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[waspclan]

If it weren’t for the ramshackle remains of what seem to be dens, Buzzardfur wouldn’t believe a living cat had ever set foot in the clearing. As he takes a few tentative pawsteps in, an inexplicable sense of … something presses onto him, not quite dread but certainly not comfort. He’s never seen something like this before, a barren land that nonetheless was certainly lived in—empty, yet somehow teeming with life. No, he muses, life-after-death would be more accurate.

“I can’t believe it’s real,” he mumbles, nigh inaudible. “I thought it … I thought they were just some old queen’s tale.” He turns to look at Bouncerumble, who’d come to a stop at the lip of the clearing. “How did you know?”

“The same way I know anything. StarClan’s sign.” Bouncerumble’s voice is clipped, a bit too fast, but who could blame them? Buzzardfur himself isn’t particularly calm, either. “They wanted us to find this. I think … to start WaspClan anew.”

“Start it anew?” Runningripple asks, speaking up from the back of the group. “Why not leave it in the past? That Clan ate itself from the inside out, didn’t it?”

“I heard the last leader’s mate was killed, and she went mad with grief.” Shiveringkit’s little voice is far too bright a chirp for the severity of her words. “I heard she made the other cats practice with their claws out. She even poisoned some of them!”

“Actually, they weren’t mates; Bunnystar was just in love-”

“Stop it, Moorpaw,” Buzzardfur says, and his apprentice falls silent. “We can’t let ourselves get carried away with rumors. We don’t know what happened here, just that it was some clan’s camp. And if Bouncerumble says this is where we should be …”

“Then we should stay here,” Runningripple finishes, padding up to stand beside him. “It’s got more than enough space for us, and StarClan knows Thornstar is too logical to take us back.” She says it with derision, and Buzzardfur can’t help but agree—surely there was a better way to solve an overpopulation crisis than to cast out some of his own cats. “Is everyone in agreement?”

There are some grumblings from the rest of the clan—if it can be called that—but none of them have anything to say, even Hailbark, who always seems to have a gloomy remark in her mouth. 

“Right, then,” Buzzardfur says, and sighs. Thank StarClan Runningripple is taking the lead; he doubts he could have wrangled them the same way as she does. Why they all elected him leader is beyond him. 

He’s taken a few more steps toward the smallest den, nestled in the hollow of a dead tree, before something occurs to him. “What do we call ourselves?”

Bouncerumble’s voice doesn’t hold a hint of uncertainty as they say, “I told you—we’re WaspClan.” 

Buzzardfur turns it over and over in his head. How could they become WaspClan? WaspClan was just a story to scare kits—why would they ever want to be that? The concept fills him with dread, as if the name itself is cursed. But who is he to question StarClan? Who is he to do anything? “Right,” he says finally. “We’re … we’re WaspClan.”

[ministarfruit]

"...why would I become a monster?"

[vifilms]

KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.

KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.

wc. 7k+

rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.

Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless. 

Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to. 

Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait. 

She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk. 

She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment. 

No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself. 

Maybe she is just an asshole. 

“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.” 

As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it. 

“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?” 

“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.” 

Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought. 

Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead. 

This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford. 

It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side. 

Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her. 

But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.” 

“I’m not—” 

You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you. 

“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds. 

It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum. 

It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you. 

Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival. 

But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her? 

“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly. 

Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome. 

It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen. 

There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech. 

“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—” 

“Kind?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes. 

“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.” 

With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it. 

Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it. 

It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night. 

Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is. 

But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing. 

“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?” 

“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.” 

“Keeps the nightmares away.” 

All Vi does is nod. 

“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.” 

“What about yours?” 

“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere. 

“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.” 

Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story. 

You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?” 

You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?” 

You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them. 

You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway. 

“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?” 

“Is it true?” 

You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous. 

Hope. 

A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself. 

The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty. 

Vi likes you. 

“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.” 

Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit. 

So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.” 

“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it. 

“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.” 

You chuckle at the pet name. 

“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.” 

“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.” 

— 

It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining. 

As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders. 

It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come. 

“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through  as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t. 

Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her. 

There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers. 

Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth. 

“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.” 

As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle. 

“I’m just a little—” 

“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.  

It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give. 

Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.” 

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.” 

Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom. 

All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment. 

Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.” 

The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before. 

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone. 

“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control. 

“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.” 

All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl. 

“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.” 

“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.” 

Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely. 

Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward. 

With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life. 

In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her. 

Oil and water. 

Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.

All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t. 

But this? It feels easy. 

She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it. 

Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now. 

When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human. 

A sinner always craves more. 

She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place. 

The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches. 

“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing. 

You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

Fuck, Vi is making this difficult. 

“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?” 

You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat. 

“What is it?” 

“Was it your first time? The first night?” 

Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know. 

“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.” 

“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her. 

“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue. 

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?” 

“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck. 

“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?” 

It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked. 

If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her. 

Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will. 

She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake. 

Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means. 

One night. 

Then two. 

Now three. 

In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride. 

“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones. 

“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.” 

“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.” 

It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed. 

Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did. 

“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue. 

The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets. 

“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.” 

You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it. 

“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for. 

“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.” 

She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start. 

Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you. 

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt. 

She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her. 

“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate. 

She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light. 

“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy. 

She’s still shy. 

Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her. 

“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?” 

“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror. 

“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror. 

You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you. 

“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?” 

In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you. 

Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use. 

But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore. 

“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right. 

“Mommy, please.” 

Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give. 

Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself  but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?” 

Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for. 

“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you. 

It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss. 

The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more. 

When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue. 

Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now. 

“I could go again.” 

You chuckle. Of course she could. 

“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.” 

It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait. 

With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?” 

