell me?" gently, he rubs his finger against the infants cheek, cooing down at him.

"Did you think I'd be mad?" he can't take his eyes off the baby, heart swelling with pride, "Rover, darling, you could have told me. I'd have been there in a second," baby tucked in one arm, Scar reaches out, brushing his hand across Rover's cheek, "You didn't have to do this alone."

Tears dripping down his face, Rover forces a smile, trembling,

"Y...yes...I was...worried you'd be angry...that's....what it was."

A kiss is pressed to his lips,

"Don't be scared Darling, I'll never let you go again."

[da-rulah]

For your song game, Oh who is she by I monster is the song, line is A misty memory A haunting face, and maybe Cirrus Ghoulette with a papa mixed in for fun :)

I'm usually not very good with writing for the Ghoulettes - for some reason, I don't tend to get their likeness just right. However, since you asked for a Papa too, I have an idea... I don't know how you headcanon the ghouls to look, but I'm basing my description off "cirrus clouds" themselves. In my head, each Ghoul is reminiscent of their elements in how they look.

He read the incantation, clear as he could. His voice boomed in the chapel, ricocheting off the stone walls and echoing. Stood at the edge of the pentagram, candles at every point flickering, he swung his thurible back and forth in a rhythm that kept him chanting in time.

Copia needed another ghoul to join him, and so he repeated the same incantation he had practically memorised by now.

When the centre of the pentagram began to crumble and open up, the flames of hell licking at it's edges, Copia opened his eyes as he finished the last chant. In front of him he watched as a hand - a beautifully pale blue colour with long, unkept claws - curled it's way around the ridge of the pit.

A second hand curled around the edge, and slowly, a head began to rise from the fires.

Copia watched on in awe as her - yes, her - horns first began to rise, followed by the stark black eyes that followed, and the most beautifully structured face he had ever seen. Her hair, white and straight as a pin, cascaded freely long past the curve of her back, coming to end just behind her knees as she clawed her way out of the pit. Parts of it fell in front of her and over her breasts, creating a curtain between her nude body and the world she'd been summoned into.

His jaw fell slack, the swinging of the thurible slowing as he became completely enamoured with the being in front of him. She was so tall, slender but incredibly poised and controlled for a hell-being. As she stepped towards Copia and out of the pentagram, the pit behind her began to close up, the ritual effectively complete. Everything had gone according to plan - except for the way Copia had now fallen to his knees as she floated towards him...

He couldn't possibly explain why, but he felt as if he were in a trance state. Completely enraptured by her haunting beauty, all he could do was stare as she drew closer. Her graceful steps barely touched the ground, hovering as if she was most at home within the air than on the ground. She must be an air ghoulette, he thought to himself. She certainly glided like one.

She came to a stop barely a foot in front of Copia, studying him studiously. Most ghouls had a difficult time with the transition from Hell to the Earth, but she seemed to show an unusual sense of belonging, as if she owned the realm and Copia was hers instead of the truth - she was his.

She lifted one of her hands, reaching for Copia's cheek but she never touched him, barely an inch from his skin. But he could feel her still, like a breath of fresh summer air - warm, inviting.

The way she floated, her whole demeanour... she reminded Copia of a whispy little Cirrus cloud in the summer skies.

As her hand hovered above his skin, she smiled... Such a peaceful, affectionate smile. She moved her hand gently and Copia's head followed without question, chasing her touch when she'd never truly given it to him. Not yet, at least.

It took him a moment, but he soon snapped out of his trance and remembered where he was, who he was. He remembered the robe he'd brought to the chapel with him to cover the modesty of whoever he summoned, quickly scrambling to collect it.

He was filled with confusion as to how he had reacted to her presence. No other ghoul had had this effect, none other had rendered him speechless - immobile, even. But she was just so beeautiful. So different in every way.

Copia quickly came to stand behind her, gently laying the robe over her shoulders and covering her. As he did, her hand came to rest on top of his in a gentle thank you, her blackened eyes staring deeply into his. Once again, he was rendered useless, motionless. He lost himself in her stare, her kind and gentle smile.

She was unlike any Ghoul or Ghoulette he'd ever encountered, and he knew from that moment she was special to him.

She hadn't been sent to him, but gifted.

[rosenallies]

Can you write sashnarcia adopting a lil kid 🥺

Ever since I read that one prompt of Marcia saying she wanted a kid my heart died

tbh I know the prompt says “adopting a kid” however I’m sick rn and I’m too tired to think about the ins and outs of adoption and also idk I feel like Marcia in this au would maybe want to carry the baby so it would biologically be theirs and Sasha’s <3 but anyway idk I haven’t thot about it a ton <3

——

“You’re sure we don’t need to bring him in?” Marcia fretted, pacing the living room with the phone pressed to their ear while Sasha and Anetra cooed over their crying son, his tiny body warm with fever.

The doctor on the other line sighed, so used to the anxieties of first time parents. “He’s how old again?”

“He’s 3 and a half months,” they huffed.

“Okay, so if his fever is only at 99.9 right now, it’s not necessary to bring him in unless he’s having difficulty feeding or breathing. Has he had any of those other symptoms?”

Marcia shook their head. “No, just a runny nose and a slight cough.”

“That’s good then, just give him some infant Tylenol and keep an eye on his temperature. If the fever exceeds 100.4 or if it persists over 48 hours then I would recommend bringing him into the ER. Do you have any other questions?”

“No,” they replied quietly, a sniffle in their voice, “thank you.”

The doctor bid them a goodnight and hung up, the whole conversation doing nothing to ease Marcia’s nerves.

“Mar, come here, love,” Sasha said gently, beckoning them over to the couch where she and Anetra sat.

They trudged over to the couch, tears blurring their vision as they sat beside Sasha, who held Kai in her arms, his wails turning to gentle whimpers.

“Here,” Sasha cooed, passing him over to Marcia, “look, see, he’s okay. I think the medicine is kicking in.”

Marcia held their son close to their chest, bouncing him softly while they whispered to him that it would be okay and that he’d feel better in no time.

“You’re so good with him,” Anetra whispered as he began to doze off in Marcia’s arms, their hand firm on his back to make sure his breathing remained normal.

Of course, they all loved their baby son more than anything and all of them had already proved what their parenting strengths were. Marcia was the soft, gentle one, putting baby Kai to sleep in minutes with their softly sang lullabies; his favorite being a Hawaiian one that Sasha had taught them. Sasha was the more practical parent, always double checking the diaper bag before they went out and always making sure every appointment was scheduled in advance. Anetra was the fun parent, always pulling laughs out of him the quickest with her funny faces and magic tummy tickling fingers. It was also her who’d spent weeks painting his nursery, a mural of a beautiful Hawaiian beach and sunset so he’d always know where a part of him came from.

Sasha smiled, lacing her fingers with Anetra’s. “So are you, darling.”

“We’re all perfect for him,” Marcia then said barely above a whisper so as not to spook him back into crying. “Do you think tonight we can put his portable crib in our room? So we can check on him?”

