#i changed it to tort

[jenn0wow]

Girls, we’re locked IN

[hikiclawd]

Thank you for the compliments on my art, I always like looking at you're strawberry shortcake designs did you make anymore?

Hello!! No problem, your art is always very nice to look at ^_^ I actually haven't made too many other strawberry shortcake designs/work, as I've been focused on other things, but I spent all day whipping up some head-shots just to get some vague ideas out...

Thank you for the ask ! ! !

[pixelkip]

LETS GOOOO yet another WIP that may or may not go unfinished but i have confidence in this one i genuinely love how this sounds so far

what hyperfocusing on Dolls In Pseudo Paradise and coming up with an awesome idea for an animatic and remix of a song based on it for 2 weeks straight does to a mf

[karasukarei]

For this Ask Game:

1, 4, 5, 6, 11, 19, 20, 21, 22, 24!!!

no need to ask 12; I already know the answer anyway bwahahahhahahaaha

Wow, looks like a lot!

THANKS @kafkaoftherubble FOR TEACHING ME THAT ASKS ARE NOT AUTOMATICALLY OPEN I FEEL LIKE BIG DUMM

1: Favourite drawing from this year - The mononoke movie one!

4: Favourite character you've drawn - Kusuriuri (his face details are super fun)

5: Favourite little detail in a drawing you did - Purah (without her glasses) is somewhere in here, and one of the guardians is not acting the way it should.

6: Longest a drawing has taken to finish: if you include the initial scrapped drafts and multiple rewatches to figure out a workable composition, this one (almost 4 months from start to end, though the amount of time spent working on it was closer to 2+ weeks, which is unusually long for me)

11: Artist(s) that influenced/inspired your art style - NGL I usually follow the style of the source material as close as I can, so in a sense it's all the animators who have worked on the anime for the fandoms I've drawn for, but the period I spent spamming Promare fanart heavily influenced my workflow and colour choice.

19: Any collabs you've done/would want to do - there's that sketch/lineart/colour one ;-; but I have no guts to ask anyone to do it with me orz

20: What do you think you've improved on the most over the past year - Incorporating environmental colours into shading (received a lot of pointers on this from several kind people ;-;)

21: What do you want to work on the most next: Either something from Mononoke or Higgy (not gonna be for a long while though cos school starts next week ;-;)

22: What are you best at drawing/doing: Choosing colour palettes.

24: What do you like most about your art style: I guess the colour choices are pretty nice.

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than a life sized Wartortle plush

Oh wow, a Wartortle plush! I wonder where it came from... Oh well! *hugs!*

[chaaistained]

☕︎ my better cr; intro •°

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🗝️ you’ve now unlocked the recipe to my better cr ≈

name : ℳ

age (when i shift) : 17/18 — i’m planning to either shift to dec 2021 or aug 2022 , wtv my subconscious chooses

occupation : university student — double degree in law and arts, majoring in media law and craft of writing & literature, respectively

+ part time tutor for english and maths, at the same private tutoring company i went to in high school

+ (eventually) part time stock acquisition and youth advertiser at a telecommunications company near my campus which is technically a nepo hire bcs my aunt works there

+ (eventually) paid internship at the australian taxation office for the study of torts and contracts and even tho i got in genuinely bcs of my marks and my interview it also feels a little nepo bcs another aunt (a family friend) also works here.. anyway

side hobbies/hustles : blogger (tumblrina in every reality if i can help it) , tiktok + youtube cover channel with two of my high school friends , fic author (ao3 curse does NOT exist here come at me) , occasional columnist for my uni’s student newsletter

my s/o : childhood family friend — lost contact and reunited ten years later — not revealing his name apart from the first letter bcs . he’s real .. anyway it’s 𝒜

౨ৎ meet ℳ

a sun kissed cinnamon bun personified — she is the smile that blossoms between warm cheeks during the burn of a sunrise ≈

in this dr i don’t change my name, and for that reason i’ll stick to the first letter (just like my pinned post) which is ℳ.

i’m nothing more than a normal girl, waking up each day already tired but willing myself to either go to uni or work, staying up late to catch up on the hours i spend doing other things, i have a closet full of clothes and yet i have nothing to wear, i have three of the same shades of lip gloss but they’re all from different brands so ofcs they’re not the same, i just bought a new journal but i’m yet to finish the one i got four years ago, i have ink stains on the tips of my fingers and chai stains on the pages edge of the novel i’m currently reading.

i just take every day like a new pot of tea leaves, waiting to be steeped to perfection.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ the metamorphosis

with frayed edges and tear stained cheeks, she undid the binds of a life once lived, a life once loved, finding the holes to be too much to bear in the everlasting winter of the cold reality that was thrust upon her, opting to take the needle and thread between her own fingers and stitch up the seams, to reinforce the realm of her existence into one that can hold her hand rather than hold her down

quite often i approach the concept of reinvention with a quivering hand, unable to part ways from the comfort — or perhaps the codependency — of that familiarity.

but eventually i took a step back and realised, there is no shame in finding freedom in what already feels right . after all, our souls are not dependant on this realm or this body, our consciousness is an ever expanding universe on its own, and our power to wield it is something that we have grown to understand and control in a way that allows us to live the lives we truly desire.. that’s all that this dr represents for me.

a life that i truly desire.

i’m not that different here, i have the same name, the same birthday, the same family. but it would be a lie to say everything stays the same.

i do admit to changing my appearance a bit, i’m nothing if not a perfectionist and whilst i do think my features have potential, i actually reach said potential in this reality. my upbringing has been revitalised to be something that enriched me rather than keeping me sheltered. my parental unit is less overbearing and more understanding, my brother is less of a jerk and more of a friend, my family relationships are less immature and more genuine.

i revise my failures in education, i revise my anxieties around success and the fear of that success being unreachable, i revise my health, my athleticism, my willpower and the general energy i have throughout the day to achieve everything that i wish to accomplish, everything that i could not bring myself to take a step towards in my previous reality.