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Three sets of digital drawings of Alice Dyer from The Magnus Protocol in different outfits on a brown background. She is a thin white trans woman with freckles, shaggy brown hair with faded pink tips, crooked teeth, and pink painted nails, and she is always wearing pink cat-eye glasses, two pairs of silver earrings and silver snakebites, with a varying third ear piercing as well.

The first image features three pajama outfits.

The first is a baby pink cami, dusty pink shorts, and burgundy slippers, in which she also has her hair tied in a bun with a burgundy colored scrunchie. She is standing hunched and yawning.

The second is a dusty pink cami, gray PJ bottoms with pink stars and moons, a dark blue robe, and burgundy slippers. In that one, her hair is down and extra shaggy, and she is scratching her side, lifting her shirt a bit.

The third has her with nicely curled hair, wearing a baby pink satin robe, a black cami, and burgundy stockings, slippers, and matching makeup. She is standing coyly lifting her robe slightly with one leg lifted and a hand to her mouth.

The second image features three work outfits.

The first is of her in a pink and gray flannel shirt, dark blue hoodie, patchwork flannel maxi skirt, and dusty pink converse. She is also wearing a gold and red braided bracelet and a pink one. She is standing in profile, smiling with her hands behind her back.

The second outfit is a blue, pink, and brown flannel shirt over a grey undershirt, a pair of ripped blue jeans, a brown and pink flannel tied around her waist, brown socks, dusty pink converse, pink bracelet, and a dark blue hoodie draped over her shoulder. She is standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding her hoodie, and she is smiling as thought talking.

The third outfit is a burgundy blouse, long navy skirt, brown belt, and burgundy shoes. Her hair is also done in nice curls and she is wearing soft burgundy makeup. She is smiling awkwardly and shrugging.

The third image features casual outfits.

The first is a soft pink tank top with a navy bra peeking underneath, a frilly brown maxi skirt, pink slip-ons, and a grey and brown flannel purse. She is also wearing the three bracelets previously shown with, and pink donut earrings. She is smiling with her hands behind her.

The second outfit is a burgundy bra, baggy brown and grey flannel hanging off her shoulder, a pink and brown flannel tied around her waist, a navy knee-length skirt, white crew socks, and dusty pink converse. She is also wearing a grey bracelet, a pink beaded bracelet, tooth earrings, and navy eyeshadow and burgundy lipstick. She is standing leaning to the side with one hand on her knee, smiling and holding up a peace-sign with her other hand near her face.

The last outfit is a dusty pink crop-top with a boat on it, dark blue hoodie, a short burgundy-plaid skirt, shredded navy tights, gray knee-high socks with burgundy stripes at the top, and dusty pink converse. She also has her usual bracelets as well as shark earrings and smeared burgundy lipstick. She is jumping up, smiling and shouting, with one hand punching into the air.

