#i have WAY more than this in my head but idk what angle to approach it from because there are so many that i can choose.

[rustedleopard]

I'm so glad you brought up this topic, because I'm studying to be a doctor and I'm very interested in seeing the difference between human and monster biology!юз

Starting from the fact that if Clover had stayed in the dungeon, he probably would not have been able to tell his friends what he needs for life and what he has because he is a child. I can't even imagine the outgrowth of faces and shock at Starlo, Ceroba, and Martlet when, during a dinner together, Clover abruptly stops eating and puts his fingers in his mouth and pulls out a baby tooth, while smiling innocently. Although Clover is lucky, because monster food does not cause allergies.

(if you want to talk about biology, I'll be happy to listen to you!)

While I headcanon that Clover is old enough that they're no longer losing baby teeth, that would still freak their friends out. Because they're bleeding??? But they pulled out their own tooth so casually??? They insist it doesn't hurt but there's still so much blood. And what are they supposed to do with this molar that they have lying around now? What's a tooth fairy? I thought there weren't any monsters left on the Surface? Why does a monster want your teeth???

(Though maybe monsters do lose their baby teeth? It'd probably depend on the type of monster that they are though, because a bird-monster like Martlet doesn't have any teeth so she wouldn't know what's going on.)

I have SO many headcanons on the differences between human and monster biology/physiology that I could fill a novel. I could (and have, over discord w/ a friend) spoken for hours about them. This is a very broad subject that can be explored from so many different angles. Buuuuuut, let's just go with the baseline for this stuff:

One of the biggest differences between humans and monsters is that humans are made of physical matter (like water, blood, organs) while monster bodies appear to be projections of their SOULs combined with dust and magic. That composition makes monsters more resilient to physical matter because their existence isn't so grounded in physical laws and their magic sorta just... bends those laws into operating on cartoon logic. Monsters can do things like suplex boulders and swim in lava and survive in environments with low oxygen and frigid environments as well, things that are either impossible or downright dangerous for a human (though some of this is tied to the type of monster they are. I can't see an ice-type monster fairing well in a lava bath, for example. The types of impossible feats that a monster can pull off also depends on what type of monster they are).

For example: Since I headcanon that Starlo is part fire-monster on his dad's side, if Starlo brought Clover to some hot springs, he'd be chilling in boiling water and be all like "C'mon in, Clover! The temperature is just great! 😃" And Clover would be staring at him in disbelief because... It's boiling water. They will die horribly if they jump in. No way in hell they're sticking so much as a toe in there. (Don't worry, Ceroba and Martlet are used to far more reasonable temperatures and would be like "No. Clover is not going in there. That'll kill them." Ceroba has demonstrated that she's pretty heat resistant though, so I imagine that she'd be in a hot spring that still registers as too warm for a human. Meanwhile Martlet, who lives in Snowdin and has all of these insulating feathers, can tolerate a jacuzzi at best. So it's just the bird and the deputy chilling in their jacuzzi-temperature hot spring together while also going "Wow, our friends are insane for opting to be boiled alive.")

While monsters can handle physical things very well because of their magical physiology, they are VERY vulnerable to emotional matters. Their greatest strength is also their greatest weakness. If a human attacks with the intent to kill, and that killing intent is stronger than their desire to live, that monster is just. Dead. No matter what. (And humans like Frisk can get Determined enough that they basically break reality, so monsters don't stand a chance unless they pull off a DT transformation à la Undyne or Martlet.) Whereas monsters Fall Down if they lose the will to keep going, a person who is severely depressed won't die from being depressed alone. The human's physicality prevents them from dying so easily because they're grounded in physical processes that will keep happening without their input. You can't control your heart beating, it's going to keep doing that whether you want it to or not. A human's body shields/protects them, in a way, that a monster's can't, because all a monster has is their own willpower to rely on.

To their monster friends, Clover would be a very weird kid. Delicate in some ways but exceptionally powerful in others. Clover may not be able to lift up boulders like Ed, but if they so willed it, they could beat Ed in an arm wrestling contest because it's not a matter of strength. It's about willpower. They could snap all of their friends' bones with their hands like twigs, but they struggle to lift their crates of corn when they're working at the Sunnyside farm (at least in the beginning, before they're used to hard labor). I feel like if they lived with their friends, Clover has to learn to restrain themself because if they let themself get careless, they risk hurting them. (Of course Clover would be horrified if they did (if we're looking at Pacifist Clover), that's their friends, they don't want to hurt them. But there's a learning curve to these things and if they're not conscientious then things can go wrong for everyone involved).

And now, a quick list of headcanons (though this isn't even like. A quarter of them, lol):

Monsters cannot remove their SOULs from their bodies like humans can. That'd basically be the equivalent of ripping out their own beating heart, it'd be terrifying. Monsters find humans really strange for that trait yet also find their SOULs exceptionally beautiful.

Monster bodies aren't nearly as heavy/dense as human bodies, because they're not made of as much physical matter (just dust, some water, and perhaps some trace elements). To Clover's friends, they feel very heavy for their size.

Monsters have a passive empathy ability where they're able to perceive the emotions of others, depending on how strongly they're feeling it (thank you Soul Dichromatism for that headcanon). Humans do not possess this ability, obviously, because their physical bodies shield their SOULs (though they gain this empathy ability somewhat when their SOULs are outside of their body, such as when challenged to a fight/upon death. It can be overwhelming and makes the human feel exposed. Despite this, magical attacks still hurt, no matter the feelings/intentions of the caster).

Because humans are so physical, that also shields how they're feeling from other monsters unless those feelings are strong. To a monster, humans feel weird. It's like encountering a person-shaped void with only the occasional flicker of some emotion from them, whereas everyone else is giving off lots of feelings all the time. That's why monsters attack humans: they're curious. They're trying to say hi. They're wondering what's up with this person-shaped void.

Monsters don't have organs like humans do. They'd find the idea of them weird and gross. "What do you mean you just... have worms inside you that squirm around all the time? They're called 'intestines'? What the??? Does it hurt?" The concept of stuff like blood/organ donation would either fascinate ("Wow, you guys can share/support each other. That's so cool, monsters can't do that! Humans can be so friendly to each other!") or disgust them (They imagine a situation like those chimeras from Mother 3 or some sort of horror show).

Monsters don't get diseases either. They can get stuff like sore throats from speaking too much, heat stroke from overheating, poisoning from ingesting poison, etc. But viruses? Bacteria? Parasites? Not familiar with them. Clover catches something like the flu and their poor friends are terrified and confused because they're in pain and exhausted but their friends don't know why. Are they Falling Down? Can humans Fall Down? Oh god, what do we do? And they try to cheer them up and sorta just... give them reasons to live and keep going. "You can't give up now!" "Who else can I trust to be my deputy?!" "Please, live." Poor Clover has to break it to their friends that they're not dying (even though they feel like it) and explain how disease works while also hacking their lungs out and nursing a fever. Luckily they know how to take care of themself, but still...

Monsters can't sustain themselves off human food and vice versa. Monster food heals wounds in both humans and monsters (injuries caused by magic heal without a scar whereas injuries caused by physical objects heal with a scar) and gives a quick burst of energy, but it doesn't have vital nutrients like vitamins and minerals and carbs and fats that a human needs to live. Human food, meanwhile, feels very dense to a monster, is extremely flavorful, and doesn't provide the magic they need to sustain themselves. They can eat it and swallow it, but it's like the equivalent of eating rocks or wood: they can't absorb the nutrients from it because their bodies aren't meant to really digest it. There's also the matter of it having to come out... That's an experience. Eventually, their bodies can adapt to eating it and it stops causing stomach aches, though their portions are always gonna be a bit small. As for how Chara survived Underground? Uh, snail pie made from real snails and lots of it! (I do ignore this headcanon in any instance of Clover living in the Underground with their friends because I don't want to explore the story of "Clover starves to death/dies from nutritional deficiencies while their friends are forced to watch without being able to comprehend why they're dying." But if Clover is living on the Surface where they can access human food, yup. They're gonna have to eat human food.)

I could say more but at this point this post is getting pretty damn long. For the most part, I have humans and monsters operate differently from each other in ways that feel alien to the other party. It would be so easy to just focus on those differences and go "See how humans/monsters work? They're too different from us monsters/humans! Look at how disgusting they are for having XYZ habit/way of working!" and utterly dehumanize the other side based on those. But at their cores, both humans and monsters are emotional and intelligent beings that deserve love and affection. They're not so different from each other if you're casting aside biology/physiology.

Fun question! Really scratches that headcanon itch.

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy | jayce x female reader

1.7k words

content: fawk it, jayce making a damn vibrator with hextech…and suspending my disbelief that they even knew what that was and he legit created it idc!! walk with me girl!!!

18+ minors dni, angst, pathetic! jayce, kinda mean but closed off reader, pining (?), some fluff, smut duh, vibrator used on reader…also jayce is kinda a sarcastic mf here

notes: idk what came over me guys, but I feel like this could end up being longer than just a one shot bc the angst made its way in like usual. also jayce is a smartie pants, leave him alone guys.

update: part two is up now!

series masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He heard you before he saw you, your light saunter approaching him. Jayce had to immediately curse himself, because while he was rather smart, his reflexes were damn slow. He didn’t even think to cover his sketches before you were already close enough to crane your head over his shoulder.

A hand found his back, rubbing it encouragingly. “What ya workin on?”

Jayce was someone who loved to be affirmed. You both knew that. So before even registering the odd shapes you were looking at in his drawings, you wanted to let him know you were there and that any stress that lingered would soon dissipate. You were confused, then, when he rose quickly. He used his broad shoulders and back to block your view.

He smiled, clearly caught off guard. “Just some new stuff…you know…the mind never stops!” His cheeks soon blossomed with a rosy sheen across them. There was a sympathy in your gaze, but an even larger feeling of intrigue.

Jayce was easy to distract. As much as he loved to work on his creations and improving Hextech, he was also extremely needy. This often left him quite impressionable under your touch. Over the course of your relationship—which you would admit wasn’t actually a thing—you used this to your advantage.

You approached him slowly, an arm outstretched toward his face. He instinctively learned towards the palm of your hand. You intended to at least plant a kiss on his cheek, but he was a lost puppy these days. Just that action alone was enough for his body to relax into you. You had an opening. You slipped your hand behind him under the guise of stabilizing yourself on his workbench—grabbing a handful of the loose pages.

With a squeal you backed up, and spun around. “Wooooo what do we have here!”

“Wait-“ he turned between you and his work, “you tricked me?”

Holding the papers up toward the light to inspect them, you quirked a brow. “All in a days work, babe. Although…I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at here.”

Jayce was exasperated, how humiliating for you to have found these—even more that they weren’t even done. He was a scientist, after all. He needed time to finalize and test every possibility. He didn’t want to fight you for the papers—couldn’t really.

“Its just,” he sighed, “some stuff for you- or um, us?” He didn’t mean to sound like it was a question, a chance. It was definitive. He knew numbers and percentiles the same way he knew you. There was a desire there to be something more than just this. But he was entirely too passive to ever tell you. So he worked tirelessly at the only thing he knew you would show up and stay for. He didn’t mean for us to sound like a question, but it was.

You’d turned your back by then, the best angle of the sun shining towards your back and thus highlighting the drawings. Your intense gaze had faltered, your shoulders slumping. Like any other feeling you’d felt for Jayce in the last two years, you pushed it away—relying on humor as a shield. People are too fickle; you liked your independence and didn’t want to get hurt. Not again.

You ignored that feeling in your stomach that said to not be mean to him again, you knew he didn’t deserve it. You just couldn’t help it. Without acknowledging the weight of his statement, you continued, “what do they do?”

He senses your lack of focus, hastily snatching the pages from over your head. They quickly found their way back into a folder and cast aside.

“Well…its for,” his eyes purposely avoided yours. The ceiling was suddenly really amusing.

“Way to leave a girl hanging,” you scoffed, turning towards the door. “I just wanted to check in, but I will come back when I am wanted I guess.”

You didn’t take him seriously. That wasn’t new, but the feeling of wanting to do something about it was definitely a unique occurrence.

Before he could grasp what he wanted to say, the words flew from his lips. “Sit down.”

You stopped in your tracks, intrigued and slightly turned on by the firmness in his tone. “Scuse me?”

“You should sit…sit down. Over there.” He gestured towards a couch he’d made in his workshop. You complimented him on it once, knowing he’d made it just because he could. That was something you liked about him, undoubtedly. He had the capabilities to do so much more than he could even conceptualize and you wanted that for him. But the hopes for his future, rubs on his back, and longing gazes were too much for you.

Despite this, you were never one turn down a man like him finally standing up to you. You shrugged, “Sure, whatever…I’ll sit.”

“Good.”

The man turned quickly to retrieve one of the items he’d drawn in his sketches. This specific one was made with you in mind. It took so much dedication to perfect, but little effort to actually create, really. He’d think of your time together, the praise that would leave your lips each time he’d even breathe near your clit. The way your body would writhe against his. It was intoxicating. He figured something to make that even more special for you was due. But how could he just keep giving to someone who didn’t want to truly have him.

He wasn’t brainless. As much as he loved to hear it, being a good boy felt demeaning sometimes. He was a man, and he wanted you in a way you refused to see.

He’d show you.

“Take off your clothes.”

Jayce explained to you once that the body had red blood cells, that they carry oxygen. It confused you, now, because you were damn sure weren’t bleeding all over his chair and yet every single breath in your body was gone.

“What?”

“Clothes. Off.”

“In a I’m gonna experiment on you kind of way, or we’re gonna fuck kind of way because-“

“Both.”

You didn’t want to seem too eager, but damn you wished you had less pieces of clothing on right now. As you stripped, you were grateful then for the warmth of the forge. The sudden chill on your skin caused you to shiver. Jayce appeared suddenly, something in hand.

“I am actually not sure what to call this,” he showed you the object in the palm of his hand. It wasn’t very large, or maybe his hands made it seem smaller, you weren’t sure.

“Thats okay,” you leaned back on the couch, “show me.”

He was on you immediately, an eagerness on his lips you’d never felt from him before. You were usually the one in charge. So when he pushed you flat on your back, his clothes still on, you felt the difference. He’d swung his leg over you, now straddling you. You were too distracted by the kisses trailing over you to realize he’d reached between you two.

He made his way around your neck and toward your ear. “Let me know how this feels.”

You gasped, a vibration hitting your body unlike anything you’d felt before. Jayce was skilled in many ways but this was—wow. You met eyes with him, words struggling to form in your throat. Your brain seemed to have been empty, too.

He let the feeling pulse before slightly circling you, teasing you.

“So this, is what I have been working on.” He surveyed the way you gasped underneath him, looking into the distance. “Its not quite done yet, but I had to change some things here and there to make it better. Ya know, make it ergonomic, not too loud, stuff like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you managed was a frustrated groan. He was pissing you off. How could he be making you feel this good and talking like a fucking nerd right now.

“I also thought about sensation…what you like,” he smirked a bit. He was proud of himself. “Sometimes when you’ve had a particularly hard day, slow and deliberate does the trick, right?”

He continued to press into you, urging an answer from you. It was quite interesting how the tables seemed to turn but he didn’t complain. This is what he wanted—you helpless and confused under him while he ruined you for anyone else. He was tired of hearing how you couldn’t be tied down. Jayce Talis was no idiot, you were holding back.

“Isn’t that right sweet girl?” At the same time he questioned you, he’d raised the speed on you. A buck of your hips immediately after. “You don’t have to answer, I know.”

Sweet girl. He’d never said that before. The undertone of him trying to rile you up while simultaneously being his usual endearing self was too much. Your hands had found your face, a sudden embarrassment looming over you. That didn’t stop him.

“But, because I care about you feeling good, I added another feature.”

You felt the continuous sensation increase sporadically and then back down, chocking out a whine.

“Intuitive right?” He used a free hand to brush the hair from your collarbone, latching his lips there. He spoke into your skin, “Essentially, I used the Hextech to not only control the stimulation but to work at the users command with little effort.” He paused, wanting to see you. “So when I do this,” a surprised yelp from you, “or this, you really feel it.”

He’d never been more proud. You were often one to lead him, and he liked it. But now, with you here helpless, he couldn’t help but urge you on. He continued to ramble, speeding up to a pace he knew left you unraveling.

You couldn’t take it. It took everything in you to get the energy to yank his hair and finally speak, “Jayce-“

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Can do,” and with that, he sucked down on your chest. He knew you’d loved that.

The entire ordeal felt like years when in fact, it had only been a few minutes since he started in on you.

“You go ahead and finish, I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t much longer before the heat in you exploded, a series of groans clawing its way from your vocal chords.

He’d continued to coax more from you, he felt he was owed as much.

Eventually sleep overtook you, the man recognizing the familiar lull that creeped up on you.

He spoke, mostly to himself, “we’ll talk later.”

You replied, to his surprise. “Sure thing, golden boy.”

part two

[motherismotheringggg]

Hi, I really do love your stories and all that you give, I hope you have a fabulous day or evening. But I did have a request where you had Nicholas and maybe Cooper(or the readers' friend male or female) trying to fight for your love idk or something, and it turns into this mess where you all end having a three-way with each other and the reader can't up their mind and just wants both of them. Also, it would be cool if the setting was a 90s luxury vibe. But again, do have a good day, evening or night.✨️

crystal decadence 💎

summary: this lovely anon request; reader is the daughter of a wealthy family in beverly hills and her family is throwing a dinner party. when her mom invites the two guys she’s been seeing to the party, it open the reader’s mind to a world where she can have it all

type: post grad rich female reader x post grad rich nicholas x post grad rich cooper; set in the 90s in beverly hills

warnings/tags: masturbation (f!), face sitting (f! on m!), there’s more world building than anything

author’s note: IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO DO THIS 😭 little fact about me, i love a period piece!! anything from the 60s - 90s i just ADORE so this was so much fun to write. admittedly there’s more world building than smut but I'll probably do a part 2 and 3 to have individual smuts with both of them - anywho, hope you enjoy!!

word count: ~9783

taglist: @blackynsupremacy ,@emluvsuxo , @hoffmansgirl , @godzillawillsaveus , @purple-1995 , @ilovecheetahchrome , @nicholaslut

💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎

The Beverly Hills sun poured in through the boutique’s tall windows, hitting the glossy tile floors with a golden glow that felt almost tangible. The air smelled of fresh leather, high-end perfume, and a faint hint of gardenia from the floral arrangements that flanked the entrance. Rows of designer dresses shimmered like liquid gems, the silk, satin, and sequins catching the light with every slight sway. Each display felt more like a gallery exhibit than a store, each piece deserving of admiration and awe.

You sat in the swivel barrel chair behind your best friend, Dionne, as she twirled in front of an oversized gilded mirror, her chocolate brown curls bouncing in sync with her movements. The mirror’s ornate frame, covered in gold leaf, practically glowed under the natural light. Dionne’s face was scrunched in disapproval as she examined herself from every angle.

“I like this one, but it does nothing for my figure,” she pouted, tilting her head. Her delicate fingers brushed over the fabric of a soft blush-colored wrap dress that, while gorgeous, wasn’t quite up to her standards.

She turned to you for commentary, something that either agreed with her sentiments or changed her mind, but her face was more pouty than hopeful, there was no changing her mind.

“I think you’ll look great no matter what but we can always go see what they have at Guess,” you suggested, giving her a hopeful look with a reassuring smile.