They all checked on him constantly all night every night, but Sasha and Anetra could tell this was more for Marcia’s comfort than Kai’s. “Of course, baby. Neech, come help me set it up?”

Anetra nodded, following Sasha into the bedroom, leaving Marcia and the baby still on the couch.

They lovingly pressed their lips to the top of his head, his soft whispy hairs tickling her. “We love you so much, sweet pea, we’ll always take care of you no matter what, no matter how old you get, you’ll always be taken care of.”

[purplekoop]

Alright screw it, full list of Kirby crossover Overwatch skin ideas:

Kirby Echo. Hard to explain how it looks with words but it works in my head.

King Dedede Reinhardt. In my heart this one is the Mythic skin of this bunch with variants for unmasked, the classic Masked Dedede mask, and the Forgo Dedede mask.

Meta Knight Genji. Not much explaining needed I think.

Bandana Waddle Dee Tracer. I didn't have any better ideas for either end of this pairing, but like. again it works in my head.

Whispy Woods Bastion. I swapped my ideas for Orisa and Bastion back and forth, but figured Ganymede dressed as the small Kirby bird of your choice would make more sense. Plus, Orisa already has a nature-themed skin.

Paint Roller Lucio. I think this is a fan favorite obscure miniboss, plus it'd be a fun different look for a Lucio skin.

Nightmare Sigma. With every idea for group skins I keep casting Sigma as the ultimate big bad, but like... c'mon it works too well here. The Hyperspheres are the ball form.

Rick Wrecking Ball. hamter.

Dark Matter Swordsman Soldier 76. mouthful, yikes. I actually had a list of notes I decided to check partway through making this post, and I forgot about this one. I think the idea was the visor? Could be cool I think.

Marx Junkrat. funny little guy who chucks exploding balls. Could do a fun detail with his prosthetics looking like pieces of Nova.

Heavy Lobster Orisa. Favorite obscure Kirby boss that never shows up in a series full of recurring bosses. Definitely a skin nobody besides me consciously wants.

Mr. Frosty/Chef Kawasaki Roadhog. Hard to pick between these two iconic midbosses, but I very much only see either design working as like, an edgy slasher villain parody of the original when on Roadhog.

Adeline Brigitte. Flail is the paintbrush. That's all the justification I need to say.

Ripple Queen Mei. Definitely a more obscure character to prioritize but the idea won't leave my brain, I think it'd look too cute to pass up. Also yes: Snowball is Ribbon.

Dark Meta Knight Reaper. ow the edge.

Daroach Cassidy. Hat. Though would also consider Ashe, if only just for the sake of Storro B.O.B.

Drawcia Moira. I mean Moira throws around blobs and sprays of bright colors around, it works. Plus I think this'd be a fun look for her that's not too out of place stylistically.

Necrodeus Doomfist. Felt bad not having a Mass Attack reference of any kind for some reason (even though I don't have an Epic Yarn character here and that's my favorite spinoff). This was the best pairing of "cool bad guy" matching that I had left, but I mean I think it'd look cool.

Magolor Zenyatta. Silly floating man with his orbs and mysterious past.

Landia Pharah. Another niche one but it looks sick in my head. Was also considering giving her Dyna Blade.

Taranza Lifeweaver. Okay explaining this one: sad pretty boy with trauma and a flower motif. Plus they both use grabby magic to yoink people. Works with how average Rein players feel about Life Grip.

Queen Sectonia Symmetra. I wanted to have Sectonia somewhere and by process of elimination this is the idea I like the best. Not explicitly meant for a SymWeaver thing but hey that works too. the inverse height dynamic between the pairings feels wrong though...

Susie D.va. This is another obvious one, little pink bitches with big mechs, little pew pews, trauma, and room for me to project onto.

Haltmann Torbjorn. Another one from my notes I completely forgot about. But like. Yeah no it still checks out.

Francisca Junker Queen. A guilty pleasure choice aside from the shared blue hair and axes.

Flamberge Illari. Listen the brain blast I had when I realized "burny powers and also her gun looks like a weird sword." Plus they both scream an above average amount.

Zan Partizanne Widowmaker. It'd be a crime if she wasn't one of the most canonically french Kirby characters.

Hyness/Void Termina Ramattra. I don't know the exact logistics of how this works but in the abstract concept in my head this looks awesome.

Gorimondo Winston. monke.

Yeah that's the list! Everybody besides Mercy, Hanzo, Zarya, Ana, Sombra, Ashe, Baptiste, Sojourn, and Kiriko got one. Also no Mauga... or Venture... or Space Ranger... look this list was from a while ago, plus none of these are even out yet so sue me. (actually had a few ideas for Mercy, but none of them felt really satisfying. Favorite idea for her was using Forgotten Land's final boss mostly because of the silhouette being... more similar than you'd think at first.) Also I got at least part of each of the dream friends besides Gooey, but like. Literally what Overwatch character reminds anyone in any way of Gooey. Be honest with me here.

[femmesweat]

Deciding if the effects of hrt are what you want for your body and your life is a serious decision & I can completely understand how that would make engaging with the idea in a conceptual play-space not fun! I had reservations before going on T myself, and I didn't start eroticising it until after I had already decided it was the right choice for me. Now I've been on T for approaching a decade & I love what it's done for me, especially wrt body hair and muscle development. And the tdick of course.

In a conceptual space I'm really into the idea of monitoring a partner's bodily transformation from hormones, like having a femme on T whose clit is in my mouth or hands so often i can literally feel it grow, or making a sub work out with me and comparing our muscles, maybe using my butchness and masculinity to assert dominance and bullying them for being weaker than me while I train their body & rewarding them as they get stronger. Getting slick with sweat and wrestling for dominance and shoving their face in my pits maybe.

At the same time I'm very into the performance of femininity being in the mix, having my femme in an elegant, tight dress, and heels, in lipstick and mascara, but knowing that under that dress their clit is growing and their happy trail is creeping up their belly. Just really gets me hot. Ofc my fascination with the effects of hormones on the body can come into play with feminizing hormones here too, forcefemming someone who I masculinized sounds like a very appealing power trip (again, I'm talking in a conceptual play-space, all involved important life decisions are upstream of horny stuff & are deeply personal decisions which must be one's own. Anyway I'm going to stop here bc I don't know what concepts will gross you out/make you uncomfortable and I'm not trying to b rude to a pretty femme)

Hi anon! Thank you again for such an interesting ask.

The idea of monitoring your partner’s body is so hot. The way you describe it is very similar to the idea of inspections. Sucking on someone’s clit but only briefly, just enough to check and to make them squirm, ask for more. And being monitored is so hot; a lovely combination of being controlled and being the centre of attention. My clit being the centre of someone’s control and attention.

Including the performance of femininity is really what I like; a tight dress and heels all picked out by you, hiding all the changes only you can see. (I also love lipstick with a whispy stache.)