end ID]

~~~~

ALICE OUTFITS <3 these were soooo fun to do omg. i have my own favorites out of these, please tell me yours!! i'm really happy with how they all turned out <3

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

happy that we met each other now 'til the very end for @cosmicdreamgrl | cr. namuspromised

[steddiehyperfixation]

accidental eavesdropping (steddie ficlet)

based on this post by @imjust-that-shy. i hope i did this vision justice <3

The doors to the bathroom burst open, and - on some pure, inexplicable instinct and with nearly inhuman speed - Eddie darts back into the stall he'd just been about to come out of and leaps to perch on top of the toilet seat, crouched there like some sort of creature. 

He hears the sound of retching and the stench of vomit fills the air. He holds his breath, wrinkling his nose and trying to imagine what possible context could be behind Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley bursting in here together to puke their guts out. Eddie knows the two of them work together, he’s seen them sharing shifts at Scoops Ahoy when he's walked by. (Not that he often intentionally passes by the ice cream parlor and slows down just to catch a glimpse of Steve or anything… Although who could really blame him if he did? Like, come on, Steve in that uniform? Hello, sailor.) His mind is busy spinning stories of possible explanations, ranging from spoiled ice cream to sneaking alcohol and getting too drunk during their break. 

Eddie's leaning towards the 'drinking on the job' explanation, especially when the retching finally ceases and Robin says something about the room no longer spinning. Those little rebels, Eddie thinks approvingly.

“When’s the last time you, uh…peed your pants,” Steve is asking Robin now, in response to her telling him in a Russian accent to interrogate her. 

Eddie curls over his knees, tilting his head to try to peer through the gap between the stalls and the floor to put an image to his eavesdropping. Might as well, he’s kind of stuck here and there’s really not much else he can do right now. He can see Steve’s legs, one bent and the other stretched out in front of him, and Robin in the stall past him laying on the floor with her legs up against the stall wall as she answers, “Today…” 

“What?” Steve questions.

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw!” Robin says. 

Okay…what? Russian doctors and bone saws? Eddie’s now thoroughly intrigued, if a little (okay, a lot) confused. Maybe they’re talking about a movie they watched or something.

Steve’s legs shake with his laughter. “Oh my god.” 

“It was just a little bit, though.” Robin pinches her fingers together as she twists her body in Steve’s direction while he laughs again and mutters that whatever it is they took is still in her system. She pushes her feet off the stall and slides to sit against the opposite wall. Eddie can only see her legs now. “Okay, my turn. Have you…ever been in love?” 

Steve answers that he has, with Nancy, and makes a sound mimicking an explosion. Eddie remembers that, remembers seeing Steve and Nancy being all touchy and cute in the hallways at school while he was trying his damndest to convince himself that he absolutely definitely did not wish he was in Nancy’s place. It didn’t work very well. And it’s not working very well now either as Steve starts to go on about some new girl he likes now instead - some girl who’s funny and smart and can crack secret Russian codes (okay, seriously, what is it with these two and Russians?) and oh shit, he’s talking about Robin. 

Eddie very suddenly feels like he should not be here listening to this, eavesdropping on Steve confessing his feelings for someone. Not only is that, like, a private and personal thing, but also what if Robin likes him back and they start kissing or something right here in this bathroom where Eddie has to sit here and listen to it and that would just be horrible for him for so many reasons and- Eddie’s getting ahead of himself. Robin hasn’t even said anything yet, and her knees are pulled up to her chest and her voice shakes when she confirms she’s still alive after Steve asks if she’s OD’d there in the silence and she uncurls with a deep sigh. All signs that she doesn’t actually like Steve back. 

Eddie watches as Steve shifts and slides under the stall into Robin’s, and catches sight of the nasty bruise marring nearly half of Steve’s otherwise beautiful face as he does so. Now concern has been added to the list of emotions this eavesdropping experience has rollercoastered him through so far. The bruise looks fairly fresh and Eddie can’t help but wonder what the hell gave Steve a black eye like that and if he’s okay. 

After a brief spiral of concern for Steve’s face, Eddie tunes back into reality to find himself staring at Steve’s ass as Steve now sits with his back against the stall wall opposite Robin. Eddie blinks, expands his tunnel vision to include Steve’s lower back and Robin’s legs which are also visible beneath the gap in the stalls. 

“It’s not because I had a crush on you,” Robin is saying. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

“Mrs. Click?” Steve sounds confused.

“Tammy Thompson,” Robin clarifies. “I wanted her to look at me.”

Oh. Eddie should really not be listening to this. Robin is trying to come out to Steve, trying to share something deeply personal and vulnerable with him and only him, not knowing that she’s outing herself to an eavesdropping near-stranger as well. Eddie feels violating and intruding. He can’t imagine how he would feel if he found out someone he barely knew had been secretly listening in on him coming out - probably not great, probably terrified. This is something he shouldn’t know, not like this. 

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl,” Steve says, his tone unreadable, and Eddie’s heart nearly stops, sure his own anticipatory anxiety is likely only just a fraction of what Robin must be feeling right now. 

“Steve…” 

“Yeah?” A pause. “Oh,” Steve’s voice goes soft. “Oh… Holy shit.” 

“Yeah,” Robin sighs. Eddie can see her hands nervously rubbing at her shins. “Holy shit.” 

Steve is silent for a few painfully long moments. Eddie’s hands curl nervously around his own shins. Is Steve going to be homophobic? Should Eddie be worried for Robin now? 

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asks, trying to be light but Eddie can hear the anxiety in her voice. 

“No, I just, uh- just thinking,” Steve responds. 

“Okay…” Robin’s voice is barely audible. Eddie is holding his breath.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve says finally, “Tammy Thompson’s cute and all, but the only reason I never gave her the time of day was because I was too busy staring at Eddie Munson.” 

The aforementioned Eddie Munson releases the breath he’d been holding with an involuntary squeak and claps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, neither of them heard him over the sound of Robin shouting. “What?! Eddie Munson?! You liked Eddie Munson?” she squawks, voicing Eddie’s own stunned thoughts perfectly.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms casually, completely unaware that he's throwing an eavesdropping Eddie into an absolute crisis right now. There's a soft thudding sound like Steve's hitting the back of his head against the stall wall. His voice gets kind of wistful, almost dreamy, as he says, “His rings, man. Rings and tattoos…and that long hair and those chains he'd wear… Honestly just his whole punk aesthetic thing had me mesmerized.” 