“They just got a new shipment, and you’d look good in literally everything they make.”

Minutes later, the two of you strolled down the sunlit promenade, every step a subtle strut. The sidewalk’s terrazzo design gleamed under your designer heels, and the rhythmic clack of Dionne’s shiny loafers echoed like a soundtrack to your own personal runway show. The air buzzed with the soft hum of luxury cars idling at the curb, their drivers patiently waiting for their impeccably dressed clients to emerge with shopping bags in hand.

The Guess storefront came into view, its iconic black-and-white logo framed by lush green hedges. The moment you stepped inside, the air conditioning hit you with a refreshing burst, carrying the scent of new denim and crisp linen. A sales associate—all sharp cheekbones and impeccable tailoring—approached with a silver tray of champagne flutes.

“Welcome in, ladies,” he said, his smile as polished as his cufflinks. “Champagne?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Dionne grinned, plucking a glass from the tray with a practiced elegance that could’ve put an heiress to shame. You followed suit, taking a delicate sip. The bubbles fizzed on your tongue, cool and crisp, just indulgent enough to remind you that you were exactly where you belonged.

Dionne darted off toward the dresses, her eyes sharp and focused like a predator stalking prey. You’d seen her shop a million times before, but every outing was its own spectacle—the slow, intentional grazing of fingertips across fabrics, the sharp “no” she’d mutter to anything less than perfect. You were mid-sip when your phone buzzed in your Fendi baguette bag. With a sigh, you fished it out, glancing at the screen.

Mom flashed across the display.

“Hey, Mom,” you said, balancing the champagne flute in one hand while holding the phone to your ear.

“Hi, sweetheart,” her voice was honey-smooth but edged with the brisk efficiency of a woman accustomed to getting things done. “Are you still out shopping?”

“Yes ma’am, I’m at Guess with Dionne. What’s up?”

“Perfect,” she said, her tone lifting like she’d just solved a puzzle. “I need you to pick up a few things for the party tonight. Just some last-minute items. You know how your father gets about everything being 'just right.'”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Sure, I’ll grab them.”

“Also,” her voice grew lighter, playful even, “I know you always get bored at these dinner parties so I made sure to invite more people your age tonight. I thought you’d like that.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, eyes wandering to where Dionne was now holding up a silky champagne-colored slip dress. She held it against herself, giving you an expectant look.

“You know, Michelle’s son Ethan will be there. And Janine’s daughter, Ashley, you two did cotillian classes together in middle school. Oh! And two of those handsome boys you’ve been seeing lately…”

Your attention snapped back to the call. “Who?”

“Cooper and… Nicholas,” she said matter of factly. “I’ve seen them around you a few times and I know their families so I figured you’d appreciate them being here too.”

Your heart did a double beat almost falling out of your chest. Cooper and Nicholas. Cooper AND Nicholas. The two names bounced in your mind like a neon marquee.

“Are you still there, darling?” your mom’s voice pulled you back to reality.

“Yeah..yeah. I’m here,” you said, fighting to sound nonchalant. You glanced at Dionne, who’d lowered the slip dress and was watching you now with raised brows, her curiosity clearly piqued. “I’ll get everything on your list. I gotta go.”

You ended the call and slipped the phone back into your bag with hands that felt just a little too warm. Dionne’s eyes hadn’t left you.

“What was that about?” she asked, suspicion and delight mixing in her tone.

“Cooper and Nicholas are coming to the party tonight,” you muttered, finishing the rest of your champagne in one long, unbothered sip.

Dionne’s eyes went wide, then her grin stretched slow and wicked. “Both of them?”

“Yes.” You placed your empty glass on a nearby counter, grabbing another from the silver tray like it owed you money.

Her face lit up like she’d just been gifted a Birkin bag. “Oh, girl, you’re in trouble.”

She wasn’t wrong. You’d been seeing both of them—flirtations, lingering touches, stolen kisses, heavy petting in the back seat of their respective BMWs fresh off the lot —but nothing official. And now they’d both be at the same party, breathing the same air, under the same glittering chandeliers.

“You know what?” Dionne’s tone had the same decisive finality as a stylist’s finishing touch. “We’re gonna make sure you’re the most stunning thing at that party tonight. If Cooper and Nicholas want to compete, they’re gonna have to fight over a goddess.”

She yanked a sleek black mini-dress off the rack and held it up to you like she’d just discovered a gold mine. The silk fabric draped like molten lava, daring yet elegant.

“This. This is the one,” she said, eyes practically glittering.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. The dress’s sharp lines and bold color did something to you, something powerful. Your reflection wasn’t just you. It was her. It was the girl who walked into a party and owned it.

————

The driveway to your home was already lined with sleek black sedans and luxury SUVs, a telltale sign that the party prep was well underway. As you stepped inside, the familiar symphony of controlled chaos greeted you. Maids buzzed about, fluffing cushions, arranging floral centerpieces, and wiping already spotless surfaces. The chefs moved with precision in the kitchen, their crisp white uniforms stark against the warmth of the marble countertops as the aroma of hors d’oeuvres drifted through the air.

When you reached the kitchen, you found your parents deep in conversation. The room was immaculate, bathed in the golden glow of a chandelier overhead that refracted light across the glossy marble countertops. The air carried a faint mix of roasted rosemary and aged wine, a scent that instantly evoked a sense of affluence and occasion.

Your father’s voice carried with its usual self-assured timbre, smooth as the leather of his oxblood loafers, a tone he reserved for strategizing. He stood by the kitchen island, one hand loosely gripping a crystal tumbler of scotch.

“This party will show him everything he needs to see,” he declared to your mother, his other hand gesturing with purpose. The sharp lines of his tailored pinstripe suit caught the light as he moved. “Once he sees my connections, he’ll have no choice but to promote me.”

Your mother stood nearby, her posture perfect, the pearls around her neck gleaming like tiny orbs of moonlight. Her nails—painted a classic red—tapped rhythmically against the stem of her wine glass. She listened intently, her expression serene but her eyes sharp, showing just how much this evening meant to her too.

It was your father who noticed you first, his face breaking into a grin that softened the otherwise calculated air about him. “And if all else fails,” he began, a touch of warmth entering his voice, “the fact that my daughter has joined my boss among the ranks of Stanford grads will seal the deal.” He opened his arms wide in invitation.

You stepped forward, letting yourself be enveloped in his cologne—a heady mix of cedarwood and power—before moving to embrace your mother. “You know I’m not a fan of using my education as a bargaining chip,” you teased, your lips curving into a small smile as you pulled back.

Your mother placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, her touch both tender and commanding. “It wouldn’t hurt,” she replied with an indulgent smile, her tone as polished as the sterling silver trays being carried past by staff. Then, her demeanor shifted, her voice taking on that quiet authority you’d grown up respecting. “Now, I need you to look over the seating arrangements before the guests arrive. There’s assigned seating for dinner, and I’d like your eyes on it to make sure it’s perfect.”

“Got it,” you replied, already glancing toward the dining room. From where you stood, you could see the flicker of candlelight bouncing off the long, polished mahogany table.

The place settings were immaculate: fine bone china with intricate gold detailing, crystal water goblets arranged like jewels, and name cards written in calligraphy so precise it could only have been commissioned. The centerpiece—a sprawling arrangement of deep red roses and soft white lilies—sat elegantly beneath another grand chandelier, a testament to your mother’s exacting standards.

“Don’t forget,” your mother added as she lifted her glass to her lips, “your uncle will be sitting next to Mr. Whitmore. Keep their egos balanced, darling.”

With a soft laugh, you nodded, stepping toward the dining room to inspect the scene. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor echoed faintly as you moved, the weight of the evening settling on your shoulders.

The dining room greeted you with the soft glow of candlelight, casting a golden hue over the sprawling mahogany table. The pristine white tablecloth looked almost too perfect to touch, and every detail, from the gold-embossed place settings to the hand-folded linen napkins, screamed elegance. The centerpiece—a lush arrangement of red roses and white lilies—stretched nearly the length of the table, its fragrance subtle but ever-present.

You ran your fingers lightly over the place cards, each bearing names written in delicate calligraphy. You knew your mother well enough to expect near-perfection, but there was always room for a few tweaks, and this was your chance to ensure things aligned with your vision. As your eyes scanned the arrangement, you found your name near the middle of the table, right next to Jason Mitchell, one of your mom’s friend’s sons. An Ivy League basketball player, Jason was pleasant enough, but you couldn’t imagine a night of forced small talk with him.

Just across the table, you spotted Dionne’s name. A smile tugged at your lips—at least your mother had the sense to seat her close. But across the table wasn’t close enough. You quickly slipped Jason’s card out of its holder and replaced it with your own, moving him to the other side. That was better. You and Dionne would have the whole evening to share knowing looks, inside jokes, and quiet commentary about the spectacle unfolding around you.

Satisfied, you continued down the table. Your mother’s place was naturally toward the head, right next to Nicholas Whitmore, a family acquaintance who always managed to dominate the conversation. A few seats down from them, you spotted another familiar name: Cooper. You paused, fingers hovering over his card. Something about seeing his name there sent a jolt of nervous energy through you.

For a moment, you hesitated, chewing lightly on your lip. Cooper was already close enough, but a small part of you—the part that couldn’t resist the chance to tilt the night in your favor—wanted to shake things up. You plucked Cooper’s card from its spot and swapped it with the one next to Dionne, biting back a grin as you imagined her teasing you later. And then, almost without thinking, you reached for Nicholas’s card.

Sliding it into place beside yours, you felt a rush of something you couldn’t quite name—excitement, nerves, or maybe a bit of both. You stared at the new arrangement for a moment, the butterflies in your stomach stirring. Should you change it back? This has the potential to blow up in your face.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned on your heel, grabbing a small bowl of fruit from the sideboard on your way out. The quiet clink of your heels against the marble was drowned out by the pounding of your heartbeat as you hurried upstairs.

Your bedroom awaited, a sanctuary fit for a young socialite. The space was expansive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a stunning view of the city skyline. Plush cream carpets covered the floor, so soft you’d forgone wearing slippers long ago. A canopy bed draped with sheer white fabric stood as the centerpiece, its silk bedding in soft blush and ivory tones. A vintage vanity, lined with your collection of luxury perfumes and makeup, sat to the side, while a wall of custom closets held the curated wardrobe that your stylist loved to call “your personal archive.”

But it wasn’t any of that that caught your attention this time. It was the bouquet of pink tulips on your bed. The sight of them stopped you in your tracks. They were vibrant, freshly cut, and tied with a delicate ribbon. Resting against them was a small handwritten note. You picked it up, the paper soft and expensive beneath your fingertips.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight and make you mine.”

The signature at the bottom was unmistakable: CH, followed by a small heart. Your heart fluttered in response. Cooper. Of course it was him. He always knew exactly what to do. He remembered that tulips were your favorite — a detail Nicholas never seemed to catch on to, despite how many times he’d brought you roses. Roses were lovely, but tulips? Tulips felt personal to you, especially since Cooper knew why you liked them so much.

One sunny morning, a breakfast date with Cooper led to a stroll through the park. The air was crisp, the kind that made everything feel lighter, and the vibrant bed of tulips in bloom instantly caught your eye. You paused, pulling out your sleek Contax G2 to snap a photo, then another, and another.

Cooper chuckled, hands tucked into his pockets as he watched you. “Why so many?” he asked, his tone warm and teasing.

You smiled, lowering your camera. “When I was little, my grandmother used to sit me in her garden while she planted tulips. She was this elegant, no-nonsense woman, but in the garden, she was different. Softer. Tending to her flowers was her favorite kind of hard work. It always felt like our secret world, just the two of us.”

As you spoke, your voice softened with nostalgia, and Cooper listened intently. His usual playful demeanor shifted; the teasing glint in his hazel eyes was replaced by something deeper. He wasn’t just hearing your story—he was falling for you with every word.

The way you spoke about your grandmother, the light in your eyes as you shared this piece of yourself—it was mesmerizing. Cooper’s gaze lingered on you, filled with a quiet adoration that made the moment feel suspended in time.

From that day on, he made a silent promise to himself. Every time he saw you, he’d show up with a single tulip in hand. The first time, he offered it with a shy grin. “One for now,” he said, his voice low and sincere, “and maybe a bouquet later.”

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from the memory. Fully expecting it to be Cooper calling to see if you’d gotten the flowers, you smiled as you reached for your phone. But when you glanced at the screen, your breath caught.

Nicholas.

You hesitated for half a second before answering. “Hey, Nicky.”

“Hey,” his voice was warm, that lazy, playful drawl he always had when he was in a good mood. “Just wanted to say I’m really looking forward to seeing you tonight. I know you’re gonna look amazing. You always do.”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning back against your pillows. Your tone was sweet but eyes drifted to the tulips again, their petals catching the golden hour light filtering through your window.

“And listen,” Nicholas continued, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone, “I’ve got something planned for after the party -- If you’re up for it, of course. I’m pretty sure this will make things a little easier for you.”

You let out a breathy giggle. Nicholas knew his spontaneity and charm, aside from his good looks, could win you over. His voice blurred as your thoughts floated back to a different time, another moment when he’d swept you off your feet with his easy charisma and his knack for pulling you out of the whirlwind.

The summer after you graduated college was relentless—interviews and expectations piling on, leaving you breathless. You’d stood Nicholas up that week, overwhelmed by the chaos, but he didn’t seem to mind. He showed up at your door, calm and sure.

“You need a break,” he said, his brown eyes steady and warm. “Pack a bag. Just a change of clothes and a bathing suit.”

You didn’t argue. Moments later, you were in his car, the city fading behind he as Sinatra played softly through the speakers. The scent of saltwater greeted you long before Nicholas turned off the road onto a secluded beach.

The ocean stretched endlessly before you, sparkling under the sun. Without hesitation, you kicked off your shoes and ran toward the waves, laughing freely for the first time in weeks.

Nicholas followed at his own pace, watching you with a soft smile. “Don’t forget to breathe!” he teased, his voice light.

When you ran back, drenched and beaming, he wrapped a towel around you, pulling you close. “You’ve been carrying so much,” he said, his hand brushing your cheek. “But you don’t have to have it all figured out. Life is still beautiful, still yours to enjoy.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you whispered, “Thank you, Nicky.”

“Always,” he murmured, his fingers lacing with yours as the waves rolled in behind you.

“Y/N…hello, are you still there?”

Nicholas’s voice pulled you back to the present. His tone was gentle but curious, a soft nudge to bring you back. “You okay? You got quiet on me for a second there.”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, blinking away the memory. “I’m here. Sorry, I was listening… I think the red turtle neck would look nice, trust me.”

“I’d wear one of those rainbow umbrella hats if you told me to”, Nicholas replied with coyness, you could tell came with a snide smirk on the other end.

Your lips curved into a smile. “And I’m sure you’d look great regardless,” you checked the time on your side table alarm clock, “And if I don’t start getting ready now, you’ll show up looking better than me at my own party. I’ll see you tonight”

“See you tonight beautiful,” Nicholas said hanging up the phone.

Your phone slipped from your hands onto the bed, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. It wasn’t lost on you how complicated things had become. Nicholas and Cooper had despised each other long before you’d come into the picture. Their families had always been at odds, but the animosity had only grown after the tennis match.

You’d gone to support Cooper, not realizing Nicholas was his opponent. The tension in the air that day had been palpable, charged with more than just competitive energy. When the match ended and they’d both approached you simultaneously, their expressions a mix of confusion and hurt, it all unraveled.

They’d each thought you were there for them. Words were exchanged, chests puffed, and if one of their coaches hadn’t intervened, fists might have flown. It was messy, a little brutish, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t kind of hot.

The memory replayed in your mind, and your breath hitched as the details sharpened. You remembered the way Nicholas’s strong hands curled into tight fists, veins bulging along his forearms, his usually calm demeanor flickering with fiery intensity. Then there was Cooper, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle jump, his sharp blue eyes boring into Nicholas like he was daring him to make a move.

Both men had staked their claim over you in no uncertain terms. Nicholas, his deep, steady voice, a calming but commanding presence, telling Cooper to back off because you’d come to see him. Cooper, refusing to yield, had stepped forward, his broad chest rising and falling as he fired back with his own confident assertion that you’d made it clear who you were there for.

The more you remembered, the hotter you felt, a warm tingle blooming low in your belly. You couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to the way they’d looked in that moment—two powerhouses, their towering frames practically vibrating with restrained aggression, both ready to fight for you. The thought sent a spark straight through you, and you instinctively squeezed your thighs together, desperate to quell the growing ache.

But it wasn’t enough.

You pushed yourself off the bed, deciding a cold shower would help clear your head. Your bathroom was an opulent retreat, the centerpiece of your suite. Marble countertops gleamed under the soft glow of chandelier lighting, and the oversized walk-in shower, enclosed in glass, boasted multiple showerheads and a luxurious rainfall feature. You turned the water on, adjusting it to a cool but comfortable temperature, and stepped inside, the mist already softening the tension in your muscles.

Still, as the water cascaded over your skin, you couldn’t shake the thoughts from your mind. The memory of Nicholas and Cooper’s heated argument twisted into something darker, more intoxicating. You imagined them in a different setting, their rivalry spilling into the bedroom. Instead of fighting with words, they’d use their bodies to prove who could claim you more thoroughly, more passionately.

The vivid thought sent your pulse racing. You pictured Nicholas, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he whispered in your ear, his usually composed demeanor unraveling as he sought to make you lose control. Then Cooper, not to be outdone, trailing heated kisses down your neck, his cocky smirk melting into something desperate as he worked to outdo Nicholas, both of them vying for your moans, your gasps, your finish.

The ache between your legs became unbearable. Almost on autopilot, you reached for the detachable showerhead. You adjusted the settings, angling it just right as the water pressure hit your throbbing self. A gasp escaped your lips, and your knees buckled slightly, your free hand bracing against the cool marble wall.

You let your eyes flutter shut, the fantasy playing out behind your lids as the water pulsed against you. The imagined sounds of their voices—Nicholas’s deep, breathy whispers and Cooper’s rough, low groans—mingled with the steady rhythm of the shower. Your hips moved instinctively, chasing the sensation as you rode the wave of pleasure building within you.

The cool tile of the shower wall met your back as you slammed against it, your body arching with the building tension. The relentless spray of the shower head pulsed against you, sending waves of heat coursing through your body. Your hand instinctively reached up, cupping your breast as your fingers found your nipple, squeezing and pinching in rhythm with your escalating pleasure.

Breathy moans slipped from your lips, the sound mingling with the soft hiss of water against the tile. Each whimper was sharp and unrestrained, your breaths hitching as the pressure built higher and higher. Your eyes clenched shut, a desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the name that spilled from your mouth was entirely unexpected.

“Nicholas…” you moaned, the sound raw and unfiltered.

Your eyes snapped open, startled by how naturally it had slipped from your lips as if your subconscious had been holding onto it all along. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through you, tightening the coil low in your belly.

Your free hand shot out to steady yourself against the opposite wall, your body trembling as the fantasy took hold. “Cooper…” you whimpered, voice laced with yearning. The thought of both men worshiping your body pushed you closer to the edge. Your lips parted, a soft cry spilling out. “That feels so good, baby…”

The vivid image filled your mind—Nicholas’s boyish grin turned wicked with desire, Cooper’s hands firm yet tender against your skin. The imagined weight of their attention, their touch, tipped you over.