I think the rest I’m not into; being bullied for being weaker I just love, but the masculinity I feel in myself doesn’t connect with a masculine sense of physical strength. If I’m a boy, I’m a /boy/ boy. Meanwhile, I eroticise exercise as a feminising process for my body. In that context, I love the idea of being rewarded and praised for physical changes. And also the sweat.

With that being said, I’m very difficult to ‘gross out’ as you say, and I really love talking about things like this! It’s so interesting to me! And your eroticising taking T is sexy too. Obvious question but what parts of it do you eroticise in yourself?

[narrators-journal]

im gonna just send u these in a little bulk and you can do em whenever u want, anyway, ryomina teratophilia n dacryphilia <3

Is this good? I don’t know at this point. But was it fun to write? Yes! I wrote it as a personal gift to myself for my birthday, so I went full guilty pleasure, self-indulgent, personal favorite thoughts sort of angle. I just wanted my favorite personal Ryoji form included lol. Also! Shout out to SleepyCoffeeOwl on Ao3! Who was nice enough to read over a bit of this beast for me! They helped me fix up a few things about this lil story, so I’m very grateful to them.

Also! While I will be rather busy around halloween, If you make/made a request I promise I’ll get to it! I’ll write into November if I need lol. So feel free to ask away until the 31st!

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: Predator/prey, teratophilia, at least a little dacryphilia, overstimulation, dubcon yet again, size difference, cum inflation, canonicity is very loose. My own monster design,

With a sigh, Minato Arisato trailed behind Junpei and Yukari as they patrolled the silent streets of the dark hour. Watching the smaller, less hostile shadows skitter away from them, or stare at the trio as they went, admiring the rotund moon hanging in the sky, and breathing in the stale, cold air.

It was boring.

Not his work as a SEES member, that was always interesting on some level, even when he was doing little else but strolling around in the oddly colored night. No, what was boring was not having his mp3 player to occupy his mind on their patrols.

Not from lack of trying, though. The blue-haired emo had tried all that he could think of to bargain, barter, threaten, and even proposition Mitsuru to put a plume of dusk into his mp3 player so that it functioned like her bike.

It went over about as well as you’d expect. So, while Yukari and Junpei were going back and forth with their semi-flirting bickering ahead of him, Minato simply found another way to entertain himself. watching the small hand creatures skitter about like some fucked up version of rats, or the whispy clouds that hung in the vibrant sky, or played I-spy with himself.

At least, until his mindless daydreaming made him run into a suddenly tense Yukari. “What’s going on?” he asked, noticing that Junpei had his broad sword at the ready, so he went ahead and pulled out his katana. Scanning the silent streets ahead of them for any sign of threat until Junpei finally whispered, “I think someone, or something, is ahead of us.” nodding towards an alley further down the sidewalk, where a soft shuffling could be heard in the stagnant air. “Minato, why don’t you go check it out? You’re the one with all of the personas. You’d have a better chance if it’s hostile.” Yukari suggested, getting a scowl from the shaggy-haired wildcard before he pushed past them. Whispering to her as he went, “Just admit you’re scared.” and not hanging around to let her hiss out some indignant venom.

Instead, he crept forward with his weapon drawn and his senses keen for any sudden sounds. Though, in an odd twist, there wasn’t any sound. Outside of the shuffing and pained whimpering of whatever was in the alley, the street had gone as still and silent as a grave. That’s a new one. He thought, but mostly brushed it off and kept his focus on the potential enemy. Though, when he got close enough to the alleyway to press himself to the brick wall of the store, the first thing he noticed wasn’t blood, the sound of ripping flesh, or aything like that, but the strong scent of graveyard dirt and decay.

That wasn’t normal. While the dark hour had a cold, stale taste to the air, sometimes with the tinge of iron or still water, it never smelled so clearly of decay.

Yet, when Minato peeked around the brick wall of the coffin-filled store, he didn’t find any shadows ripping someone apart, or even Strega dealing with a fresh corpse. Only a brunette man in a vibrant yellow scarf curled into the fetal position on the dingey alley floor. “Ryoji?” He asked, his defenses dropping along with his sword, Junpei and Yukari giving squawks of, “Ryoji?!” To mimic his own, but he waved them off. Keeping them at a distance as he stepped closer to the late-semester transfer student. Trying with a gentler edge to his flat voice, “Hey, are you okay, Ryoji? Are you hurt? Scared?” Which, got him no reply. So, he took another step closer and knelt down to put a hand on the brunette’s shoulder.

And that was when he reacted. Ryoji’s voice, usually sing-song and light as a feather, burst out in a guttural snarl that felt as if it physically knocked Minato back. “Get away from me, Minato!” Yet, at the same time that his words were deep and forceful, the sharp edge of pleading rang in the wildcard’s head like a bell. “Huh?! The fuck do you mean? If you’re hurt, I need to help! Otherwise, you’ll get your ass eaten! And not in the way you like.” He snapped back, returning to his feet while Ryoji tried to drag himself away from the man. Which, was the most unnerving part of the encounter. Seeing a man who usually greeted Minato like a hyper dog seemingly power through hellish pain to escape him. Fucking ouch. “Mochizuki, get your ass back here right now-” “NO!”

That time, his voice knocked the breath from Minato like a punch to the gut. Some small part of his long-numbed brain getting frazzled. Awakening a dose of dread that the blue-haired man hadn’t felt for eleven long years. “What...the fuck?…” He breathed out, a hand on his chest to steady his frantic heart rate as his storm-colored eyes watched the brunette curl into a ball against the back wall like a beaten dog. Shaking like a leaf in a tornado, with...blood? on his hands. “Ryoji. Are you okay?” He asked, stepping closer again, his annoyance and confusion put aside for concern. “Please...leave me alone. Run…” Ryoji said, his voice quieter, that time. Less hostile, yet still powerful enough to make the blue-haired wildcard shiver in a mix of excitement and fear. But, he ignored his pleas and pushed through the odd sensation.

He took another step closer, reaching for the brunette again. But, before he could grab Ryoji to try and pull him out of the passage, the cowering man screamed. Startling the persona user again, but not nearly as much as the bloody, slimey appendage that ripped itself from Ryoji’s back with a sick, wet ripping sound. “Minato?! What the hell is going on?!” Yukari asked, closer than she had been. “Stay back!” He snapped back, not letting his stormy eyes leave what turned out to be a fucking wing. Ryoji was growing wings, but not only one or two, but four. The transfer student who’d been so desperate to befriend him wasn’t human. “R-Ryoji?” He tried again, his voice almost a whisper. Inwardly wincing at the edge of anxiety in his words. “What...what’s going on?” He asked, stepping back as he spoke. Watching as the boy cried and contorted in pain. His body bulging and shifting beneath his skin and clothes, his face twisting into a sick grin as his teeth fell out and his eyes darkened. It was almost too horrifying to watch, yet kept Minato’s eyes glued to his classmate. Rooted to the spot by the pained, inhuman shrieks to watch what was human only a moment ago, slowly turn into something more beastial. Something that made Yukari shriek behind Minato.