“Pretty sure he's metal, not punk,” Robin corrects him. 

Thanks, Robin. Also, what the fuck is happening right now? 

“Whatever. Still hot as hell,” Steve says. 

Eddie squeaks again and practically shoves his whole fist in his mouth to keep himself from making any more noise, his teeth knocking against his rings. The rings Steve likes, apparently. He feels like he's going to pass out, his heart beating so erratically it's making him lightheaded. King Steve - the popular, preppy, stupid, gorgeous, dumb jock Eddie's been crushing on since forever - just called him hot????  

“Did you hear that?” Robin asks suddenly, voice low and cautious. 

Shit. 

“Is anyone else in here?” Steve calls out. 

Fuck. 

Eddie bites down hard on his knuckles and holds his breath, going impossibly still. If they get up and search the bathroom, then he’s about to be caught red handed, crouched on top of a toilet seat with his fist in his mouth and his face flushed scarlet, eavesdropping on their private conversation about secret Russians and gay crushes. Eddie contemplates falling into the toilet and attempting to flush himself down it. Every god imaginable is receiving a silent prayer from him right now as he watches apprehensively through the gaps in the stall. One of those gods must've heard and taken pity on this poor gay disaster of a man crouched like a goblin in a bathroom stall, because after a few horrible seconds of silence, all Steve does is lean down to peer beneath the stalls for a moment before sitting back up and saying, “Looks empty. I think the drugs are making us hear things.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Robin says. Then she giggles, knocking her leg against Steve’s. “I still can’t believe you were into Eddie.” 

Steve flicks Robin’s knee. “I can’t believe you were into Tammy.”

“What’s wrong with Tammy?!” Robin protests.

“What’s wrong with Eddie?” Steve counters. “At least he’s actually got talent. Tammy’s a total dud - she wants to be a singer and shit but she can’t even hold a tune.” 

Eddie is going to die. He is actually going to die right here, right now, because Steve Harrington thinks he’s hot and talented. And then Steve starts mimicking Tammy, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart in a ridiculously goofy voice, and now Eddie is going to die because he finds that so stupidly endearing and adorable. Maybe he should just flush himself down the toilet, save himself from this hopelessly pathetic crush of his. Instead, he’s saved by the bathroom doors bursting open again and a new voice shouting at them, “Okay. What the hell?!” 

Steve and Robin collapse into a fit of giggles before being dragged to their feet by the newcomers and led out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie alone and reeling and struggling to process literally everything he’s just overheard. He finally hops down from his toilet perch and exits the stall like he’s in a daze. He’s not sure how long he had been camped out in there - probably only about ten minutes - but it felt like hours, so long that the world outside of that single bathroom stall almost feels foreign and unfamiliar now. 

Eddie grips the bathroom sink and stares at his flustered reflection in the mirror and whispers to himself, “What the actual fuck?” 

---

Later, years later, only after he and Steve are already dating, Eddie tells him all about this experience, and Steve laughs so hard he nearly cries.

(ao3 link)

[royalarmyofoz]

WANDAVISION 1.08

[smallestapplin]

hello can you do, Yandere Getaway, Drift and Rodimus x Cybertronian fem reader, can it be Smut

*breathes deeply* I'm so normal about this. How did you know Roddy is my weakness?-

Warning : toxic behavior, Rodimus has ADHD, smut so MDNI, kidnapping, possessiveness, thoughts of harm. I did my best, I hope you enjoy! ^^

-

-

-

Rodimus

- as the newest member of the Lost Light, you didn't really know about all the mini groups inside the ship, nor know how Rodimus gets treated (even if he deserves some of the lectures Ultra Magnus gives him.)

- He was a welcoming captain, and quite fun too! But you notice how he works or lack there of, how easily distracted he gets, how he tries but it doesn't seem to get him anywhere. You just wanted to try and help, even if you were just a simple bridge tech.

- It was your kindness that got his attention, when you first entered his office ready to report on how the ship has been fairing, you handed him the papers and an extra gift.

- His optics widen at the sight of a single handed spinning toy.

- "What's this?"

- "Oh, that, well I noticed you have trouble focusing on your work as being still seems to be a problem. So I figured a you'd do well with an object to mess with while you do so."

- You picked up his mannerisms quickly, but instead of just yelling at him to stop and focus, you...actually wanted to help him work?

- "Sir? I'm sorry if i over stepped, i didn't-"

- "Wanna grab lunch with me later? I know juuuust the place to chill." his smile is infectious, how could you say no?

- Rodimus latches onto you, becoming your second shadow and attached at the hip to you, if he wasn't working then he was with you, if no one could find him then he was with you.

- ultra Magnus asks for your secert, since he's never seen Rodimus work so quickly and efficiently. but you don't really have one, you just find ways to help him focus and praise him for doing so, and he just latched onto you.

- tragically no one seems to be able to get a word with you without Rodimus butting in putting space between you and whoever you were speaking too. ratchet has yelled at him to frag off more times than he can count, when just trying to patch you up. but all Rodimus does his whine and make grabby servos at you, cause he's just sooo worried.

- it's cute, at least at first.

- but he's overwhelming, he gets huffy and pissy when dragged away from you, he pouts and sulks whenever you speak to anyone else, you're his favorite bot so he should be yours too, right?

- you don't have a chance to make any friends on the lost light, all you have is Rodimus.

- he always surprises you while you work, always coming up behind you and resting his helm on your shoulder and nuzzling into you, giggling and speaking of how much he missed you and how boring the meeting was.

- it's hard to see him for what he really was.

- you think he loves you, and while he does it goes deeper than that, so, so much deeper, he's infatuated, smitten, obsessed.

- you're all he can think about, you're all his wants, he can't stand anyone else having your attention, it should just be him, him, him!

- you know you should say no when he asks you out, he's your captain, your superior, he place on the ship holds too much power over you. but it's Roddy, he's done so much for you and you do care deeply about him, surely it wouldn't hurt to give it a try?

"R-Roddy, slow-mm!- slow down!!"

You place a servo over your intake trying to muffle your sounds, not wanting anyone to pass by your habsuite to hear you getting fragged by your captain. You don't know what caused him to barge in and pin you to your berth, though you aren't complaining.