my passions aren’t shamed here, they are encouraged. not just with the wary caution of a simple hobby but rather as an actual proper lifestyle, a feasible choice to make for a career, a skill that is supported as something from which i can make a name for myself.

and in this growth, in this metamorphosis, i find stability and comfort in not just my family but also my friends — people that i lost contact with, people that i drifted away from, people that i couldn’t bring myself to keep close because of the shame in my own progression or lack thereof — i’m not an aspect of shame, i never was, i know what i deserve and what i’m capable of and in this reality, i am all those things.

that’s why this is home, even after i break out of the cocoon and open my eyes in a world that’s familiar, it will also be different, because i’ll be different — no longer experiencing the slow sluggish state of what once was, for i now have a marvellous symmetry of splendour that holds me high, the equilibrium of my reality, where the scales finally tipped in my favour, levelling out to be amiably sound, with every flap of a butterfly’s wing.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ sugar heart cookies

it’s an inexplicable pull, an intangible tug on the heartstrings, a firm grip, a gentle ache, a deep longing. you can’t help but feel that there is something more out there for you, that there is someone more. someone that feels less like a piece and more like a whole person. someone who won’t complete you, but will help you complete yourself. two halves of a heart leaves you vulnerable when you’re apart, but when it’s two hearts beating alongside each other, the only thing left is to hold onto you

he sat beside me in his mother’s car. we were six (me) and eight (him). he sat in the drivers seat while his mother went inside the house to pick up a few things before taking the three of us (his little sister sat in the back) to a gathering of family friends.

his mother had bought us britannia little hearts. i can still remember the minuscule sugar crystals stuck to the tips of my small fingers while i dove inside the aluminium cover every few seconds to reach for the next tiny biscuit.

he asked me where i was that day — i’d stayed home from school because i felt unwell — when i told him, his first reaction was to nag me : “you know, if you’re sick, you shouldn’t be eating these. this is pure sugar.”

“yeah but i don’t want to listen to you!” — i was .. never really good at listening to people, especially not cute boys who were a little older than me.

he always seemed a bit uptight, but i guess i forgot how much he cared. because i can’t remember what happened two years later, during my last day in my old school. i remember crying, and i remember being comforted by people. but i guess i forgot that one of those people was him. i guess i forgot that he told me “it’ll be alright. i’m sure we’ll see each other again someday.”

it took us ten years but we got there.

this time, he was upstairs, in the house that was hosting a dinner among friends. i was distracted by my brother’s antics, one foot inside the threshold past the door and one foot on the pavement outside. with a flick of my head, my gaze turned up, up past the stairs in front of the door, up to the railing on the second level, a lookout point for the entrance.

he was leaning against the railing, blue button up shirt tucked into his black jeans, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, taking a quick glance to his side before doing a double take.

the silence felt like the calm before a pattering evening of rainfall, where you can feel the change in your future from the way the air seems electrified, from the way the clouds seems to churn around each other, like they’re brewing together, ready to erupt and explode into thunder, like the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

he seemed familiar, he seemed important, he seemed to be everything i could ever ask for and i didn’t know why the sirens were singing in my skull but i knew in my gut he was meant to be important to me. i knew he was meant to be somebody.

it took me a second to look away, but that entire night, and every night that followed, and every day that came along with it, i can’t ever forget the sugar crystal glimmers of light in his eyes. and for every moment to come, i’ll hold the little heart biscuits of our love in the palm of my hands, because i’m not someone who listens to people very well, i don’t care if i’m not allowed, i want them . i want him.

don’t swallow the tea leaves ! for they leave you a message 🍂

this dr is very near and dear to my heart and i can’t even begin to put everything i wanna say about it into one post so .. there will be more abt this dr

it’s literally home. it’s my life.

i’m so grateful for it xx

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

[moonstruckme]

need more shy remus. please. begging. hands and knees. ANYTHING. i loved it so much genuinely.

Ask and you shall receieve. Thanks gorgeous! <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 794 words

You open the door to find Remus with a handful of what look to be carnations. 

“Well,” you say, smiling as you hold up your small bunch of dandelions, “this is awkward.” 

Remus blinks. You love to fluster him, amusement mingling with fondness in your chest until you can’t tell which is which, they’re both so big and happy. It’s your three-month anniversary, and despite your agreement just last week that neither of you would make a big deal, he’s clearly put extra effort into his appearance. There’s evidence of comb marks in his hair though it seems to have gotten tousled on the way to your flat (even better, in your opinion), he’s wearing that mossy green shirt you’d once told him makes his eyes look especially handsome, and you’re willing to bet that if you crossed the couple feet of air between you, you’d be able to smell the faintest whiff of his cologne. 

“Remus Lupin,” you tease, “have you put on chapstick just for me?” 

He blushes, rubbing his moisturized lips together self-consciously. “What,” he says quietly, “too presumptuous?” 

You laugh, taking him by his free hand to encourage him inside. You let him get close before stepping back, and there it is—a whiff of what he swears up and down is cedar cologne but has always smelt to you like frankincense and orange. Maybe by six months, you’ll be brave enough to stay right by his collar and take a big sniff, but for now you inhale as subtly as you can before moving out of his space. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of what you’d do with yours if you were picking me up,” you say, trying not to skip as you go into the kitchen, grabbing a vase from under the sink. “Do you want me to put them in water and you can grab them before you go home, or would you rather take them with us now?”

Remus looks at you, expression wavering between befuddlement and awe. “Those are for me?” 

You laugh again. You can never seem to stop doing that around him, it just comes spooling out of you like a pulled thread. “Course they are. You like dandelions, right? Or did I get that wrong?” 

“I do.” His voice is soft, tentative. “How’d you know?” 

