#if you need anything changed feel free to let me know!

[miumura]

WAiTiN’ ON CALLS — S. JAEYUN 𓂃 ⭑

( 엔하이픈 제이크 ) : jake misses you — too much for his own liking. he tries to move on, and by doing so, he gives you one last call. usually it would go directly to voicemail, but instead, he was greeted with you on the other line.

──── ex!jake x gn ! r . . . ⌕ ex 2 lovers, second chance, angst, fluff ∿ 𝔀ord count 2.1K+ ( 2196 ) ╱ HAPPY BF JAKE DAY 🤍 i’ve been dying to write a fic using this pic of jake ever since it got posted … so this is for me and my jake baes 🤍

Jake knew he was beyond exhausted—so tired that all he could manage after work was to head straight for his bed, not even bothering to take off his suit.

But despite the dim lighting and the comfort of sinking into his mattress, sleep refused to come. He tossed and turned, tried counting sheep, but nothing worked. Frustrated, he sat up, turning on the radio to a soft, quiet tune as he stared at his phone.

He already knew what was on his mind.

His gaze settled on his contact list, focusing on one name—yours.

He missed you, more than he cared to admit. His eyes lingered on your icon, a picture he’d secretly taken during one of your dates. You’d demanded he delete it, but he never did. Instead, he kept it as a reminder of you, proudly showing it off whenever he got the chance.

A small, bittersweet smile crept onto his lips as his eyes trailed down to your name, the ache in his chest growing a little heavier.

My Love. He never bothered changing it—that name was reserved for you, and only you. Was it strange for him to keep it that way? He wasn't sure, but what he did know was that no matter what, you’d always be his love, even if he was the only one who still believed it.

Should he call you again?

His finger hovered over your name, hesitating—a rare feeling for him. He’d always called before, whenever he had a free moment. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, just a way to clear his head, but it had become a habit. Strangely enough, he found relief in those calls. They always went straight to voicemail, and he was certain you never listened to them.

That’s where he poured his heart out, leaving messages that no one would hear. It was sad, but in a way, comforting—like shouting into the void, knowing there'd be no echo, no response.

He often wondered why you hadn’t blocked him yet. Maybe, if you did, it would finally force him to move on.

Maybe that would give him the push he needed to let go.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. He was the one holding onto the past, the one clinging to old habits. Why did he think calling you, of all things, would help him get over you? Even if someone asked him, he wouldn’t know how to explain it.

Maybe he didn’t really want to.

Maybe, just maybe, he was still hoping for something—anything—from you.

He just wanted to hear your voice again, even though it felt impossible at this point. Pressing his lips together, he finally tapped the call button. Placing the phone on his thigh, Jake ran a hand through his hair, unable to look at the screen as the rings buzzed in the quiet room.

As usual, he fully expected you wouldn’t answer.

Normally, the sting of disappointment would hit him when you let his calls go unanswered, but tonight felt different. Tonight, everything was going to change.

This would be the last time he stared at your contact, the last time he pressed your number, and the last voicemail he'd leave. Tonight, he was finally going to say goodbye.

Tonight—

"Hello?"

His body went still.

For a moment, Jake couldn’t believe it. Your voice, so familiar yet distant, cut through the static of the call. He had rehearsed this moment over and over in his mind, but now that it was real, his words were trapped in his throat.

"Jake?" you repeated, sounding confused, maybe even concerned. "Are you there?"

He swallowed, trying to collect himself. "Hey," he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I didn’t expect you to pick up."

There was a brief silence on the other end, making his heart race, before you spoke again. "I didn’t expect to get so many calls... or all the voicemails."

"You... you listened to them?" he asked, barely able to believe it.

“Caught up on all of it yesterday,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly calm. “You really sent a lot, huh?”

Jake’s heart was pounding so loudly that it drowned out his own thoughts. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The plan to say goodbye, the resolution he had built up in his mind, seemed to dissolve the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t want to mess this up—he couldn’t.

“I still didn’t expect you to actually listen to them,” he said, his voice shakier than he wanted it to be.

“How could I not?” you chuckled softly, attempting to ease the awkward tension. It was strange, both of you knew it. Talking to your ex, someone you swore you’d never contact again, felt surreal.

And yet, here you were—on the phone, waiting for him to say something more.

Jake took a breath, the weight of his next words heavy on his chest. "I was planning on this being the last call,” he confessed. “Since you never really picked up... I figured I was just bothering you."

There was a pause on the other end, and he held his breath, wondering what you’d say next.

"Would it be wrong to say I had a feeling?" you finally replied, voice soft.

"How could you tell?"

"Just... a gut feeling," you said, as if searching for the right words. "Or maybe because… I knew you."

His heart couldn’t help but falter—he knew you were not lying. You did know him, deeply once. But that closeness had slipped away when life had led you down different paths.

"Yeah," was all he could muster, the simplicity of the word masking the storm of emotions within him. He wasn’t sure how to move forward, or if he even wanted to.

“Do you mean every single voice message?” you asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you two. Jake’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the question.

“Of course I do,” he replied, gripping his phone tightly, as if it could somehow bridge the distance between you. His heart was pounding; he needed to make this count. “There isn’t a single thing I’ve sent to you that I’d ever want to take back. Every word was real. It’s exactly how I feel about you... about us.”

For a moment, vulnerability hung between you, both knowing this conversation could change everything. Jake could only hope you’d feel it too, that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to turn this into something more.

“Come see me then.”

“Huh?” Jake’s breath hitched, unsure if he’d heard you right.

“You’re not going to leave me hanging this time, are you?” you asked with a light chuckle, though your voice held a hint of nervousness. You hoped the laughter would mask how your heart was pounding, racing in anticipation.

Jake barely registered the words before he was scrambling to grab his keys, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. “Not this time,” he stammered, his voice shaking with excitement and a touch of panic. He could feel his pulse hammering as he fumbled with his shoes, trying to keep his hands steady.

The thought of seeing you, of finally closing the distance he’d been feeling for so long, filled him with both anticipation and nervous energy.

"Take your time," you teased, though he could hear the faintest tremor in your voice, as if you were trying to calm yourself, too. But he knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—wait.

He barely managed to lock his door, nearly tripping as he rushed down the stairs. His mind raced, playing over every word, every message he’d sent, wondering if this was finally his chance to make things right.

As he reached his car, hands fumbling for his keys, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus, to drive safely. But his heart wouldn’t slow, each beat pushing him forward with a desperate urgency.

Jake barely remembered the drive over, his mind racing faster than the car itself. As he pulled up in front of your house, he felt a fresh wave of nerves settle over him. He sat there for a second, gripping the steering wheel, trying to steady his breath.

This was it.

With a final deep breath, he stepped out of the car and walked up the path to your door, his heart pounding with every step. He hesitated before raising his hand to knock, his mind swirling with questions.

But before he could overthink it, the door swung open, and there you were, standing there in the soft glow of your porch light. For a split second, neither of you spoke, caught up in the quiet intensity of the moment.

“Hi,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips, though he could see the same nervousness reflected in your eyes. “Still in your work attire?”

Jake looked down, realizing for the first time that he was still in his slightly rumpled shirt and loosened tie, his rushed appearance suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous. He let out a small, embarrassed laugh, reaching up to grab his tie as if he could somehow hide it from you. But when he looked back up, he wore a shy smile, his eyes creasing in that gentle way that had always made your heart skip.

Before he could say anything else, you stepped closer, reaching up to fix his tie, your fingers brushing against the fabric with a delicate touch that sent a shiver down his spine. He swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken. It was such a simple gesture, yet it felt like slipping back into something deeply familiar, a memory that had never truly faded.

“There,” you murmured softly as you adjusted the tie, smoothing out the collar. Your hand lingered for just a second longer, and in that moment, Jake felt everything—the unspoken words, the history, the quiet yearning.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice a little rough.

"I didn’t realize you wanted to see me that badly… especially after just finishing your shift,” you said with a hint of surprise. “You’ve always loved your job.”

Jake let out a small, wistful laugh, meeting your gaze. “Even after a long shift, that isn’t enough to distract me from you,” he admitted. You both knew how deeply he was dedicated to his work, how it had once been the thing that drew him away from you, consuming his time and energy. Something he loved had taken his real love away from him. But he couldn’t dwell on regrets now, not when this chance was standing right in front of him.