Rodimus buries his face into your neck, trying to lose himself into your valve, into your scent! But all he keeps thinking of is how you are his, not that stupid med bot who loved chatting you up! and you just let him, you indulged him when you have a perfectly good bot right here!

The dangers of Rodimus is his fragile ego.

Your voice cracks into static, as liquid fills your optics. It's too much, his spike keeps thrusting inside you so deeply, as if he's trying to mold your valve into the shape of him.

Your free servo grips his shoulder, trying desperately to hold him close. Your body trembles as his glossa licks up your neck cables before biting into them. You go still, shrieking into your servo, while you overload, your transfluid soaking his spike.

"You're mine, right? My sweetspark, gotta remind you I'm the only one who can frag you like this." Rodimus ex-vents sharply.

You overloaded so hard, you seem so out of it, surely you won't notice him opening your spark chamber, right? He could sparkbond with you right now and then you'll never leave him.

He can't stop rutting his hips into yours, needing more, needing to be closer, needing to feel you overload again and again! He never wants to stop, never wants you off his spike!

-

-

-

Drift

- Out of the three Drift is self aware and knows what he feels for you is anything but healthy, you deserve an adoring, loving, and respectful relationship that he knows he can't give you.

- But that doesn't stop him, he feels so guilty about it but he needs you by his side, needs you clinging to him like he wishes to cling to you, he needs to be the only bot in your life.

- He tries to fight the dark thoughts, he swore to never kill again but Prowl is making it hard when even speaking to you. Drift doesn't want to harm his crew members but the demons inside him want to tear everyone to shreds to make an example out of them, that this would be anyones fate for speaking to you.

- Your kindness doesn't help either, normally you stick to yourself but happily talk when others approach you first, you don't like being rude, so you tell him.

- He was the first one to approach you and form a bond. He's your go to for nearly everything, he has a lot of stories and a lot of wisdom from those stories, it's hard not to ask for his opinion on anything.

- You ask his opinions on other crew members, and he always tells you the truth, giving you their worst traits first just so you're more likely to stay away from them. The only ones he couldn't make you stay away from were First aid and Ratchet, he wanted you to trust your medics and not fear going to them when needed.

- He doesn't like it, though. But all is well, as you play right into his servos. He feels so bad abusing your trust like this, but he can't risk losing you to anyone!

- "Apologies my little light, I don't mean to alarm you of anyone."

- "No no, it's fine, really! I'm just happy you're honest with me. I trust your judgment."

- The smile on your faceplate is one he wants to protect and keep for himself, he can't let anyone realize how precious you are, lest they want you fr themselves.

- Despite your courtship being short he can't help but ask to be bonded to you, this way your tie to him is permanent. He needs you.

"Drift, are you sure about this?" Your faceplate flushed blue from the energon coursing through you.

You look so bashful, it has his spark pumping. Drift smiles from his spot between your legs, gently running his servos up and down your inner thighs. Out of everyone he's the most gentle and loving.

"We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with."

You believe him, you truly do, but it's hard to take his words seriously when you can see his spike twitching and valve leaking from here. You take a few shaky breaths, before leaning back on your elbows.

The room fills with the sound of your modesty plate being tucked away, and Drift's heavy breathing. All that kissing and gabbing eariler seems to have done a number on you, your valve is leaking transfluid, and your node just begging to touched.

"You are such a beautiful sight..." drift sighs, trailing off to wipe the drool coming from his intake.

You whimper, squeezing your optics shut just from his words alone. It's so embarrassing, and to have his face so close to your valve is not something you think you can handle right now.

You tense up, body trembling just from the wet kiss Drift places on your node. His servos gripping your thighs to hold you down, stopping you from squirming in his grasp. He's so gentle with you, even as his optics roll back from just the taste of your juices, drowning him in your scent.

You toss your helm back, back arching with a whine feeling your lover's glossa pushing into your valve, fragging you with it. Drift can't stop moving his hips, rutting against the berth, mindless from you.

'D-drift! Mm!..haaa, oh, oohh frag!" You place your servos over his, desperate to just hold him and be close.

You make him overload so easily, now if he can just do the same to you.

-

-

-

Getaway

- Getaway is a tricky one, not even his closest 'friends' know how he truly is, though he is passionate about his beliefs. He usually has everyone believing he's a cool dude and chill crew member, some find him annoying but nothing to worry about, right?

- Then there is you, you, you , you.

- You saw right through him, you have no evidence, nothing to call him out on, but the vibes he gives off have you on edge, and you make your distaste for him known. But cutely enough you never let it get in between work.

- Always so civil with him, always bare minium polite and nothing more, always shooing him away and out of your office the second what he's there for is over with. You're breaking his spark, you know?

- He always finds a way to bother you, chatting you up, nd trying to sweeten you up, but it never works.

- Why does he want you so badlt? He has most of the ship chill with him, what makes a difference if one bot doesn't like him? He asked himself that a lot, as most of the crew just chalked it up to conflicting personalities and left it to that, after all not ever bot is going to get along, and that's okay! But it wasn't okay, not for him.

- At first it was just to prove a point, just to show no one can resist his charm, but you never caved, in fact if anything it just made you loathe him more.

- "I don't know how muc clearer I can be, I have told you time and time again to stop bothering me outside of work reason. Is your life and friends so miserable and dull that this is your only entertainment?"

- The venom in your voice just made him want you ee=ven more.

- You never caved to him, never gave him the time of day, it made him crazy.

- He knew your schedule like the back of his servo, knew when you took breaks, got lunch, paused to stretch, your places to be, even the code to get into your habsuite!

- You became his obsession, his need, he wanted you, needed you, and your refusal just makes his need that much deeper. You take over his every waking thought, you are his everything and he needs you to like him, to want him just the same!

- Maybe things could've been different, maybe then you wouldn't have been taken by him in the middle of a cycle. He has to keep you to himself, after all it's only a matter of him before he completes his mission or gets found out, and he doesn't want to lose you.