“You mentioned it once.” You shrug, arranging your carnations in the vase. It doesn’t take much work to make them pretty, all fresh and upbeat and still undoubtedly invigorated from Remus’ touch. They look like you feel. “You said there used to be a ton in the courtyard of your school, so I assumed they have some nostalgia value. So, vase?”

“I’ll take them,” he says, wrapping his hand around the stems tenderly. His forefinger touches your pinkie, and you both let the contact linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. The scar on his cheek stands out starkly against his blush, pushed up by a bashful smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Warmth comes to your face in tandem with your chest, and you beam at him. “No problem.” The carnations look lovely in the center of your table, which reminds you that you’ve forgotten to tell Remus how lovely he looks. “You look really nice, by the way.” You give the words just long enough to find their mark, his flush worsening, before moving on so he doesn’t go mute on you like he has on a couple of occasions when you’ve laid on the affection too heavily. “Where is it we’re going again?”

Even with the subject change, it takes him a second to get his wits about him. “Um, I was thinking the cafe a couple of streets over,” he all but murmurs, doing that adorable thing where he seems to turn his eyes up to yours despite being taller than you. You’d kiss him on his pinkened cheek if you thought he’d ever recover. “We could go somewhere else, though. They have this chocolate torte I thought you might like, but if—”

“You like it there?” you ask, grabbing your keys from off the counter. 

Remus does a funny shrug-nod thing, as if to say Well, yeah, but what good is that?

“Then I’m sure it’ll be great,” you promise him, grabbing his hand to pull him out the door with you. “Chocolate torte sounds amazing, actually. How’d you know I was craving chocolate today?” 

“Figured it was the same as any day,” Remus mumbles, giving your hand a light squeeze. 

Another laugh startles out of you, and you can’t help yourself, going up on tiptoe to dot a kiss just beside his scar. 

Remus doesn’t speak again until you sit down at the cafe, but he never lets go of your hand. 

[markleessodalite]

There's No Dignity in Love: z.cl

content: Chenle is in love with you, he can't deny it. And he's mortified. A little bit angsty, a teeny bit of fluff, mostly just Chenle being difficult. No warnings i can think of

a/n: i find it so much easier to write for Chenle than for Jeno or Haechan, my actual biases lol

Its not that Chenle didn’t like you. Actually, the reality is the furthest thing from. Chenle is stubborn as a mule and hates to lose, even if its to himself. And for some reason, Chenle accepting that he might, in fact, have a little crush on you, feels like losing. It feels like he might as well tell you every other embarrassing secret he has, because what’s the point in trying to maintain his dignity now? You two were friends, have been for such a long time, and you know all the right ways to pick at him, get under his skin, tease him relentlessly and encourage his other friends to join in on the fun. He has no problem teasing you right back though. Or he used to not have a problem with it, but for some reason it was getting harder and harder to come up with clever quips on the spot, and he’d spent more and more nights wondering if he went too far and if you actually were hurt by something he said. With each day Chenle was getting more shy and less cocky, and you picked up on it so easily, and teased him even more, and he hated it. So why shouldn’t he just tell you about every mistake he’s made, every time he’s embarrassed himself in front of someone important, every time he’s been confused about something everyone else in the room seems to have the upper-hand on so that you have all the ammunition you need to make him feel like a loser?

He already feels like a loser anyway, just all of a sudden having a crush on someone he’s been bickering with for years. He’s such a loser for being so obvious about it, the way that his talkative self immediately shuts up when your attention is on him. He’s such a loser for laying awake at night thinking about all this and trying to talk himself out of this rut. Maybe he’ll eventually convince himself that it’s not a crush– he is Zhong Chenle, after all. Stubborn as a mule.

At least he was gonna try to talk himself out of it until a certain someone (very likely Haechan no matter how much he denies it) got tired of a clearly lovesick Chenle and decided to take matters into his own hands. You were completely caught off guard by the sudden anonymous private message, but not too surprised at what it said. So you gave Chenle a call later that day.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“Because its not true.” He chuckles, but you can hear the wavering in his voice.  “Do you really think that highly of yourself?”

"Chenle..."

“Y/N” he torts, mocking your tone of voice. “Seriously, I don’t know where you got this idea that-”

"I see how you've changed, Chenle."

"...what?"

“I’ve just… I’ve noticed things. You got quieter. You don’t argue with me as much. You’ve just kind of… pulled away. I was worried that I did something to offend you, I didn’t know, I just…”

There’s a silence so loud you think your eardrums are gonna blow out, until you realize you’re just hearing your own heartbeat in your head. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. Whoever sent you that message was probably just messing with you, but now you’ve crossed a line and made things awkward.

"I do like you."

"Really?!"

“Just shut up and let me get this out okay?" Chenle sighs, a mix of annoyance and anxiety evident in his breath. "I do like you, and I don’t really know why, because we’ve been friends for years at this point and I haven't started liking you until recently. Or maybe I just didn’t realize it until recently– whatever. And I guess that I've changed but that’s just because my thinking has changed I guess? Like sometimes I can’t sleep because i’m thinking about you and I’m flipping between convincing myself I don’t like you and wishing that you were lying awake with me, which would just frustrate me even more because you know how I am with this kind of stuff and admitting things that I don’t want to, and, just… yeah. I don’t know. I’ve got my own issues with my pride and stuff, I guess.”

You tried to think very carefully before responding, although Chenle’s shaky breath on the other end of the line was thoroughly distracting. “Sometimes a little humility can go a long way, Lele.”

"... I know."

“I wouldn’t have thought anything bad about you if you told me.”

"I know."

“What I do think is that I like you too, Chenle. Even if you’re a loser.”

Chenle doesn’t say anything, but you just know he’s rolling his eyes while biting back a smile. There’s no way you won’t tease him about this later.

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

The Holiday Party

Everything was going so well! You were dressed in an amazing dress, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. The partners at your firm were impressed with not just your skills as an attorney, but also at your ability to network.