Your body tensed, a shuddering gasp escaping you as the release swept through, leaving your legs weak and trembling. You clung to the wall for support, your breath stuttering in the aftermath. The tension slowly ebbed away, the pulsing water washing over you, grounding you back in reality.

A quiet laugh bubbled up as you ran a hand through your wet hair, shaking your head at yourself. “Get it together,” you muttered with a wry smile, reaching for the towel hanging nearby. Wrapping it snugly around your body, you stepped out of the shower, cheeks still flushed and thoughts lingering far longer than you intended.

----

You and Dionne lingered in the backyard’s conversation pit, the kind of luxurious setup that made you feel like you were in the pages of an interior design magazine. The space was undeniably chic—a sunken circular area surrounded by sleek stone walls, with plush cream-upholstered seating that invited you to sink in and stay a while. Overhead, string lights crisscrossed in delicate patterns, casting a warm, golden glow over the backyard. The faint scent of jasmine mixed with the lingering aroma of grilled vegetables and rosemary from dinner, while the hum of crickets filled the gaps in your conversation.

You’d both done your due diligence, making just enough small talk with the party guests to keep your mom off your back. Now, the two of you finally had a moment to yourselves. Dionne, dressed impeccably in a silky lavender blouse that shimmered in the light, swirled the champagne in her glass, watching the bubbles rise before taking a sip.

“Cooper’s family came in right behind mine,” she began casually, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. “And get this—he had a Van Cleef bag in his hand. When I asked him about it, he didn’t say much, but he did mention that he knew you’d love it.”

You inhaled sharply, a knowing smirk tugging at your lips. “It’s probably the Alhambra butterfly necklace. I pointed it out on our last date,” you said, leaning back against the cushioned seat. ��I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes.”

Dionne laughed, her voice a warm melody against the night air. “Girl, you are so lucky. I mean, seriously. The two hottest guys from our prep school—not to mention they’ve only gotten hotter—chasing after you like this?” She gave you a playful nudge with her elbow. “I love this for you.”

You tilted your head, a wistful smile creeping across your face as you exhaled. “Yeah… it’s a lot to think about.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly with mock seriousness. “So, what are you gonna do? You’ve got to choose one eventually.”

You chuckled softly, taking a sip of your own champagne. “I don’t know, Dee.”

With a grin, she leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, I say you pick whoever’s better in bed.”

You shot her a look, one eyebrow raised, and her mouth fell open. “Oh my God, wait—you didn’t!” She set her glass down on the low table in front of you, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned closer. “Spill! I thought for sure, with all those drives up to the mountains with Nicholas and Cooper, you’d—”

You cut her off, laughing as you waved a hand dismissively. “No, no! Part of the fun is keeping them waiting. You know me—I like a little suspense.”

Her jaw dropped in exaggerated shock, and she gasped. “You’re telling me… you’ve gone all this time and haven’t…?”

You grinned slyly, lowering your voice just enough to make her lean in further. “Kissed them enough to fog up car windows? Sure. Teased them with neck kisses and… other things during movie nights? Of course.” You paused, watching her expression as she hung on your every word. “But I’ve been keeping them on their toes. The tension? The chase? It makes everything so much hotter.”

Dionne burst into laughter, throwing her head back. “You are such a tease,” she said, still laughing. “Pure agonizing tease. But I’m here for it. Whoever you pick tonight is gonna be the luckiest man alive.”

You shrugged with a playful smirk, murmuring under your breath but loud enough for her to catch, “Maybe I’m considering both.”

Her gasp turned into a shocked laugh, loud and unabashed. “You didn’t just say that!”

Before you could reply, the patio door creaked open, and your mom’s voice rang out, cheerful but commanding. “Dinner’s ready, girls!”

The two of you exchanged a look, Dionne biting her lip to keep from giggling as you grabbed your glass. “Coming!” you called back, your voice perfectly composed.

As you stood to head inside, Dionne leaned close and whispered with a wicked grin, “I’m sure you will be.”

----

The dining room was a masterpiece of luxury, with its vaulted ceilings and gilded accents that sparkled under the glow of cascading crystal chandeliers. The table stretched nearly the entire length of the room, draped in an ivory cloth embroidered with golden threads, each place setting carefully arranged with fine china and polished silverware. The scent of freshly cut roses mingled with the faint aroma of roasted vegetables drifting in from the kitchen.

You had nearly forgot that you fixed the seating arrangement; Nicholas next to you, Dionne across from you, and Cooper next her, across from Nicholas.

You were deep in conversation with a family friend about your post-college job search, nodding thoughtfully as you explained your next steps and goals. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses from the party faded into the background, your focus entirely on the discussion. You hadn’t even noticed Nicholas and Cooper making their way toward the table.

Before you realized what was happening, Nicholas was at your side, effortlessly pulling out your chair. His hand—large and warm—found its place on your waist, guiding you gently but firmly back to your seat. The subtle pressure of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, but you maintained your composure, offering a polite smile as you wrapped up the conversation.

His gesture wasn’t just polite—it was deliberate, designed to be noticed. A murmur of approval rippled through the room, subtle but unmistakable. You caught the small smile tugging at your mother’s lips from across the table, her eyes glinting with pride at the display of gentlemanly behavior.

You murmured your thanks as you sat, letting him slide your chair in. His cologne, an enticing blend of cedar and spice, lingered faintly in the air as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“My pleasure,” he said, the words brushing against your ear like a secret meant only for you.

Across the table, Cooper’s reaction was immediate and impossible to miss. His jaw tightened, his hand gripping the back of his chair as he glared at Nicholas with barely concealed irritation. The muscle in his cheek twitched, and his eyes flicked back to you, darkened by an emotion you could only describe as possessive.

Despite his simmering frustration, Cooper stayed seated, refusing to make a scene. Dionne flashed you a look of saucy approval, you hid your smirk before the server came over to take your order.

As Nicholas returned to his seat, Cooper’s gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer, his eyes tracing your features before he finally turned his attention to the wine list in front of him.

You sat there, calm and poised on the outside, but your heart was pounding.

The servers moved seamlessly around the table, placing delicate plates of appetizers before each guest. The room was alive with the clink of silverware and soft murmurs of conversation, but your focus wavered as your father stood from his seat, raising his glass with an air of practiced authority.

“To community,” he began, his voice steady and commanding as it carried across the room. “To connections that bring us together and strengthen us—personally, professionally, and beyond.” He gestured toward his boss with a respectful nod, his smile warm but calculated.

He turned to you next, his eyes softening. “To my brilliant daughter, whose success continues to amaze us all.” His glass tilted toward your mom as his smile widened. “And to my wife, the love of my life, whose support has made all of this possible.”

The table erupted in polite applause and scattered cheers, and your mom lifted her glass with an appreciative smile. “To family,” she said, her voice bright and sincere. “And to the man who keeps ours grounded and inspired every day.”

The momentum of the toasts carried on as others chimed in. Your uncle stood to wish everyone health and wealth, and a few other family friends added their sentiments about the joys of togetherness and new opportunities. You thought the flurry of toasts had finally come to a close when a brief silence settled over the room.

But then, a low screech of wood against polished floors cut through the quiet as Cooper rose from his seat.

“And a toast,” he began, his voice clear and bold, the room instantly drawn to him. His gaze was locked on you, his hazel eyes shimmering with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “To Y/N, for her beauty and grace.”

The air seemed to still as the words left his lips, his tone brimming with sincerity. “Since the day I met her, she’s done nothing but charm me and challenge me to be a better man.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as every eye turned toward you. You managed a smile—tongue-in-cheek, though your cheeks burned with heat. You could feel Dionne nearly vibrating across from you, barely able to contain her giddy excitement as she pressed her lips tightly together to suppress a grin.

Next to you, Nicholas’s expression darkened like a brewing storm. His fingers curled around the stem of his wine glass with such force you thought it might snap. His jaw clenched visibly, the muscle ticking with restrained fury as his eyes shot daggers at Cooper.

Your mom, ever the master of social nuance, caught your eye with a subtle nod and an intrigued glint in her gaze. Whatever this was, she seemed to think it was not only entertaining but possibly advantageous. Your dad, on the other hand, looked utterly bewildered, his brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced between you and Cooper.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, Dionne, raised her glass high, her voice ringing out cheerfully. “To everyone here tonight!”

The collective relief after Dionne’s toast was nearly tangible as glasses were raised, and the murmur of polite conversation began to hum around the table once more. Everyone seemed eager to let the tension dissipate—everyone except for Nicholas, who still hadn’t lifted his glass.

His knuckles were white as they gripped the base of the wine glass, the sharp angles of his jaw working overtime as he stared daggers at Cooper. It was a standoff only the two of them seemed to be fully aware of, the air between them crackling with silent hostility.

Cooper, ever the opportunist, didn’t let the moment pass unnoticed. “Come on, Nicholas,” he said with a sly grin, his voice just loud enough to draw a few curious glances. “Don’t be a barbarian—it’s a wine glass. You just grab it and raise it when everyone else does.”

The jab was subtle but sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. Nicholas’s jaw clenched so tightly you wondered if he might crack a tooth. His eyes burned with a fury that would have sent most people scrambling, but Cooper only leaned back slightly in his chair, his confidence brimming.

Cooper cocked his shoulders with an ease that was almost infuriating, a smirk tugging at his lips as he shot Nicholas a wink. It was the kind of victorious, self-assured gesture that screamed I’ve won this round, and it left no doubt in anyone’s mind about who had taken control of the moment.

Nicholas finally, begrudgingly, raised his glass, his movements slow and deliberate as if every second of compliance was a battle. His dark eyes flicked back to you briefly, the intensity in them leaving a shiver down your spine.

Dinner had gone smoothly, though the charged undercurrent of tension was unmistakable. The low murmur of conversation, the clinking of silverware against fine china, and the occasional burst of laughter from the adults filled the air.

The dining room was grand, with soft golden light spilling from an ornate chandelier above the long table, casting a warm glow over the elegant table settings and half-empty glasses of wine. Cooper and Nicholas, seated strategically to keep you in their orbit, continued their subtle battle for your attention.

You maintained a composed and neutral demeanor, responding with polite smiles and light conversation. Internally, though, you were keenly aware of their every move. Dionne, sitting opposite you, occasionally met your eye with a knowing smirk, clearly enjoying the game unfolding before her.

She couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire. Between bites of her crème brûlée, she tossed out quips like, “Y/N needs a man who’s not intimidated by success. Nicholas, are you intimidated by women with success?” Her tone was teasing, but the twinkle in her eye left little doubt she was having fun watching them squirm.

Nicholas smirked, tapping the rim of his glass. “Oh, I’m more than capable of keeping up, Coop. It’s just a matter of knowing how to play the game.” His eyes never left you, the unspoken message clear.

Cooper leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s not about playing the game, Nick. It’s about winning it.” He raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air as he slid a teasing glance in your direction. "And trust me, I know how to win."

Nicholas chuckled again, the sound low and confident. “Winning isn’t always about being first. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to take your time.” His voice dropped a notch, a subtle invitation lingering in his words.

Cooper wasn’t backing down. “Taking your time? I guess we’ll see how far that gets you when the clock’s ticking.” He gave you a wink, his tone playful yet laden with challenge. “I work better under pressure, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nicholas quipped, his gaze sharp. “But we all know who’s got the stamina for the long haul.” His lips curled into a knowing smile as he leaned forward, his voice a bit lower. "Some things can’t be rushed."

Cooper’s grin widened, the tension crackling in the air. “Maybe. But there’s a difference between stamina and strategy. And I’ve got both on my side.” He turned toward you with a knowing look, making sure to catch your eye before adding, “You’ll see what I mean.”

Nicholas shot him a sly glance, clearly not phased. “I think she already has, Coop.” He met your gaze, the connection undeniable, before turning back to Cooper. “But we’ll see how the game plays out.”

You and Dionne could hardly contain yourselves, struggling to stifle chuckles and your face getting hot from tension from the boys but trying to withstand the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The party had gradually wound down, the lively buzz of conversation and laughter from earlier now replaced by a soft hum of voices in the backyard. A few remaining guests lingered with your parents, gathered in the cozy conversation pit beneath the glow of string lights. The gentle rustle of the breeze carried snippets of their relaxed chatter, the occasional clink of glasses punctuating the calm atmosphere. The backyard was a picture of tranquility, the perfect wind-down to an otherwise bustling evening.

You, with a gentle nudge from Dionne, signaling that with everyone outside it’s the perfect time for you to get away with Nicholas and Cooper to your room. You put your hand on Nicholas’ thigh at the dinner table, speaking just above a whisper for him to join you in your room. You see the excitement bubbling in him, but it quickly diminished when you invited Cooper as well.

What had started as a laid-back conversation about clothes and music had spiraled into a heated argument between the two -- it was loud and abrasive but exactly your plan.

You sat on the edge of the bed while they stood on either side of you and argued.

“God, everything about you is so trite,” Nicholas scoffed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Cooper’s lips twitched into a sardonic smile. “Trite? Coming from you?” He gestured toward Nicholas, his voice steady but biting. “That’s rich coming from like the Ivy league frat trash."

Cooper’s gaze darkened. “Everyone knows how many times you got arrested for disorderlies, daddy came and bailed you out each and every time and now you have a cushy job at his firm because no one would hire your ass! ”

Nicholas straightened, stepping forward, his voice low and dangerous. “At least I can keep her interested. You? You’d bore her to tears with your lectures about art-house films and overpriced coffee.”

“You think she wants some overgrown frat boy? Grow up. She deserves someone who’ll treat her right, not drag her into your mess.”

“Oh, because you’re the knight in shining armor?” Nicholas sneered. “I bring something to the table you never could”

Cooper took a slow breath, his calm exterior fraying. “That explains why you showed up empty-handed tonight, huh? Not even a rose. Thoughtful as ever, I see.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek Van Cleef bag, holding it up for emphasis. “This, at least, shows I care enough to know what she likes.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “You think gifts are the way to her heart? Please. She can buy that for herself. I give her what she needs.”

Cooper tilted his head, his voice dropping into a low growl. “You don’t even know what she needs.”

As their words grew sharper, the room seemed to heat with tension, and you couldn’t help the twinge deep in your core. Their arguing wasn’t just about their preferences or styles; it was about you. The way they both stared at each other, the venom in their words—it all pointed back to the same thing: they were fighting for you.

“Boys, please,” you interrupted, your voice low but firm, cutting through the heated tension between them. It wasn’t a harsh tone—just commanding enough to grab their attention and stop the bickering. Their arguing immediately ceased, leaving a palpable silence in its wake.

“Claiming you both know what I want without actually asking me? That’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” you said, your teasing tone relieving some of the aggressive energy in the room. Though the animosity between Nicholas and Cooper lingered beneath the surface, their eyes were now focused entirely on you, brimming with adoration.

Cooper shifted, sitting down beside you and resting a hand gently on your thigh. “Sorry,” he said, his voice soft and apologetic, but his expression still held a hint of smugness as he flashed you his charming, dimpled smile. “He just brings out the worst in me.”

Nicholas scoffed from across the room before dropping down on your other side with a dramatic plop. “As if you don’t deserve it,” he muttered, but his eyes were fixed on you with an intensity that betrayed his annoyance.

“What can I do for you?” Cooper asked, taking your hands in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles in a gesture that felt as much a declaration of his feelings as it was a jab at Nicholas.

“Relax,” Nicholas cut in, his tone flat and stern, clearly irritated by Cooper’s display. His gaze never left yours as he leaned in closer.

The exchange made you chuckle, and to diffuse the tension, you leaned toward Nicholas and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline. His eyes softened slightly, the hard edge of his frustration melting away under your touch.

You took a steadying breath, your heart thumping in your chest as both sets of eyes bore into you, waiting. “I appreciate the gifts, the dates,” you began, your tone gentle but deliberate, making sure they both felt the weight of your words. “You know I do. But I want—need—more.”

Both of them stilled, their hesitation palpable as they processed your words. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath. You met their gazes, your voice calm but dripping with intent as you added, “I want you both to show me.”

Nicholas blinked, his brown eyes wide, stunned into silence for a beat before he managed to stammer, “You mean… both of us? Now?” His voice cracked slightly, a mix of disbelief and anticipation.

You gave him a pointed look, your eyes heavy-lidded and smoldering. Bedroom eyes, they used to call it, and now you wielded them with purpose.

“Like… at the same time?” Cooper’s voice was shaky, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His uncertainty didn’t stop him from leaning forward slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of awe and yearning.

Instead of answering, you rose from the bed with a fluid motion, standing in front of them. Slowly, you reached for the zipper of your dress, letting the straps slip down your shoulders with deliberate care. Every movement was intentional, slow and teasing, as you drew the fabric down over your body. Their eyes were glued to you, neither daring to speak as the tension thickened in the air, the anticipation palpable with every second.

When your dress finally pooled at your feet, you stood before them in nothing but the delicate lingerie you’d chosen earlier—an ensemble designed to accentuate every curve, every detail meant to entice. The way their jaws tightened, the way their gazes roamed your figure, drinking you in, was all the confirmation you needed.

Their eyes tracked your every movement as if they couldn’t look away, taking in the way the soft fabric slid from your body and the confident way you climbed onto the bed. Positioned at its center, you gave them both a look that was equal parts commanding and inviting. They remained frozen, caught between anticipation and hesitation, until you broke the silence with a playful challenge.

“Are you going to keep me waiting?” you teased, your tone sultry yet light.

That was all it took. In an instant, both of them sprang into action, fumbling with buttons and pulling at their clothes. Their movements were uncoordinated at first—hands catching on shirt sleeves and belts—but as their layers peeled away, the uncertainty melted into something more primal. Even as they undressed, their eyes never left you, their hunger for you evident in every glance and the way their chests rose and fell with heavy breaths.

Nicholas was the first to make his move. He crossed the mattress with a deliberate pace, crawling toward you with a confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. The way his back muscles rippled with each movement made your pulse quicken, a delicious ache building inside you as you watched him close the gap.

When he reached you, his large hands found your waist, his grip firm but reverent as he gently pulled you closer to him. His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses to your stomach, each touch sending waves of warmth and electricity through your body. The sensation of his breath on your skin, the way his fingers brushed against your sides, left you breathless.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and almost reverent. His hands slid up to cradle your torso, his thumbs tracing lazy circles against your ribs as he kissed his way upward, pausing just below your sternum.

Behind him, Cooper hesitated for a moment, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and determination. Then, as if spurred on by Nicholas’s lead, he climbed onto the bed, his movements slower and more deliberate, but no less intense.

Cooper reached out with a steady hand, his touch on your jaw both tender and possessive as he guided your face to his. His lips claimed yours in a kiss that was deep and consuming, filled with a need that made your breath hitch. His kiss wasn’t just a gesture—it was a declaration, a challenge to Nicholas as much as it was a promise to you.

As your lips moved together, you couldn’t ignore the way Nicholas’s hands continued their deliberate exploration, his mouth now dangerously close to your pantyline. His hot breath against your skin sent shivers racing up your spine, the contrast between his slow, teasing movements and Cooper’s demanding kiss leaving you feeling utterly undone.

Cooper’s grip on your waist tightened as though anchoring you to him, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a fleeting but intimate gesture. Before Nicholas could draw all your attention, Cooper broke the kiss just enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

His words made your heart skip, but before you could respond, Cooper took your hand, guiding it deliberately to him, pressing it against the hardness straining against the fabric of his underwear. The heat of him, the way he swelled and grew under your touch, sent a flush spreading through your body.