And just like that. The spell was broken.

Turning on his heel, Minato bolted like a rabbit from a wolf. Blind of where he was going, just knowing that he couldn’t stay, and that he couldn’t stay with Junpei or Yukari. Though, he was vaguely aware that the duo seemed to follow his lead, each haring off from the scene of the crime the moment they saw Minato fleeing the alcove between buildings. Though, the wildcard’s adrenaline wasn’t racing out of fear exactly, In the frantic rush to get away, enough clarity was there to identify that much.

No, the midnight-haired emo wasn’t running out of some fear of dying to whatever creature Ryoji was becoming, but simply because it was what felt right. After all, while not knowing what the hell his classmate was, he was damned sure of one thing. He was predatory.

So, the wildcard ran for all his training with Akihiko was worth. Down dark alleys, empty streets. Dodging immobile cars and caskets housing the normal citizens of Tatsumi port, he let that odd, amoral rush of excitement and dread push him further. His feet pounding into the asphalt, his blood rushing in his ears, and his mind racing with alternating thoughts of Gotta get away, and Oh god I hope he’s chasing me. Like the two most primal parts of himself were battling within him. Yet, only one got its wish. “Mina! Come back!” Ryoji’s voice called from the silent street behind him. The sing-song sugar back in his words, but the impact of his words wasn’t entirely softened. Whatever was calling to him may have been Ryoji Mochizuki, but he wasn’t the Ryoji he knew.

Which...was thrilling.

The rush of dread was overtaken by the buzz of giddiness at that point. Making Minato’s breaths puff out in gasps as he hooked around a corner and ran down another thin passage to a new street. Fueled by the rush he got each time the monster’s voice called out, “Mina! Funeral lily! Come here! I won’t hurt you!” “Please! I just want to see you! Mina!” With what Minato thought might be an exilerating edge of desperation. God what the hell am I doing?! That thing’s not human! I shouldn’t be aroused at it chasing me! He scolded himself, trying to get his barrings on whatever perverse side of himself was muddying his thoughts, but that didn’t stop that voice from arguing, Okay, but he’s capable of intellegent speech, and whatever it is WAS Ryoji ten minutes ago. It wouldn’t be a sin-

The thought was shoved away. Minato was no stranger to odd hook-ups, but a classmate who turned into a shadow? That was enough to make his stomach itch with shame.

Yet, in his thoughtless weaving between streets and coffins, Minato realized that he had managed to lose track of where he was. Even when he tried to spot identifiable landmarks as he ran, nothing looked even vaguely familiar. The full, yellow-green moon doing nothing to clear up the thick shadows, and the air that stung Minato’s lungs still tasted of decaying leaves and graveyard dirt. It shouldn’t have, though. After all, he was running down a dark street lined with houses, not graveyards or dead trees. If the dark hour hadn’t been in effect, the place would’ve been nothing more than your average, well-off culdesac.

Yet, the dark hour was in effect. So, instead of a peaceful neighborhood with an HOA, the green-tinted street was full of dark nooks and the peering eyes of whatever courageous monsters dared peer out of their hidey holes.

Yet, that was all the shadows did. That’s all that they had done ever since Ryoji had turned into...whatever he became. Even with Minato disoriented from confusion and weakening from exhuastion, no shadows dared try to attack.

So, with legs like jello, and the coordination of a baby deer, the blue-haired man almost involuntarily slowed to a stop at the end of the block. Peering around at the houses and yards that blocked his escape. Steadying his breathing as best he could to try and focus on the eerie silence of the eerie neighborhood to try and pick out any suspicious squeak or tap on the asphalt or houses.

Nothing.

Even the usual ambiance of shadows going about their usual existence, or the stirring of air under, assumedly, Ryoji’s new wings had been mute for...however long. That’s not good, is it? Minato asked himself, looking behind himself as he thought. What does it mean when a monster scares the other shadows? Even the arcana shadows had smaller shadows in their areas. He thought, his wide, stormy eyes studying every non-descript lump of darkness before turning his head back around. Only to feel the tickle of heaving, night-scented feathers on the tip of his nose.

Sitting before him, pale mask smiling down at Minato from an impressive height, was that human-bird abomination that was Ryoji.

How the fuck did he get here?! Was the shaggy-haired man’s first panicked thought, only for another to rear-end that blip of as soon as he’d had it. How close has he been this entire time?Did I ever even lose him? Was he only messing with me by letting me run? Are Mitsuru and the others okay? Are they alive?! And many more piling up like a car wreck until all the man could do was tilt his head back numbly to look up at the beast that was once a lovesick classmate.

With that same wind-brushed hairstyle Ryoji wore with two twinges jutting up like antennae. A mask-like face of snow white with bottomless pits for eyes and an eerie, toothless smile. Not to mention skin that--Minato took a step back without realizing it. It was grotesque. That skin so black, as black as obsidian stretched over a large, human upper body that was no longer an average, soft weight, but emaciated. It was like the goofy man had morphed into some feverish nightmare. A feverish nightmare that now sat in front of him in the flesh. With his four large, dark feathered wings shimmering with unearthly color in the green light at any small movement, and two...were they legs, since he had human arms? Hind legs? Of a bird. Each four-toed foot adorned with claws sharp enough to slice chromium like hot butter.

If it wasn’t for the voice whispering in the wildcard’s head about the looming beast being a predator, he would’ve seemed kind of cute with how he sat. Watching the wildcard with his legs out in front of him when the man all but fell on his ass to crawl away from him. ”R-Ryoji?...” Minato tried, the tentative word little more than a lustful-fear-choked croak in the stillness of the green night. Yet, it seemed to be all the invitation the shadow needed. Reaching for the blue-haired persona user with boney, clawed fingers to pluck him off of the asphalt while he tried to scramble back to his feet.

Not that running anymore would have done any good. After all, it had only taken Minato looking away for a brief moment for the beast to be mere centimeters in front of his face. It didn't take a rocket scientist to calculate the chances of his escape.

But, that didn’t stop the blue-haired man from writhing and fighting to get out of the monster’s hand. Even resorting to trying to bite him, though to no avail. All he managed to do was exhaust himself. All the while, Ryoji stared down with his bottomless eyes like his attacks were nothing. As if Minato was only laying limp in his palm. Only stilling him with a series of cooes, trills and trapping Minato under his thumb so he could use a claw to gently cut through the mortals clothes.

He was cutting Minato’s clothes off. “H-hey! Don’t do- Stop that!” The wildcard squawked, his cheeks burning with a melancholy mix of skin-tingling excitement and cold disgust. Swatting at whatever he could reach to stop the shadow from stripping him like some lewd doll. But, for all his fighting, the blue-haired emo only got was a happy, sing-song trill from the beast. Allowed to kick and snap to his heart's content since, with his midsection trapped, it was all in utter vain. Yet, he still tried. Minato fought for all he was worth to worm his way to freedom, or at all dissuade the bird-thing.