You could feel it happening. You were going to make partner after this party.

Then, the clock struck 8:00 pm.

You were dazzling the managing partner with your in depth knowledge of case law related to torts, when, you were interrupted mid-sentence with a rubber bulb being shoved into your mouth.

You looked back, first in indignation and then in shock, as you saw your husband standing there, smiling at your boss.

"I'm so sorry, sir. Is my little one bothering you? When she loses her paci, she can be quite the babbler."

Your face turned red with embarrassment and then with rage as your husband talked over your head. How dare he condescend to you like this in front of your boss!

Your boss laughed boisteriously as you pulled your pacifier out and turned to lecture your husband.

"What do you think you are..." you started before you were interrupted by your husband's firm hand.

"Baby, did you just take your pacifier out? Naughty girl! Excuse me, sir, I am so sorry," your husband said as he dragged you to the nearest chair and threw you over his lap, flipping your dress up and exposing your ass, barely covered by a thong, to the entire room.

"Baby, you know the rules! You are *mine* after 8:00 pm. That means paci, diapers, and *no* talking back."

Your husband--no, your Daddy, he was right it was after 8:00 pm--began raining blows on your exposed rear end as your entire office watched. Tears filled your eyes and you cried out as paralegals, junior attorneys, and your partners watched you get disciplined like a naughty child.

Eventually, the spanking stopped. Tears ran down your face and your ass cheeks burned. Your daddy called out to Susan, your paralegal.

"Susan, would you mind going to the coat check and grabbing my princess's diaper bag? I need to get her padded before she has an accident in her big-girl panties!"

Susan grinned as she eagerly complied with your husband's request, even offering to change you herself when she returned. Daddy, always protective, politely declined her offer, before stripping you naked, diapering you, and dressing you in nothing but a pastel pink onesie.

You spent the rest of the party sitting on a blanket on the floor in the corner of the room, being doted on and played with by your coworkers while your husband chatted with your bosses.

It was the most mortifying experience of your life, but you dared not complain for fear of a worse punishment.

When you returned to the office on Monday, you were prepared for things to be awkward, and you were righ to be. Paralegals, secretaries, and junior attorneys who had once looked up to you, now gave you condescending grins as they asked if you needed a diaper change or wanted your baba. It was mortifying.

You had tried convince your husband that you couldn't go back to work after the party, but he reassured you that, after his conversations with your bosses, you would be fine returning to the firm.

Only an hour into the day, you were called into a partners' meeting, a meeting that, at the start of that cursed party you had been excited about. You dreaded it now.

The managing partner looked at you with a soft smile as you entered the room.

"I know you were expecting a promotion today," he began, "But, after that party, everyone agrees that another shift in title is in order."

And that's how you found yourself here, sitting in your newly minted "corner office"--a playpen tucked away in the corner of the office near the restrooms--playing with dolls while waiting on Susan, the woman who you once supervised, to come change your messy diaper.

You weren't a partner at the firm. You were no longer even an associate. You were now the firm's adorable, diapered mascot, only good for filling diapers and boosting morale. All because you lost track of time at that horrible holiday party.

[sorceresssundries]

A Spirit of Determination

I wrote a piece for my wonderful friend @callmethebrightness.

I had a go at re-writing the 'making it official' scene from the game. Not a criticism of the writing, I just wanted to try something different <3 SFW

Pairing: Lucanis x Female Rook

Word Count: 1.8k

Sei la ragione di ogni mio sorriso you are the source of all my smiles

The room smelled of hazelnut, coffee, and smouldering wood. The hearth crackled, breathing out licks of fire into the dining room, making the eyes of the stone wolves guarding it flicker amber and gold.

Cora watched from the shadows, smirking and silent, as Lucanis busied himself in the kitchen—humming quiet tunes she didn’t recognise, punctuating the melody with occasional tuts and mutters of  mierda whenever a pot bubbled over. He seemed happy. The knife in his hand moved with practiced ease as he chopped and peeled. The rhythmic thrum of a quick, sharp blade against the chopping board was a marked change from its usual purpose. He was content. “You’re lurking,” he said, his voice even, his attention never wavering from his task. She stepped out of the shadows, letting the firelight play across her figure to soften all her sharp edges. Lucanis turned his attention to her at last. For the hundredth time—or perhaps the thousandth—he was struck by her. She filled the space effortlessly, drawing all the firelight to herself, as if it were a privilege for it to pull her out of the darkness.