“Every time I get back from work, I have to leave a voicemail,” he confessed quietly, his words hanging between you both.

“Every night?” you asked, startled. You hadn’t realized just how much he’d been reaching out in those messages, hadn’t counted the days it had spanned. “That’s… a lot, Jake.”

He nodded, his gaze steady and sincere. “There hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought about you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice raw with honesty.

You looked at him, noticing how he pressed his lips together, a nervous habit he’d never quite outgrown. His hair was neatly parted, and his suit fit him perfectly, accentuating the small changes time had brought to him. Somehow, he looked even better than you remembered—or maybe it was simply because you’d missed him more than you’d realized.

“Jake,” you murmured, almost as if testing his name again, letting it fill the space between you both. “I really missed you too.”

At your words, Jake’s face lit up, his cheeks lifting with a smile he couldn’t contain, no matter how hard he tried to keep his composure. He quickly looked away, clearing his throat, but when he turned back, his grin only grew wider as he saw your own smile mirroring his.

“Then… would you let me stay the night?” he asked softly, his voice hopeful, though almost immediately he seemed to second-guess himself. His smile faltered as he began to backpedal, a nervous laugh escaping. “Or, if that’s too much, we could just sit outside, or… in my car? Just to talk, to catch up—or maybe just to let me finally say all these things I’ve kept hidden.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, finding his nervous rambling unexpectedly endearing. It was hard to remember the last time you’d seen Jake like this—unsure, almost shy. Without another word, you reached out and grabbed his arm, gently tugging him inside.

“You can stay,” you said, a warmth in your voice that eased the lingering tension in the air.

Jake blinked in surprise, his nervous expression melting into something more tender as he stepped inside. The familiar warmth of your home wrapped around him, but it was the simple presence of you that truly eased him. He hadn’t realized how much he'd longed for this—just to be near you again.

As he looked at you, a quiet realization washed over him, clear and undeniable. He wasn’t just here because he needed to be; he was here because he wanted to be.

Wherever you were, that was where he wanted to be too.

‘💬’ ─── may active soph come back after this one 😖!

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[variety-fangirl]

On My Own / Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: It's the morning after Rafe's threatening behaviour, you're still shaken up, but JJ convinces you to go to the police for the safety of you and your baby. Your relationship with JJ also takes a turn for a huge change.

Warnings: typical toxic Rafe behaviour, swearing, threats, police reporting.

Authors note: Feel free to skip this! Here we are again with my terrible timing and scheduling. For the longest time, I had no ideas for the next part and my scheduling took a turn for the worst. I've been trying my hardest to get into University for the past 3 years and am finally here! There's been a lot going on personally behind the scenes for me too, so things have been difficult tbh 😅 But I've finally figured out where I want this next part to go, I also took longer to write this so it was a longer part for the wait 🫡

Word count: 2.6k

After a filling and delicious breakfast made by Sarah, you showered and dressed for the day. You knew you would need to speak to the police about Rafe's behaviour last night, but honestly? You didn't want to. You were frightened by the power he held because of his family and wealth. Peterkin was the only one you could trust if you were to report him, you knew she would listen and take you seriously. She wasn't corrupted or took bribes to hide the truth, she always did the right thing if she could.

You had been mulling over the idea all morning as you brushed your wet hair. You wanted to protect your baby from being near Rafe if you could, they deserved better than to deal with an unstable and cruel man like him. Did you regret your baby? Absolutely not. But did you regret ever getting involved with Rafe? Yes, more than anything. You knew what you had to do, you just didn't know if you had the strength to do it. (hehehe).

A knock sounded on your door, pulling you from your heavy thoughts. You were honestly thankful for the distraction. John B poked his head around the door as you called him in with a smile. He entered your bedroom, opting to sit on the bed next to you. He bumped shoulders gently with yours, "Hey you. How are you doing?" He questioned as you peered at him. You bumped his shoulder in return, offering your most convincing smile.

"I'll be fine once Rafe is away from me and my baby." You mumbled as you rubbed your clothed bump affectionately. John B nodded and placed his hand on top of yours, always the big brother you needed. He brought his arms up and around your shoulders, lovingly pulling you into his chest. "We'll make sure he never comes near either of you again, and even so, we are all here to protect you. No matter what." You slapped at his arm playfully, "Stop! You'll make me cry!" You could already feel the hormonal tears building in your eyes. That telltale burn. He laughed loudly, not stopping you from hitting him.

Once he calmed down, he teasingly learnt closer to your ear. "Sooooo, what's happening with you and JJ?" the clear smirk sounded even in his voice, you could feel the motion against your head. You turned to glare at him, not at all serious, "Do me a favour? Just fuck off." You pushed at his chest gently, not budging him but it's the action that counted for your pride. He laughed once again before letting you go to look at you properly.

"Seriously though. What's going on?" He questioned with a gentle smile as you scooted to face him fully. You knew you could trust John B with anything and that it wouldn't leave this bedroom unless necessary. You shrugged, "Not sure. Didn't even think he saw me that way until this morning. Now I'm rethinking everything, but not necessarily in a bad way." You commented thoughtfully. You were honestly surprised that your best friend was in love with you, and for years for that matter.

"I mean, I think you should give it a shot. You know no one would love you as fiercely or loyal as him. And he loves the baby already. Plus, you've been best friends for years, so you know him well." He mentioned, naturally bigging up his best friend like the good bro he is. "Only if you want to though, of course. No pressure, I won't mention this conversation to anyone else. Just think about it yeah?" He pulled you in for a proper hug, a natural bear hug that had you sighing contently.

You nodded against his chest, wrapping your arms around him in return. The feeling of love and warmth pulling the tears out of you. "Ahhh, for god sake!" You yelled laughing, frustrated with your over-emotional hormones. You both laughed, yours coupled with sniffles. He held you till you pulled yourself together, chatting about how best to go about things. Until you were ready to let go and go to the police station.

John B left the room whilst you finished getting ready for the anxious day ahead of you. You were beyond nervous, especially about how Rafe would react. Lord knows he would hear about your visit to the station through nosy dickheads watching you. You could already feel a headache forming. You groaned as you put on your shoes, with great difficulty, and then made your way downstairs to join the gang.

Everyone was here, waiting for you whilst they ate or drank coffee. Not everyone was a morning person, *cough cough JJ and John B*. But everyone was up and here for you. They had all been filled in with the details of what had happened. JJ offered to take you to the station while the group returned to John B's. You were so thankful for them all, but JJ most of all. He'd held your hand, metaphorically and physically throughout this whole process. No matter how tough it's been or how difficult you thought you were to be around, he was always there with encouraging words. Not once frustrated with you.

You and JJ pile into your car to go to the station, while the gang returns to the chateau. JJ drove instead of you and insisted on doing so, whilst you bathed in nerves. Music from the radio played quietly in the background as you stared out the windows. You hadn't realised your leg was bouncing repeatedly against the floor, that your hands in your lap were pulling at your sleeves, or that you were biting the skin on your lips absentmindedly. You only noticed when JJ's hand grabbed your knee, rubbing the area soothingly.

You turned to look at him, your knee now still, "it's going to be okay, sweetheart." JJ reassured, trying to calm your chaotic mind and seeping nerves. You placed your hand on top of his, taking a deep breath in as you laced your fingers with his. You place your unoccupied hand on his arm, cuddling his arm into you. You hum contentedly at the warmth he naturally produces, snuggling closer to him. You caught soft wafts of his cologne wrapping around your senses and it instantly helps calm you.

You sigh, "Thank you." You speak quietly, comforted by his desire to help you feel better. He squeezes your knee, not needing to say anything, he already knew you were grateful. He hums, "What were you thinking about in that beautifully stressed brain of yours anyway?" he wonders with a reassuring smile, his eyes staying on the road ahead. You also look forward, watching the sunny scenery go by. People were going about their normal day-to-day activities, some rushing around or exercising. Everyone else's normal lives... unlike yours, which was chaos because of one single man.