Your lips trailed to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, and you bit down lightly at the juncture of his collarbone. Cooper’s low groan vibrated against your lips, and the way his hips involuntarily bucked against your hand made you smile against his skin.

Nicholas, clearly unwilling to be ignored, let out a soft chuckle against your stomach. “Don’t forget about me,” he teased, his voice thick with heat and a hint of frustration. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above your hip bone before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slightly.

In one smooth motion, Nicholas pulled your panties down and tossed them aside, his movements confident and deliberate. His hands immediately found your most sensitive spot, his thumbs massaging slow, tantalizing circles against your clit, sending sparks shooting through your body. A moan escaped your lips, muffled against the warmth of Cooper’s neck, but the tremble in your breath gave you away.

Nicholas smirked, clearly pleased with your reaction. “You're so wet,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. His words only made the fire in your belly burn hotter. “That’s my good, perfect girl.”

The praise sent a wave of heat rushing through you, and before you could catch your breath, Nicholas moved with purpose. He slid down the bed, lying flat on his back, and with a firm but gentle grip, he guided you over him. “Come here,” he commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His strong hands gripped your thighs, and he used his biceps to brace you down onto him, holding you firmly in place.

As soon as his mouth met your core, a shudder of pleasure rippled through you. Nicholas’s tongue moved with expert precision, lapping at you with a hunger that left you breathless. The flat of his tongue pressed against your most sensitive spot before he shifted to flick and swirl, his lips sealing around your clit to suck gently.

You tried to keep your composure, to maintain your focus on Cooper, but it was impossible. Your lips faltered against his skin, your head falling back as a strangled moan tore from your throat. Cooper chuckled softly, his hand coming up to steady you as your body trembled.

“Losing focus already?” Cooper teased, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You tried to respond, but Nicholas’s tongue was relentless, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady as he worked. Your back arched involuntarily, and your hands flew out to brace yourself, one landing on Cooper’s chest while the other tangled in Nicholas’s hair.

Nicholas hummed against you, the vibrations making your thighs quiver. He tilted his head slightly, his tongue diving deeper to explore every inch of you, his pace never faltering. Your breath came in ragged gasps, and your head fell forward, resting on Cooper’s chest as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

Nicholas’s hum of approval sent shockwaves through your body, his tongue moving with precision as if he knew exactly how to unravel you. Cooper’s lips on your neck were hot and insistent, his teeth grazing your skin before he soothed the marks with his tongue. His large hands kneaded your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples, each motion sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your chest.

Your moans filled the room, their names tumbling from your lips in a desperate symphony that seemed to drive them further. Nicholas’s voice rumbled against you, low and commanding. “Good girl,” he praised, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he worked his tongue deeper, his nose brushing against your sensitive bud in a way that made your toes curl.

Cooper’s hands slid down your sides, grounding you in his touch as his kisses became hungrier, more possessive. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your ear, his voice thick with admiration and arousal.

The idea of them putting their differences aside, silently agreeing to focus on your pleasure, sent a new wave of heat surging through you. The coordinated rhythm of their touches left you completely undone, your body trembling as they spurred you closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers tangled in Cooper’s hair, pulling him closer as your other hand gripped the sheets beneath you. “I—I’m so close Cooper, I'm gonna cum” you gasped, your body teetering on the brink. Nicholas responded with another hum, his tongue circling your sensitive spot with precision, while Cooper pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as you finally shattered.

Your release washed over you in waves, your body arching as you cried out, their names spilling from your lips like a mantra. Nicholas slowed his pace, helping you ride out the high, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your thighs. Cooper held you steady, his kisses softening as he murmured reassurances against your lips.

When the aftershocks subsided, you slumped against Cooper’s chest, your breathing ragged, your body tingling from head to toe. Nicholas looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, his lips glistening. “Told you I’d make you feel good,” he teased, his voice thick with pride. Before sauntering off to the bathroom, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss that left you breathless. The taste of yourself lingered on his tongue, and when you bit his lip playfully, a low, guttural moan escaped him. He pulled away with a grin that promised more, leaving you flushed and wanting.

Cooper stayed close, his hands gently stroking your sides before he tilted your chin up and kissed you again. His lips were softer, slower, carrying a tenderness that made your heart flutter. As the kiss ended, he pulled back and reached for his jacket, retrieving a sleek Van Cleef bag.

“While he’s away,” Cooper said, his voice low and intimate, “I wanted to give you this.”

From the bag, he pulled out a delicate Alhambra butterfly necklace. The intricate design shimmered in the soft light, the wings adorned with mother-of-pearl framed by gleaming gold. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each detail reflecting thoughtfulness and care.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stepped closer, holding the necklace carefully. “I know this isn’t a deciding factor,” he continued, his tone earnest, “but even if you end up with him, I know how much you wanted this. You deserve it.”

Speechless, you turned your back to him, your hair falling to one side as he clasped the necklace around your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Crossing the room, you stopped in front of the vanity, your reflection glowing. The necklace sat perfectly against your collarbone, a symbol of Cooper’s thoughtfulness and affection.

You ran your fingers over the pendant, a soft smile spreading across your lips. The more you looked in the mirror, the more the reality of your situation sank in. Two incredible men, each devoted to your happiness in their own ways. Nicholas, with his passionate intensity and relentless focus on your pleasure. Cooper, with his tender gestures and unwavering desire to see you smile. How could anyone possibly ask for more?

Your fingers lingered at the base of your throat, tracing the butterfly before letting them trail lower, a coy smile tugging at your lips. “You know,” you said, glancing back at Cooper with a spark in your eye, “if you’re going to spoil me like this, I might just have to make it up to you.”

Cooper chuckled, his gaze darkening with desire as he closed the distance between you. “I think I like the sound of that,” he murmured, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

[explosionshark]

Au where Faith comes back to sunnydale in season 5

okay okay i've thought about this

it's a prophetic slayer dream that kicks it off - faith dreams buffy is going to die and she decides then and there she has to go to sunnydale to stop it. she informs angel who reluctantly gives his blessing and then she busts herself out of prison and heads back to sunnydale

obviously faith's motivation is this is a confusing mix of wanting to make things good with buffy, a sort of lingering subconscious suicidal death drive, and a genuine desire to be a Good Slayer for once. buffy can't quite understand what her angle is, but season 5 is a volatile time and buffy's struggling to handle everything on her plate so she can't actually refuse any help from another slayer

in a way, buffy's resentment towards and anger at faith allows her to accept help from faith more readily than she can from riley, her actual boyfriend. she doesn't feel guilty throwing faith out in the middle of the glory stuff. faith, also, kind of relishes being a meat shield a little - it's penance, right? she still resents buffy a little for using her like this so easily (unlike how she treats her ugly fucking boyfriend), however, she's also grateful to be used by buffy at all (unlike her ugly fucking boyfriend) TOXIC YURI

faith is very interesting to have around for joyce stuff because of the intersection of her guilt over the hostage-taking and threatening + her own dead mom issues + her desire to help buffy, genuinely. i think faith privately, secretly approaching joyce to offer to help while she's sick (clean the gutters, do the laundry, wash the car, basic things) to try and make amends because she doesn't know what else to really do is a compelling idea. also i think faith's potential interactions with dawn and tara over mom stuff here are SO interesting

MESSY relationship-wise. spike hates riley. faith also hates riley but wants to avoid him over the uhh body swap magical sexual assault. riley is a terrible fucking boyfriend this season. spike and faith are being absolute freaks about buffy and want nothing more than to kill each other with hammers. buffy wants everyone to shut the fuck up. faith and buffy's entire relationship would be built up gradually over the fact that faith is there and she's consistent and she's not actually asking for anything from buffy or even trying overmuch to prove something to her, she's literally just trying to help her and with everything else around her crumbling, i think buffy would end up really responding to that. idk what really happens with spike besides getting sidelined super hard. faith kicks the shit out of him over buffybot. he fucks off to reno. who gives a shit.

i actually have an outline for an s5 fic but currently that au is at war with my s4 au and i can't do them both, so they're both in stasis rn.

[sketchehm]

I was impressed with how well dasnearth knew parkour. I knew he was a sweat, but God damn. Also it was funny to me that only dream really got most of his terms, but I think that's more a language/slang thing. I remember when he was giving his directional coords to people all the Spanish speakers were like what? It really is interesting to see how people communicate differently and how people explain and approach minecraft depending on where they're from.

There's sweating like shadoune and them and there's sweating like dasnearth and dream and I just find the differences interesting. I think in my mind the English speakers are very individual while the Spanish speakers are a lot more collective in there ways of thinking.

I do think other than the top 3 maybe like sapnap and spreen could have finished, but them both being the same person gave up early lmao

LOL BOTH BEING THE SAME PERSON PFFT

Tbf!!! Spreen he his own event he had to host and was late for, he had an excuse at least. Sapnap….well he’s Sapnap Dasnerth is on a completely different level but he aso knows a lot more modern strats compared to Dream who is a little old school you can say. Everything Dasnerth was saying was understandable enough though, at least to someone who knows enough mechanics, cause even Sapnap didn’t know what he was saying sometimes, but Dream understood perfectly. (I did to, so I think Sapnap is just a lil dumb but that’s just me pfft) And you’re right in that there is just a language barrier that was stopping Dasnerth from communicating properly to help the others out. Idk how you would say “head hitter jump” in a way that makes sense in spanish pff Or how to get some casual player to understand the Yaw angle on their F3 screen when communicating in a completely different language

They all started calling Dasnerth a calculator after that pfft I do think you’re right in a sense that Spanish sweats are a little more cooperative! Although Coldi is probably the exception hehe

[bigskydreaming]

Its always been curious to me how little opinion I have on ships, when I invest so heavily in like, every other aspect of a character and I'm like, no, I Have OPINIONS on what is right and what is not right about this character! But then it comes to ships and its like, I LIKE ships, I have preferences for ships, but I've never really like.....reached that point where I'll fight about a ship? And this is not meant as a "Oh ho, I am so much better than people who fight about ships, I am An Intellectual" like no, not the mood here at all, this is coming from a place of "I will fight someone in a back alley for saying Dick Grayson only eats cereal, I am not better than anyone here."

Its literally just me musing on if there's anything in particular that makes that a character axis or angle that I'm generally just like 'eh, as long as its not squicking me, its not a dealbreaker even if I prefer other ships than this one,' but have an Incorrect Headcanon about a character's basic routines, behaviorisms or mindsets and I'm like loooool here's fifty ways in which you're just fucking wrong and should feel bad about it, there WILL be a quiz at the end.

Just funny, is all. I wonder how much it has to do with the angle from which I'm introduced to a character? Like I know a lot of people get introduced to various media via hearing about certain canon or fanon ships that catch their interest, so it makes sense that even after getting to know each character and having an interest in both, or more of an interest in one than the other, they'd still have a heavier investment in those characters as part of that ship rather than outside of that ship, because like, that's what drew them to it in the first place, its what engaged their initial interest and emotional investment?

Whereas I've never really been drawn to particular ships, even if I do end up enjoying them, but its like....you need to hook me on a specific character and engage my interest and emotional investment in them singularly and then from THERE I look at potential ship partners or canon ship partners, and like, I tend to like exploring options just in general so it makes sense that I'd be predisposed to multi-shipping, given that angle of approach?

Idk, idk, just musing, as I said. Anyone else have thoughts? Does this reflect your patterns at all, or do you have a mish-mash of some faves that you got invested in as a singular character versus some you initially invested in as part of a particular ship, and if so, have you ever noticed any difference in whether you're more likely to multi-ship with a character that falls under the former heading while being more of a stickler about not really shipping characters under the second heading with anyone other than each other?

Just curious, wanna see if this train of thought is going anywhere, or if there's anywhere TO go with it, even.

[nataliasquote]

Honesty teaser | n romanoff | wattpad book

Ok hello :) I know this goes against posting on Tumblr, seeing as it won’t be updated on here, but I really need to kick myself back into writing, so what better way than to promote my book on here so that I have more of an incentive if more people know about it! For now it’s Wattpad only whilst I figure out how AO3 works (idk if I even have an account) but I will try to get it up on there too. But… until then… here is the first chapter of ‘Honesty’.

College!AU | Enemies to lovers

Natasha Romanoff x O!C

O!C: Kaiiarina Lenkova (Kaia/ Ky). Sister to JB Lenkov (James Buchanan aka Bucky)

Current available chapters: 9

The classic ringing of an incoming facetime call sounded through the speakers of a MacBook, which made a rather exhausted 18 year old leap up from her sprawled out place on her bed. She threw herself onto her spinning desk chair, which spun a bit too far, meaning she had to grab the edge of her desk and haul herself back around before she fell off.

She lifted the lid and quickly typed in her password as an excited face filled the screen, their voice far too loud as the volume had been left turned all the way up from last night's dance session. Dark curly hair swung against her back as the girl winced at her friend's squeal.

"Have you looked?" The blonde girl screeched, far too close to the camera to create a flattering angle.

"Lena, it's 8am. It's a miracle I'm awake at this point." Kaiiarina groaned before she was cut off by a yawn, which only emphasised her point. She'd been awake since 7, knowing that today was one of the most important days of her life. Every possibility and outcome of her future was shuffled through her head as she tried to grasp any ounce of sleep that made itself available to her. But instead of blissful dreams, she was faced with pits of anxiety that made her dream feel like her worst nightmare.

"We promised we'd open them together, so hurry up!" Yelena was horrendously impatient, which was a huge contrast to Kaia's more laid back approach in life. But they'd planned this day since they were 11 years old, having been inseparable since they were 6.

Their first day of ballet class. Yelena was only there because Melina wanted her to follow in Natasha's footsteps; the golden child. But, naturally, the blonde wanted to be anywhere else, so she was stubborn in not moving from her spot on the bench. Her hair was pulled up into what could have been a neat bun, but she had wriggled so much that her baby hairs were everywhere.

Kaia, on the other hand, couldn't have been more different. Her uniform was pristine, tiny feet slipped into perfectly tied ballet shoes. Her almost black hair was pulled into a braided bun, secured perfectly on the top of her head, not a single hair out of place. She sat on the bench with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. She looked alert, attentive; her blue eyes wide as she took in every person who walked past. She looked in wonder at the older girls who walked past, admiring their pointe shoes with lust. She was going to be like them one day.

Their teacher called everyone into the studio as a group, knowing a lot of the children would be nervous. Kaia walked in with her head held high; this was where she was meant to be. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yelena putting up a fight with her mother, who was trying to coax her defiant 6 year old from the bench.

What spurred her to do this was a complete mystery, but Kaia found herself wandering over to Yelena and extending out her hand.

"I'm Kaia." Was simply all she said. Yelena stopped squirming, peering up at the girl with her big green eyes. She looked at her mother briefly, who just smiled.

"Yelena."

"You know that class is about to start, right?" Kaia stated, confused as to why the girl wasn't in the studio like everyone else.

"Yes. But I'm not going." The young Russian was stubborn and folded her arms over her chest, pouting slightly.

"Ballet isn't sissy, you know. It's strong. You don't see the 'tough' boys doing it, do you?" Yelena shook her head, slightly confused at her point. Kaia leaned towards Lena and whispered in her ear. "It's because they can't handle it. They're not strong like we are."

Yelena smiled at the thought of being stronger than the boys in her class. She was fiercely competitive and she revelled in the idea of being better at something than someone else. Kaia's hand was still outstretched and so the blonde Russian took it gladly, their tiny hands clasping tightly together.

Melina watched the girls disappear into the glossy studio, a proud smile on her face. Those girls were going to be best friends, she just knew it.

And she was exactly right. Kaia transferred to Yelena's school in 2nd grade, and they became inseparable. Even the teachers knew they wouldn't be able to find one without the other 2 steps behind. And when one of them were sick and off school... it was like the one left behind was missing a limb.

When they transferred to middle school together, they made a pact. The girls would go to the same high school and the same college.

And that day had finally come. Acceptance letters were being sent out and the girls had applied to the same university. Which was what prompted Yelena's early morning facetime call.

Kaia scrolled through her emails, her heart pounding out of her chest. This was what they'd worked towards for 4 years. Their extra-curricular activities, sports, dance, languages... everything leading up to this moment.

"Oh fuck." Kaia muttered, seeing the email appear in her inbox. "I've got it."

On the other side of the screen, Yelena had her email open too, the link tempting her mouse, but also making her hesitate. What if their plan didn't work out?

"Wait." Yelena rushed, making Kaia freeze. "Whatever happens, we stay best friends, right?"

"I can't believe you just asked me that question Belova." Kaia scoffed, slightly offended as she adjusted the neck of her hoodie.

"I just had to be sure. Okay," Yelena let out a big breath. "It's now or never."

There was silence on both ends of the call as they waited for the link to load up. Time seemed to slow down, seconds turning into minutes as the loading circle span round and round. Yelena had picked up a hair tie and was spinning it around her finger as Kaia chewed on the edge of her thumb.

But the circle stopped spinning. The girls stopped fidgeting. They both held their breath as a message appeared on their screens.

Pale Oak University is delighted to offer you a place on your chosen course. We hope that you accept our offer and will join us in August on campus. Please click 'confirm choice' at the bottom of the page to secure your place.

But neither of them said anything. They tried to read each other's expressions as they looked back at the camera, but they were so scared of not going to the same college that neither wanted to burst the bubble.

But Kaia couldn't help let a small smile slip, which prompted Yelena to do the same.

"Did you-"

"Are you-"

Both girls started to speak at the same time but paused for the other continue. Kaia just nodded at Yelena's question, not trusting her voice to be strong enough to speak.

"Oh my god, me too." Lena's voice came out as nothing more than a hushed whisper, her hands flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

"Lena." Kaia croaked out, a tear slipping down her cheek. "We did it." She laughed lightly, which blended into a choked sob.

"We really did it."

"We fucking did it!" Kaia leaped out of her chair, spinning around like an excited puppy. "Mama! Dad! We did it! I got in!" Although she was still on facetime, Kaia sprinted downstairs to find her parents, screaming her results to them.

On the other side of the screen, Yelena did the same thing, racing into the kitchen where her parents and sister were sat.

"I got in!" She announced as she skidded to a halt in her fluffy socks, grabbing onto the back of a chair so she didn't slip. "I'm going to Pale Oak!"

Melina and Alexei scooped their youngest into a huge group hug as they cheered, leaving Natasha sitting alone at the table. She would have joined in, if it wasn't for the news that her little sister was going to be at the same university that she was currently at.

"Natasha, come and congratulate your sister. You know out of everyone just how hard the entry process is." Melina said, giving her 20 year old daughter a stern look as she rolled her eyes.

"Nice job Yelly." Nat said, ruffling her sister's hair, purposely messing it up even further. "Just don't bother me okay? I don't want you hanging onto me all the time. It's annoying."

"Natasha be nice." Alexei said disapprovingly. "Your sister is blessing to us all. We are so so proud." He pulled Yelena into his side, which she did not appreciate as she pushed him away with a disgusted look.

"Don't worry Nat. I've got Kaia. We're gonna be just fine."

Nat's head whipped round and she stared at her sister with a raised brow. "Wait... Kaia's going?"

"Duh. She's my best friend." Yelena rolled her eyes, not believing her sister's comment.