"Why do you keep resisting me? How many times must I tell you I love you before you accept it?" Getaway places a servo on your cheek, only for you to thrash, getting his touch off of you.

Even tied up and gagged you still refuse him. You care at him, optics shining with a deep seeded fire. How you can still look so beautiful, even while wishing him dead his beyond him, but he can't help it.

"Even now you refuse me. I want to bond our sparks, to wed you, have you join me and my cause, and you still don't budge."

Silence fills in the air. His optics on yours, neither of you caving or looking away from the others.

"Even so filled with rage, I can't help but adore you. Keep looking at me, even if it's with hatred, I never want you to look at another. You are my sweetspark, and mine alone, got it?"

He can only hide you for so long you're sure of it, he can't keep you forever and you will make sure to be free and tell the crew to their face you were right all along. It's the only thing keep you motivated to stay strong.

To now cower or fall for his flowery words.

But how long can you truly last?

You know he's not above causing harm, or even killing someone, he might even try to flip the story on you if you don't play your cards right.

[kj-beastboy]

very original Christmas gift! I'm sure he totally didn't expect that, Flug!

[dothegravitybounce]

somebody let larian studios know about a franchise called vampire the masquerade quick

[askthejigsawpigs]

amanda can you punch hoffman. just for ghits and siggles...

MARK: Can you stop encouraging her?

[thelonelyshore-if]

Jay Drabble

Or, Jay wakes up next to MC for the first time.

The first time Jay saw you, they had no idea that they'd love you. 

Ravi had a feeling. That's all he would tell them about why they were walking alongside the lake when a storm was clearly about to break. That deep into October, night had already fallen despite the early hour. Jay had their flashlight out, scanning the beach for the source of the feeling.

The water was a cold, dark unknown. Empty of promise or reason for concern. Kristy Edwards was still missing at that point, and Jay was half hopeful that Ravi might be leading them towards her. They were focused on the beach itself, looking more for a body than anything else. 

“Oh,” Ravi had said, looking out at the lake. 

Jay turned, a sinking feeling in their gut as they found what they'd been looking for. A body, bobbing in the water like a dead fish. Limp. Motionless.

Not Kristy, though. Not anyone.

They ran in without thinking. For someone so cautious with their personal life, Jay sure had a knack for rushing into danger. 

The first time Jay saw you, you were drenched in lake water, your pajamas clinging to your skin and your eyes shut. The first time they kissed you, it was to push air into your lungs, their hands pumping rhythmically at the still heart in your chest. 

Now it's six in the morning and they've kissed you again. Kissed you and more, spent a night with you that still has their heart pounding.

Jay lays awake in their bed. One arm is tucked behind their head, propping them up enough that they can look at you curled up on their chest. The other is pinned between your torso and a satin pillowcase. Pins and needles stab at the trapped limb, and they're trying to figure out how to escape without ruining the moment. 

The problem is that they're so damn comfortable, other than the dead weight of their arm. You lay with your head buried in the curve of their neck. They can feel the steady rise and fall of your chest, the warmth of your skin. 

You're here. You're alive. You're beautiful.

Dim light shines in from the hallway. Last night you stayed up talking for hours. You sat shoulder to shoulder on their old red sofa, discussing anything and everything. Leaning closer and closer as the night went on. Knees bumping, hands brushing together. Talking turned to kissing turned to…

Well. 

Jay smiles. They can’t help it–a giddy, excited, teenager-who-just-had-their-first-kiss sort of smile.

You both were distracted enough that it's no surprise they forgot to turn off the light. Other than the dim golden glow streaming in from the hall, Jay's bedroom is dark. It's late enough in the year that the sun won't come up for hours, and they'll take the darkness for as long as they can get it. 

This feels like a dream, a moment wrapped in the magic of waking up with you in their arms for the very first time. 

Well. Waking up with you on their arm. An arm that is, quite frankly, killing them. 

Jay doesn't want to break the spell, but their arm is starting to feel like the static that builds up on the surface of their TV.

They stretch out their fingers and grimace when the motion sends sparks shooting straight up to their shoulder. They scoot back in bed, slowly managing to wriggle their arm out from under your neck. 

They pull free, shake out their fingers. Blood rushes back into their hand and it stings, but nothing like it was before. They watch you, fondness and amusement mingling as your face briefly twists into a mask of annoyance. You crack open a single eye, looking up at them.

“Jay…?” you squint into the darkness, words sluggish with sleep.

“Morning,” they say softly.

Jay’s heart melts when your groggy expression fades into a sleepy smile. You roll over until you’ve propped yourself up on your side. You swoop down, peppering their ribs with clumsy kisses.

“Hey–!” their voice cracks into laughter. It tickles, and they shift away from you, but you’ve wrapped your arm around their waist. They’re trapped, and they’re elated, and this is the best morning of their entire life.

“You woke me up,” you accuse.

“I couldn’t feel my arm,” they grin, “You were crushing it.”

You open your mouth to protest and they can't resist leaning in and catching your lips with theirs. They pour all of their giddiness and joy and relief into the kiss, hoping that you can feel the warmth blooming inside them. You receive it eagerly. They wrap an arm around your waist, pull you in close. 

The kiss lasts for seconds. It lasts for hours. Jay loses themself in the heat of your lips. They feel dizzy with affection, and their heart feels like it's going to burst. 

Finally it ends and you break apart, but they keep holding you. You both shift position until you're resting your head on their chest and their arm is curled around you. It'll probably fall asleep again, but they can't resist the intoxicating feeling of you at their side. 

“Wow,” they breathe, staring up at the ceiling.

You laugh, your breath tickling their skin. 

“Was it that good?” you tease. 

Yes, they want to say, but that's not all. They're marveling because they never could have expected this. They pulled you out of the lake, took pride in having helped find you. In keeping you safe 

But it wasn't until now that Jay truly understood just how lucky they were to save your life. 

“Stay for breakfast?” they say instead, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Sure,” you hum.

Jay smiles and closes their eyes. You both fall into a comfortable, drowsy silence. Hopefully you'll stick around and you can spend your day together, but for now this is all they need. 

This is perfect. 

[noheteroexplanation]

Compilation post of the Rhaenicent Quotes in the House of the Dragon Season 2 Companion Book

The Companion Book discusses various aspects of the making of season 2, such as production, set design, costuming, writing and acting. In this post I will compile all the quotes that make reference to Rhaenicent. The quotes are below the cut.