You breathe in and then out through your nose deeply before answering him, "Thinking about... what Rafe will do or how he'll react when he finds out. I don't imagine it'll be long. That prick always seems to hear about everything, even before others do. It's like he has eyes everywhere at all times or something." You huff in frustration, looking out the passenger window, "I can't eat, shit or piss without that asshole knowing... So who knows what he'll do when he finds out I've gone to the station to report his behaviour." You whisper the last part, feeling dejected about what was to come with him.

JJ squeezed your knee again, to try and help calm your raging nerves and worries. He nods, "I know. It's going to be difficult but we need to stop him somehow. He needs to stay away from you and the baby, he's dangerous. Or I'll do something that'll get me into trouble." JJ mumbled the last part, seemingly more to himself than to you. You sigh, the last thing you wanted was JJ getting intro problems or going overly out of his way for you. He does enough for you as is, so you don't want him to do anything more.

-

It wasn't before you reached the station and parked outside, opposite the building. You sat in the car for a few minutes before going in, trying to calm yourself long enough to talk to the sheriff. It was beyond frustrating that this was where you were at in your life. That this was what you were dealing with because you stupidly fell in love with the wrong man. You wanted to smack yourself across the head for being an idiot, despite knowing his reputation. You fell for his charm and good looks, like an absolute fool. But now you were here and you couldn't change the past. But you could shape your future.

You look to JJ and nod, letting him know you are good. You both get out, taking your time with JJ's help and walk towards the building. You were going to use every trick in the book to stop Rafe from coming near you or your child again. You would report and record everything that Rafe has done that would class as a risk to your child to keep him away. So help you, you would protect your child with everything you could. With your own life if you need to.

You make your way inside and speak to the man at the reception desk, requesting to speak to Peterkin privately. He points to the chairs behind you in the small waiting area, "Wait here for a bit while I speak with her. She's busy at the moment, so it may take some time." You nod in understanding, "It's urgent, so I can wait. Thank you, sir." You reply as you turn to sit with JJ on the wooden chairs. The chair squeaked in protest from overuse and years of never being replaced.

You and JJ wait as patiently as possible, chatting to keep yourselves entertained and pass the time until Peterkin arrives. JJ held your hand the whole time, sensing your nerves returning tenfold. If your leg repeatedly tapping against the ground or your fiddling free hand had anything to say about it. You were waiting for around fifteen minutes, getting more antsy as each minute passed by. By the time Peterkin called you to go into her office, whilst JJ waited in the waiting area, you were a sweating bucket of nerves.

Peterkin closed the door behind you both as you took a seat opposite her desk, your hands resting on your stomach. "Some water?" She asked with a smile, walking over to her cooler. You nodded, "Yes, please." You were in need of something cold to cool you down and quench the thirst that had formed since waiting. She filled a cup and then offered it to you before sitting at her desk, "Thank you." You said gratefully.

"So, y/n. What kind I do for you? Congratulations are clearly in order." She motioned to your stomach with a kind smile, she was always so nice to you. Still is. "Thank you, not long to go. My pregnancy is actually related to why I'm here." She nodded, giving you the opportunity to speak up.

You gave her the rundown of what Rafe had been doing since the day you confronted him about your pregnancy. It took you half an hour to mention everything you could, trying your hardest not to forget any details. She asked questions where necessary and nodded when listening, all while writing down notes. Peterkin was well aware of Rafe's behaviour, he was a celebrity at the station. Peterkin wouldn't admit it but she did not like Rafe at all. She was completely understanding and comforted you when you teared up about last night.

"Damn, honey... That damn Rafe. I'm sorry for what he's been putting you through, you don't deserve any of that. But legally? I can't do anything. Unless he threatens or hurts you and your baby physically, I can't report anything for you. My hands are tied. Off the record: No matter how much I personally would love to see him punished. That kid is nothing but trouble. But as soon as something else happens, with Rafe, there is no doubt that he will, okay?" She sighs frustratedly, knowing already how deflated and frustrated you must feel.

You nod, hiding all the true feelings that wish to come to the surface underneath. "I understand, if there is anything that I can do, please do let me know. And I'll inform you of anything else that happens. Thank you, sheriff." You get up from your seat and make your way to the door feeling completely hopeless about what you'll do with Rafe next. Peterkin stops you just as you're opening the door, still in the doorway. You see JJ getting up from his seat at the sound of the door opening.

Peterkin hands you a sticky note with her name and number in black pen, "anything you need, just call. Anything. Okay?" She rubs your arm gently after she passes the note to you, a motherly comfort sort of rub. It made you smile, despite all the negative emotions you were feeling. You nodded, "Thank you."

You walk towards JJ, putting the sticky note in your bag for safekeeping. You'd add her contact info to your phone later on. "You good?" JJ questions with concern laced in his tone. You'd been in there for a little while, he'd probably been worried about you. You smile as you look at him, wrapping your arms around his bicep and leaning into his side gently. JJ smiled down at you in return as you answered him.

You explain everything to JJ on the way back to the chateau, all while trying your best not to think all that Rafe had planned since last night. He was beyond angry at you for doing nothing wrong, but in his eyes, you'd double-crossed him. It gave you chills. JJ did his best to assure you that they would all look after you and that he'd kill Rafe if he came near you or the baby, which you appreciated deeply. But you didn't want to get them involved. It wasn't their fault, it wasn't yours either, but you'd made your choice that first time you let Rafe lure you in with a kiss at the back of a house party at Sarah's.

You'd figure something out, you always did. You wouldn't let Rafe win, no matter what. That prick got his own way, way too often. But not this time, no. Rafe was going to stay away from you and your baby. Even if that meant having to flee somewhere he wouldn't find either of you. You turned and looked at JJ as the car stopped, both just taking a moment before you went inside. "Oh, you have something on your cheek." You pointed out, looking intently at his perfectly clean cheek. He started rubbing at his cheek confused, "gone?" he questioned with furrowed brows.

You shook your head, "come here, I'll get it for you." You motioned for him to come closer and as soon as he did, your lips were on his. Just a simple 3-second pec, to test the waters, despite his confession to John B this morning. You pulled away and stared at him with anticipation of his reaction. His eyes were wide in shock and you thought you'd fucked up. You went to move away but JJ grabbed the back of your neck and desperately pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours with a moan.

The more you looked at JJ, the more the talk with John B from this morning played on your mind. You'd been thinking of JJ as something more ever since, trying wouldn't hurt, would it? He wouldn't hurt you the way Rafe did and will. JJ was different and you couldn't lie that you'd never looked at him that way. Trying wouldn't hurt, would it?

Taglist: @bardi4l @fictionconnoisseur @thecraekenslover @brooklynscherry-z

[datapacks]

Hey! I really adore the way you draw textures, as they usually fit with the vanilla art style flawlessly, and wanted to ask for advice. I want to make addons/mods, and maybe a full texture pack someday, but my textures always end up looking kind of flat, lack depth, and look weird when next to vanilla stuff.

Thank you so much :3 as far as advice, I'm afraid I've been doing pixel art for ~15 years now so unfortunately a lot of it is just experience... I do have some tips though! but I am in no place to do a full tutorial at the moment.

Prerequisite: Use paint dot net. It's super beginner friendly, since it's based off of Paint, and it's what has been used for Minecraft textures since the very beginning.

First off, you want to have a block-out palette! For me, it's these 5 colours here:

From here, you'll want to go darkest to lightest; use the darkest tone to outline, then fill in with the 4th tone. Eventually, you'll want to make it so that there are 2-3 outline tones, from darkest to lightest, in accordance to however you're shading. Anything overlapping with the main shape should not use the darkest two tones!

Then you'll want to hit the bright spots not with your mid-tone or your highlight, but with your second lightest tone! This way, you leave room to highlight And shade your highlights. You've effectively made 5 different palettes to use to shade different parts (1-2, 1-2-3, 2-3-4, 3-4-5, 4-5). Whenever you feel like you're ready, switch out this palette for something more in line with what you're doing- depending on what material you're going for, this can happen super early on or way late. Whenever I do something Metallic, I like to switch to a gold palette as soon as possible.

Another thing to keep in mind is minecraft's palette limitations! Generally speaking, try to keep textures to 5-9 colours, filling in between as needed. If you use more base colours, feel free to expand, but do not go over 15 if you can help it. A good rule of thumb for adding additional colours is that you should try to limit them to 3 tones.