For a fleeting moment, he considered telling her so. But the words tangled themselves in his chest, as they always did. Instead, he drank her in, silently cataloging the curl of her smirk, the gleam in her eyes, and the way she held herself like she owned the room—and him. She was breathtaking, as always, and utterly untouchable. “You hum while you cook,” she crooned. The sound rolled down his spine, burrowing under his skin, curling into his senses. It made it impossible to focus on anything but her. The way she spoke—her words always either an invitation or a challenge—never failed to leave him distracted. He wondered, not for the first time, what her teasing might sound like if he captured it with his mouth, pulled it from her lips until all she could do was sigh. “I do not.” “You do.” The smirk on her lips widened just slightly, and for a heartbeat, the kitchen disappeared. There was only her, standing there in the firelight, daring him to a duel he wasn’t sure he could win. He wasn’t certain he wanted to. “You’ll never be able to prove it,” he said. She moved closer, curiosity evident as she nosed around his workspace, leaning just enough to peek at his progress. Lucanis went back to chopping, determined not to let the warmth of her proximity or the faint scent of her distract him. But she possessed her own gravity, tugging at his focus, especially as she poked her head around and studied the ingredients spread before him. “What are you making?” she asked, her tone deceptively innocent. “Paella for the main course. Hazelnut torte for dessert,” he replied smoothly, though his lips twitched when she raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I thought you were making mushroom risotto?” “That was the plan,” he admitted, pausing to glare at the empty jar that had once held his prized mushrooms. “But some little thief raided my stores.” Cora’s lips parted in exaggerated shock. “Oddio! A robbery! In our own home! I must alert Neve immediately. A full investigation is warranted!” With great dramatic flair, she draped an arm across her brow and leaned forward, collapsing against the counter with a tragic sigh. Lucanis glanced at her, one brow arched, but he ignored her antics with practiced ease. Still, he felt Spite’s pull at the traitorous corner of his mouth, tugging upward into a smirk. He liked her like this. They both did. “No investigation needed,” he said dryly. “I already know the culprit. The mushrooms were fed to that feathered nuisance. Do you have any idea how much those cost me? And to use them as treats for that goose.” He made a noise of disgust. Cora’s eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter. “He’s just a baby.” “He’s a goose,” Lucanis shot back, his tone flat. “Always honking and leaving feathers everywhere.” “It’s more of a squawk than a honk,” she said breezily. “And I’m sure Davrin plans to replace the mushrooms.” “It’s not Davrin,” Lucanis snapped. “It’s his accomplice—the other goose.” Her eyes widened in mock horror. “There’s another goose?” “Yes, the one that hisses.” “Manfred?!” Lucanis sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the weight of indignation. “I’ve tried to talk to Emmrich, but it’s always an excuse: ‘He’s just curious,’ he says. ‘He’s learning to care for Assan,’ he says.” Lucanis muttered darkly under his breath. “But he knows. He gets away with it every time. Always hissing at me smugly, like a goose.” “Well,” Cora mused, biting her lip to suppress the laughter, “to be fair, hissing is sort of his thing. Who would’ve thought? The mighty Demon of Vyrantium, bested by a baby griffon and his skeleton friend.” She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Laughter spilled out of her in rivulets. Lucanis groaned, though he couldn’t entirely banish the smirk that ghosted across his face.

He was a changed man, far more relaxed now than when he’d first arrived. Cora had made a point to give him space—at least in the beginning. Initially, she’d watched him out of caution, gauging whether he posed a threat. But over time, her vigilance had shifted into something else entirely; an enjoyable habit. She noticed how he was graceful and kind in the small ways that often slipped by too quickly. He brought thoughtful gifts from the market, leaving them in people’s rooms without a word. Everyone’s room except hers. For her, he waited till she found him. She had puzzled over that for weeks before realising the truth—the fish tank made him uncomfortable. He cooked meals he knew others loved, even if he disliked them himself. He had learned more vegetarian recipes for Emmrich and embraced the delicacies of the melting pot of cultures that had gathered at the lighthouse. He made sure to cook meals for Taash that would soothe their throat after a day of breathing fire. Harding believed the plants in her room were enchanted, thriving without water—but Cora knew better. It was Lucanis who tended them when Harding wasn’t looking, a quiet ritual he carried out without seeking credit. She wondered if these acts of care were his way of surviving, of pushing back against Spite, or if they were simply part of his soul. Cora could see the thoughts he never said aloud. He believed Spite had made a home within him because he’d always carried enough space to make room for all that anger. That the Demon of Vyrantium had been the perfect vessel for a demon like Spite. And perhaps, on some level, he thought he deserved it. But she believed differently. She thought Lucanis survived because of his determination. Not the cold, relentless kind that drove gods to war or the wronged to revenge, but the quiet, stubborn resolve to remain kind despite everything. Despite the Ossuary. It wasn’t magic in the traditional sense—Lucanis wasn’t a mage. But Cora thought it was the strongest magic she’d ever seen: the strength to endure, to care, and to choose kindness when the world had given him every reason to do otherwise. “Have you just come in here to torment the chef?” He asked, turning down the heat on the stove and turning to face her fully. “Something like that.” She grinned, and moved to dip her finger into the warm pan that smelled like heaven. “Ah, careful. You will scald yourself.” Lucanis batted her hand away, then dipped a spoon into the pot, scooping up a small portion of rich, velvety cream, and held it out to her, blowing on it before it could reach her lips.

“Chocolate cream to go with dessert—try.”

She hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer, the scent wrapping around her like a heavy cloak. As she leaned in, her lips brushed the edge of the spoon, and the creamy warmth melted onto her tongue. The flavor was intoxicating -  a perfect blend of cocoa and cream that sent shivers down her spine. She thought she could also taste a hint of Antivan brandy. She closed her eyes, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips. The sound was sinful. Her eyes snapped open as she realized what she had done, and a flush spread across her neck. He was gazing at her as though she was a decadence herself, and for a moment, she expected him to kiss her. Instead, he laughed. The sound startled her, deep and unrestrained, full of something so genuine it caught her off guard. It was beautiful - kind and rich and utterly disarming. A laugh so full and unguarded that it left her momentarily stunned. “You’re laughing at me!” she exclaimed, her cheeks still burning, though she couldn’t help but smile at his sheer joy. “Yes,” he said simply, his laughter gradually softening into a warm, lingering smile. He stepped forward and, lightly, allowed his hand to brush her waist, and he leaned in to inhale the scent of her hair and allow himself a moment of indulgence. “Sei la ragione di ogni mio sorriso,” he murmured. Before she could process the weight of his words, he stepped back, his touch lingering for the barest moment before he turned away, his composure firmly back in place. Lucanis wanted to kiss her. More than anything. That kind of want—it was dangerous, a wildfire he had no control over. And with that wanting came Spite, and the feel of his demon’s wings unfurling. His sneer slithered through him, venomous and mocking, a reminder that his happiness was the one contract he would never be able to claim. He was here now. Cora could see it in the way Lucanis changed. The warmth in his face cooled like dying embers, his posture bracing as if against an oncoming storm. The softness she had coaxed from him was gone, replaced by a distant, haunted glaze in his eyes. She knew too well what filled his ears - the venomous whispers, the sharp claws raking at him, pulling him away from her. Cora tilted his face toward her, her gaze unwavering. What she saw broke her heart: a man with an apology etched in every line of his face.