Yet, all that got him was a sweat by the time the beast finally slipped the now-ruined school pants from his body. No progress in his fight for freedom, just tired, with a nagging sense of blood-thrumming fear. All Minato could do was slam his fist down on Ryoji’s hand and plead, with rain threatening to fill his cloudy eyes. “Please...Ryoji, please don’t.” Only to get a gentle shushing, like a soft breeze through the trees on a quiet night, and an affectionate chirp in response. Before the masked monster lowered his head, and a long, wet tongue slithered out from the mouth of his eerie mask. “Hold on, what- what are you- Ah!”

Leaving a slick trail of warm saliva in its wake, the tip of the shadow’s long tongue languidly slid from his asshole, up and over his groin. Coming to a stop below his ribcage where a ripple of shame continued to Minato’s burning face at how the slow drag of the wet muscle over his pale skin made his stomach flutter. Oh god, am I...am I ACTUALLY into this? Minato thought, trying again to wriggle out of the shadow’s hold. What is that supposed to mean? How is this even registering as hot in the first place?! But, those questions got shunted into the depths of his mind for later when Ryoji’s monstrous form circled its tongue around Minato’s member. Letting out a whine from whatever mouth that perpetual smile hid. as if disappointed that the 5’6 persona user didn’t have the proportions to…what? Fuck him with? Ryoji, I swear to god if I survive this encounter, we will be having such a talk.

Yet, that moment wasn’t the right one for questions. The priority in that moment was to try and bite back the pleasure flowing into his stiffening member. Yet, the slick warmth, flexing muscles, and calculated movements worked together to pick off each one of the wildcard’s mental defenses regardless.

And, there was no way Ryoji was clueless about what he was doing. Even though Minato saw nothing but a void of endless darkness when he looked into those eyes, he could tell from the beast’s use of that cursed, blue-black tongue that the squeezing and stroking was 100% intentional. Curated specifically to deftly increase the hellfire under his skin until his rational thoughts were overrun with that familiar headrush of need.

The monster’s tongue worked him until Minato’s attempts to get free of the thumb pinning him had devolved into thoughtless pants and humping into the moist heat. The more aggressive those lewd impulses became, the foggier Minato’s thoughts became. And in turn, the less he could focus on fighting, or even his own shame.

At least, that was the logic Minato could piece together to rationalize his predicament. That was all he could do, after all. Lay in the beast’s hand, pinned beneath his thumb. Fighting for some coherent thought while his hips twitched and moved with Ryoji's tongue in a disgraceful dance. Until, despite his attempts to stall, the bubbling rush of excitement crept in. “Ryoji! W-wait, I’m gonna cum!” Minato yelled, sure to wince at how whiney and desperate he sounded later. But, in that moment of forbidden bliss, when the friction and technique won against his denials and rationale, all he could do was claw into the creature as his stomach clenched and shuddered with pulsing pleasure.

In the aftermath, Minato hadn’t even the energy to contemplate what had happened. All he could do was let his head loll back and gulp in desperate breaths of nearly-stale night air. Meanwhile, his captor lapped up whatever stray squirt managed to escape him. And Minato let him. Letting the warm weight of the shadow’s tongue press into his body while he tried to will the stability back into his gelatinized legs.

Yet, in that moment of leisure, what Minato didn’t expect, was the cool asphalt to be what touched his stomach next. But, sure enough, when his storm-grey eyes snapped open he no longer looked into the tornado-green sky, but down an abandoned road. Still ladden with thick shadows and no sign of life outside of the rumbling and shifting weight of the human-bird abomination above him. Those noises soon giving way to a more gut-twisting soundtrack that was all too familiar to the man.

The sound of bones crunching and cracking. Of muscle tissue tearing apart like a fork tender roast.

He didn’t dare look back to see the explanation. Minato didn’t even think of his lack of clothing as his feet scrambled against the unyielding blacktop. The only thing on his mind for those precious few seconds was Run! Oh god, get out of the car!

Before, the frantic train of thought crashed on its tracks. Minato kept from his freedom by a firm, yet measured weight pinned his belly back to the road. And, while the shadow’s hand was smaller, big enough to hold onto the back of Minato’s neck to keep him in place on the rough terrain, but not engulf his entire body, he could still feel how much of the beast’s strength Ryoji held back. ”Stay. Put.” Came the order. Whispered in a melodious voice that was equal parts smooth and soothing, and gutteral. Like a verbal shot of cinnamon. Spicy, yet still capable of luring out a small whimper from the wildcard. The power in those two words reverberated through Minato. Snatching away the courage to fight, and replacing it with a taboo bolt of enticing fear. Which, was a feat. Considering the emo was rarely intimidated by the horrific creatures in the dark hour, yet, with Ryoji’s clawed hand around his throat and his masked face close enough for his warm breaths to stir the edge of the persona user’s shaggy fringe, his pride couldn't help but take a back seat to the mingling and mixing of fear, disgust, and desire.

Yet, he didn’t get much time beyond that to beat himself up for cowing down to a monster, or how his dick twitched. Because once the beast was sure he wasn’t going to try and bolt again, his hands were back to exploring Minato’s body. Feeling along every scar and curve as his face nuzzled into the man’s neck to lap at his skin and drink in the scent of his lavender body wash. Meanwhile, Minato could hear his talons clicking on the paved road while the monster adjusted his size and stance. Keeping himself large enough to pin his prey, but judging from what parts of his body the wildcard could feel lifting his hips or puffing against his neck, small enough so that he wouldn’t kill him. Once satisfied, though, his face finally dislodged from the persona user's neck. Instead trailing mimed kisses down his spine. So, taking the opportunity to sate curiosity, Minato took stock of what he could through the storm of uneasy pleasure and disgust.

The first thing, was the utter lack of any noise. Even with it feeling as if the Dark Hour should end, the plump moon hung overhead in the sky, so the streets still lacked the usual night life. Secondly, and more worrying, was that despite Ryoji's reveal as a monster, the brush of a barbed something against his ass still made Minato's cock twitch again.

Ryoji lifted him off of the pavement. Abruptly dragging him out of his contemplation and back to his position as the plaything of a semi-human bird creature. Who, when the wildcard looked, had sat back on his hind legs to calculate how to go about the next step. Yet, whatever thoughts might be going through Ryoji’s monstrous head was secondary to the...member Minato saw between the creature’s legs.

After all, with a softer pink skin tone to contrast the ebony color painted onto Ryoji’s skeletal frame and soft barbs going down its length, it was hard to miss. Tapered at one end, drooling a thick precum, the appendage didn’t quite look like a human dick. But watching it twitch while he was placed over him, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess its use. “H-hey, wait! Ryoji, that’s too- Fuck!”