Nat shrugged, turning back to her phone. "Wow. Didn't know she had what it took." She mumbled under her breath for only Yelena to hear.

Rage flooded the blonde's cheeks and she clenched her fists at her side. "You're a bitch." she spat through gritted teeth, before marching up the stairs and slamming her door shut, slumping onto her chair in front of her laptop where Kaia was waiting.

"I'm guessing Nat didn't take it too well then." Kaia quipped, throwing an m&m up in the air before catching it in her mouth.

"You know me too well."

"No, well yes, but I also know just how much your sister hates me." Natasha always had a distaste for Lena's best friend, but no one quite knew why. Maybe it was due to them being in the same ballet class, despite Kaia being 2 years younger, or maybe how much time Kaia spent at the Romanoff's. But the brunette didn't really care. Having Nat like her wasn't exactly on the top of her to do list.

"Well, forget about her. She's not going to ruin it for me, or for you. We've had everything planned out since we were 10 years old Ky, and it's actually going to happen."

"Still gonna be roommates right?" Kaia asked, reading over the email one more time to cement it into her brain. It still felt surreal that they were actually going to college. No more high school. No more living at home. No more living 25 minutes away from each other. It was perfect.

"If you really think I'm gonna sleep in the same room as some random ass girl who snores and talks in her sleep, then think again. I'm sleeping with you or not sleeping at all."

"Well then I think we need to contact someone about it, because I don't even know if you can pick your roommates."

"I'll just say I have major attachment issues and breakdown into floods of tears whenever I'm not around you." Yelena said, spinning around on her chair before getting distracted by her massive shark plushie. She reached for it and pulled it onto her lap, stuffing her face into its fur.

Kaia just rolled her eyes. Yelena was always one for the dramatics. "Well that's going to work so well seeing as we are taking different majors, but sure." Yelena was majoring in sports science, seeing as she was on the women's football team and she loved it with all of her heart. Ballet was never really her thing, so as soon as she could quit, she did.

Kaiiarina was majoring in dance and they both were taking a Russian language class, as it was easy credits seeing as they both wanted to be fluent in their 'motherland' language.

"Well if that doesn't work, we can just get your brother to intimidate them all into putting us together." JB Lenkov (or James Buchanan) was in the army and had been away for 8 months. He was 5 years older than Yel and Kaia, so they joked about him a lot. Plus, he did try to ask Natasha out on a date, only to be turned down by her harsh words. "If you have a dick, I'm not into you."

"Let's just email them. See what they say." Kaia clicked on the email link, excitement surging through her body. It felt real now. But with the excitement came a lot of nerves. The kind that sent butterflies swarming in all different directions, extending from her fingertips to the depths of her stomach. A nauseating feeling descended in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

New experiences weren't really her thing. She grown a lot more self conscious from the bold and daring 6 year old she once was, but within the duo she was still the sensible and down to earth one. A stickler for the rules, which Yelena often felt were mere suggestions.

"I know its 8:30, but something in my body is screaming for a Starbucks right now, and unfortunately my asshat of a sister won't drive me." Yelena peaked over the top of her shark, which she had nicknamed Brucie, and batted her eyelashes rather dramatically at her best friend, who payed absolutely no notice to her.

"Kaia..." Still nothing.

"Ky!" Crickets.

"Kaiiarina!" Oh now she'd done it. The brunette's blue eyes seemed to darken as she peered up at the camera, narrowing her eyes into what became a bone chilling glare.

"Yelena Fyodorovna Belova. Did you just use my government name?" Although she was joking, Kaia made no effort to smile or even lighten her expression, loving how scared her friend looked. Similarly to a deer in headlights.

Lena flashed a sheepish smile. "Coffee?" Was all she offered, trying to hit Ky's sweet spot. "Caramel iced coffee?" Kaia was still glaring. "I'll buy you a blueberry muffin."

Now that was a deal breaker. "Even when I hate your guts, you still manage to win me over." Kaia groaned, pushing away from her desk and wheeling over to her closet whilst still sat on her chair. She grabbed a jacket and stood up, walking over to her table to grab her keys. "I'll be there in 20. Be ready or I'm taking Nat instead." She leaned over her laptop and hovered her mouse over the red 'end call' button.

"Oh wow. Threat of the century." Yelena feigned offense and Kaia blew a raspberry. Childish, yes, but

