#its about the colour vision test

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

there is something truly exhausting about spending a decent while debunking a post as pseudoscience, and then ten minutes later, see it on your dash again. like,,, do i need to debunk this chain of reblogs as well????

[hwajin]

☆°. — ᴛɪʀᴇʟᴇss

genre: fluff, smut

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 3k

warnings: disgustingly cute sex, piv/ unprotected sex/ coming inside, explicit mentions of insecurities (though mentioned in the past and not relevant for the fics' present)

author's note: very self indulgent but i hope it resonates with some ppl, feedback is highly appreciated 🫶

Linen sheets around your body, the warmth they provided a saviour against the cold turmoiling outside. The sky had been gray twenty minutes prior, red and orange leaves having struggled to stay latched onto their trees, having lost the battle eventually to cover the asphalts in autumn colours. There was little rain drizzling from above still, though the sun had now found its way past the clouds drowning the neighbourhood golden. The faint scent of vanilla reminding you of the candle on your nightstand, the turning of pages and a sharpened pencil against them the only sound filling the room — it was peaceful.

"You're so pretty."

Hyunjin’s voice sounded barely as a whisper — anything but would have disturbed the atmosphere; quiet, warm, a sense of carelessness. And yet you jumped in your place, been far too engrossed in the book laying before you not to scare at his sudden voice cutting through the silence. You'd never feel pretty before Hyunjin. Before he's emerged in your life — you weren't sure still, how exactly, all too suddenly and without warning, as though he was a dream altogether — your appearance was something you'd obsessively worry over for the first half of your life, and tried to disregard entirely in the second one — despite blaming your loneliness on the very fact of lacking attractiveness you've come to simply live with the fact, had grown too tired to care, essentially.

You shifted in your shared bed, only a little to direct your focus from the book to Hyunjin, sitting by his desk — the surface as messy as his appearance. Pencils, papers and colors scattered all over, his hands proof of the artistry he's produced for the past hours; hair disheveled, shirt and shorts on his body ruffled up — he looked endearing, like lazy mornings personified, like coziness bundled up within a body.

He'd come into your life unexpectedly, and you wouldn't have believed anyone if they told you about it. About the sudden happiness the relationship with Hyunjin brought, the sudden feeling of securances, of home; of love. You wouldn't have believed someone to be ready to treat you the way Hyunjin did — any other person grew null to him if you only called, prioritizing you over passions and work. You wouldn't have believed to have found a love like this, a lover like him.

You wouldn't have believed to have found beauty within yourself, through him. And it had come naturally. You had never not believed him, never doubted his words — because they've always been spoken so matter-of-factly, so purely. Unexpectedly, too — much like now, while mundanenity lay over your features. Hyunjin carried a gift to search for beauty where other people would mind looking, and finding it effortlessly. More often than not you wished to be gifted with this vision, curious to see the world through his eyes — curious to see yourself the way he did.

Hyunjin chuckled at the way you blushed. You might be believing his every compliment, his every confession of love, though you long didn't grow used to it, or cold. Every tender word, every touch he planted onto your body as though you were fragile porcelain, most price treasure yet never stopped to send shivers down your spine. Wouldn't ever, you thought.

And you still never knew an answer. Flustered now, awkward as he kept looking at you, teasing simply, to test — Hyunjin had always taking amusement and certain pride in making you shy for him, because only he was able to. A shameful caugh left your throat, to fill the silence, to camouflage the speechlessness he'd brought upon you with as little as a compliment — you detangled from the linen sheets, letting the cold engulf you in order to make your way over to your lover, the man who was watching your every step with a knowing smirk as he inspected the blush covering not only your cheeks but the tips of your ears, your neck — it was a little as a mundane compliment, but it was far from meaningless to you, held as much importance as if Hyunjin had proposed right then there.

His hand found home on your bottom, the small of your back when you've stood next to him eventually. His eyes didn't lose your figure, glued onto you as if a look elsewhere would take you away.

"What are you drawing? Flowers?"

Hyunjin enjoyed painting nature; oceans, skies, flowers. Many grazed the walls of your very room, each a different meaning – he’d paint you baby’s breaths on your one-year anniversary, in everlasting love; he’d paint you pink camellias when he missed you, in longing; he’d paint you calla lilies if your insecurities got the best of you, in beauty. Though when you looked at his drawing it weren’t flowers; it was a sketch of you.

“Well, almost.”