Regardless of his words, the monster pushed him down onto the odd cock. Stretching and filling the blue-haired mortal to the point of sparks of pain. Thankfully only pushing a little over the ‘tip’ in, but against Ryoji's cool, skeletal chest, the squirt of heat that filled Minato’s stomach was overwhelming. Bringing more tears to his dark eyes as he clawed into Ryoji’s hand, Jesus, how big is he at this point?, while the monster ground into Minato’s ass until the blue-haired man breathed out a quiet moan.

That was all it took. One small sign of possible consent, and the shadow was fluttering his wings and pushing him further down his length until Minato gasped and yelped, “R-Ryoji!” Throwing his head back and clawing into the monster that held his midsection. Yet, any concern he was going to voice escaped him. Because, as he stared up into the bottomless eyes of that pale mask, and the thickening cock slipped deeper inside of him, pleasure overtook him. The barbs added a delicious bit of extra drag over every sensitive inch of Minato’s body they managed to reach, and It was breathtaking. the lascivious mix of pain and pleasure, leaving no more room for fears of the consequences.

Instead, the only fear Minato could find as he was drug up and down Ryoji's cock only heightened the thrill. All he could focus on was how helpless, full, hot, and good he felt. Shaking with pain from how he was being stretched, but at the same time, Ryoji’s cock never seemed to miss a weak spot. The barbs brushing along his clenching walls, flooding his blood with a fresh bout of fiery thunder with each drag. All the while, the curve of the dick allowed the tip to grind perfectly against Minato’s prostate when the bird monster moved right. The disgust at being a shadow's toy would come later. For now, Minato lost himself in the stomach-tightening bliss.

All the while, Ryoji smiled down at him, puffing out breaths and growling with his own pleasure. Keeping a careful hold on Minato as to not squeeze his guts out, and letting the smaller male claw into his fingers against the pain. Not seeming to care for a second. even when the emo managed to break skin a little bit, all he seemed worried about was the lewd moans and whimpers Minato gave, and the wet schlick schlick schlick of his cock working its way into the mortal until no more could be squeezed into him.

He only paused his pursuit of every possible sound Minato could make once. Right when the wildcard felt as if he was about to unravel a second time that night. “What the fuck?!” was the thoughtless snap that delay got. Minato's chest heaving, his hair a mess from sweat, and his grey eyes flashing with impatience when he snarled up at his captor. Yet, all the shadow did to his annoyance was snort. Wiping away the tears that had started trailing down Minato’s cheeks in the heat of the moment. Lifting his hand back to the grinning mouth of his pale mask, the monster lapped up the salty tears and cooed down at the mortal. As if to thank him for something. Admittedly, through the haze of nearing orgasm and taboo mixing of pain and dread, it was hard to tell.

Then, without missing a beat, he was back to thrusting into Minato. Trilling when the mortal gave a startled mix of a moan and a yelp. Though, this time, the monsoon of hot pleasure and satisfying fullness didn’t stop. Even when more tears escaped Minato’s usual impeccable control, Ryoji would only trill as he ground into him. Dragging him along the barbs of his inhuman cock with increasingly unsteady hands. But, to Minato's gratitude, the soft bristles kept the human-bird abomination from speeding up.

Yet, even when his inky wings flared out and flapped in some mindless search for leverage, he kept going. The unyielding onslaught of euphoria breaking down the emo’s shame. Going and going without a sign of break. Flooding him with euphoria until an electrical current soaked into Minato’s muscles. Arching his back in the monster’s hand as a yowl ripped from him. Partially out of pain, but also born from the crescendo of bliss that rushed to his head at last.

Yet, the wildcard didn’t get to enjoy his orgasm for long. That rush of dopamine immediately gobbled up by a harsh sting of pain that increased the further past his limit Ryoji pushed him. “Ry...oji…” He muttered. Squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the way being so full soured from a pleasing burn, to a colder pain. Yet, the winged shadow was too far away to hear him. Continuing to drag him along his ridged cock like a toy. Enjoying the whines, tears, and hisses just as much as Minato's moans and pants.

Again, all Minato could do was whine and plead to the discolored night. His words lost on his captor, and his strength ebbing in the acidic waves of masochistic pleasure. Clinging to those sparks of dark need to keep him from passing out or letting the aches and stings of Ryoji's member stretching him overwhelm him.

Regardless, though, the wildcard hung on. Focusing on whatever he could to keep his shaking body from going too limp or his vision from going too dark. Until, at long last, Ryoji’s wings flared out a final time and gave a shudder as he pumped what felt like molten lava into Minato’s body. Overwhelming his senses once more with sensations. Ryoji, meanwhile, throbbed inside of him. Panting against Minato's back and letting out small noises into the discolored night as his four wings quivered and shimmered.

He was beautiful, in that odd, sad sort of way you might find a body in a casket to be beautiful. The shimmering of his feathers subsided, his pale mask contrasting against his dark skin. It was as if he demanded all Minato’s focus, even as he did little more than coo and chirp down at the wildcard in sleepy affection. Though, perhaps that focus was Minato’s encroaching loss of consciousness.

[mackthecheese]

also 12 and 15 for welcome home

12) An Unpopular I Actually Like and Why More People Should Like Them:

Sally!! I’ve seen her called annoying quite a few times and it hurts my heart to see my girl spit on like that. All of the Welcome Home characters are so charming in their own ways and Sally is no exception! She’s got a super bright personality and so much sass! She knows exactly what she wants and how she wants it, but she listens to her neighbors’ suggestions too. Plus she’s super cute!! I love her outfit sm- I think she would be a great friend irl <333

15) The One Thing I See in Fanart All the Time:

Almost all of the Wally fanart I see gives him whispy, scruffly loose hair curls on the back of his head- almost like a mullet. I think it’s really creative and fun that so many people had the same idea to give him loose curls lol.

[isirumarin]

Ep.10 Soul Tethered

The herbal tea was fresh and potent. Rumarin's pale blue eyes reflected the warm light of the rich morning sun. He set the mug slowly down onto the exquisite glass table. His eyes admired the craft work of the rippled green surface, his thoughts somewhere else.

Isira had learned the previous night that she wasn't the daughter of Mannimarco, King of Worms, but was a clone. A new word for Rumarin and its concepts were very difficult for him to grasp. The same, and also not, simultaneously. Likely she was "made" with some nefarious intention in mind. One that was still hidden from them. Isira was upset by the news, but tried hard not to betray it. Rumarin knew. The way the corners of her mouth pulled and a faint sneer traced around her nose, he knew them well. She had, for the first time, shunned his affection that night, wanting to be alone. His words fell shallow on the infinite depths of her thoughts. Diluted and disolved as forgettable platitudes.

Neither of them slept restfully.

He looked across the room where she lay on a grand canopy bed, with pastel silks that flowed like whispy webs in the gentle coastal breeze. The bedroom was open to a small patio overlooking the beautiful white beaches of Summerset's western coast. The trip had been romantic and fun up until the night prior...

Rumarin sighed, he felt mainly fear for Isira. She was created likely to be a tool of a sort by the legendary necromancer....no...a lich. It was obvious to him that whatever the "use" was for Isira, it didn't include her -outside of her mortal shell, or worst still, her soul. He feared he would not be able to protect her at all....just burn up like errant dust in the flame of the aftermath.