When choosing a palette, there's no problem with going with any pre-existing item's colours! In fact, this can be super helpful even when you want to use your own colours, just as a reference.

When you do want to make your own palette, my advice is to choose a strong colour, any hue, saturation in the 60-80 range, value in the 70-90 range. To get strong shading in your palette, drop the value by ~5, increase the saturation by ~5, and shift the hue towards blue by ~5. Do this each time from your base colour. Go in the opposite direction to Increase the perceived brightness. Here, I started with the 5th tone.

Obviously, you can tweak these to your liking; your outline colours should end up a lot darker than this generally speaking, and you might want to ramp all the way up to white for your highlights. You'll also generally want your outline colour to end up with like, max 30 Value & at Full Saturation, with your highlight colour at 100 Value & ~50 saturation if you aren't going for Full White. Lets see what that might look like after changing the most extreme values & then blending accordingly.

At the end of the day, my biggest tips are 1) to look at references constantly in both minecraft's existing sprites and other people's sprites! Take what you like, improve on it where you think it could use improvements. & 2) always zoom out! Even if a texture is perfect, if you've been staring at it too long so up close, it's going to feel weird. Minecraft's most common GUI scale is 2x, so scale the image on your screen somewhere where each pixel is exactly 2x2 and you'll get a good feel for how it'll actually look in-game.

One last tip on a more advanced level: if you're using multiple different base colours, always shift to grayscale very often. Your tones should look indistinguishable in grayscale so that you know that the shapes themselves are strong enough to warrant the multiple colours. This is also very good for accessibility!

[erasinglines]

although he hadn't expected this, coming here tonight, now that they're here, like this, he doesn't think there's ever been a better place for them to end up. it reminds him of the invisible string that's always bound them to one another, that's transcended time and distance, always a tug, that pulls them back together— and like a moth drawn to the flame, he returns, each and every time. and he's glad he has, now, with their bodies flush, when she's looking up at him like that, taking in the curve of her smile, drinking in her features, up this close; something he's never forgotten, no, but something he appreciates, being able to reacquaint himself with her. soon, he can feel his own features mirroring the look on hers, a soft smile, one that's only ever been reserved for her, nestling against his lips as she echoes his words back to him. every fiber of his being feels alive, rekindled by the spark that never truly died between them, as though the very essence of him has been revived in her presence, the flame of their loved never truly extinguished, merely smoldering in the background of their lives. he closes his eyes, as she finishes with the buttons on his shirt, as the barrier of the material falls away, savouring the sensation of the tender kisses she presses against his flesh. perfect wasn't a title he's ever felt worthy of, not when he's made so many mistakes, especially when it's come to them, to her, but he tries to believe it, allows himself to, right now, at least, being in her comfort, the place he's always belonged. breath hitches, the further her fingers explore, and his heart swells simultaneously, as she speaks of her appreciation for him. outside of here, he’d shrug it off, remind her that’s just what they do for one another, what they’ve always done, since they first came into each other’s lives. but here, he wants her to know that he doesn’t take it for granted, this time with her, that he wants it just as badly. “ of course i would. it’s… you, you know? i’d do anything for you, ” even if so much has changed between them, that sentiment never will. and it’s as if the words are ripped directly from his chest, authentic and raw. “ would go anywhere for you— you’re… everything to me, dev. ” and for tonight, at least, she was all his. as the words leave his lips, it all clicks into place for him; this night they had, as one. decides that he doesn’t want to wait any longer, then, the hand at her back tracing gently along her spine, until it reaches her shoulders, his free hand coming to join, so he can slip the straps of her dress off of each. leaning forward, he presses his lips to her skin, a gentle kiss, before he allows himself to do the same along the curve of her neck, her jaw, finding his way back to her lips. feels lucky that she meets him there, and he returns the kiss just as fervently, his tongue tangling with hers in a silent confession of his own longing; their bodies aligned, hearts echoing each other’s rhythms. his hand comes to rest atop of hers, at the button of his pants, not to stop her, but just to pause, lips breaking away from hers to let out a breathy chuckle. “ help me get you out of yours first, ” he whispers, fingers already trying to find the zipper on her dress. “ otherwise, we’re totally uneven and i just… god, need to touch you, to make you feel good, to know that this is real, ” to make it better than his imagination, all that he’s thought of, over the years. his own pleasure is heightened from her own, anyway. “ want to congratulate you for tonight, really… show you how proud i am of you, how much i’ve missed you. ”

safe to say she didn’t expect this, upon seeing him earlier— of course, she felt that same buzz of attraction at first sight, spending half the night wishing to have their lips intertwined just like they were now, but she held no expectation that this would happen, that they would end up like this, undoing each and every button of his shirt in the bedroom they once shared. she’s been desperately trying to ignore it, especially since they couldn’t, but it’s always present— that need for him, that desire to be close. this was inevitable, she thinks; they couldn’t ever deny it for long. electricity blooms beneath his touch against her back, the current flowing all the way to where his hand rests. it pools there, as he tugs her against him, attempting to stifle a sigh as her own hips press further into him, too, seeking contiguity, closeness. only craves it further at his affirmation, hearing him call her perfect— a word she would never associate with herself, but wants to believe, when it comes from him. it causes a soft smile to tug at her cheeks as she looks up at him, gaze overflowing with tenderness as it travels across his features, to all the pieces of him she missed so much. god, she missed everything about him. every single fucking thing. that’s why she’s holding on so tightly, now, taking her time— she couldn’t bear to think about saying goodbye, to be forced to wait such a long time to see him in person again. so she won’t, instead focusing on finishing the last of the buttons of his shirt, fingers sliding beneath it to pull it off his frame. wastes no time in exploring the newly exposed flesh as fingertips graze along his sides, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his clavicle, lips trailing across the bone. “ fuck, that’s what i was gonna say, ” she teases, muttering the words between kisses. “ you really are, though, ” a beat passes, only to press a tender kiss to the spot on his chest where she imagines his heart might be located. “ so perfect. ” in every single way, in every sense of the word. there would never be anyone better, in her eyes. tilts her head up to look at him, then, as her fingers move down his stomach, towards the waistband of his pants. her gaze is filled with nothing but admiration, with love— honestly, part of her thinks she could cry, right now, with all she feels for him. “ i still can’t believe you came all this way for me, for one night, ” she murmurs, teeth sinking into her lower lip for a moment, trying to contain all that swells inside her. “ i think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me. ” and he’s always been there, from the very beginning, it seems, supporting her, encouraging her, believing in her, even when her own family didn’t, even when she didn’t, herself. she doesn’t know how she could ever repay him for that, but she’ll try, for the rest of her life. lips ache to return to his, suddenly, and she doesn’t waste another second before she’s kissing him, again, albeit a little more fervently, this time, tongue slipping into his mouth, uttering a soft sigh as needy, shaky, digits begin to work at the button of his pants. “ want to show you how much it means to me, how much i appreciate it, you, ” she breathes, practically panting against him. “ i want you so fucking bad, miller. ”

[prof-peach]

Bit ooc but I have a question. How you do go about planing out your PLA comic? Like how do you actually turn your ideas/ storyline into comic form? Is it chapter to chapter or do you have the whole idea already planned out? Trying to find my own way in comic making so I’m just wondering if you could give any advice. Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel comfortable answering

So, at first this was al i could think to send.

because its incredibly accurate to my process.

Jokes aside, a lot of how i work is back and forth chaos, fighting with ideas until im happy with them. I will start with a list (usually not written down because im unhinged and keep a ot of it in my brain) and organise it in a way that makes sense to the situation, in this case workign with a game with an established plot...not that its a very strong one.

with a set of ideas, and a game to work around i will ramble and rant to a few choice people who i bounce well off, and also stare into space for hours on end building the ideas. This process can be days, it can be years. For context, i have some notes from 2019 about things i wanted to include that are still relevant. I have been scheming how to break and rebuild this OC for ages. Theres no correct time frame, so long as you simply do the work.