Hyunjin's eyes turned to where you were looking, the drawing he's worked on for the past minutes, shy grin adorning his features at his cheesy comment. Your body was grazing the white paper, pencil strokes of your curves, you in the nude, another paper showing your face, a portrait, another one an abstract, more of only your eyes, only your mouth and nose, of your hands, some in colour, some in simple grey, small ones, bigger, doodles, proper paintings. You were scattered on his desk, your body was. Hyunjin's love lay open before you — maybe you didn't need access to his vision after all. His art was entirely enough. 

Hyunjin waited for a reaction, squeezing at your hip when there was none, looking up at you, curious eyes beneath the silver strands of messy hair.

"I've been running out of ideas lately, and... it's always nice to draw you... most of these aren't finished and rough-"

"They're beautiful. I... can't believe you'd wanna draw me this often."

"You're the only thing I wanna draw. Ever."

Hyunjin's gaze lay upon you, deep, waiting for you to look at him. You did eventually, turning from away from his art and blushing momentarily at his piercing eyes on your own. A soft smile from both of you — not as much as an upturn of one corner of the lips, both for too flustered to muster up and actually smile, too aware of the tension laying heavily now on your shoulders — and no further words were needed. Would be void if spoken aloud; so you bent down to meet him to meet his lips, hopeful and wanting, inviting when they fell upon your own. Hyunjin sighed into the kiss, relieved, longing. His left hand joined his right on your body, holding you by your waist, caressing you at your hips, tight, secure touches, absent of hesitation. He granted you the same love capsulated in his notebooks with a touch, a grace, a squeeze against your flesh, your whole.

Never breaking the kiss, and you sighed when he pulled you closer to his body, into the space he presented between his half-bare legs. You understood — wouldn't have believed anyone upon hearing to be finding comfort on another’s' lap, without as much as a second thought, though it was so natural with Hyunjin. You let him guide you, large hand by the small of your back, another by your hip; and you straddled him, broke the kiss only to settle down, to get comfortable — and you wished you hadn't, for the side of your lover beneath your weight was almost too much to bear. Love behind his glassy eyes, adoration he only knew in connection to you, only ever felt if you were the matter. Gaze a longing one, jumping from your lips to your eyes and back down to your lips — but a puppy waiting for his treat, staring you down as if there was no other, nothing else existing beside you and your body, your face inches from his own.

You closed the distance again, unable to hold out on it — Hyunjin's lips reddened already, always so prone to sensitivity, to visible reaction to loving antics. His teeth clashed against your own, almost painful but not quite; you weren't careful, deemed to not have the time to — you needed him, and you needed him now.

"Baby... slow down."

It was Hyunjin to pull you back to reality, though not to clear-mindedness – you obeyed his words, not as much a command as a simple reminder; you loosened your grip on his hair, pulled away an inch, only enough to breathe, to sigh into his mouth that didn’t cease leaving open mouthed kisses against your own. Though your thoughts were but a fog, still, holding no clear picture beneath your lids except him, everything about him – pleasure-contorted face, though you merely sat on him, barely even moved atop his body; brows a furrowed line, creasing deeply in the middle, eyes soften and tender to paint contrast; cheeks coloured, in fluster and anticipation, dooming excitement; guiding hands on your figure, reminding of his presence, his attentiveness, his care – he didn’t loosen his grip on you a moment, held you close and tight as his lips moved leisurely against your own. He took his time with you – not too tease, not because he was well aware of your desperation, but because you deserved nothing else. Hyunjin knew you’d whine upon his patience, though it was the very proof of his devotion; his patience held love, his patience held the entirety of your world.

So, you continued slowly, though not any less unable of lucidity, because Hyunjin never allowed it. If his touch wasn’t driving you insane it was his voice, a whimper rolling off his tongue and onto yours, or a sigh leaving his throat for you to swallow. Your lover always receptive, never shy in volume. Or it was his gaze on you – Hyunjin pulled away, occasionally, leaving you empty to catch a look at you before pulling right back, nearer than he was before. He left you no time for coherence, fed you only enough care and affection so you wouldn’t hunger, yet not enough for eventual satisfaction, by any means. Driving you further to insanity, hands groping rougher at your body, easing with soft rubs right after, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to heal momentarily with a lick, a following kiss – Hyunjin pulled on your every weakness, and not accidently.

A chuckle left the man’s lips when your hips – hot and painfully ignored by any type of his attention, leave for his raging erection right against your core – dragged against his own, in any hope of relieving pressure, of searching for friction. Your lack of clothes wasn’t making it a hard task; you were merely in your underwear, the thin material of Hyunjin’s shorts and boxers barely layers to complain about, yet it was far too much separating him from you.