Didn't matter. His lot was cast. He thought, pushing the snowballing terror from his mind. He would stay by her side forever...how ever long that ended up being.

Isira stirred from her restless sleep. Dreams again...a gaunt mer with cold eyes and long white hair, spilling over his shoulders beckoned to her...his smile was not of benevolence, but victory. She remembered every detail, not only from the regularity in which she experienced them, but also....she could not forget. The images were burned into her memory. She knew what was likely happening. The lich was building familiarity in her and she knew she would be uniquely susceptible to this type of..."preparation".

She opened her eyes. The stonework of the Alinor architecture greeted her first. She rolled over and saw Rumarin sitting on the patio. He was watching her. "Good morning love.." he said softly, with a faint smile. Isira smiled back silently. She hugged the pillow and her face crumpled into overwhelming sadness, and she sobbed. Tears erupted as her silver eyes hid away.

Rumarin was immediately next to her and put Isira on his chest and held her. Time passed, and she fell asleep in his arms. The rhythmic sloshing of the waves rolling onto the beach, and the cries of seabirds were all that could be heard.

He laid her gently onto the pillow and covered her up. She was finally resting peacefully. Rumarin sighed quietly as he looked out across the blue waters. He drew the curtains closed and left Isira to her rest.

His pale eyes looked down both ways of the long corridor, and he decided to try the left route. He found what he was looking for, or rather who. An elderly altmer crone was folding fruit pies deftly with her delicate hands. She gazed serenely ahead with her blind opalescent eyes. "Good morning, Master Rumarin." The woman tipped her thin nose and smiled. "Good morning, Ennaliriet." He replied respectfully. He watched her fingers fold the complex knot of each pie flawlessly every time. Her path to Alaxon surely involved baking.

He leaned in slightly. "I need to see her again."

The woman was silent for a few moments, as if reading his thoughts. He thought she was going to protest, but she didn't.

"Of course you do." She replied certainly, wiping flour from her hands on a damp cloth. She turned and Rumarin followed her down the cellar stairs. With whispered chant and wave of her hand, the illusion faded, and she beckoned him to continue down the sandy path where Dekini'ko would be waiting.

[chocmarss]

JANGO & SHAAK IS SOMETHING I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED (do you have any hcs for them???)

I HAVE A FEW:

Personally, I like @phoenixyfriend’s HC of baby clones trying to gatekeep Shaak Ti from Jango because they’re all protective of her. She’s their mum, you can’t sleep with their mum, even if you’re technically their dad. Jango is severely confused because isn’t that like….what parents do…?

Yes, their relationship at the start is rocky as hell. Yes, Jango’s prejudice against the Jedi isn’t helping. Yes, Shaak Ti is also trying to veer him off the ‘treat these beings as nothing more than fodder’ course and try to make him show some compassion to these boys. But my god, is it a painful process because there’s so much arguing and different opinions happening behind closed doors so that they don’t have the Kaminoans, the other Cuy’val Dar, and the kids see it, especially the Tiny Shinies, and the Alpha class would distract them enough while mum and dad sort it all out.

When they did manage to talk it out, it’s a stilted journey of being decent to the other (on Jango’s part, the way he is) before they can even be camaraderies. The other Cuy’val Dar are having fun watching him push out nice words for the tall Tog lady while she only gives him disarming smiles that can be counted as too nice for someone who had no ulterior motives.

“You’re being a little too suspicious there, vod, even I have to say that.” “Fuck off, Kal.”

It took them a year before Jango sees her from ‘annoying Jedi who’s trying to make me feel something for these clones’ to ‘okay, yeah, sure, she’s alright for a Jedi, she’s maybe right in some things, but whatever’.

One day, Jango just got back from another round of bounty hunting and was tired and wet as hell, it was a shitty session, and he was looking forward to seeing Boba and give his son some kisses and a big hug, maybe play with him if he’s not too tired.

He decided to take the long way around so that he can walk off some of the irritation of a messy mission, passing by the big Nursery for clones who got out of their tubes a little earlier than usual, and some of them have been put in incubators because of it.

Peeking around the door, Jango sees Shaak, where she’s holding a baby to her chest, murmuring soothing words after the kid had done his turn in the incubator. The baby’s getting fussy, face rubbing against her lekku, and Shaak’s brushing her lips against soft, whispy dark coloured hair that Jango knows smells nice because of their unique baby smell and—

Ah.

This is. New. Jango stops, stares when Shaak brings up a thumb for the baby to suckle on, laughing a bit when the kid just latches on, giving the kid a little kiss onto the crown of his head, and—

Jango leaves, doesn’t look back, but he can’t ignore the sudden painful thud of his heart against his chest.

[tonguetiedraven]

May I ask for some Rin not so secretly swooning over Bon’s new haircut?

I'm so sorry for the wait! I'm really behind on all these ;-;

But thank you so much for such a fun prompt ^^ Rin absolutely is not subtle with his swooning, lol. I changed the moment when Rin first sees the hair cut a bit, and I hope this fits what you wanted :D

— — — ｡･ﾟ(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) ( ` - ´ )— — —

Rin loved the rooster haircut. It was bold, distinct, rebellious, and just brought all the more attention to how tall Ryuuji was, and how thick his hair was. Staring up at the proud mohawk and the thick brown locks that surrounded it had always made Rin want to proudly stand out from the crowd too, and made him really want to bury his fingers in the wavy locks so he could pull Ryuuji down and—

Well, he liked the hair style a lot. It was the first thing he'd noticed about Ryuuji — because it was kinda hard to notice anything else before the bright blond streak — and it was one of the first things that popped in his mind when he thought of Ryuuji. (Though recently he'd been thinking of soft brown eyes that were kind and clever and—)

And it was what gave him his first nickname for the cute boy, er, his friend. Rooster was synonymous with Suguro in his mind.

Princess was fun too, but not as fun as rooster, and he wasn't going to try babe again unless they were in another life or death situation just the two of them. They got in a lot of life and death scenarios (more than they really should) but not just the two of them. (Which was good and bad. Extra help always made it more likely to get out of those situations, but Rin didn't like anyone being in them, and there was something more intense about being in them with Ryuuji.)

Anyway, his eyes were trained to look for a proud crest of blond in a crowd, and that was how he'd spot his friend, and with Lightning hanging around and stealing all the extra Ryuuji time, Rin had been scanning for that rooster crest all the more.

It was lunch time, and Rin couldn't find it. He was at the fountain by the deli — Ryuuji's typical lunch spot because the affordable meatbun rush was getting harder and harder to fight and they could actually eat their lunch instead of nursing their wounds if they just went to the slightly more expensive deli — and Rin couldn't see it.

He did see Konekomaru's bald head, and Renzou's bright pink head, so he went towards them and tried not to look as upset about the missing streak of blond. He could see Ryuuji in class. At least he had friends to eat with today, and that was always fun.