Once i have a fairly loose plan, i start to solidify the benning and the end. What is required to make a character compelling, what makes them believable, what makes them human in a way that we recognise. this isnt always a positive thing, people like to call characters who do bad things problematic, but its human nature to make mistakes and be damaged or difficult, the process of the story is not always rainbows and sunshine. For me, this hits even harder, as im trying to tell a story from the perspective of someone fundamentally broken, so showing those breaks and cracks has to be done wisely.

This is the point where i make notes about things that need to change from the start to the end. And ill say one thing, this story in particular, I have not solidly planned the middle. I am allowing space for me to come up with new ideas at points. Being locked into a dead set of ideas can be quite limiting, and as creators we consume and process things constantly to generate new stories. Id be a fool to make a plan and stick to it. everything i do is vague guidelines.

However, I know exactly how the story ends in Hisui, and where it goes to from there. And i think me personally knowing the end goal makes it easier to plot steps towards that, and some of those steps are anything but progressive.

If nothing else, the end was the only thing i saw clearly, and it has only become more complex and loaded and emotional as the rest of this has fallen into place. If you can see the goal, you can work out how to get there with time.

Regarding the chapters, i tend to draft plan up like 3-4 of them at a time, and then go in order to sketch out one after the other, so i have plenty of time to change things while i adjust. its constantly a process of seeing what you make, seeing issues, and scrapping whole parts just to redraw something better or new, unique even. I dont think a single page ive posted has resembled the very VERY first draft thumbnail ive made, and thats just how i do. Every panel, how big they are, the angle you hand the viewer, the way you light things, the expressions, this all dictates SO SO much.

Taking time over it is kind of the job, and let me stress, this is normally a job done by a team, especially the highly popular comics. one inks, one colours, one shades, one handles text, one edits, theres so many people behind it, so dont be bothered by the pace at which things are made if youre working alone like i am. One person means longer production times, if you can, spread the workload out, but its not required. Its why i always say it doesnt matter how long it takes to make, so long as youre still making.

I think its also worth noting, comics are consumed quickly, the bakcgournds and small details can be lost in the ace of the storytelling, pick and choosing your battles is wise, save your time on panels where you want the reader to shift along quicker, keep that pace high, and add in more detail and depth to panels you want to champion or get the viewers to hang around on more. its ok to let go of a "perfect" image in favour of getting content out, if youre being driven nuts by it. Again, time be damned, be happy with it. And if you can let go of petty details, id suggest doing it when possible, so long as it doesnt effect the storytelling.

I mean what else can i even say. This work is a passion project, I love it, more than i can even put into words, and i think you kind of have to, to make comics without monetary motivation. sure you can get lucky and find ways to make it big, but for most of us, its the love of the story. So maybe try not to be your biggest hater, its easy to slip into the behaviour, so try be gentle on yourself and the process. I should take that advice myself haha! but i really do mean it. This is HARD work, so be kind to yourself over it.

anyway, with a rough idea, a bunch of sketches, and time, they get inked and fussed over, i make a billion changes to layout and story, and eventually posting can happen but not after fighting with the monster that is creating. Idk what else i can say. This is not work for the feint of heart, but anyone can learn to do it.

Good luck, comic artists can always use it!

[woodywood101blog]

Experimental (Part 4)

22 weeks

Yazan could not understand why his belly continued to grow, even as he was cutting down on his meals, increasing his exercise frequency, and anything else he could do to make the belly disappear.

The following weeks were a blur of working out for three hours every evening, six days a week, plus cutting out all fats and sugars and going on a strict low carb diet. The only thing the changes did to Yazan was make him more tired and stressed at work. Plus, the belly kept growing.

He was sitting in his office at the hospital, absent-mindedly rubbing the belly when he felt flutters within his stomach. He gasped, and was in such shock that he leapt to the sink nearby and threw up his poor excuse of a lunch.

Randy was hoping to ask Yazan about a patient of his, and knocked on Yazan’s office door. He peered inside when Yazan responded with a groan, and saw Yazan perched over his sink, spitting out the last of his vomit.

“You’ve really got to get this bug checked out, Yaz.”

“Something moved.”

“What?”

“I mean it, something moved. Come here and feel this.” Yazan unbuttoned his tight shirt to expose his belly. Randy was firstly surprised with how round and globe-like Yazan’s belly looked. Yazan always focused on fitness, so seeing him go from just a bulk to something more extreme meant his mental health was rough, he was highly stressed, or a rapidly growing gastrointestinal cancer. He walked towards Yazan and prodded the belly, feeling that it wasn’t soft like regular abdominal fat. Instead, it felt solid. Then he felt it - a brief flutter. He looked up at Yazan in confusion. “You felt that too, right? I swear, I’m not going crazy!”

“Let’s go across to imaging, shall we?” Randy offered. Yazan groaned, not because of the need to go and find out what was happening, but because it meant he needed to try and button his shirt again, which was getting harder each day. 

“Let me know when you’re done moaning!” Randy said as he was walking out of Yazan’s office. Yazan chuckled and got himself ready. He could feel pressure building on his back, so used his palm to apply some pressure to his lower back, which seemed to help as he started moving towards the imaging ward.

Once in imaging, he saw Randy already set up with the ultrasound machine. “You know the drill: shirt off, belt off, lay down and deep breaths.” Randy occasionally considered working in radiology, but found his main calling in paediatrics. Regardless, it felt second nature to him using the various machines, such as ultrasounds.

Randy squeezed some gel onto the wand, and started towards the lower front area of Yazan’s belly, near his belly button. The answer was almost instantaneous.

“What the fuck is that?” Yazan asked.

“1… 2…”

“Randy, why are you counting…”

“Shh, 3…”

“Don’t you fucking dare shush me!”

“4 foetuses.”

Yazan fainted almost instantly.

***

Mike was growing more and more nervous with the lack of content he saw on Yazan’s social media. I really hope there are no serious complications from whatever is happening, Mike thought. After three more days of limited content aside from text-only Instagram stories, he decided to bite the bullet and message Yazan.

Hey there Yazan, not too sure if you remember me, but I’m Mike, the Australian doctor you met while in Sydney for the medical conference. I was wondering if you were free for a video call sometime soon, just to see how you’re going…

Yazan was sitting at home, feeling the odd flitter of movement in his belly when he felt a buzz from his phone. “Instagram: New message from @drmikeallred” As soon as Yazan saw the message from Mike and clicked on his Instagram profile, the dinner at the Oxford Hotel immediately came to mind. 

“I was living my normal life when I suddenly had this hot flush… and then had this urge to be fucked by anyone… and now I have four babies in me? Wasn’t Mike one of those researchers on… male pregnancy? Oh hell no!”

He ignored the message. There’s no fucking way Mike is the one who caused all this, Yazan screamed.

***

Each morning, Yazan woke up feeling his stomach stretching more tightly than the previous day. He found it astounding that he probably wasn’t even half-way through the pregnancy and already felt like he was full-term with a single baby. Any vague sense of relief he had from lying in bed immediately disappeared when he sat up and gravity caused his belly to drop into his lap. From there, the babies would start to wake up and stretch by pummeling his stomach and diaphragm.

He eventually got up from his king bed and slowly walked his way to his bathroom. Every time he flicked the lights on, he was gobsmacked by the growing belly and its gradual transformation. He started to notice every crevice, every hint of stretch marks and his losing battle to maintain his fitness. 

Yazan swayed sideways to see how much further his stomach extends. He can vaguely see the top half of his feet when he looks down, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before he loses the ability to see his feet too. One of his babies moves at that moment, and he looks back up towards the mirror to see the ripple across his belly. He shudders.

While looking up, he notices his pecs are starting to soften, and that his nipples are now a darker shade of pink. He lifts one of his pecs up and notices his pec feels slightly fatter than before. He dreads how much more will change with them.

After his morning care routine, he eventually got dressed into his work clothes, which in itself has become more of a struggle than before. He started ordering some larger shirts a couple of weeks ago, but even those shirts burst at the seams trying to keep his belly in place. He resorted to buying “Big and Tall” branded shirts to try and keep some sort of dignity, even though he never thought he’d have to wear those types of shirts, unless he went down the route of becoming a bodybuilder. At the moment, his pants feel fine, aside from his butt and thighs feeling slightly thicker.

Yazan’s patients were starting to notice the sudden growth around his belly. “Looks like you could use some of the advice you give us, Dr Yazan!” one of his patients joked.