“We’ll fix it,” she said simply, her voice steady, as though the demon in his mind was no more than a thorn to be plucked. To her, the battle he fought was not an insurmountable curse. It was a challenge to overcome. And Lucanis—Lucanis believed her. Because she was Incoronata de Riva, and he believed her capable of anything. But until that day came, until he was certain it was safe, he would not allow her to be touched by Spite.

And so, she would not be touched by him.

[corvus-frugilegus]

Lucanis × Non-Binary Rook - A quick exploration of first kisses but for real this time, no bailing. Also my first crack at getting his voice / internal monologue down

Their finger at last bridges the gap between his hand and their own. Finger gently sliding atop finger, tentative at first, waiting for a sign that it's intrusion is welcome.

He feels his smile tugging wider and wider at the corners of his mouth. The soft warm light of the dining hall fire rakes across Rook's face, sparkling in the soft smile that touches their eyes. Here it is. A second invitation. One Lucanis isn't quite sure he deserves. A possibility he had been doing his best to push away. Far far away from any hope that Rook might still want him the way he wants them.

But things changed in Minrathous. He'd changed. Or at least he'd started to. Started to allow himself the discomfort of being known and the unexpected comfort that came with it. Started to hope, perhaps against his better judgement, that even after seeing it all that Rook could forgive him for... Well for everything. Forgive him for ruining whatever had been growing between them.

Of course Rook would insist that there wasn't much to forgive. With a single smile they'd break apart the gathering storm of his worries.

But he didn't know how to... What to... If he could open that door again even an inch.

Lucanis spreads his fingers beneath theirs, gently weaving them through Rook's.

Start small. If it worked for Spite why wouldn't it work for Rook? Coffee and Nevarran torte. A quiet gesture, one they could easily turn away if he'd been wrong to hope. to try.

Rook had drifted so close over the course of dinner. Their companions had drifted away so easily. The pad of Rook's thumb gently moves in small circles atop his own, warm and comforting. To his surprise, Lucanis feels calm in this moment- like he has nothing holding him back, not any more, not after they've seen his worst thoughts.

The scent of a kiss good bye lingers between them. Dark, complex, and intriguing.

"How'd you put it?" Rook's eyes break from his momentarily, dipping down to his lips, their smile curling into a grin. "Honey and lavender cream?".

Lucanis leans toward them, faces getting closer to bridging the very same gap their fingers just closed. The low rumble of his voice fills the narrowing space between them "Mmm... Sweet and intriguing."

Rook tilts their head, nose brushing nose as the distance between their lips grows ever smaller "One way to know for sure...". He can feel the heat of their breath against his mouth. He knows they're waiting for him to be the one to close the gap.

To open the door he himself has been holding shut for weeks. The door he's at last allowing himself to open.

Their lips are soft against his. The kiss is gentle and slow, each touch lingering and deliberate. Lucanis's free hand finds it's way to the back of their head, fingers combing through the soft hair at the nape of their neck gently tugging them closer.

Rook presses their lips more firmly against his, parting in invitation. One Lucanis accepts without hesitation. Tongue softly greets tongue as each gets their first taste of the other. Only then does the weeks of tension between them at last over flow. The kiss deepens, where it was once gentle and sweet it is now desperate and hungry. Rook pulls themself further into him, chair scraping against the floor, knees knocking against knees as they reach for him, hand planted firmly on his shoulder.

When at last they part neither dares venture far. Forehead to forehead, panting, and all smiles.

"You know, I think I need another one. Just to be sure." Lucanis laughs.

[gamerwoman3d]

◜ mk1 men using their powers in the bedroom part 1 of ?◞

▸ includes: reptile [mk1 versions] ◂

If you ask Syzoth whether or not Zaterrans are sexual creatures, he will answer that yes, it takes two Zaterrans in order to reproduce. But if you ask him whether he himself has an interest in sex, he would reply with a smile, saying "Pay me, and I might answer you."

[Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞]

The answer is that with very few exceptions, he views sex as an opportunity to perform. And he views performance as a way to earn money. You'd certainly not have been the first creature to pay for his honest answer, and you likely will not be the last.

People have paid good money to have Syzoth's freakish powers used for their pleasure. If you want to know details of his encounters with clients, he's happy to share, for the cost of a few koin. The higher the payout, the hotter the tea.

"Or perhaps you would rather we show, not tell," he might say while reaching out an empty palm as an offer to accept payment.

For pay, he will show you his body. His human body, nude, with elegant tattoos that tort and stretch with his movements, is an alluring sight to most. He has never been picky about the shape of his paying clients: all humans seem equally adorable and strange to him, while money makes anyone alluring in his eyes. He would waste no time in giving you whatever you desire from his body. In fact, his professional experience with pleasing others makes it highly likely that he can guess what you want and how deeply you desire it just from the skipping beat of your heart.

He cannot hear your heartbeat from a distance, but its imperceptible rhythm gently rattles the floor beneath his feet, and as his body evolved to detect such vibrations from the earth in order to hunt prey, he will know when the heart's rhythm changes. His eyes would take a slow tour of your body, and when he looked at the parts of you that you're most excited for him to play with, your heart would speed up naturally. The second he figures out what your heart truly desires, it is yours.

At first, he uses his tongue mostly for talking. He tells about past patron's kinks, such as the one who liked him to ride them reverse cowgirl style in his human form, only to strangle them with his tail during climax. Or the one that preferred to be pinned face down and very lightly scratched with razor sharp talons all down their back. He might tell cautionary tales of the ones that begged him to use his tongue on their genitals, not realizing that removing it can feel like tearing duct tape from the skin without the appropriate lubricants. Syzoth has an ulterior motive - while telling his stories, he's sensing your temperature. He knows when you're aroused because no matter what you have between your legs, it will emit heat.