There was a third boy sitting next to Konekomaru. Someone tall and broad shoulder who had their back to Rin.

The stranger had an undercut. Rin had always loved undercuts, and had thought of getting one after Yukio left for school — because he'd thought his proper twin would find it too rebellious and degenerate — but the sword drama had made him reconsider. An undercut would make his weird ears obvious. So he admired from afar and tugged his own shaggy locks over his own hair.

But this boy had really fantastically thick brown hair that was all whispy and wavy at the top of his head, and Rin found himself wanting to touch it. It looked soft and—

Holy shit.

Rin stopped dead in his tracks as he caught proper sight of the boy's profile. Not a stranger. Not a stranger at all. Ryuuji. Ryuuji with an undercut. Ryuuji without the streak of blond, and somehow looking older and more intimidating for the lack of mohawk. Heavenly Father have mercy, Rin's knees felt a bit weak with the full view. Ryuuji's beard seemed bigger, his hair styled so that it no longer hung in his eyes, thick but somehow accentuating his strong features, his numerous piercings, and his eyes.

Rin made a small, embarrassing noise, and three sets of eyes turned towards him curiously. Rin straightened as much as he could, spread his lips in as big a smile as he could (ack! That wasn't natural!) and tried to wave only to realize that looked stupid and weird, and drop his hand partway through the embarrassing wave.

Yay. He looked totally normal.

"Okumura," the trio greeted. Ryuuji made the extra motion to move his bag off the fountain, opening up a spot for Rin to sit by his side.

How did he look so much smarter with this haircut? That wasn't fair at all! He'd always looked so effortlessly cool and now he had to spring a surprise haircut on Rin and look all devilish and handsome and cool while he did it, and he had to be considerate and make space for Rin who now had to sit next to the attractive boy and act like he was normal.

Tail wagging nervously behind him, Rin hurried across the spot, tripped, nearly went sprawling to the ground, righted himself, and practically flung himself onto the fountain next to Ryuuji.

"You changed your hair!" He blurted way too loudly.

Ryuuji's cheeks tinted a light pink. It was at odds with the rest of the look, and somehow made everything all the cuter. The tough boy could blush too.

Rin swallowed and tried to make his eyes not quite as wide as Ryuuji's hand reached up to nervously pat at his hair.

"Yeah? Just needed a—“

"Isn't it awful?!" Renzou wailed while Konekomaru let out a tired "Shima."

Ryuuji's cheeks flushed darker as he sent a glare to Renzou.

"It's not awful! It's cool," Rin gushed, and wished he hadn't as Ryuuji froze next to him. His tail thumped nervously, and he almost dropped his lunch as he waved his hands frantically. "Not to say the rooster—"

"Don't call me that!"

"—Wasn't cool! But this... It's like, sleeker. Yeah! You look older. Extinguished."

"...Distingquished?"

Rin's cheeks were going to set themselves on fire. "Yeah. That." He pried the top off his bento and shoveled some rice in his mouth as Renzou continued to whine about the loss of the streak and Konekomaru continued to sigh in weary resignation and Ryuuji continued to glare (and blush.)

Despite his best try, Rin couldn't keep his eyes off the new haircut. He found his eyes almost immediately shooting back to the chestnut locks, and wondering how Ryuuji got them to be that textured and how they stayed like that, and if they'd be as soft as they looked. Would Rin be able to tangle his fingers in it? Would the buzzed part be scratchy or soft?

Did Ryuuji have more piercings? And had he always had that cool spiral? Rin hadn't noticed them as much before.

"I got something on my face?" Ryuuji snapped, spearing a piece of fruit aggressively and sending an unhappy look Rin's way.

Rin blinked, realized he'd be staring with his chopsticks halfway to his face, and blushed as hard as he possibly could. (Hopefully. If his face got any hotter, it really would ignite.)

"No! Just. Its cool is all. Did you always have that earring?" he poked the spiral in question, enjoying how cool and smooth it felt against his finger. He barely managed to stop himself from reaching up higher and tangling his fingers in the new hairstyle. He'd end up in the fountain if he tried that.

"Huh? Oh. Had it for a while? Since Inari." Ryuuji turned back to his lunch, cheeks and ears still a bit red, and fiddled with his fruit. "My hair kinda hid them."

Rin, only having eyes for Ryuuji, did not notice the look Konekomaru and Renzou shared, or the shit eating grin that promptly lifted Renzou's lips.

Ryuuji was blushing more the Rin stared.

"I like 'em. You should definitely keep this." Rin made a vague motion with his chopstick, flinging a bit of  rice with the motion. "All of it. Cool. Distingsquish. Fits ya."

"Yeah," Renzou said, something sly in his voice that made RIn freeze and feel all squirmy, "that's it."

"Shima."

Ryuuji gave Renzou another sharp look, and Rin realized he was once again staring. He forced himself to look at his bento and eat a few more bites.

Well, he thought as he snuck another look (and maybe a few more) it might not be as easy to spot as the blond streak, but Rin was pretty confident he’d still be able to find Ryuuji in any crowd.

[twistedroseytoesy]

Scarabia monster AU

In-depth look and ramblings of the Scarabia monster duo!

First is Kalim! The fun-loving oasis spirit. Chose this monster because of his oasis maker unique magic!

description: Kalim looks fairly like himself with his element silks and white hair, the tips of his hair fade to a bright sky blue instead of the red/ orange in-game. His skin is a dark sandy color, with a bit of graininess to it, he’s able to manipulate sand a bit in his “normal” form and loves to make random sand sculptures and sand castles. The tattoos on his arms are a soft green color.

In his “spirit” form from his waist down is nothing more than a whispy, ghostly tail that is a pale blue color. In this form, his skin becomes semi-translucent but is still that sandy color. he can float in this form and loves to fly around when Jamil has locked up his carpet a few times.

fun fact: in Kalims "spirit" form he is super flexible since he doesn't have any bones nor the restrictions of said bones. Uses this to do fun and crazy party tricks.

Then, of course, the vice dorm leader, Jamil! of course, he's a naga because he embodies the sneakiness and allure of a snake. his hypnosis is still only in magic and has nothing to do with his naga form.

description: Jamil's upper half is the same as before, with his dark skin and abnormally long hair and the darker colors he wears. the only differences are on his face, his eyes are an olive/grey color with serpentine pupils. he also has some snake-like fangs in his mouth that secrete a slightly paralyzing venom. His lower half is that of a large and long snake. The underbelly of the snake body is a creamy yellow color. The back of the snake is a dark brown with red diamond stripes going along the tail.

In his overblot form his hair still grows the snakes and his outfit changes drastically, however, his lower half had changed a bit too, the dark brown fades into a deep black that now makes the naga's lower half resemble Jafar's snake form. the tip of the tail is adorned with a sword-like jewelry piece.

fun fact: Jamil usually used his tail to guide Kalim around or redirect his attention by swaying it in Kalim's peripheral.