“Ah, well…” and just as he was about to continue, Yazan briefly gasped as one of the babies moved around the top of his stomach aggressively. The patient raised one of his eyebrows at Dr Yazan, who looked back at the patient sheepishly.

How much fucking longer, Yazan thought.

***

How much fucking longer, Mike thought. Yazan hadn’t replied to his message for weeks at this point, and he was getting more nervous that something had gone terribly wrong for Yazan. All Mike wanted to do was check that Yazan was alive, and that if he was pregnant for some miraculous reason, he was okay.

One lazy Thursday evening after a day at the research lab at the university, Mike got a reply back from Yazan.

Hey, sorry for not replying sooner. Some things have popped up recently… Are you free for a chat soon?

Mike immediately leapt at the message. He got a video call request from Yazan, and with a deep breath swiped to accept the call. Mike saw Yazan in a white singlet that appeared tighter than usual. However, he could only see from the chest up.

“Hello there, stranger.” Mike tried to say suavely.

“Hello. Let me just start by saying that I don’t know what is really happening, but…”

(picture by @bigmpregnm)

Yazan swapped the camera around to show him standing in front of his bathroom mirror. Mike’s eyes bulged when he saw what he could only describe as a gigantic belly that is barely covered by his super tight white singlet. He had only seen these sizes when he was helping women carrying multiples. But there’s no way -

“... there are four in here.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. FOUR! I have either four humans, or four fucking aliens, growing inside me. You better tell me what’s going on!”

Mike was genuinely speechless. His experiment was not meant to work. The hormones shouldn’t be lasting this long, let alone remain strong enough to sustain a pregnancy. Multiples? It should be impossible. And yet, here he was looking at a man that he had a one night stand with, carrying quadruplets. “D-Do you know how far along you are?”

“According to my friend Randy, I should be about half-way now, so I guess around 22 or 23 weeks?”

“Normally for quadruplets, ‘full-term’ is really around 28 weeks, so I guess you won’t be carrying them for much longer?”

“Are those really your words of support?”

“Sorry… Do you reckon you could come back to Australia? I want to check that you, and the babies, are healthy.”

Plus maybe write up some detailed observations for the next paper - for good measure - Mike thought.

“Do you think I’m really going to be cleared to fly in my condition?”

“Bring your friend Randy. He’s a doctor, get him to medically clear you.”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Clearly I am, because a man shouldn’t be pregnant, and yet here you are, so I might as well keep on going and see it in the flesh.”

Yazan chuckled, but it cut short with a jab at his side from one of the babies. He brought the camera down to show the ripples across the belly. Mike was mesmerised. He did that to the hottest male doctor from the United States.

“Look, I’ll think about it and let you know, alright?”

“Thanks, Yazan. But please, don’t be a stranger...”

“Alright, Mike. Chat soon.”

***

Randy was walking through the hospital wards when he decided to slip by Yazan’s office. He couldn’t quite believe it when he did the ultrasound of Yazan’s belly. Four babies? How was this even possible? Is Yazan intersex? Is this an ectopic pregnancy? Surely the pregnancy would not be viable beyond the first trimester, yet he’s now about 24 weeks along based on when he went to the conference in Sydney?

All these thoughts were swirling around in his head, but there was one thought that kept springing to mind: I want to be there for him.

Randy has always wanted kids for as long as he could remember. When he realised he was gay as a teen, it was one of the first things he worried about in the process of telling friends and eventually his family. How would he become a father?

Yazan being pregnant - weird as it was to say out loud - gives Randy an option. He had no idea whether Yazan wanted to keep the kids or give them up for adoption. If he says he doesn’t want them, Randy was more than ready to become the four babies’ father.

Randy got to Yazan’s office and knocked.

“Come in!”

Randy walked in and saw Yazan leaning against a bench. He was wearing one of the last sweaters that could stretch tightly across his bump. There was no denying that he was pregnant. He could even see his pecs look slightly perkier than before.

Maybe Yazan is intersex?

“When you’re done gawking at me, you can answer my question!” Yazan said.

“Oh, sorry Yaz! It’s just…”

“Yeah, I know, it’s pretty weird.” Yazan smirked at Randy. Randy smiled back.

Randy’s newest thought? I think I want to have kids with Yazan.

[saddled-on-stars]

Hello! Could you please do movie Beetlejuice with a(n adult) reader summoning him with the only purpose to ask for cuddles? She didn't expect the ritual to actually work and is extremely shy, so when he shows up she's absolutely embarrased for having him come over to do something as mundane as cuddling. Thank you!

Damn y'all are thirsty for Keatlejuice- (NO HATE I SWEAR, It's just that a lot of requests have been for Keatlejuice lmao) I really should watch the movie, lmao- Again, to tell you what I tell others for Keatlejuice and Toonjuice, I can't guarantee that it will be 100% accurate, as I've never watched the cartoon or the movies, but I'm hoping to soon! Please feel free to criticize if it isn't correct! BUT LOWKEY THIS IS SO CUTE I WILL DO MY BEST, DARLING! SORRY IT WAS SO LATE!! Happy reading! - Star ★

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, *slight* Mentions of Perverted Boss, *subtle* mentions of cycle. -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (This fic is specifically for a female reader!) ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-

- ★ - Summoned Snuggles - ★ -

You're lying face-down on your soft, cool mattress, feeling the soft sheets beneath your fingertips. You groan into your pillow, exhausted from the day it's been; your boss had you working the 14-hour shift instead of your typical 8-hour.

He's already an asshole as it is, he didn't have to make it worse by performing his perverted acts like squeezing your hip and brushing your thigh, which you did not consent to. Ugh, he's such a fucking perv, and you're sick of it.

To top it all off, it's that time of the month for you. Great. Cramps take over your lower abdomen, causing you to hold your stomach tighter, and wince from time to time.

A headache begins to take form in your brain, and it causes you to rub your temples, despite it not doing anything to help the pulsing in your head. Ugh, you just wish this week could end; it's only Wednesday.

Your headache pauses for a brief moment, as a small, simple idea pops into your head, causing a small shy smile to spread across your face. His hugs were always nice. They seemed to erase any pain, mostly mental, but that didn't matter.

You finally saunter out of bed and stumble over to your closet, ready to change out of that fucking itchy uniform, with a button-up white shirt, that shows off your cleavage way too much, the skirt being much too short for your liking at all. You didn't like showing off your body to the public, let alone that nasty boss of yours.

Shutting your closet door, you lock it, afraid as if something were to come in and see you exposed, even though you know full well that there's not. He wouldn't be here unless you summon him.

Finally exiting your closet, after what feels like hours of having to stand with that throbbing headache, you plop onto your bed once more. You're now wearing a pair of comfy fitness shorts, a hoodie that smells like a foggy day in a way, and your favorite pair of fuzzy socks that reach up to just below your knees, providing perfect comfort.

That familiar shy smile returns to your lips, the corners turning up slowly, but that smile quickly fades as a wince comes through, due to another headache-cramp combo. You hold your head, and lean up against the pillows that are leaning against your headboard as you groan in pain. 'Ugh, I really want him here, but I don't want to bother him! What if he's busy? What if he doesn't want to talk to me? Does he even like snuggles?-...', your thoughts say as they wrack your brain. Suddenly, a jolt of confidence flows through you, as if your body's telling you that you need to summon him. Eh, what the heck, you're in a little too much pain to care. What could go wrong?

The bedroom is still dimly lit from the lamp on your nightstand, casting soft shadows on the walls, providing the room with that comforting appearance. You transition your legs to cross in a sitting position on your bed, excited for what's to come.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

You close your eyes and smile, knowing that he'll appear in front of you any second.

"It's showtime~.", you hear his familiar raspy voice say.

You open your eyes to see that startling, yet familiar puff of green smoke, and standing there is your favorite demon boyfriend; or really your only one for that matter.

"Howdy, Babes!", he says with a strange twirl, rather a spin on his heels, but it never fails to amuse you, causing you to giggle. Even though you've seen him countless times, you take in the sight of him.