"Bye bitch."

~~~

Kaia's family was rich, very rich, but it hadn't gone to her head like many privileged girls she could mention. Her father was the CEO of a major jewellery company back in Russia, that had gone global in the last 10 years.

She had all the physical signs of a rich girl; expensive clothes, dainty jewellery, designer sunglasses that were nearly always placed in her wavy hair, pristinely manicured nails and of course, her most prized possession... her tesla. It was an extravagant 18th birthday gift from her father, and as normal as it seemed in a life like hers, Kaia burst into tears when she saw the sparkling white car parked on their driveway.

Yelena seemed more eager to show off Kaia's new car than she was, hopping into the front seat and immediately connected her phone to the aux, Mitski blasting at full volume.

And even though it had been 6 months since Ky's birthday, Yelena still clambered into the sleek white car with a gleeful expression, her phone ready in her hand to Bluetooth. Kaia's once peaceful music was soon replaced with songs more to Yelena's taste, reflecting her wild and chaotic personality.

"This is just like a free taxi service for you isn't it?" Kaia commented as Yelena clearly made herself comfortable, her hands adjusting the direction of the aircon as Kaia pulled away from the drive.

"Yeah, but you're rich so it's fine." It was true. Kaia didn't care about giving Yelena lifts. And besides, it's not like she payed for the electricity that powered her car.

10 minutes later she swerved into the Starbucks parking lot, a smile gracing her face as she saw the all-too-familiar store. The girls pushed the doors open and went inside to order their drinks. Yelena offered to collect their drinks so Kaia took a seat in a booth next to the window and peered outside, watching the hustle and bustle of the world outside.

Her hand was propped up under chin and she soon drifted into her thoughts, trying to process the events of this morning even though it was only 9:20am.

Yelena observed her best friend from afar, watching how she retreated into her head. She knew Kaia's concerns about college, especially with Natasha who was also doing the same course. The tension between the 2 could be cut clearly with a knife, which made thanksgiving and birthdays slightly awkward. But Yelena's outlandish personality always helped muffle the discomfort with a joke or a random song, which Kaia was thankful for.

She carried their coffees and blueberry muffins over to the table and slid in opposite Kaia, who was still staring into space out of the window. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth and Lena could feel Ky's knee bouncing up and down as their legs touched under the table.

"Hey. Kaia." Yelena said gently, placing her hand on her friend's knee. "I got that muffin you wanted." She slid the muffin across the table and watched as Kaia's eyes flickered into focus and she took a deep breath.

"I was beginning to think you'd forget." She joked, taking a sip of her coffee and smiling at the taste. Her grin was slightly forced and Yelena could tell it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Yelena laughed, her adorable giggle making Kaia smile harder. "Me? Forget? Never." She watched as her best friend slowly picked apart her muffin, breaking it into pieces on the wrapper. "What's going on?"

Kaiiarina sighed. Her anxiety wasn't anything new, and the duo had learned to cope with it really well. Yelena was goofy but always understanding, switching her naturally comedic tone to a more serious one when she needed to. And she was an excellent observer, which definitely came in handy as Kaia usually withdrew into herself whenever anxiety took over.

"Oh nothing." She said casually, more so to convince herself than Yelena. "It's just- well, college is a lot."

Yelena knew where this was coming from. They'd spoken about it a few times, but Ky still struggled to wrap her head around it. "Yeah... but it's not different for us."

"Why?" Kaia questioned as she bit into a chunk of muffin. A blueberry exploded on her tongue and sent a fuzzy feeling in her stomach. That's why those muffins were her favourites.

"Because we're still together. And we always will be."

Kaia thought for a moment as she chewed. Yes, they would be together, but they'd also be around Natasha and a bunch of new people they'd never seen before. Plus, they were doing different courses which meant different people, different professors, different buildings, different schedules... it was a lot.

Yelena took her silence as a hint to keep talking. "You're worried about Nat aren't you?"

"No." Kaia snorted. "Well... I'm hoping your sister is too busy to worry about making my life a living hell... but you know..." she trailed off and Yelena smiled, having figured out the root of her worries.

"You'll be fine. Besides, you won't even see her. You have me instead!"

"Hmmm... I wonder which Romanoff-Belova sibling I like best..." Kaia pretended to think long and hard, knowing it would mess with Yelena all too well.

Yelena narrowed her eyes and lined up a blueberry to flick, her lips curling into a pout. "For the sake of your white sweatshirt, you better say me. Or I'm gonna find another roommate."

"Okay Miss 'I breakdown in tears when I'm not around you'. Can't fool me Belova.". A smug expression crossed Kaia's face and Yelena huffed, sinking into the soft leather seat as she tossed the blueberry into her mouth and chomped on it with force.

"I hate you." She mumbled, glaring around the half empty coffee shop as her arms folded across her chest and one foot came to rest on the maroon seat.

Kaia chuckled at her childish behaviour, expecting nothing less. "No you don't."

With her infamous pout and inability to look her friend in the eye, Yelena answered "Yes I do" whilst eyeing up the baristas working quickly behind the counter, taking drive-thru orders as they drizzled caramel onto several frappuccinos.

"Okay then. See you around." Kaia grabbed her keys and iced latte and made a move to stand up from the booth, before Yelena put her leg on her seat so she couldn't get out. "No wait! I need a lift!"

Kaia sat down with a scoff. "Wow... so you are using me!"

"Yeah I am." Yelena said with no shame with a mouth full of muffin. "What about it?"

"Remind me why I'm friends with you again?"

"Because you need someone with good music taste to test your car speakers. And someone to bring banners to your dance recitals." A cheeky glint shone in Yelena's eyes as Kaia groaned, her head falling into her hands at the memory.

"No! Never again." She peeked through her fingers to see her best friend sniggering, to which she kicked her rather hard in the shin, earning a pained yelp from the blonde. "You may find it hilarious, but I will never live that down. I almost got kicked off the team for that!"

Yelena rolled her eyes. "Oh shut up. Natty was only jealous because I didn't make her a sign. She would never kick you off. You're too good. They need you to win." She was right. Kaia was unbelievably talented, although she would never admit it.

One of the many things the girls had in common was their dedication. When they wanted something, they were some of the most driven teenagers around. Both sets of parents were proud, although Yelena's showed it a lot more than Kaia's did. Her's seemed to think that the money they gave her was enough to make up to the detached and cold behaviour they showed towards her and her brother. But it just brought the siblings closer than they ever would be.

"We have 3 months until college. What the fuck are we gonna do?" Yelena asked, slurping the last of her coffee. It seemed like a hell of a long time to sit around stressing, which is what Kaia would do.

"We need to buy stuff for our dorm. And I want to go to the beach."

"Okay Ky that's boring stuff. I'm talking sleeping under the stars, going to haunted houses, days at the lake, getting drunk whenever we want! We have all this time and no pressure to do anything. We can't waste it!"

Kaia chewed on her lip before smiling. The sun as shining and it was warm. Perfect May summer weather. "Okay fuck it. Lake day?" She asked, grabbing her keys and adjusting her sunglasses on her head.

"I love you!"

They dumped their trash and ran out to the car, jumping in before racing home to collect their stuff. Kaia's parents weren't home (surprise surprise) so she didn't need to ask permission from anyone. And Yelena never asked permission She was 18 and frankly Melina and Alexei trusted her enough for her to do what she wanted.

"First day of stress free summer is about to commence!" Yelena announced when they were both back in the car. The electric guitar intro of 'Sweet Child O'Mine' blared through the tesla speakers as they pulled out of the driveway and it suddenly felt real.

It was summer.

They were going to college.

Together.

10 year old Kaiiarina and Yelena would be proud.

[s0fti3w1tch]

*runs up to you sobbing*

how draw turtles?

working on a comic with a pal of mine and i’m in charge of the art and idk how to draw turtles anymore so help please i didn’t know what i was getting myself into how do you stay motivated i need coffee ok bye bye *passes out*

-sketched

Okay so maybe I'm not the best to answer this, but

How to Draw the Turtles REFERENCE RESOURCES:

Turtlepedia is a generally amazing resource for finding reference images, screencaps, and concept art for any TMNT content in general! Rise concept art page is one I tend to go to. I know they have some character model sheets there too.

TMNTCompendium is an account on Tumblr dedicated to collecting references of TMNT both official and fanmade. They've blogged and reblogged some really useful stuff, so I highly recommend giving a scroll-through.

Storyboard/Doodles from official artists really help when finding a more simplified/sketchy approach: Rise tag of Christine Liu's Tumblr is the one I can think of off the top of my head

Others' Specifc ROTMMNT art studies: RaindropSyndrome's Expression Study, Mikiib's Rise turtle Anatomy Study, etc.

I used to use the 3D Rise Models from the Ninja Run / Power Up! game before they were removed from Sketchfab. If you can find another way to view those models, I'd say use that too!

Things I recommend practicing the most?

The shell. Especially Rise, as the shape of the carapace conforms to the curve of a human spine. Angles, how the carapace connects to the plastron. And the head. In thumbnails, I tend to divide them into two shapes, Base + Beak/Snout/Whichever You Call It, then lines generally marking the center, where the eyes would be, where the literal mask ends and then below. This can be harder depending on which character's head you're drawing.

Motivation.... (there is so much text down here)

As for staying motivated, that is an issue I still struggle with. What may help me may not help you. But I can give one thing maybe?

For both you and your friend, don't constrict yourselves too hard. Is this a passion project? Then, be more chill with your stuff about it. If you have a story you want to tell, take that time you need. Holding yourself accountable to get those things done? I get it. But beating yourself up about something you were supposed to do for fun? For me, if anything, it made me more dreaded to do those things and I got angry at my ability not to enjoy them.

Also... Don't be hard on yourself out about making it look good by the start.

Tentative Devotee was the first full-on fan-comic I made since I was 14 and I'm becoming 20 this year. Part one is more clearly rough around the edges than part two, and I know when part 3 comes out, there will be another shift. That's a natural consequence of learning to draw unfamiliar things more frequently to show something you want to show.

2nd Page of Tentative Devotee - Enemies pt. 1 vs 1st page of pt. 2

I'm not the best at words when it comes to this sort of thing. And this, I feel, is a discussion to be further had with others: but I do sincerely wish you and your friend the best of luck. Every step of progress is a step nonetheless. Please communicate and be patient and understanding with each other. Establish boundaries and be honest with each other about how you two will work on this. Communicate, collaborate, accommodate, compromise— all that.

[starryostar]

Its time

for a shitty tutorial i made in my sketchbook at work.

Lets begin.

this page.... is alright.

"Start with a circle. This will be the basis for your revolution" "It doesn't even have to be good"

The basic shape of heads in my style is just a circle. Circles are good! Hence the next part. The first one doesn't need to be good because its mostly going to be erased or obscured: it mostly serves as a guide. Or a basis, if you would.

"Continue with additional circles. Use guidelines Or don't." "These ones should be okay, they're eyes."

This is the only instance in which I acknowledge guidelines. I encourage their use! It helps.

'These ones should be okay' yeah no what i mean is that these ones should be treated with more importance because theyre not going to be erased or obscured as much, because theyre going to serve as her glasses, which for all intent and purposes, is her eyes.

Moving on.

This is where madness and incomprehensibility sets in. Okay.

"Add facial detail. Nose, mouth, eyelash thing, bridge of the glasses (if necessary)." "Nose and mouth are close on a bunny."

This, for the most part, I feel, doesn't require that much clarification. But I will clarify anyways: when I say (if necessary) re: the bridge of the glasses, that's if they are distant enough to not be touching. Sometimes they're not, and the circles touch on their own; the bridge is unnecessary in that case. The circles never overlap though! Not yet anyways idk.

'Nose and mouth are close on a bunny' Close Together is what I meant to say. It's my inclination to draw her facial features small and cutely unless she's showing her teeth, and compact as to fit on the first circle without needing to extend her cheeks or make a more defined chin or muzzle. But that is just me and my personal inclinations! If its in your artstyle to make the aforementioned chin or muzzle, then, feel free i guess. But Starry's face is not "long": there is very little space for the chin and forehead at most angles. That's also just my flavor of doing things. Cry about it !!!

"Hair time. The order and direction you approach from matters!" "Parts here. Do first or last." "Ive marked numbers for the order i make lines and arrows for how I make them."

Okay this is the complex part. First thing... the hair parts above her left eye with a W shape for the roots, as seen. This can either be detailed first or last, but if you're not confident in where to start drawing the first line, you should start there.

Regarding the rest of the hair, I find that working from the inside out works a lot better for creating volume than working from the outside in, and she looks nicer with more volume! It also helps to start in this way so you can make it that her hair frames her face like curtains. How much of her cheeks and chin are visible are dependent on that framing, and if it can be helped, its best to keep the lower horizontal curve in tact and hide the vertical left and right curves behind hair. That covers lines 1 and 5. Line 2 should have its end covered by line 3, line 4 is a self contained little bow shape, and line 6 has a sharper angle in it to create a more dynamic shape instead of simply cascading down. I think i might have drawn the arrow wrong for line 6... either will work. See what feels better: the volume should *not* be symmetrically distributed. And one last thing! If possible, try to make each line with a single stroke or quick gesture. You will create more natural flowing lines the quicker you try to draw them.

Moving on! Deeper into the pit.

"Hair part 2. I give her a bullshit ponytail thay defies physics..." "she has some hair leftover that frames her cheeks from behind."

I really should have elaborated more on this since its sort of important (its lab safe after all!) but it also... defies explanation. It goes up and out, down and in, then spikes 3 times. You'll either figure it out or draw something more realistic that'll slay. The hair behind her head is also a similarly complex out then in then spike; if anything, just draw the spike part behind her neck.

"If its down, its long, messy, and curly / wavy. Include the wavy shape."

Now. I think this is pretty succinct, and needs no elaboration. What i didnt mention is the errant strands that go in front of her shoulders, and just how long her hair is specifically. How long is it?

"It fucking lomg"

Yeah, you said it! Though if I had to say, dry, it would reach down to the bottom of her ribcsge, and wet, or straightened, probably down past her waistline.

Moving on.

I was starting to become cynical here! It's because my traditional looks way worse than my digital art and I have way less space to write.

"Ears. Yeah put em on. Theyre as complex as you make them. (Examples)"

Space them out to be on the left and right side of her head (some people draw bunny ears meeting in the middle: do not do this) and draw whatever you feel will be better. I try to default to v1 but if they're at an awkward position, then v2 will work better. Position can reflect emotion, but her ears tend to be upward. She's not lop-eared! it tends to get visually busy or overcomplicated if her ears are down alongside her hair, as the ears being up balances the overall mass and silhouette. They also tend to be pretty large for this purpose as well. As shapes, I tend to draw them with a straighter inside and a bow curve outside for v1. For v2, a simple oval is fine. Her ears don't tend to "bend" or fold on themselves, but if necessary, v2 works much better for this.

Dont touch them. I'll kill you

"Markings / color / other things." "I don't often include it when working in monochrome, but there's a star on the cheek and spot on the opposite eye." "This sucks doesn't it. Oh well."

I agree with you! Let's discuss this. The star is on her right cheek and the spot on her left eye always. With her glasses on, the spot looks more like an outline for the lens. They're going to be a gentle orange color. Her glasses are red and blue on her right and left, respectively: so to speak, her orange spot outlines the blue lens since they're color compliments. I make the choice to not depict any colors or markings when working with monochrome colors (meaning, just one color, like pencil on paper or making quick pen sketches on digital).

Other things that didn't get mentioned! Sometimes features of her face are visible or invisible depending on her emotions: or if they're necessary in conveying said emotions. Her mouth can sometimes be invisible, her eyebrows can sometimes become visible, and her eyes/pupils can sometimes be visible as well. When she smiles, I draw only vertical lines for her teeth. This is classic mad science shit. Get with it! If her mouth is open in a way that would show teeth, then I draw them normally, or with appropriate detail.

But that's all, i think. Now go out there and learn some damn combos. (draw her! i would like that)

[sorenphelps]

This post will probably remain my most popular one, and it blew up only because two of the Big Names of this fandom a decade ago reblogged/added to it. I am to this very day quite amazed by this, and I am now even finding it funny how it has a typo.🤷🏻‍♀️

A lot of you have added that you think Sirius was the left handed one, but after all this time, I still stand by my original HC, and here’s why:

The majority of the population is right handed, which means that the world is set up to suit right handed people more. Every left handed person had to learn to live in a right handed world, so I believe every left handed person can use their right hand much better than an average right handed person their left hand. This is why being left handed is usually an advantage in a lot of sports. For example, in waterpolo (which is actually very similar in my head to Quidditch, the vibes at least), left handed players are favoured and actively recruited because they can throw the ball with both of their hands and can utilize even the “bad angles” better. James is canonically very good at Quidditch, and he is a chaser, so it would give him the same level of advantage as for waterpolo players.

Being left handed was considered sort of a bad thing, so a lot of lefties were “forced” to use their right hand instead, at least for writing. My late grandmother had a friend who was a descendant of an old Transilvanian noble family, and she was indeed left handed but was taught to use her right hand exclusively since the earliest signs of her being left handed were noticed, because that’s what was expected from a “person of her title”. I think the Blacks would have the same approach, so if Sirius would have been left handed, I think he would have been re-educated to use his right hand instead, the same way my grandmother’s friend was. Sirius seeing James using his left hand freely could strenghten his instant belief of the Potters being cool and different from his own family. Considering his rebellious nature, he would probably be more drawn to James because of this tiny detail (and he is very observant, so I think he would notice this on their first train ride - idk if it’s specified in the books which hand James raised the imaginary sword with) I think Sirius would even brag about his proudly left handed best friend, just to annoy his mother, the same way as he did with the muggle posters.

I like them having different dominant hands, it really just hammers in the “two halves of the same coin” vibe they had, and it’s unlikely that they were both left handed. I prefer James as the leftie, because it adds a nice little quirk to his character, which is not really fleshed out in the books. Also, as in the drawing addition I added back then, it’s just such a good pun opportunity, and Sirius canonically loves puns… so he really just needs to be James’ Right Hand Man!

My headcanon is that James Potter was left handed. He and Sirius developed their own fighitng style according to this fact and they were very effective because they used the opposite hands so they had no weak side.

[thefanbasewhore]

My Sun and My Moon

summary: you get jealous that Geralt continues to entertain Yennefer who he claims he does not love anymore and naturally you make him jealous back

paring: geralt of rivia x reader

content: 18+ minors DNI, smut, Dom geralt who switches to soft, honestly idk how to tag this bc it's everywhere.

a/n: not beta read or proof read bc I'm lazy

It's not laborious to see the way he stares at you - eyes darkening just enough to make the honey amber eyes sparkle to a deep caramel color. Dark and deep like the depths of a carved cannon - dark in the way that they promise no life will survive. Sparkling in this little game of predator and prey as the man next to you touches the small of your back with his dirty, callused hand.

The tavern is bouncing with life, busy from the festival that seemed like it would last all night. Geralt grasps the cup of ale in his hand, muscles in his jaw twitching as his knuckles white against thin handle. The integrity of the wood shivers with complaints of splinting under his strong hands.

The spot to his left is empty, the ghosts of where you used to be until the raven haired woman approached him. With your chest burning with jealousy, you decided to leave and let Geralt enjoy his time with her since she did always seem to find her way to whatever town you wander to.

But this - geralt would never stoop to such lows. Sitting and flirting with a group of men right in front of him, laughing and drinking from their cups. Letting them put their dirty paws on you - touching your shoulder and feeling the tips of your hair.

He had dismissed Yennfer an hour ago. Tugging his lip between teeth as your eyes would meet his - just to make sure he's still watching. His gaze is hot - pure lava that burns the skin, but it feels so, so good.

But to be completely honest you're so sick of the Geralt and Yennfer destiny shit - her always showing up and claiming her love while Geralt still hears her out, always so sweet with her despite having you. You're so over him claiming it is nothing more than destiny, that it will always bring them together but he picks you regardless.

Screw Geralt and screw destiny too.

Geralt leans forward into the table, listening intensely as the group of men continue to compliment your beauty. He was fine with playing this stupid game - letting you having your fun and punish him for even entertaining the idea of Yen but as the hand on your back slips lower and lower until it cups the curve of your ass.

Just like that his vision blurs, two strides away as he watches the way your lips twitch into a polite smile and throw your head back with laughter. Two large hands grasp your wrist, pulling you up from the table as the men around you moan and groan at the loss of your presence.

It's impossible to comprehend what is happening as you're pulled into a room, the door closed shut with force.

“Wh-.” You don’t even get the chance to speak before your face is pressed against the wall with a heavy chest crushing against your back. Soft, heavy breaths as a hand anchors your hip, awkwardly angling you against the old, crappy wooden table. A burning stretch felt across your lower abdomen with a hand flat against your shoulder and lowers you down until your stomach touches the table, bending you to his will.

"I am fed up with you." His voice booms inside the small room, feeling his hardness grow against your backside, twitching to life in the position he has you in.

Stomach flat against the table, ass pressed against the ties of his trousers, his strong, pale arm clenching your neck and forcing a cheek into the table.

"What is your problem now?"

"Go ask Yennefer."

His chest vibrates with a growl, hand moving as his fingers knot inside your hair. "You know it's not like that I don't -."

"Want her, you want me, yeah. Heard that one before but someone you still end up entertaining her. Now get off me and let me go back to those guys -."

He growls again, jealousy burning inside his chest but the hint of silky musk that slips from under your dress as you struggle against his hold. It's enough to have him twitching in his pants - a sly smirk filling his features.

"Oh, you wanted this to happen didn't you, brat?" He leans in closer as he coos, using the curve of his nose to run it through your hair, smelling the sweet, earthy tones of a day of travel. Letting out an exaggerated squeal as he pushes his hips deeper against your inner thighs to feel the heaviness of his erection as he speaks, "Oh, you did? Dirty girl."

Calloused and gentle fingers grasp your shoulder, running down the length of your back as he presses a few light kisses over the shirt that covers your spine. "Oh my beautiful, dumb girl. No matter how many times I tell you, you always seem to think the worst."

He clicks his tongue, whispering the words, "I'll let you in on a little secret, petal. Even destiny can't get in the way of my love for you, what does that tell you? But I guess I will show you. Fuck you right here for all those men to hear my love for you and yen, she's here, I want her to hear too."

“Geralt, we can’t do this -.” your eyes flicker to the door, the night from outside seeping through the cracks of the splintering wood.

"I'll do whatever I want." His smooth words pressed into your skin with his kisses."Isn't that right?" His own little way of asking for permission, "because this pussy is mine."

You're not prepared for the hand that makes contact with your ass as punishment for your silence, causing you to squeal out a choked, "Y-Yes!"

Warm lips press into your shoulder following with a thick line of spit from his hot tongue and nipping teeth.

Nimble fingers dig into the skin of your shoulder, turning you around to face him with a deep scowl. A gentle hand cups your face - angling your eyes to meet his face, fingers soaking into the skin if your hairline. He doesnt move, hot breath fanning your face as he stares.

He can't help but think how beautiful you are like this, flushed and hair messily forming knots from his hands and a few loose pieces stick to your wet skin. A cool hand against the nape of your neck releases its grasp, taking the opportunity you gasp to slip his tongue into your mouth, tongue finding your own with ease.

The room is suddenly hot - a wave of heat coating your cheeks but you can't help as your hands raise to spread his silver strands and his breath hitches. A rough hand pulls at the ties of your corset, unlacing the leather brace and exposing what lies underneath.

The moment your erect nipples meet the cool bitter air you feel press closer to his armour, seeking warmth. The fingers around the back of your neck pull you away from his warmth, only to soothe your aching nipples with the flat muscle called his tongue.

"Petal, tell me." He rubs the heaviness of his erection over your barely clothes cunt. "Did you like his hands on you?"

It's not like you get the chance to answer as harsh teeth nip at your left nipple. In response you whine but loud enough that your eyes grow wide, looking over at the door... But Geralt's hand stops you, gritting his teeth as he speaks, "Looking for your new lover to come in, sweet girl?"

"No!" You whine as his teeth nip at your neck, he hums against the skin as you continue, "Just want you, bear."

The nickname you have given him so long ago makes him huff - hands falling to cup the fat of your ass, “You’re making it hard to stay mad at you.”