He may move his face closer, hinting and teasing that he could go down. The tips of his forked tongue might flicker in the air just between your thighs, fanning the air towards his nostrils so he can better smell and taste the heat that rises from your body.

If you become a beggar in these moments, the same as many other patrons have done, he will insist that he's first allowed to test his tongue against less sensitive parts of your body. If you can tolerate the feel on your chest, perhaps you might enjoy the things you've proposed he do to your most sensitive spots.

He would eject his tongue to catch your nipple, then pull the tender tissue up as his face is drawn down to your chest by the tension in his tongue. He would suckle and mouth at this spot for a while, feeling your heartbeat rattle throughout his entire skull. He's gentle when he comes up for air, but it does indeed feel like ripping a bandaid off. He's only chosen this moment to risk causing you pain because he believes you're too aroused to care about or even feel pain.

He would tell you that for his most requested trick, he requires a funhouse mirror - the kind that makes everything seem bigger. He has no hesitation in telling you that he had one while in the circus, and that he'd put it behind him before fucking certain patrons. He'd hold them in a very specific way that would force them to look at their own reflection... *through* his invisible chest, angled so they could practically see inside themselves as he worked them open with the invisible phallic objects of their choice. For some, fingers sufficed. For most, seeing his cock disappearing inside them over and over again was the pinnacle of pleasure. Still others preferred invisible toys, or the tongue, or even something more creative.

His favorite thing is the look on a patron's face when he's suddenly visible again. By the time he drops the invisibility, both he and his patrons are fuckdrunk and often have cute, dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Syzoth knows his open mouthed grin is cuter when his face flushes at the brink of his orgasm. He knows he's as adorable as he is silly looking when he's slackjawed, panting, and pressing the tips of his tongue weirdly to the roof of his mouth.

He's still performing, and would work you until you get what you paid for.

The final upsell he pitches to his wealthiest clients is a territorial marking - a visible acid brand. At his most extreme, and reserved only for the healthiest, wealthiest patrons, he has, as a service, permanently branded the bodies of his highest paying clients. Even Outworld royalty can be found with his mark - the scars of a human-sized bite wound, carved deeper by the use of a strange acid. The meaning of these brands are clear to the others that share in his profession- "This one pays the most, and both he and his wallet are mine. Touch my man or my money and you will suffer my bite." A less drastic, less permanent brand might be the reddened imprint of a forked tongue, which lets the competition know that "we are just starting out and testing the waters - try me again later to see if I stuck around, or if I've healed and moved on."

He readily admits that just as many patrons refuse the branding service as there are patrons who find it of interest. As long as you are satisfied, Syzoth has no preference for which acts you chose to pay him to perform upon you.

[End for now]

For Part 2 - subzero - click here

Also thanks to @visionsofmagic for inspiring this writing with a similar set of imagines at https://www.tumblr.com/visionsofmagic/729107508174651392/mk1-men-using-their-powers-while-fcking-you?source=share

[Need more MK1 smut? Check the pin 📌]

[hunterbunter3000]

OH OH OH!!! MAKE THE BOYS EAT SOME OF SWEETHEARTS GUMBO SHE MADE

Nothing can go wrong with gumbo 😌

AHSHRJAAJ NOT ONE LIE BABES

She makes a BIIIGG Ol' pot of her great-great-grandmother's gumbo recipe (it has chicken, sausage and shrimp in it 😋😋) and the whole dorm hall smells like gumbo and MY GOD THE MEN WERE FROTHING

König dashes out his room, with the hood she made him and his eyes are so big and sparkling

König: Süße Torte! (Sweet pie) What is this? It smells amazing!

Sweetheart, laughs: It's gumbo! And it's almost done. Can you set the table, please?

GIRL DONE AND DONE

König practically listens like a dog and sets the table, with his tail wagging LOL

(Task Force 141 has a dinner bell. No I won't change my mind.)

Sweetheart rings the bell, yelling "Dinner's Done!" Down the hall. The heard of bulls come running down with drooling mouths and they see König already eating with a smile on his face.

Soap: Awh, what the hell! How'd he beat us?

Sweetheart: He helped set up the table, so he got first spoon.

And the men groan and mumble.

They all sit down and start eating and MY GOD???? THIS IS AMAZING OMG

Soap and Gaz kept talking with full mouths and Sweetheart got after them

Sweetheart, smacking their arms: Would you QUIT trying to talk with food in your mouth!? It's unmannerly!

Soap and Gaz, snickering: Sorry!

She gives some bowls to Krueger and Graves and they love it (Graves didn't want to compliment her but Krueger forced him to)

She saved some for Alejandro and Rudy and they wanted to kiss her right then and there (Alejandro kissed her cheek TEEHEE)

[stephensmithuk]

The Valley of Fear: The Solution

CW torture.

East Ham is an area 8 1/2 miles east of Charing Cross. It dates back the 11th century when the Manor of Ham was divided into West Ham, East Ham and Little Ilford, now known as Manor Park. While having became pretty developed since the railway had arrived in 1859, it was left in Essex after the 1889 creation of the London County Council, becoming a borough of its own. In 1965, it joined London, merging with West Ham to become Newham. Its railway station is served by the District and Hammersmith & City lines of London Underground, with disused mainline platforms still in situ; there is a c2c train depot to the east.

A casement is an older form of window:

Not sure how you'd tell a boot was American just from the toes though.

"Peine forte et dure" is from Law French, an archaic version of French used in English courts for some centuries and where a number of legal terms still used (like "tort") come from.

The term means "hard and forceful punishment" and refers to a method used when someone refused to pled guilty or innocent to a crime. Basically, they would be tied down spreadeagled nearly naked, a board placed on their chest and then weights placed on that. Their diet would alternate between bread only and water only on a daily basis until they either agreed to plea or died. An incentive not to plea was that if you died here, your property would not be forfeit to the Crown, but would be if you were found guilty of a capital crime. It was not unheard for bystanders to sit on someone to put them out of their misery.