Quotes on Rhaenicent in season 1

Expertly crafted, the first season breathed visceral life into an essential chapter in the history of Westeros by foregrounding the experiences of childhood friends turned reluctant adversaries Rhaenyra Targaryen and Alicent Hightower.

Hess was keen to explore the ways in which the patriarchy impacted the world of Westeros, and how circumstances conspired to drive an ever-greater wedge between the show's central protagonists, Rhaenyra and Alicent.

As the scripts came together, the two characters became the principal lens through which the episodes unfolded. Alicent and Viserys's marriage leaves Rhaenyra feeling betrayed, while Rhaenyra's brazen indifference to societal dictates infuriates Alicent.

Quote on Rhaenicent at the start of season 2

Both sides, too, appear largely determined to ignore the wisdom of the women in their midst. Despite having been crowned queen in an impromptu ceremony at Dragonstone, Rhaenyra struggles to fully assert her authority over the men who serve on her Black Council, many of whom simply wish for her to step aside so they might enact their own plans. At the Red Keep, Alicent, too, is ignored and dismissed by her sons and her father, who disregard her considerable political savvy and her years of experience serving on Viserys's Small Council.

Quotes on Rhaenyra and Alicent's arcs in season 2

For the writers, the characters' arcs were a means to continue their exploration of House of the Dragon's powerful central theme—that the patriarchy would rather destroy itself than see woman on the throne. "Rhaenyra is beginning to understand that even though she's the queen, it doesn't really matter," Hess says. "Because she's a woman, she's seen as a figurehead, not somebody who's actually in control. Alicent is realizing, Oh, I'm entirely disposable once the men are in charge. The season is about them coming to active reckoning with the patriarchy."

Adds Condal: "Alicent and Rhaenyra were doing much better in a time of peace and prosperity, when you could have more nuanced arguments about what power is and who should be in power. But once it becomes a real war, the men who trained their entire life for this expect to step up to the front of the table and say, 'Thank you very much, but this is what we're going to do now.'"

Quote on set design

In the second season, the young queen (Helaena) moves into Alicent's former chambers, while Alicent, now Queen Dowager, takes over Rhaenyra's former living quarters.

Quote on Rhaenyra and Mysaria that makes reference to Alicent

"Rhaenyra hasn't had a friend that she can be real with in a long time," Hess says.

Introduction to the Sept scene

"The Burning Mill" also afforded D'Arcy and Cooke a rare opportunity to work together, as the hour concludes with a confrontation between Rhaenyra and Alicent, one of only two scenes between the characters in the second season. The scene unfolds inside King's Landing's Grand Sept, where the Queen Dowager has gone to pray. Rhaenyra disguised as a septa, kneels next to her, and their tense exchange begins.

On writing the Sept scene

As he was writing the episode, Hancock, knowing the import of the sequence, worked in concert with Hess on the conversation in which the women finally express to one another their feelings of anger, suspicion, and resentment. "'It's not that either has betrayed the other,"' Hess says. "It's that all this stuff has happened that the men around them have facilitated, and now they don't know what to think about each other. There's this displaced fury, and they end up trying to fight it out with each other. That's often how women in high-powered positions are made to feel about each other—to be suspicious of each other and to struggle with one another over things that they should be [in agreement on]."

Input from Emma and Olivia on the Sept scene

During the period of rehearsals prior to the beginning of the shoot, D'Arcy and Cooke weighed in on the emotions their characters would likely be experiencing, and Hess made a point to reshape the sequence based on their feedback. "They both felt they could get more visceral and angrier," she says, "like, if they weren't who they were and in a sept, they would be punching each other."

The importance of the Sept for Rhaenicent

Setting the meeting inside the Grand Sept gave the scenes additional weight, as the characters had been present in the space together only once before: In the first season, a teenage Alicent brings her best friend there to help her process her grief over her mother's death.

Rhaenyra's point of view on the Sept scene

The fact that Rhaenyra makes the trip to the capital at all is a dangerous gamble, "It's quite a chaotic choice," says D'Arcy. "There's some slight irrational thinking going on and maybe a little bit of self-destructive tendency as well. I have this sense that part of her wants forgiveness. I think she also wants to look the person who's caused her such pain in the face and to declare it. I really loved that scene because while trying to negotiate as an adult on behalf of the kingdom, you also watch two children try to reconcile so much painful feeling."

Alicent's point of view on the Sept scene

Cooke played the scene as though Alicent still feels a deep and abiding love for her childhood best friend, despite all the pain and tragedy they've both experienced. "They grew up pretty much as sisters, and that is hard to break," Cooke says. "I think they both can tell when the other is lying or postulating. This feels like a complete breakdown of any pretense. They are showing each other their most honest and vulnerable side. They have this back-and-forth about what Viserys's intentions were and this discovery of what he wanted."

Aftermath of the Sept scene for Rhaenyra and Alicent

Each woman leaves the encounter in the Grand Sept fundamentally changed. Rhaenyra arrives harboring doubts that Viserys had indeed wished for his son, Aegon, to follow him onto the Iron Throne. But hearing Alicent allude to the prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised she feels newfound surety about the path forward. "For the first time, she has to choose it for herself," D'Arcy says of Rhaenyra's destiny. "Suddenly, there's this decision to kill the possibility that anyone else truly has the heirdom, and that causes her to reckon finally with going to war. She chooses her title. She doesn't just inherit it."

Alicent, meanwhile, is confused and confounded to discover that Viserys might have been referring to Aegon the Conqueror as he drew his last breath. "This throws Alicent's world into complete chaos," Cooke says. "She's been so solid in what she heard. That story, and what she's told herself, has given her such strength, even in the eyes of people that think she's completely out for her own gain."

Quote from Olivia on shooting scenes with Emma

During the shoot, Cooke found herself wishing she and D'Arcy could perform together more often, "It was great working with Emma," Cooke says. "lt's too few and far between [our scenes]. I get stolen snippets with them, but it's always so wonderful and juicy."

Rhaenicent parallel storylines in episode 2x05

As Alicent is undermined in the Red Keep, Rhaenyra is faring little better on Dragonstone.