He's wearing his typical striped suit, still spotted with green spots from here to there, but you don't mind. His hair, still sticking out in all different directions, looks even softer today, causing you to smile. His eyes are their typical deep ocean blue, and it never ceases to make you stare slightly, and those blue orbs still have the black orbs surrounding them outside of the eye.

"Hi, BJ.", you reply with a soft smile, your giggle ceasing, as you begin to fiddle with your fingernails in nervousness.

He notices your actions immediately and comes and sits across from you on the bed, using his finger to bring your head up from your lap.

"Why don't-chya tell me what's wrong, toots.", he says with comforting eyes, which isn't usually like him, but you like seeing this side of him too.

"Just-... A rough day at work, that's all!", you say with a fake smile, trying to brush it off. Oh no, you don't want to seem needy! Not. One. Bit. However, he seems to see right through that smile, and his smile slightly falters.

"Babes. I'm a dead guy. I've fuckin' seen a lot. A LOT. Did ya need me for something specific?"

No, no, no. You really don't want to sound needy, and you also didn't want to summon him for no reason. Oh boy, the truth is the only option left.

"Just-... uhm-...", you stutter as you're now chewing at your fingernails.

"A-Are you alright-... if w-we s-snuggle?"

Your eyes are squeezed shut, so much that you aren't able to see him extend his arms and pull you into his lap. You're startled at first, but eventually open your eyes, to see him with his back to the headboard, and he's inviting you to lay your head on his torso.

This is comfy for you. It feels like home, in ways you could never describe with words. Without another thought, grateful that he accepted your request, you let your arms wrap around his stomach, causing his hand to rub circles on your back.

"I gotchya, Babes. I've always gotchya."

"I know you do.", you reply as you snuggle deeper into his chest. "I love you, BJ."

"I love you too, Babes."

- ★ - Written by Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[umbra-domini]

| @unforgivenn plotted a starter!

It wasn't often that Zed had sought someone out to join his order. More often than not, those who he welcomed into his ranks were those that had nowhere else to go. Those that were willing to do whatever it took to keep Ionia safe. Those that - no matter the consequences, or the stigma that may come with it, were doing whatever it would take to gain that power and strength. People who, like him, were fractured deeply - ones that did not mind being seen as a traitor a monster for the path they were taking. That did not mind the dishonor it would bring them, the isolation.

But with their isolation, there was solidarity within those that were training beneath him. A found family of sorts. A refuge for those who wanted to do better for their nation. For those who did not conform to the rules set by the Council. Rules that, Zed did not find himself all too fond of. There was fault in the way they did things, in the way they sat idly by dictating things without getting their hands dirty. Order and abiding by the rules was something he had once strictly followed in life, but upon finding the strength that came with forging his own path, there was no going back from that.

That was why, when he had heard of man who wielded techniques that were only given to a select few. When he had heard of this man who he believed to have the same deep beliefs as him - who he felt held a darkness within him as well. He had to pursue it, seek him out and demand ask him to join his order. It was a shot in the dark, but having a powerful ally like that would certainly make others take the Shadow Order more seriously. Would fortify their place as defenders for Ionia and enhance the chances of success in the case that Noxus were to step foot into the nation once more.

There was always a chance that the man would refuse his offer - a risk Zed had been willing to take. Much to his pleasant surprise though, Yasuo had agreed.

Agreed to be a part of his order. Agreed to work with him. Things were going good. With some training, things would be even better. Get the man used to the way things worked around the temple, get him used to working with the others, and things would go smoothly. That was the plan at least. There was a first step that would be taken in ensuring that things were to go smoothly and work how he had planned it meticulously; See his combat capabilities. And what better way to do that than a good old fashioned spar?

Zed shifted his footing, squaring his stance with his shoulders, and he would flex his muscles in his wrist and hands just a bit. His gaze settling on the man before him. His arm blades glimmered in the light of the mid day sun, and he let out a soft breath before he spoke. " Let's see how capable you are with that sword of yours. "

It wasn't that he doubted his abilities - but he was rather more curious about the extent he had perfected them.

[exsanguinatc]

closed starter for: @hiddcnhorizcns based on: this muse: Theodora "Theo" Fontaine, 28, oceanid

"And she didn't even like dogs! Dude, come on. That's psycho behavior. You can't marry someone who doesn't like dogs." Theo continued, trying her best to lighten the mood. It wasn't that she didn't understand why he was upset. With his wedding and entire relationship gone entirely down the drain, upset was probably going to be the default for a while. Still, she couldn't stand it. Already two days into the would-be honeymoon that she'd convinced him to go on, and he'd done little more than mope around while there was a perfectly good Mediterranean paradise at their fingertips that a free spirit like her was chomping at the bit to sink her teeth into. It had been a chore to even drag him down to the beach with her and a few bottles of wine in her bag. She wanted to see him laugh again. They were always laughing together. Even just a smile would've been enough for her. So, she took another sip and continued. "And they didn't like her either, which is even worse. Remember when we were at Alex's birthday party and his dog looked at her like he thought she was going to eat him the whole time? That sweet angel took one look at her and saw his doom. I bet he still hasn't recovered. He'd say you dodged a big ol' bullet."

[ravarui]

Starter for @ikkaku-of-heart from Shanks In response to this post (Not Accepting)

In hindsight attempting to wrestle with a seaking hadn't been his brightest idea, but he had been utterly drunk at this point and it had sounded like a fun thing to do. It hadn't even been the first time and he had assured everyone that he would be fine.

What he hadn't expected however was that the damned thing wasn't in the mood for it at all and had more or less taken him with him. Which was how he had ended up on the current island, soaked to the bone and slightly freezing too as he trudged along the edges, hoping to find some sort of civilisation. It would be easier if he could wait in a town for his crew to pick him back up. Benn had his vivre card, so he would where Shanks had ended up. It was just a question of how long it would take them.

Another shiver run through him as the cold air of the night hit him. He needed to get out of these wet clothes and fast if he didn't want to catch a cold. At least whatever island he had ended up wasn't a winter island.

His face lit up when he saw lights in the distance, indicating that there was a small port town nearby. Jackpot! There was bound to be a tavern too. A place he could warm up, maybe even get a room too. He didn't have any money on him right now, but that wasn't a problem. He had used his charm often enough to get some things for free. Nevermind that he could still pay up once his crew arrived.

His steps speed up slightly and he draws his wet cloak a bit tighter around him, making sure to conceal his missing arm for now. Like he had suspected the tavern is easily found and he walks in, not caring that he leaves drops of water behind as he makes his way towards the bar, flopping down on the only free bar stool. "Do me a favor and give me the strongest alcohol you have. Need to warm up." The grunt he receives is enough of an confirmation for him.

It's only now that he turns to look at the person seated to his right. A woman with dark hair. He gives her his usual charming smile. "Sorry for the messy appearance, had a rather unpleasant encounter earlier." Which was definitely his own fault. "If I buy you a drink, would you be so kind and tell me in return on which island exactly I ended up here?"

[sciatherics]

[Starter for @sisturn ;; Aftermath Conversations]

For a short time it had finally just been Maxwell and the gentle crackle of the fire in front of him, a cheery spark of light between the dark peaks of the tents encircling the camp.

Those that are still standing, at the very least.

His own tent had been crushed beneath the deerclop's onslaught that very morning, and he's hardly going to be joining anyone else in the few tents still left standing. Too... cramped, is what he's choosing to tell himself on that front.

It's not as though he's needed to sleep for a very long time, anyways. Exhaustion may pull at his bones, but his head is as clear as the day he was pulled onto this plane of existence.

So. By the fire he shall be.

Someone ought to keep it running hot anyways, he supposes— the winter chill still stubbornly clings to the landscape, painting the fields in harsh swathes of white and gray. The cold has a rather insidious reach when not properly attended to at all hour of the day, and he's hardly going to allow himself to be blamable when the rest of the camp finally drags themselves out of their cozy little rat nests.

Not to mention he'd no longer have anywhere warm to sit, which is proving to be a much more relevant issue in the moment.

Maxwell's knife slips from the chunk of wood in his hand for the fifth time that night, nearly cutting a clean line right back into his already bandaged thumb. He may have underestimated just how important his depth perception actually is when it comes to his hand-eye coordination. The poultice wrap sitting awkwardly over the left side of his face certainly isn't doing him any favors.