Instead of arguing further you catch him in a kiss and push off with your elbows before using them as support. The moment your lips disconnect you're pressing soft, gentle kiss against his jaw, following a trail to his neck before sucking on the pale skin gently.

Geralt eyes lashes flutter, a soft satisfied hum echoing in his chest as his hands tighten around the plush of your hips.

"I'm sorry, my love." Feeling the small prick of his facial hair as you punch his chin between your pointer and thumb. "I was being a brat - should have never let him touch me like that."

Geralt is almost satisfied. Almost.

His lips find yours again but the tug at the ends of your hair has you huffing.

“Geralt..” The whine of his name wanting and feral shoots straight to his aching cock.

"You don't seem apologetic, make it up to me and we'll see if I forgive you." The cheeky smirk makes you want to scowl but you don't even get the chance.

Fingers cup your chin and grip to watch your lips part with want, two fingers sliding along the ridges and bumps of your tongue until they reach the back of your throat. Geralt laughs at you - actually laughs as you gag around them but he doesn't pull away, he holds them there, feeling your throat swallow around them.

"I am sorry geralt -,"

“What are you sorry for? Tell me, sweet girl.”

He's doing this on purpose, teasing and prolonging this longer just to get a rise out of you. You watch the way his eyes test you, knowing exactly what he wants to hear.

"Come on, petal, tell me what are you sorry for?"

Two large hands squeezed at your thighs again as you refused to speak.

“Go ahead, say sorry for being a little whore.”

The wetness between your thighs betrays you, squeezing them tightly to relieve the throbbing between your legs. It doesn't go unoticed, geralt could smell just how wet you were - sobbing, wet slick coating the inside of your thighs but he wasn't budging.

Instead watching with those honey sickle eyes. Watching as your eyes bounce back and forth, wheels turning and weighting your options.

"Say it or I'll leave you here." He threatens.

Silence is all he's greeted with. Just like that, cruel and evil he pulls his body away from your own, not bothering to spare you one more glance before you're reaching out to grab his fingers.

He turns to look at you, watching as your cheeks flush red and eyes meet the floor. "I'm sorry for being a little whore."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

With one last sigh - you swallow any pride you did have. He looks too good - black armour adorns his body, the flickering candles from the tavern shadows his features and carve the highest points of his face. "I'm sorry for being a little whore."

Two thick, warm fingers run alongside the plush of your breast. Slow as they trail across the plane of your stomach and under the fabric to push the dress up and over your head leaving you in the soft, white satin panties.

"Geralt, someone can walk in - I'm naked."

"Good."

You scoff under your breath but the two large fingers spread over your clothed pussy with a loud whine, pushing into the touch. “Brute."

He can't help but crack a smile at that, teasingly smacking your hand away that cups his chin. "Stop that and be a good girl."

Without a word he sinks to his knees with a few seconds of silence and stares, almost like he's trying to commit the sight to his memory. He watches as you whine and lift your hips in a desperate attempt for him to finally touch you.

He clicks his tongue as hands cup both of your breasts, nipples pebbling instantly. His pressing a soft kiss against the soft material makes you squirm.

“I-I..” Tears of frustration gather at the corner of your eyes, feeling as if you were going to combust at any moment.

But Geralt - he's having the time of his life. His pretty girl squirming and needy above him. He can't help but stare, a large hand gathering the fabric across your waist and gently pulls. It's just enough that it shapes to the curves of your pussy lips, a wet patch forming to the cream colored panties.

Your skin is on fire - almost like small bee stings that would only be cured by the touch of his hand. Ears twitching with heat as you feel him rest his temple against your inner knee. But the moment he presses a thumb against the soft flesh of your clit, you mewl, back arching from the table. He takes his time, spreading the wetness around.

He applies a little more pressure and as a response - your first moan of the night. Skin flushing pink as you realize just exactly where you are but it doesn't seem to matter much anyways, the tavern had broken out into a song, no doubt from the bard.

His hand leaves you completely with a loud protest, but it is cut short with a hand against your hip to flip you around to your stomach, face pressing against the wood as the same hand digs into your right hip, dragging them high into the air.

"You're not being fair." You protest but Geralt's hand smacks your backside again.

"I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not, petal. You were being a brat and still are. Can't keep your mouth shut."

His length is heavy, straining against the back of your thigh. Pressing a kiss to your lower back up to the bare prominence of your shoulder blade. Despite his words a gentle palm soothes the burning of your seared skin but it only drops lower and gathers the fabric of your underwear and rips the fabric from you.

With little to no warning his fingers hook inside of you until they curl around that gummy spot that makes you moan.

The two fingers scissor against your walls, coating in your arousal that only makes it that much easier to thrust back in you. The instant the sound leaves your lips, using a hand to cup your mouth to conceal the noise but he only tugs your wrist, “I want to hear every single sound, understand?”

You squeeze around him, hips naturally fighting the trust of his fingers. "Sounds so sweet, angel."

The way your pussy squeezes around his fingers makes him groan, electric

Two fingers move, scissoring against the velvet walls as your eyes roll back into your heat, dizzy for it. The evidence of your wetness lubricating his fingers, coating them and making the next thrust of his wrist more impactful. He’s hitting the spongy deep spot with every movement, parts you never thought a person could reach and you squeal. Shockwaves rippling through your skin as those cloudy amber eyes watch the way your body shakes underneath him.

There’s no other way to describe it other then earth-shattering as the heat builds inside your stomach. Geralt is so caught up in your pretty sounds, the way you call his name with a cry that he doesn’t realize the way his hips press against your inner thigh. Dry fucking himself to the fact he’s milking you for everything you got.

The long finger never stop - filling you over and over again as soon as they leave. Fingers curling deep inside and massage the deepest part of you, so deep that your fingers wrap around his wrist to stop the brutal pace but a brutal grip finds your forearm and press a warning squeeze against it. While you’re fully expecting him to push the hand that keeps him from what he needs most but instead he interwebs his fingers with your own.

Just like that - time slows, feeling every inch of his fingers as your pussy clamps down on his fingers and vision fades to black as you cum around his fingers. Heavy breaths to try to make up for the lack of oxygen inside your lungs as you feel the line of his nose move across your jaw and a soft kiss against your chin but he’s twitching against your thigh.

No doubt, painfully hard. With shaky legs you turn to face him, fingers running up the hardness of his armour just to pull at the clasps and buckles. His own hands fumbling with the ties of his pants, shaky finger meet yours half way to help pull the rest of the clothing off.

Your hands spread across his bare abdomen with flirty eyes as he peers down at you. "Look so pretty, petal."

His finger curling under your chin to angle your lips toward his as he leans in slowly until he tastes the sweet ale on your lips but his sweetness was short lived as he whispers into your ear, "On your knees."

The shuffle to the floor is quick, positioning yourself in front of the large man - palming his harness through his already unlaced pants.

 Geralt peers down at you, using his digit to run along the line of you jaw - thumb pinching at the pit of your chin. “Open those pretty lips for me.”

Despite the dull burn of your knees, you happy oblige and mouth parting the skin of his appendage dips to your tongue and presses into it. His other hand pulls at the fabric of his pants just enough to release his coco from the confines of his pants.

Beautiful doe eyes peer up at him as he wraps the free hand around his throbbing erection and rubs the soft, fleshy head against your lips until you part your mouth and stick your tongue out for him.

"Pretty girl." You hum in response, pushing his heavy length past your lips. Suddenly filled with the taste of him, suddenly every sense is filled with him. In that instant geralt realizes the mistake he's made, between the heat of your throat and the way it contracts over the fat head of his cock, he feels dizzy, needing to grasp the edges of the table to stay horizontal.

The moment you take him just a little bit more he's whining, hips tuting to engross himself inside more until you gag around him. "Keep going, pretty."

He uses his large palm to pet the hair out of your face with a sweet smile. If it wasn't like you wouldn't do anything he asked - he just had to smile so sweetly you can't help but close your eyes and finally feel the tickle of the dark pubic hair.

Geralt can't help the way his head rolls back, neck snapping under the pressure as his fingers touch over the skin of your temple and gathers it in his giant palm, making a make shift pont tail.

As his eyes meet your own blush blankets your cheeks and Geralt sucks in a breath at the sight of you, and playfully tugs at the ends of your hair, "How many times have you done this? Don't get shy on me now."

Geralt gives a small thrust, just enough to make your eyes water and gag around his hardness His fingers clutch the corner of the table as a small groan falls from his lips watching as you bring a hand up to cup his balls, not daring to take your eyes away.

"Easy. Trying to make up for being a brat?" You ignore his teasing and instead bob your head back and down in precise, achingly show movements just the way he likes it.

The way you slowly take all of him, inch by inch until he hits the end of your throat and swallow - the tight muscle contracting around his already aching length.

He’s growing frustrated at your teasing, face flushing a deep pink color as he chewing on his bottom lip. Battered and bloody - he can taste the blood every time he gasps. His fingers burn into the base of your skull and you're forced to breath out through your nose as he decides to take over and fucking into your face.

By the time he's done your face is dripping with your salvia, a line of spit follows as he pulls out completely. He reaches a hand between your face to grasp his weeping cock and runs the head against the smooth skin of your cheek and gathers the wetness of tears there before then moving to your petal lips where you can taste the saltiness. "Look at me."

No words are needed to know how badly he wants you right now. They're found in his darkening eyes, the way his hand squeezes around your throat. "I let you suck my cock, what do you say?"

"Thank you." He doesn't seem to like the short reply bc his hand tightens even more around the thick muscles of your neck.

"That didn't seem very thankful."

"Thank you for letting me suck you off. You're so good to me, baby."

He lets out a satisfied hum, hand releasing his grip only to cup under your arm. "Up."

Before you even get the chance he's lifting you from the floor and sitting you at the edge of the table. He twitches against your thigh, no doubt painfully hard but still takes his time to run his fingers across your breast and gently squeeze the right nipple between two fingers.

The feeling of intense heat is soon gone as his arm slides behind your back and cups your waist just to pull your chest into his own.

His lips ghost over your nose and follow along the ridges of your jaw before hover over your own - like he's something he's been dying to do, taste your lips. "Kiss me, pretty girl."

The moment you meet the silver haired brute's lips he lets out a soft moan - parting slightly, just enough to slip your tongue inside.

His body pressing against yours, evenly matching with heaving breath and he's so gentle it takes your breath away. Putting his all and everything into your lips, his tongue caresses your own, using a hand to pull your closer and closer and he just wants more.

For the sake of breathing he backs away and whispers against your lips, "I just want you, always want you." Before meeting your lips again - once - twice - a third time like he's a deprived man.

As if to break him from his trance he pushes against your shoulders to knock you to your elbows.

There is no warning as the bulbas head of his cock rubs against the contours of your cunt - collecting the sloppy heath and using it to push into you. The heavy stretch is heavenly, a light burn to accommodate his size. Something of a delicious pain as your eyes roll shut and you fall to your back.

The velvety-like walls practically sucking him whole, feeling every inch of your messy pussy. With only a few inches left he stops. He's greedy you to take it all but watching the way wrinkles form against your nose.

His hand cups your jaw and frowns, "I'm okay, Geralt, been a while is all."

You're right - between the gone for weeks and slaying monsters, he hasn't had much alone time with his girl, especially with the stupid bars around.

"I should get you ready more -." Before he can move you reach for his hand and press it against your chest - feeling the jump of your heart under his palm.

"I'm okay, you can keep going."

Two fingers tease the bundle of nerve in slow, circular motions as he nudges just a little further until he’s nestled so deep in your sopping cunt, you feel him in your stomach. He takes the time to reach for your own arm, brings it to his chest to feel his own source of life.

With the feeling of being so full you're blinking, trying to clear the blurring vision. Hearing your own heart beat in your ears as you feel his own against your finger tips. Blown ember eyes flicker from your face to where you two connect and press his hips experimentally deeper.

The sound that comes from your lips as they part and your back arches from the table is enough to have him moan against your jaw - willing and able to give you everything at the word. His soft lips follow with sultry heat up your cheeks and to your ear where he softly bites. It's almost like that jealous geralt had completely melted away, no longer demanding and mean, he just wants you to feel good and feel his love for you. His eye lashes flutter against your temple as he lowly speaks, "Look at you, how could I ever want anyone else. You are my heart."

The words make your heart stop - he must be drunk on ale. While you always know the feelings he holds, it has never, ever came to a point where he needed to express his undying love. "Can I move, my heart? I wanna feel you."

Without thinking you extend your arm, palm flat against his face. Despite the littering scars and brush of his facial hair, his skin is soft. Smooth and gentle, much to match his heart. "You are so drunk, dear."

He smirks at your words as he brings your palm to his lips and kisses the skin of your wrist. "'ust love you. Wanna love you."

"Then love me."

He doesn't waste another second as his hips start to move. Never leaving your eyes as they snap faster and faster, the evidence of your arousal leaking out with every pull of his hips. It soaks his abdomen, soaks your own and covers your thighs. It allows him to move easier in and out of you, deeper and deeper as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He can’t look away from the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing into your silky opening. The sounds of the room are ones of Geralt's moans and your squeals, followed by echoing of skin against skin and the squelches of your arousal. It’s everywhere, dripping between both of you, and dripping to the table.

Skin flushing every time he hits that gummy part inside of you, vision blurring, so fucked that you can't even form words.

“Love -ugh - you," Geralt can’t even form coherent sentences anymore. Pupils full blown as he chases his own high - thighs starting to shake under the pressure of your hot, tight hole.

Suddenly your body erupts with pleasure - tingling from your fingers to your toes as the familiar feeling of an orgasm and makes eyes water in relief. Every push of his hips are deep and rough, as his member twitches inside of you.

His cum fills you with a sound from his lips. The thick white spurts coating the inside of your squeezing walls. It's been so long - there's so much, it's leaking from where you connect but Geralt doesn't seem to mind as he props himself on his elbows next to your head and brings his lips to your own.

The orgasm is mind shattering - throat drying as you’re unable to form any other words. Clenching around him so hard that his hips stutter but he continues to drive his cock so deep inside that your legs shake and give out.

But he's still not done, twitching and releasing his load deep inside so much so that you're huffing against his lips and pushing against his chest for him to release you, "Gods - there is so much, you brute."

"Been so long, sweetheart. Maybe that's why you were being bratty, was I neglecting my beautiful flower?" And if you thought those words made your cheeks flush his next ones makes your whole body hot, "Don't look so sad, I promise I'll fill you up everyday when I'm here."

Once again fed up with geralt and his vulgar tongue you try and pry yourself away but he doesn't allow it - instead pulls you into a lip crushing kiss.

"Where are you going, petal?" In that very moment, still buried inside you his cock begins to twitch to life again. "I told you it's been a while, gotta make up for it."

"We -,"

He doesn't let you finish, his tongue slips into your lips as his hand softly kneads at the flush of your thigh.

Eyes looking hopeful as ever he pouts, "I just want to love you, you'll let me love you again, right?"

The relief is short lived as he flips you over and now with your chest against the table no longer allowed to those honey comb eyes. Geralt's finger grabs at your waist, hosting your hip up into the air.

Screw him and his adorable puppy eyes. Despite the soreness and burn you already feel with just shifting your weight you nod. Geralt and his incredibly clingy self pulling you into a kiss once more before pulling from your heat where you gasp at the burn.

This time he doesn't offer you too much time to adapt to him, already lubed from his endless cum but he does touch that spot deep inside of you that makes you breathless once again.

He's barely started and your thighs are already shaking, your hole aching around his length. So sensitive and fussy that you try to crawl up the table and pry him from his natural needs.

"Is alright." He presses a kiss to your spine and moves your hair to one side so he can kiss the skin behind your ear. "I'm gonna take care of you, beautiful, like I always do. Is it okay?"

You nod despite the tears that prickle your eyes. It feels so good to have him fill you up after coming. Geralt's strong arm wraps around your front before pulling until your back is against his chest and he whispers, "Don't you ever feel I would pick anyone over you. You are my sun and my moon. I'll just have to keep reminding you until you get it."

Your eyes widen suddenly at his harsh teeth biting into your shoulder. There was no doubt you were leaving this room until you believed it was true.

[jenuinedog]

Hi! Anon from before who asked about fluidity and such, I have another question: How do you learn to angle heads / do different perspectives?

Did you take classes, use 3D models, or something else?

So sorry for all the questions, I really want to get better at angles and posing and such - facial expressions are a breeze for me, but I just can't keep proportions, anatomy, or poses right in my head.

TL,dr, how did you learn about all this stuff?

Don't be sorry! Asking questions is how u learn! Lil disclaimer that i'm sorry in advance if this answer seems kinda vapid and lackadaisical :")

I've never taken art classes of any kind in my life. A lot of what I know is from observing how other artists draw and tweaking their processes to something that'll suit my workflow and style better. I admittedly don't use 3D models as often as I should, but they speed up the process IMMENSELY. Sometimes i'll load up a model posing program and use it for just the hands/fingers LOL. It's actually helped me be more aware of how to segment parts of the body so I can "memorize" them a bit better. I actually cannot picture most things in my head properly, so I struggle with keeping tabs on proportions and angles of shapes and poses mentally too 😭

A fun lil trick I do to help with head angles tho that might help is i'll draw a "sheet" of paper over my main head form:

For some reason, i've found that this helps me visualize where the face goes and where it fits within a 3D space. As long as i know the general direction the oc is facing, I can bend and stretch stuff to fit as need be. IDK it's a simple way for me to keep track while drawing, and pretty effective too! 👇🏽

ok these are sloppy n off model a bit, but hopefully you can see what i'm getting at ghjsdfg. I've found making the "sheet" bigger/smaller to suit whatever you're drawing can help narrow down the angle better if you're struggling. Thinking of the construction of shapes and how they sit in a 3D space is helpful too. Most art programs have perspective rulers that you can use to keep a kind of guide of where your drawing is sitting on a perspective plane/grid. I use them when trying to do more dynamic postures!

Other than that, I literally just google/youtube whatever it is i'm trying to work on and click through as many resources as I can. Make notes of what works for me, what doesnt, what I can pick apart and reconstruct. I got my start in art by tracing other people's art onto printer paper when i was younger (never shared 'em, obvs) before learning people posted step-by-step processes of how they draw on dA (it's how I learned what "guidelines" where and how to use them in sketching) and using those. I spent a lot of my more formative years just mimicking other people's drawing habits and quirks until I found a set that worked for me, and expanded on that with just messing around in my spare time. Sometimes the only thing that helps is working through it until I get a result I like.

If you are looking for a more technical approach and wouldn't mind some critique on your stuff, I recommend a site called Drawabox.com ! I've never personally used it, but I have artist friends who have, and while it does cost a fee to access some of the video lessons, there are still a bit of free resources you can take a peek on that might help!!

SORRY FOR THIS LAME ANSWER HFGSHDF I have a very flippant approach to my art. Work smart, not hard as I always say 👌🏽👏🏽

Good luck!!

[salazarslytherin]

under the waxing moon (r.l x y/n)

requested: yes!! [could you do a young remus lupin smut perhaps? if not than cedric!! one with a marking kink, maybe!! and (fem) reader has love bites all over her and remus has scratches on his back from her yk.... and maybe the marauders notice or something cheeky like that at the end! thank u my love!!] send in your own request here!

🃛 masterlist!

cw/tw: smut, marking!kink, hickeys, oral sex (both male and female receiving), fingering, idk just sex man, basically porn without plot

word count: 2.9k

a/n: i hope you guys like it! i wasn't sure whether there were any cw/tw other than the ones listed? if you guys notice any please leave a comment or dm or smth to let me know! thanks :) ALSO i realise i use the word 'boy' a lot jic that makes people uncomfortable all the characters in my fics are of age, i just don't feel comfortable calling them men :/ anw, if you like it please leave a comment, like or reblog to help boost xx

☯︎ tag list

The door slammed shut behind you two as Remus kicked backward, not that either of you would have stopped what you were doing should the door have stayed open.

His hands were currently in one of his favourite spots – nestled under your thighs while your legs were curled around his waist, hands clinging to his neck like you were afraid he'd dissipate into thin air if you were to let go for a second.

Your two mouths moved furiously against each other, his tongue furiously dominating yours as he brought you two towards his bed, bringing you along with him like you weighed nothing.

"Fuck, I can't wait any longer."

Remus tossed you onto the bed, his tall stature casting a long shadow above you as the late morning light shone through the Gryffindor tower windows, the young werewolf's smirk glowing beautifully in the bright light.

"Then hurry up and have me."

The words seemed to do the trick, breaking the trance Remus was in– scanning your body almost in a predatory fashion. It was hot. The prefect almost growled at the sound of your words, diving back down to press his lips to yours, hands by your head, impassioned by the waxing moon.

As the full moon drew closer, you found that Remus' libido would be heightened. He often drew you into empty classrooms, broom closets, once even getting you off in the Three Broomsticks during a Hogsmeade trip. But you weren't complaining. You got your boyfriend's mind off the full moon, and an – actually, several, intense orgasms? It was a dream come true.

As you were lost in your thoughts about the last full moon, Remus had found his way away from your lips, trailing soft kisses down your jaw to the sensitive spot behind your ear, sucking roughly to draw a moan out of you, and effectively, you out of your thoughts.

"Mm, you like that? Like it when I mark you? When the whole school knows who you belong to?"

Nodding, the words vibrated against your skin as Remus traveled down your neck, never hesitating to bite and suck on every last bit of naked skin he could find. Your hands had moved from behind his neck down to his button-up, detaching each one in a frenzy to see him, to feel him.

His hands did very much the same, moving down your own school shirt to unveil your bra, showing more skin as his lips ventured lower down your body towards your collarbone– his favourite place to leave a mark. Nibbling on your left collar, Remus balanced himself on his elbows, moving to grind his hard-on on your clothed crotch.

"Fuck yes, Re I need you. Please."

Your hands had landed themselves on his pants, unbuckling his belt and pants with shaking hands as the two of you moaned together. He detached himself from you for a second, both of you undressing entirely in record time before latching back on immediately, your lips melding together before the two of you had even hit the bed.

Remus' knee found itself between your legs, nudging them apart as his hands sought residence roaming your body, leaving light trails that caused shivers throughout.

One hand eventually landed on your breasts, alternating between massaging and squeezing them as you elicited moans with each movement. The other made its way down to your thighs, gripping onto them hard, sure to leave fingerprints for the next two weeks, purple reminders of this night.

Whining against his lips, you took matters into your own hands, grabbing onto his hard-on and squeezing lightly around the base, making Remus growl in return.

You began moving your hand slowly up and down Remus' shaft, your thumb spreading the small droplets of precum that had gathered, picking up the pace as the werewolf let out breathy moans, moving away from your lips to bite onto your neck.

Continuing to jerk Remus off, your other hand reached down to tug at his balls. When you felt him start to twitch in your grasp you let go, making the boy gasp as he abandoned the section of your neck he was currently sucking a hickey onto, in shock at the fact that you had pushed him so close to the edge and not let him cum.

Smiling innocently at your boyfriend, you rolled him over– an action he definitely hadn't expected and kissed him on the lips, before making your way down his body.

"Couldn't let you cum like that. I want to taste you."

⚔︎

You gave a little kitten lick to the werewolf's leaking slit, making him moan as he propped himself up onto his elbows, watching you go down on him, fascinated.

You swallowed the tip, swirling your tongue around the head and grazing your teeth softly against the shaft. Remus' hands flew to your hair, tightening his grip as you hollowed your cheeks on his member.

You answered by sinking your nails into his thighs, scratching down slightly as he impatiently push you down further, moaning out as he felt his tip touch the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

You looked up at the boy through your eyelashes, lost in euphoria as he looked back down at you through hooded eyes, one hand leaving your hair for a brief second to caress your cheek, before flying back to pull your hair as you pulled off of him to swirl your tongue around his head.