Alicent's decision at the Lake to go to Dragonstone

"Alicent has lost pretty much everything—any power, any legitimacy that she held—and war is afoot," Cooke says. "I genuinely don't think she believes that [the Greens] can win, and I think she believes that they shouldn't win. She wholeheartedly believes that she got it wrong. Her need to escape King's Landing is to get some clarity on the situation and try to figure out what she needs to do."

Quote on the Dragonstone meeting

In the episode's final moments, Rhaenyra has a second fateful encounter: She returns to Dragonstone and, to her surprise, finds Alicent proposing an arrangement by which the Blacks could take the throne with minimal bloodshed. Set inside the Valyrian scroll library in Dragonstone, the sequence finds Alicent advising Rhaenyra that Aemond will leave the Red Keep to join Cole in the Riverlands on the march to Harrenhal. At that point, Helaena as Queen Regent could command the guards to lay down their arms, allowing Rhaenyra to take the castle. In return, Alicent asks that Rhaenyra allow her to live out her days with Helaena in the countryside. Aegon will need to be executed, Alicent acknowledges, but she believes his sacrifice is necessary to avoid war.

Alicent's decision to petition Rhaenyra

"It's massive that Alicent travels to Rhaenyra," Cooke says. "It's treason. If Aemond found out that she'd gone, [her] head [would be] on a spike. But it's to petition the friendship that she and Rhaenyra once had. It's to look Rhaenyra in the eye and be like, 'I'm not lying. This is me as my rawest self. This is me shedding whatever power or queenly status I had. It's yours. I was wrong. I don't want anything to do with it. I'm done. I'm tired, I'm so exhausted. Let me and Helaena go off and live in the countryside with a couple of chickens and a cow."

Ryan Condal on the decision to end the season on the Dragonstone meeting

For Condal, bringing Rhaenyra and Alicent together one last time was an ideal way to conclude the season, to remind viewers of the women's role in the narrative and their inextricable links to each other.

On Rhaenyra and Alicent's contrasting character arcs in season 2

"You have two characters who have these wildly divergent arcs [and they] come back around at the end to again find themselves on one another's doorstep," Condal says. "Rhaenyra has seen this meteoric ascent over the course of the season. She's gone from somewhat of a beggar queen, who is crowned on a hill, to a leader of an army of dragons and of men. Alicent began the season having put her blood on the throne, the thing that she sacrificed her youth and body to do. But she comes to a place where she is now looking at the cost of the choices that she's made and wondering what it was all for. She's realizing that neither of her sons is suited to rule the realm, and she wants to stop the spinning wheel that is the game of thrones."

On the filming of the Dragonstone meeting

Two days near the end of the production schedule were set aside to film the weighty scene, so that D'Arcy and Cooke would have enough time to thoroughly explore how their characters might react to such an unexpected turn of events. "The way we prepared for it was, they both came to the scene without a rehearsal so that they would be able to start fresh and feel things in the moment," Patel says.

On Alicent's choice to sacrifice Aegon

The trio agreed that for the scene to work, the audience would need to truly understand Alicent's motivations for risking so much in reaching out to Rhaenyra. "Alicent found herself in Episode 7, and who she found is someone who is honorable," Patel says. "Her honor lies in being responsible for her actions, and she knew that she had misunderstood Viserys on his deathbed, and because of that Aegon was now king. She needed to set the record straight and do the right thing."

On Alicent's love for her son Aegon

They also set about finding ways to convey that despite how deeply disappointed Alicent is in Aegon, how turbulent their relationship has been, deep down, she still loves him. Thus, the idea of offering his life to Rhaenyra was unimaginably fraught. "The entire season was going to end on this hinge, so for that to be effective, we needed to believe that she loved her son and that it was truly high stakes," Patel says, "It was important to feel that unconditional love of a mother that is hard to describe."

The aftermath of Alicent's choice in season 3

"The entire season finale hangs on the cliff of Alicent telling Rhaenyra, 'I'm going to give you son for a son,'" Patel adds. "But what she doesn't realize is that the son she has promised has escaped."

Hints for Rhaenicent in season 3

Amid the beautifully realized fantasy trappings, the family drama—grounded in themes of love, loyalty, and betrayal—remained the central focus, with Rhaenyra and Alicent continuing to serve as the fulcrum of the narrative. "They still have quite a bit to learn about who they are as people, and how far they're willing to go for their goals, whether those are personal goals or familial goals in either pursuing the throne and ambition, or protecting their blood," says showrunner Ryan J. Condal. "They both realize, certainly, that they are living through a historical period in this world."

Miscellaneous:

Picture descriptions

Olivia Cooke (left) and Emma D'Arcy filming Alicent and Rhaenyra's confrontation. (2x03)

A suspicious Rhaenyra (D'Arcy) greets her estranged best friend (Cooke). (2x08)

A quote from Sara Hess comparing Rhaenyra and Alicent to Sharako Lohar

"She's operating outside the system. Rhaenyra and Alicent are so much struggling with the patriarchy, it was super refreshing to have a woman who's like, Fuck everything."

[gothoffspring]

Hi friends, I'm back with another full body recolor! This harness dress by @belaloallure3 is one of my favorite pieces of cc, and the lack of simlish swatches pretty much guaranteed it was going to receive the recolor treatment from me. I'm slowly but surely working through the (very) long list of meshes I've been wanting to recolor, and I'm very happy with how these turned out. I hope you like them! Details, credits and download link below the cut.

Details:

This is a recolor of belaloallure3's harness dress. You will need the mesh for these to show up, which you can find right here.

You get 10 various swatches. I didn't really have a theme with these, just used logos I liked and thought went well with the mesh. About half of the designs I translated to simlish myself, a few I got from various simlish logo packs and two (three headed dog + nirvana) were made by my bestie @hauntedtrait!

You can see an unedited in game photo right here to get more of an idea of what they'll look like during gameplay. I also uploaded a few more photos of another swatch here.

Credits:

thank you to belaloallure3 for this lovely mesh and for allowing recolors.

credit for designs + simlish graphics that i didn't make myself: eyeball fortress, foxxluv, kooky love, stephen rhodes, cloudypixel, hauntedtrait, andrevasims. All fonts used were found through franzillasims' masterpost right here. thank you all!

DL: SFS / MF

@mmfinds @alwaysfreecc

[penelope-kat]

Hello funny gay people in my computer please accept this offering as a token of peace.

[a2zillustration]

I jumped out of my gosh dang chair

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