Maxwell bites back a noise of frustration, flicking the wood shavings accumulating in the sheet on his lap back into the fire. So much for trying to take up carving to kill the time. Eating utensils would have been nice, but he clearly is lacking the finesse to do much of anything to the stick in his hand.

Other than dulling his blade, he supposes.

[respondedinkind]

Plotted starter for @ssolessurvivor

Something must have gone wrong at some point during Ka'anh's escape - because the last thing he remembers is that he made it, that he managed to get his beaten body to a shuttle and leave his home behind, flee from the special forces sent after him to try and get him to succumb to his fate.

Now, however, he's not where he should be, he can tell; He's not sitting within his shuttle, he's not controlling it in any way, he's not flying it through the vast distance of space.

He's lying on his stomach instead, face down, and the surface his face is pressed against isn't made of cold steel but rather of... something else. Something that smells different; It tickles his face, which Ka'anh barely feels, because the pain he experiences is probably the worst he's ever gone through.

A moan escapes him, deep and guttural; Something stabs into his abdomen, somewhere next to his navel, the rhythmic pulse a telltale of something dangerous happening within his skull. Every fiber of his existence is on fire, every nerve ending sending signals through his body at speeds that overwhelm him, and with every breath he takes, Ka'anh can hear his lungs rattle like he's pulling chains through his ribcage.

This might be the first time he actually wants to die - to just stay here and give up, to have this pain fade and leave him, throw him into darkness to never return. But of course he does not give in to the urge; He's a soldier, he's made for survival, and he doesn't want the fight against his own kind to have been for nothing - it wouldn't be worth it, deem it a failure despite his success to get away from a home that never has given him the comfort it should have in the first place.

Somehow, Ka'anh manages to move - he uses his left arm to push himself up, which, in return, causes his frame to roll onto his back; He cries out as he does, the pain that shoots through him so intense he feels like he's going to puke his guts out, but it does not happen, not yet. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared in agony, Ka'anh inhales, exhales, inhales and exhales - he whistles as he does, not on purpose but because his lungs continue to collapse, a rib or two must have broken through the tissue. His body shivers from exhaustion and effort to keep him alive, and when Ka'anh finally manages to crack his eyes open, he is greeted with blobs of blue and green, but no clear image that tells him where he is.

Brain damage, his mind successfully provides, most likey from whatever he's suffered through. He hears the sound of broken machinery, smells molten steel - he must have crashed somewhere, he assumes. Get up, get up, get up! Assess the damage, assess your health, figure out where you are and how you get away again!

As Ka'anh tries to do exactly that, he realizes his injuries must be even worse than expected - one of his legs doesn't cooperate, it's likely broken at least twice, somewhere along the hip perhaps. When he blinks to clear his vision, he can see the blurry shapes of his own self as he looks down - spotting his shirt being torn, soaked with blood, his shaking hands equally as bright red in color as he holds them up in front of his face. One wrist must be broken, it bends awkwardly, and the stabbing sensation from earlier is a piece of metal debris poking out from the left side of his lower abdomen.

"---Wi..." (Fuck), he grunts, his head falling back to the ground as he takes another breath, trying to steady himself. Only after a second he tries again, growls as he sits up, then somehow manages to turn back around so he is on all fours (or, all threes, as his one leg is of no use). His wrist creaks under the pressure and he, as quickly as he can, shifts his weight to his other hand - then uses the bad one to wipe away some sweat and blood from his forehead, blinking again as he takes a peek at what surrounds him.

His shuttle, wrecked. Nature that's unfamiliar to him, including trees and grass. The scent of blood is overwhelming, and despite everything being quiet it almost feels deafening, the silence added to his own blood rushing within his ears. He huffs, takes another breath, feeling nausea hitting him in sharp bursts to which he swallows - trying to keep it at bay.

He needs to... figure something out. He has a medkit somewhere, but to find it will be close to impossible with how damaged and torn his shuttle is. Perhaps his body would cope on its own, but with the concussion, the metal sticking inside his abdomen, the multiple broken bones all over his frame, the collapsed lung, possible internal bleeding... chances are slim, even for someone like him.

Ka'anh gives in, finally, and retches - covering the grass beneath himself in crimson, coughing in between, the pain almost too much to handle. Too much to exist. Too much to endure.

He thinks he hears something, somewhere - like twigs snapping beneath weight, perhaps. Fuck, where is his gun?! Where is it?! He can not find it on his own body as his hand starts to pat himself down...

[rivalsunraveled]

@brazenlystrong

"You're around again?"

Nobody seems to fully get what the deal is between Geto-sama and Satoru Gojo. Cleo's pretty sure their visits are meant to be a secret, but it's hard to keep anything from Cleo; the rats see a lot of things for her. She's sitting on a wall, a bottle of beer in her hand.

She takes a sip, then seems to remember her manners. "Want some?"

[gemshroud]

@seeliecourt liked for a starter! (for Wylan)

Artificers were curious folk. Entreri had worked with a few in the past, had even gained some interesting weapons for a time from such contacts, but he ultimately preferred the reliability of more standard equipment. Even so, he could appreciate the craftsmanship of the tools he'd seen in this particular artificer's catalogue, while thoroughly researching the man's activities over the past few days.

There was a similar contraption half-finished on the desk in the man's inn room currently. Entreri eyed it with some curiosity and perhaps even respect, though this of course would not prevent him from killing Wylan Van Eck tonight.

Or Hendricks, as his client base knew him here.

Entreri had found an ideal shadow, behind a dresser blocking the sightline from the door, and waited there almost perfectly still for actual hours, the twilight in the window darkening in real time. Long enough to make a man not accustomed to such work stiff with pain.

He did not even fidget, however. In his left hand, he held a small metallic disc. As soon as the door opened and Wylan Van Eck was in the room, he would toss this disc with a simple flick of his wrist onto the trap waiting at the corner of the door jamb, barely visible and appearing only as a tiny square of yellow paper stuck to the wood. The disc was the last needed component for the magical trap to activate its spell and lock the door, leaving Entreri some added privacy for his work.

He always preferred tidiness.

His ears piqued, his head tilted just so to optimize hearing out into the hallway from this position... Footsteps were on their way. And he recognized the cadence from tailing the artificer earlier for recon.

Thus far, things were looking perfectly tidy.

[emeraldxphoenix]

plotted novella (oops sorry) for @cffidelityy

Gatherings such as this are always amusing to Mr Loki Laufeyson – more so if they are among people unknown to him. The man is undeniably striking; tall, raven-haired, lithe, strong – there is always admiration of his natural assets, and he soaks it up like a sponge. Even when word inevitably gets around that he is but a second (adopted) son, and therefore does not stand to inherit the vast Odinson fortune, strangers still curry his favour as if he were some sort of god.

Tonight is no different; dressed immaculately in expensive green silk, Loki holds court with a small group of admirers who hang on his every word. The gentlemen clasp his hand, and offer him cigars, and the ladies silently eye his figure and finger their dance cards meaningfully. He charms with smooth smiles, entertains with small sleight of hand tricks, and regales with tales of his home country. Everyone is playing their part to perfection.

The band strikes a chord, signalling to guests that the dancing will commence soon, and Loki remains in his seat, cruelly watching the light of hope diminish in ladies’ eyes as they conclude he does not intend to dance. The other young men leap at the opportunity to accompany them instead, and there is a brief clamour as those intending to dance pair off and make their way across to the adjoining room. 

It’s laughably easy for Loki to slip away in the chaos. He skirts the edges of the room, heading for the far wall and the pretty little thing beside the window who caught his eye. Dressed tastefully in cerulean blue, the young woman has been observing the room's occupants since he first spotted her, making the gentleman undeniably curious. They haven’t been formally introduced, but that kind of minor scandal has never bothered Loki, so he approaches with his hand held out towards her, and an offer on his lips: “Would you care to dance?”

[ninnekomata]

he stares for a moment, considering actions and outcomes before proceeding. certainly he had time to spend. but would the ensuing chaos be worth that expenditure?

yes, he decided, and feline face looks up at the other with a sense of smugness only a cat could ever truly conjure.

"BARK! BARK BARK!!!"

oh but it was so damned fun to mess with people wasn't it? « @petalswept »