Having already been pushed so close to the edge, it didn't take long for Remus to start twitching in your mouth again, the only indication of him reaching his orgasm aside from the sudden pull on your scalp.

The boy threw his head back, letting out a loud moan that you were sure would be heard down in the common room, before gripping onto your hair tightly and thrusting up into your mouth.

Ropes of white hit your throat, letting go of Remus' cock with a pop, before swallowing his seed, looking down at the boy panting beneath you.

"I fucking love you."

He pulled you down onto him, wrapping his hands around you to meld your lips against his, the two of you gripping each others' hips as Remus rolled you to the bottom again.

"Now I'm going to pound you into the fucking bed baby."

⚔︎

Remus' fingers slid inside of you without a hassle, you were so wet it was as if your body was welcoming him. He prepped you at a pace that was so quick you didn't dare to think how intense he'd be later.

Remus wasn't one to break a promise.

Your nails drew thick lines down Remus' back as he added a second finger, scissoring the two inside of you, hitting your g-spot which made you let out a small shout in response, gripping onto his shoulders with your nails.

"Re, oh God."

Your back arched off the mattress, eyes falling shut as you threw your head back, moaning louder and louder as Remus drew fervent circles on your clit.

Remus watched you from above, smirking as he moved down to suck on your tit, leaving a hickey above your nipple.

A third finger slid into your hole, your walls slowly fluttering around Remus' fingers as you felt a heat begin bubbling in your stomach, your toes curling as your orgasm quickly approached.

"Re, fuck, please, Re!"

You scratched onto Remus' back, gripping tightly onto his shoulders as you drew closer, until your high was denied, the nails that were gripping onto his shoulders relaxing in shock.

"What the fuck!"

The boy shot you a smirk as he looked down upon you, leaning in to nibble on your earlobe, whispering in your ear.

"You only get to cum with me inside of you."

⚔︎

Remus brushed the head of his cock up and down your folds, collecting your essence before pushing in, the both of you moaning at the feeling.

He pushed in further, bottoming out as you gripped onto his back, drawing thick red lines down it. Your tits pushed up against his scarred chest as he fucked into you slowly, sucking a hickey into your jaw.

Remus moved out of you so that only his tip remained, right before slamming back into you, making you moan out at the movement, his hands moving to land a firm slap on your thigh, his pace increasing every time he landed another slap. The small bits of pain mixed with pleasure, Remus' hollow slaps aiming only to arouse you rather cause any pain.

As he moved in and out of you, his hands gripped onto your thighs rather than continuing to deliver hits. He held onto them firmly enough to leave a bruise while maneuvering them so that your knees pressed against your own torso, hitting you with a new angle that caused him to brush against your g-spot with every movement, his crotch rubbing against your clit with every thrust.

Your lips found their way to Remus' shoulder, biting hard onto the skin to suck a hickey into it, biting down particularly hard as Remus' thrusts grew stronger, causing the boy to let out a guttural moan.

"D'you like this baby? Marking me up, showing everyone who I get to fuck every night?"

You nodded into Remus' neck, his own lips kissing your neck as his tongue darted out to trace the red marks he'd left behind, sure to turn a dark purple for everyone to see later tonight.

His hips moved at a vicious speed, the sound of skin on skin being the only sounds to echo around the room aside from the raspy sounds that would emerge from both of your throats, the two of you too immersed in the pleasure to make any proper sounds.

"Re. I, close."

Your walls began pulsing around Remus, incoherent moans leaving your mouth as your orgasm began to build for the second time that day, one hand moving away from your thigh to massage your bundle of nerves, his lips moving back on top of yours.

"Cum for me baby, I want to see you scream my name."

Despite his own orgasm building, Remus never faltered in his movements, his hips snapping to hit just the right spot to bring you closer and closer to the edge, his chest pushing down your knees as his hand moved to hold your neck, admiring the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure as the two of you build towards your climaxes.

"Such a pretty girl baby, all marked up and fucked out. You ready to cum yet?"

Nodding despite the hand wrapped around your neck, you threw your head back, your hands never ceasing in their movements to draw lines on Remus' back.

"I–fuck, yes, Remus!"

White clouded your vision as your orgasm hit you– a tidal wave followed by ripples that came in the form of Remus' slowing, yet still strong, thrusts into you, his head brushing against your g-spot with each movement which made you whine with each moment, your juices leaking out from around him, making you impossibly more wet than before, sinful sounds echoing from around the room.

"Cum for me Remus, I want to feel you fill me up."

Your hands reached out for the boy above you, pulling him down so that both your heads nestled in each other's necks. Tired from your orgasm, you were still eliciting noises as the boy moved in and out of you, him moaning as he felt your walls tighten around him with every other movement.

"Yes baby, I'm going to cum, fuck."

The werewolf moaned, muffling it by biting into your red neck, leaving yet another mark to remind you of this day. You felt hot spurts of Remus' cum hit you, moaning as a new warmth filled your hole.

The boy fell on top of you completely, his knees giving out under the ecstasy he experienced.

⚔︎

You whined slightly as Remus pulled out of you, suddenly feeling empty when he left you.

Your combined juices flowed out of you in that moment, but the sadness you felt was suddenly replaced with a shot of pleasure, the werewolf leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lower lips.

"Such a good girl, letting me cum inside her twice."

The kiss turned into a tongue, teasing at your sensitive entrance as Remus licked at the juices flowing out of you, drawing moans from your mouth that you didn't know you still had the energy for.

"It'd only be fair if my baby got to cum twice too, wouldn't it?"

Your eyes fell close again, nodding as your hands searched for Remus' body below you, trying to find something to grab, something to grip onto.

"I need to hear you darling, otherwise I don't know what you want me to do."

A smirk fell on the boy's lips, making you want to cry out in frustration as he moved away from your cunt, instead peppering kisses and sucking on the soft skin of your inner thighs, intent on marking you there.

"Fuck, Remus make me cum again."

The boy hummed against your thigh, moving away to admire a small hickey he'd left behind.

"Not good enough baby. I need to know how much you want it, I'm not here to be told what to do."

Tears welled in your eyes as you grew more and more frustrated, tired from the first round already you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching Remus much like how he watched you when you sucked him off.

"Please Remus, I need you to make me cum again. Please?"

Your bottom lip stuck out, making the boy chuckle. Another stupidly handsome smirk grew onto the boy's lips, leaning down to dart his tongue out onto your slit, flicking over your nub for a brief second.

"Of course Y/N, anything for you."

You fell back on the mattress as Remus dove back in, his hands gripping your thighs to push them apart, fingers digging in yet again to leave as many marks on you as possible.

He sucked on your abused clit, tongue darting back and forth at the same rhythm as his hands, massaging your thighs with his fingers. His mouth moved lower, drawing figures on your lips as his tongue danced around, occasionally dipping into your hole, fucking you with the appendage.

"Oh Re, faster."

The boy below obliged with a moan that sent ripples up your spine, fucking his tongue in and out of you at a speed reminiscent of the way he pounded into you mere minutes ago, two fingers moving to rub rapid circles onto your clit.

Moans grew into pants as you felt him speed up, your toes curling as your hands gripped onto his hair, pulling Remus' mouth further onto your pussy.

Your thighs trembled as your orgasm built, pushing you over the edge as your walls clenched around Remus' tongue, the boy muttering a 'cum for me' onto your lips.

You released with a shout, legs shaking as you pulled Remus' hair tightly, your back arching off the mattress as you rode out your high, Remus continuing to eat you out until you were reduced to a twitching mess.

"Feeling good?"

⚔︎

An hour after your activities, Remus walked the two of you into the Great Hall, both of you famished and ready to stuff yourselves with lunch.

You tried not to limp as you walked, and then had to brace yourself as you sat down on the wooden bench, Remus kissing you softly on the cheek as he joined you, greeting James and Sirius with a smile.

"Hey Y/N!"

Your housemates called out to you, prompting you to wave at them in return, before moving to serve yourself some food.

"Merlin, Y/N did you get mauled?!"

Peter came towards the table, dropping himself in the seat across from you.

"I–, what?"

The boy gestured towards your neck, making the other two marauders crane to see what Peter was talking about.

"Fuck, Y/N, what the hell happened?"

Remus looked down at your neck, then turned red as he realised what the boys were talking about. In the past hour or so, your hickeys had darkened immensely, covering every part of you, from behind your ears down to your collarbones– which could be seen from the undone top buttons of your blouse.

"Uh, I uh."

You had also caught on to what the boys meant, biting your lip as you looked down at your food.

Remus suddenly felt very warm, his skin heating up, rolling up his sleeves and tugging at his collar to let some cool air touch his skin.

"Oh, Moony! You really didn't have to mark her up that much you know. I think the point's been made. The whole world already knows she's yours."

Sirius chuckled and elbowed James, pointing down at Remus' arms.

"Look, I'm thinking Moony's not the only possessive one here at the table y'know."

The thick lines you'd drawn up and down the werewolf's arms still remained, and the few hickeys you'd left on his neck were small, but still noticeable.

Your cheeks heated, shifting your hair as best you could to cover up your neck. Remus let down his sleeves, shifting his collar and let out a cough.

"Moony just gets antsy 'round the full moon, y'know?"

[magicaldancer5678]

Wait I did not expect people to be actually curious askjdhfjdskf

But yes to both people who have reblogged this! Those were the two ideas that were jumping in my head

Like yeah I originally thought of it as ponies get their Cutie Marks as normal like in the show (so when they're children), and yes the Cutie Marks are related to a person's destiny. Cutie Marks are actually kind of viewed as a family crest because they will have similar motifs/symbols etc. So yeah, unlike MLP canon where Cutie Marks represent a pony's special talent/uniqueness in MLPxEAH world, Cutie Marks represent one's destiny.... or so they think

I picture that as the story progresses and we see that destiny is not set in stone, the Storybook of Legends is a hoax, etc, We also get the rebels re-interpreting the significance of their Cutie Marks. I sort of imagine that they each get a moment of realization/epiphany where they do their special talent/discover their passion idk and like their mark will glow kind of how it does in the MLP universe at times.

Idk if that made sense but like an example I get is with Darling. Everyone thinks her Cutie Mark is very traditional and depicts her destiny as a damsel in distress. At the moment I see her mark being silver, and people believe it represents a compact mirror (cause Charmings are beautiful people yada yada) or a lock ("her destiny is to be locked in a tower). But in reality it is actually a shield, showcasing her ability to be a knight.

People like Dexter would find relief in this because as we know Dexter is insecure about not knowing what his destiny is. With having a Cutie Mark, I can imagine him being more stressed out because it is so generic in comparison to his siblings. Just another Charming prince to fill in the gaps yk. However, when he sees how the rebels are reclaiming what their Cutie Mark means for them, it is a moment of liberation for Dexter.

Then yes, the other angle I approached it as is that the characters arrive to EAH as blank flanks and here is where I blank out a bit. It makes most sense to say that signing the Storybook gives one their Cutie Mark. Yet one could also argue that one does not get their mark until one completes their destiny. However, I think the first option makes the most sense thematically-wise.

Cause then when Raven refuses to sign, its the whole ordeal of "how are you going to get your Cutie Mark now?! You'll be a blank flank forever etc". And yeah it would be very cool to have the Rebels be known for having their blank flanks (though then again, the Shannon Hale books imply that only a few were only able to sign before Raven so ksdhfks). And Briar, Dexter, and Cedar's arc (and more but these were the first that came to mind) would fit so well with this framework.

Briar comes to realize how awful her destiny is and decides that she would rather have a blank flank than sleep for 100 years and lose everyone she loves

Dexter, who wants to know what his destiny is and have that physical mark. But then finds himself in that moral dilemma where he wants to support Raven but he still believes/fears that Cutie Marks will only appear by signing the book

And Cedar is a Rebel but feels the guilt that she wants to sign the book because it is the only way she knows will be a real pony. Thus the blank flank is an insecurity of hers because it is a reminder that by rebelling she won't be a real pony.

Obviously, this is proven to be wrong. One gets their Cutie Mark when they discover what makes them unique as explained in MLP canon. Though now that I am writing this, it makes me then wonder what lengths did Milton go through for people to get their Cutie Marks by signing the book?!?! Oh the reveal in Homecoming would be so much more chaotic.

Like I know for a fact that Raven would be the first to get her Cutie Mark without signing and thus proving to everyone how destiny is fake and all that. But the actual specifics of it I haven't worked out yet

Okay I am going to stop here because I rambled for far too long than I expected and I feel like the more I go on the less sense I make lol. If you stuck around for this long I am so sorry for the mess and I thank you for bearing with me

In a weird hyper-fixation phase where I just want to make MLP aus for every fandom I am in. Currently fascinated by how I would transfer the Ever After High universe to MLP style

Besides the already difficult task of giving the EAH characters ponysonas, combining the two lores is hard asdkfhksd

Like right now I am intrigued about how Cuties Marks can somehow be tied with the whole Storybook of Legends/destiny thing. I have thought of two different ways to go about it and oooooh I am so going delulu over this than using my energy for school work

[phoenixyfriend]

SW Suddenly-Omegaverse AU: Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom

Truly the main irony of all this is that everyone considers Obi-Wan the Better Omega but Anakin is the one who's actually 👀👀👀 about pregnancy

Obi-Wan: I have the deepest respect for those who do it, but the idea of growing another person inside of me is weird and gross, no, thank you.

Meanwhile Anakin is like. Immediate baby fever. Someone actually approaches him like "hey... there are forms you can fill out to request an exception for pregnancy, and like... regulations" because he's that obvious about it.

I assume that if they've got safety nets for accidental pregnancies, then they're probably aware that there are people who want to do it on purpose? I feel like in an omegaverse where 'biological imperative to procreate' can be so much more intense, then maybe there's old precedent that stuck around even after suppressants got most of those hormones under better control.

Bit torn. Just know I want Anakin to Make Baby.

"Anakin, what are you--" "Do you think offering to be someone's surrogate would be acceptable to the council as a way to be pregnant without getting attached." "...what." "They'd probably accept that as a way to practice not getting attached, right?" "N...no, that's not... what?"

Anakin approaching Bail and Breha and being like “Do you... still want a kid? I would provide a kid. Do you want one here*?”

* in this dimension

Great way to give up the baby as a parent because he'd still be able to see them once in a while but also like... it's not HIS kid, technically. He can be a cool uncle who happened to give birth, which is distant enough to not be 'attached,' but close enough that his Tatooine-raised 'must ensure family is safe whenever possible' background doesn't flip out. It helps that 'Core World Royalty' is like... a top-tier family to be raised in.

(It would have to be post-war because he probably shouldn’t be risking his life while very pregnant. He needs to be reminded of that sometimes.)

Bail/Breha is an alpha/alpha relationship and while a pregnancy is still possible,* it’s a whole lot more difficult, and that's on top of Breha's canon medical issues that resulted in her heart and lungs getting replaced.

* AFAB alphas can get pregnant, and AMAB omegas can inseminate, but the success rate on that angle is much lower than the 'traditional' alpha/omega roles, as is any attempt at reproduction outside rut/heat. They're low-fertility overall for the non-dominant aspect of their reproductive system, which... ha, Anakin and Obi-Wan try to get explanations for why the senary system works the way it does, but it's a very longform history lesson that comes down to 'idk this got cemented so long ago that nobody really knows why anymore.'

AKA "why do you title these roles male omega and female alpha instead of intersex omega and intersex alpha since both parties have both genitals."

ANYWAY

Anakin: I want to make babies. But I don't want to get kicked out of the order. But I don't want to give up my own babies for adoption. But I can't keep my own babies if I want to stay a Jedi. So basically I want to have someone else's babies? Anakin: ...wait shit that's just surrogacy.

Anakin, calling up Obi-Wan: Hey are the Organas still struggling to have a kid? Obi-Wan: ...not really your business. Anakin: You're friends with Bail again though, right? Obi-Wan: I am, but-- Anakin: Do you think they'd want me to be a surrogate? Obi-Wan: What.

I can't decide if it's funnier for the Order to be like "I mean... technically there's no rules against this?" or if this is a precedent set by at least three omegas every generation because that's just how a/b/o manifested for omegas in a biological and cultural sense.

Bail: Wait, your former apprentice is... volunteering... to be our surrogate. Obi-Wan, exhausted: Yes. Bail: He barely knows us. Obi-Wan: He respects you and you're the closest people he knows that want a child and would be good parents. Bail: And he's just... volunteering? Obi-Wan: Yes. Also, you did say your primary worry was that a surrogate might be targeted for assassination and you couldn't ask someone to risk that, right? Anakin is very much able to avoid assassins, and would be staying primarily in the Temple anyway. Very safe, and not particularly scared of assassins in the first place. Bail: Your words say you approve, but your tone says otherwise. Obi-Wan: Anakin considers me his father. I'm not old enough to be a grandparent. Bail: Ah.

Anakin is a surrogate and enjoys it and everything is fine and then like a year later he's accidentally pregnant with his own and Rex's kid, and nobody knows how to ask if it's actually an accident.

A suggestion from @gelpenss:

OH MAN i.... have to drive home. But I just had a thought about like. I always want to poke at Betas in A/B/O like are they “normal” or different from our standard or.... but ANYWAY assuming they have a pheromonal thing I just think it would be neat if betas had the ability to be the Bucket of Cold Water. Like if caught early enough, and with the caveat it’s not permanent, a beta could arrest a rut or heat in its tracks until a more ideal time. Like. They aren’t birth control. But they are the remind me later button.

Okay done driving I am Returned to bring up why I brought up betas and it’s this: well okay 1. It plays nice with a popular but inaccurate dog breeding urban legend that female dogs will like, delay heat cycles? so that the bitches above them in pack hierarchy have first choice of mate selection. And I think in omegaverse it would be cool if that was a Bio Fact, and also historically enforced by the third designation. 2. It gives me an excuse to have betas have the Most Sensitive sense of smell because it’s their “job” to pick up on things before they go too far to be put on pause. 3. I’m just thinkin ‘bout a beta clone [...] just hovering around Obi-Wan because they found out how much stress his heat cycle causes and they’re like “okay cool I will help make sure it does Not”

I want to like a/b/o verses but betas niggle at me. I want to give them a hat and a Function that woulda helped before modern medicine.

I'm not sure how I feel about betas being able to delay heats, but I do like the idea of them having a more sensitive sense of pheromone smell than most. Most aliens assume it's omegas with the best sense of smell, and betas with the worst, but it's more complicated than that because they all specialize: Alphas are actually less attuned to pheromone smells, but more attuned to things that were useful back when humans were still a hunter-gatherer species. Omegas tend to be heightened towards danger smells like fire or aggression, and pheromones relating to children/care. Betas, as suggested above, are very sensitive to pheromone changes relating to mood and behavior of the community around them.

I like the idea that betas were historically the ones that ended up taking care children, unmated omegas, and so on during people's heats and ruts, because they kept their heads about themselves long enough to do things like cook and clean while someone was reeking of hormones. The checks and balances work out that betas may have lower fertility, but it makes them better able to support the network around them.

It works in with humanity's general collective history of thriving the most when working as a community.

Given that I decided that this is Jangobi, the clones might all subconsciously view Obi-Wan as Mom. Not intentionally, but, you know... Obi-Wan the not-evil stepmother. He doesn't know how he got into this situation, but he sure is here, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to get out.

Obi-Wan "I don't need to get pregnant, I have three million stepchildren" Kenobi

I definitely love "clones all want to make Obi-Wan's heats less stressful" but like in a different way from Whatever The Fuck Anakin's Got Going On.

Obi-Wan using the force to dull the pain in a Shiny's broken leg while the medic works on it and the Shiny just mumbles "Thanks mom" and everyone gets very embarrassed and pretends it didn't happen.

But then it happens again. And again.

Obi-Wan asks for an explanation from Cody and gets a halting response that, since Jango is technically their father, and his scent has been all over Obi-Wan recently... and Obi-Wan puts in a lot of effort to take care of them all.......

Anakin overhears the clones calling Obi-Wan "mom" and just. The most judgmental eyebrow raise.... Mostly in the sense of "You never let me call you dad" "Thought you said you weren't anyone's parent." "Hey, hey, Obi-Wan. What the fuck."

BOBA. BOBA ABSOLUTELY CALLS OBI-WAN MOM WHENEVER POSSIBLE. IT'S DEEPLY FRUSTRATING.

Obi-Wan eventually manages to admit that he's uncomfortable with it at minimum because of the gendering the word has for him, can they at least use the neutral 'buir' instead?

Word spreads like fire, takes like two days max for everyone to switch.

(Anakin demands cuddles as compensation for not getting to call Obi-Wan any true parental term for years.)

[vinnival]

Alrlrlrlrksjf heres my request. Reader teaching the main 3 and torture how to draw i have been waiting for a long time and sjabehfbhc f

hello caffee. /lh

HANK

Probably noticed you drawing and just laid his chin on top of your head, rumbling slightly

"Hello, Hank" another rumble responded

You saw his large hand point to your drawing

"My drawing?"

He said "P... retty..."

Your brain went OOWOWAHAWEHWOEOWAHEYEUEEOR

Because mine would so yesss *bonk*

"Thank you... do you wanna draw with me?"

It was in this moment Hank went:

Achievement Unlocked: New Coping Mechanism

He loves drawing out his frustrations and feelings, even if it's in the form of... abstract art

Eventually you teach him about form, texture, value, etc etc

He slowly gets more and more into art and just... drawing

Since you're the only other art person in the area, he views you as extremely talented and really looks up to your work

He's surprisingly patient when it comes to learning !! He then shows off his learned skills with the next artwork he produces

When he experiences burnout, he gets kind of frustrated and nearly rips up his sketchbook in anger at why his art ideas evade him

But you manage to stop him before he does (good thing too because holy fuck sketchbooks are hard to come by in nevada)

Instead, you teach him ways around artblock, like listening to music, or looking at things from a different angle- and I mean that literally, like hanging upside down angle- and stuff like that!

He really aprreciates you for teaching him these things, and art in general

SANFORD

Definitely suddenly asked you out of the blue

"Hey can you teach me some art stuff?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, "looks cool,"

I can see him loving surrealism

Big Salvador Dali fan

His favorite thing to do is to make portraits but add a surreal twist, kind of like The Scream by Edward Munich but a bit more... prettier?

Idk he usually likes painting/drawing you <3

You can tell he's in artbloco when he's quieter than usual

In response you'll begin to hum one of his favorite songs and he'll immediately perk up and look at you

He gets struck with an idea at that and immediately gets to work, thanking you immensely after

He really likes doing clocks, Dali-style

Can you guys tell I like Salvador Dali

DEIMOS

Biiiiiig pop art vibes from him

He just likes the colors man

Though it's very difficult to get colors bc... well... no plants

But he manages to find colors n such

And even if he couldn't, he can use different tones of grey or maybe even grow his own flowers, who knows?

The way he approaches you for lessons is literally a "what are you drawing? is that me?" situation that All artists Hate

But you tolerate him bc He <3

Mfnfnfn yeah he learned about pop art and his brain was immediately like "yep. that one. can I get some more of these colorful bitches?"

His favorite pieces are the pop art ones with Marilyn Monroe, favorite artist is Kieth Haring

And yes I'll also have him do works involving you :]

Also because he likes doing robotics, I can see him as a make-statues-from-recycled-junk artist too!

He saves his garbage nuts and bolts and stuff and takes them later and builds a lil statue or smth with it

Definitely proudly shows you any of his works when he's done

"DUDE YO LOOK AT THIS I JUST MADE IT"

"THAT LOOKS AMAZING DEIMOS!"

When he's in artblock, he's also in robotics block (techblock?? idk in not a robotics fan), so he really is down in the ditch

You notice how he's struggling and approach him, trying to give him suggestions

100% one of those situations where you were like "have you tried x?" and he groans and is like, "Yeah, yeah, I've tried x, and it w- wait.... WAIT"

Grabs you and shakes you while he shouts excitedly

He got an idea !! Good for him <3

TORTURE

Probably the Hank situation but he's 5x bigger SKEK

Big man is TOWERING over you, grumbling to get your attention

His voice hurts when he talks? Too bad, he's complimenting ur drawings and skill an there's nothing u can do ab it .

Qtheres no pens or pencils designed for MAGs so you grab the thickest marker you could find find some loose paper to let him go wild

And oh boy. Landscapes. Definitely.

There's no true landscapes in Nevada, but, it's fun to imagine the terrain looking different

He's a little confused on how markers work and stuff like that

Otherwise he's really content with just sitting there, curled up next to you and gently scribbling on paper that's way too tiny for him

Definitely will go on adventures to get more art supplies just for u two <3

He'll first experience artblock and not ask you about it, he thinks it's normal that the harder he tries to will himself to draw, nothing comes to mind

You eventually notice he was deeply focusing, hunched over and holding a marker

"Artblock," you grin lightly

Tor looks at the direction your voice was in to meet you

"That's called Artblock"

"A... rrrrtt... blawk....."

You sit with him and pet him while he holds you and purrs in content

Doing this while drawing gave him a spark of motivation so he got back to drawing bc of you <3 hehe