The last use was in 1741 and the penalty abolished in 1772; refusal to plead would be taken as "guilty" until 1827 when it was changed to be deemed as a "not guilty" plea. Giles Corey was one man who pressed to death at the 1692 Salem witch trials for refusing to plead on a witchcraft charge; the story goes that he asked for "more weight" when asked multiple times during the three-day-long process. His wife, Martha Corey, was convicted and hanged.

It is entirely possible for someone to have a mixture of British and American in their accent, sometimes switching mid-speech. For example, Enola Holmes herself, Millie Bobby Brown, will use different accents depending on her environment.

However, the "Mid-Atlantic accent" is best known for its use by some actors in classic Hollywood.

It is unclear what accent that James Douglas would have.

There isn't any real records of the smoking rates in late Victorian Britain, but I am sure that these were rather high. Douglas is clearly an addict since he asks to light up straight away.

The jack-in-a-box was a widely known toy by this point.

Caribou is the American term for Rangifer tarandus, a group of up to six species known in European as reindeer. The UK no longer has a native population, but there is a domesticated batch in the Cairngorns in Scotland.

While Douglas has a clear case for self-defence, I am pretty sure he could be charged with perverting the cause of justice or something like that for the corpse shenangians.

[blackbutterflyrift]

Rook Headcanons

Damari “Rook” Ingellvar

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Here are some general headcanons of Damari that like to bounce around in my brain. I wanted to share them with you all so please bear with me. They’re kind of all over the place and this went on a bit longer than I intended but I hope you enjoy them~

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

- Community raised by the Watchers but was usually Myrna or Vorgoth’s responsibility. So they’re the closet thing to parents she has.

- Generally a calm child overall but was often giving the Watchers a run for their money when she would disappear into the Necropolis again.

- “Has anyone seen Damari?? Don’t tell me she disappeared again! She was supposed to light the candles in the Memorial Gardens!”

- The Watchers usually found her by following the sound of her singing echoing through the Necropolis.

- The spirits like to listen to her singing/music so she’s usually being followed by a bunch of wisps.

- Sometimes the spirits will hide her from the Watchers looking for her just to hear her music a little longer.

- One little spirit of kindness has been attached to her for as long as she can remember so she helped build a body for it ultimately becoming Marrow. Her pet skeleton cat. The two were inseparable until the day the Watchers sent her away with Varric.

- Though she’d rather spend her time in the gardens or with spirits, Myrna made sure she was well trained in etiquette and dancing. Had to make sure she’d be able to hold her own at any of Nevarra’s fancy parties.

- While she wasn’t really a fan of all the posh and glamour, she did enjoy the dancing and desserts; and she could handle intrigue when it came her way. At the very least, she knew when to be discreet.

- Marrow was still waiting for her at the Necropolis when she came back to recruit Emmerich for the Veilguard. Of course she took her back to the Lighthouse after that.

- Spite tried to eat Marrow the first time they met. Rook instinctively slapped him in reprimand only to immediately apologize profusely to Lucanis as it was his face that got slapped.

- Marrow can talk but usually prefers not to. She’ll speak only to those she trusts and hopes won’t react poorly.

- So far that’s only Rook, Emmerich, Myrna, Vorgoth, and Lucanis/Spite. Rook totally teased Lucanis the first time Marrow spoke to him.

- Definitely uses necromancer humor to her advantage.

- “Back off! I’m armed! *whips out a skeleton arm to slap people with*”

- She absolutely adores Assan and dragons. She will hug Assan any chance she gets. Every time the team has to face another dragon, Rook will definitely be starry eyed for a second.

- “Mierda! Not another dragon!” “*excitedly* Another dragon!! 🤩”

- On that note she definitely stops to pet the stray cats in Treviso and Minrathous whenever she can.

- For some reason wisps change shape around her. Most commonly into butterflies. Especially when they stick around her for a while. (There actually is a reason but I’m not going into that just yet ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

- The Watchers thought it was strange at first but after a little research they realized the change wasn’t hurting the wisps so they paid it no mind.

- Rook doesn’t knowingly change their shape. It just happens. She thinks it’s really cute though. She likes dancing and playing with them regardless of whatever shape they take.

- She can’t see Spite yet but she can feel when he’s around. Especially when he’s hovering close to her.

- Although she was raised on a vegetarian diet, she is not vegetarian herself.

- She wasn’t a fan of Nevarra’s obsession with tea either. Sure she eventually figured out which tea she liked most but she always preferred coffee or cocoa.

- She has a major sweet tooth. The day Lucanis made that hazelnut torte paired with her favorite drink, she nearly burst into tears. It tasted like home.

- A bit embarrassing in the moment cause she hates crying in front of others but she let it slide since they were happy tears.

- Speaking of which she is extremely emotional. Usually she has a pretty good handle on her emotions and can laugh off the serious ones; but a lot of the time she gets teary eyed when her emotions become overwhelming.

- If she feels like she’s about to start crying, she will step away for a moment to recompose herself. Very few people get to see her at her most vulnerable.

[thievinghippo]

So I learned two important pieces of Emmrich information since posting my first one-shot (Chiromancy, here's the link!)

First, his father was a butcher and his mother a cook (banter with Harding). Edda was supposed to be a cook. But for various reasons, I don't want her to have the same background as his mother. So she'll be a regular maid who had aspirations to be a housekeeping someday

Then second, I missed a codex entry where Emmrich shares his mother's torte recipe with Lucanis. So the man definitely knows the difference between a cake and a torte, where I had a very important bit of flirting

Ah well. I'm off to make some updates to my fic. I really hope someone is able to extract all the banter soon. I feel like I'm missing so much character development for some of the companions!

(And poor Edda. She's gone through so many changes since I first created her in my head. I'll have to replay her game again soon with all of this in mind!)