Hyunjin chuckled at your desperateness, though his proclamation of amusement turned into one of pleasure – you grinded with such force, such wanting vigour he didn’t expect, and his own futilely cool act crumbled in his palm, shattered to pieces for you never not had the greatest impact on him, his pleasure, his love. When it came down to it, he wasn’t any stronger than you, not even more patient – his heart was as much slave to you as yours was to him.

Any composure was long forgotten. You’d argue, even, that Hyunjin by now was needier than you’d been to begin with – he didn’t waste time getting rid of either of your lazy attire, a long, slender finger simply pushing your panties to the side before dipping into your wetness, experimentally at first, with new-found enthusiasm then upon your reaction – you hummed out, fingers fisting his lose-fitting shirt, body rolling into his, in search for more. A second finger after a minute or two, a third one moments later and you were grinding against him, needy, loud, head thrown back or hidden in the crook of his neck. Your hot breath against his skin egged Hyunjin on, his digits curling within you, lips turning into a hazy smirk when you whined out, when your teeth sunk into the part between his shoulder and his neck, in helplessness, not in embarrassment over your sounds – you would never deny Hyunjin your voice in pleasure. The stinging feeling on his skin made him twitch in his confines; you felt it, if only subtly, and your eyes found his from beneath, fogged with bliss.

“Want you…”

It needn’t much more – Hyunjin both understood and was ready to comply for he wasn’t much stronger in resisting than you; it wasn’t a minute until his erection lay exposed between your figures, red and leaking already – he could act as coy as he wanted to, though his body would always serve as living proof of your effects on him.

You lined up, still fully dressed, white panties pushed to the side; hovering above him was hard given current position, legs growing tired quickly though Hyunjin supported enough with his hands by your hips, guiding you above him until you felt his tip by your entrance, until you – finally, eventually – sunk down on him, taking him fully momentarily. You moaned out in unison, almost pathetic, definitely frantic – it needed only the feeling of his cock inside you, of your walls around him for the both of you to fall victim to utter senselessness. You had the comfort of each other, though, aware of the similarity in lust and longing, so less embarrassed by it.

Hyunjin had given you a moment to adjust, had used the minute to clear his mind himself; to little avail, though he’d like to believe he gained back a fraction of the composure he had lost along the way. Yet, and it drove him entirely insane, the view of you was powerful enough to make him lose every battle he was fighting with himself – he watched your seemingly struggling face, eyes shut, mouth agape, lost in the pleasure Hyunjin granted. He prided himself on your expression, on your thoughtlessness; and then you opened your eyes again, locking them directly with his own. You both blushed, you both sucked in a breath, at the sudden realization of intimacy, of closeness, or maybe at nothing in particular, at the view of the other, the sight of your lover; your hips started moving, mewls rolling off tongues, eyes closing again in granted relief. Hands on bodies, groping hopelessly, feverishly. Eyes fighting to stay open to watch, to inspect, to remember. Mouths longing for the other, tongues dancing waltzes, sounds of pleasure being swallowed to make each their own. Two lovers on a late noon, two lovers so very engrossed in each other anyone looking upon them would struggle not to believe in souls, the connection of such.

Every flutter of your sensitive walls, every roll of chasing hips, every clench Hyunjin reciprocated with sounds so endearing they got you light-headed, got your urge growing to grant him more, better, greater. None of you were in control, in particular, and yet both of you were fighting for it — though not in selfishness, but for gratification for the other. Despite your cramping legs, positioned uncomfortable on the chair beneath Hyunjin, despite your inability to even move much you did nevertheless, as best as you could, pulling on all of your lovers' buttons — you nibbled at his neck, breathed out against it, swore confessions against his damp skin; everything you knew would drive him needier, more insane. Though he was the same — he throbbed within you, guided your hips along his erection for you to feel entirely, to drag out the feeling of his every vein grazing your walls, of every of his rigid fitting your own like pieces of a puzzle. His hands, though sweaty and strained, held position at your hips, to stabilize, to ease off the pain in your legs. Your own were homeless, playing with Hyunjin's hair right by his nape or pulling at his scalp when he granted a mindless thrust against you, or exploring his body entirely, grasping fingers on his chest, against his torso, on the steadiness of broad shoulders.

You grew impatient. Had never been in the first place and lost some more of it yet, wanted to hold onto the feeling of Hyunjin prodding at your cervix yet urging release. Hyunjin was no different – he had let you move solely on your own before though now snapped his hips into yours, mouth agape or biting at his deep red lips, sucking in breaths and sighs of your name in anticipation. His grip on you would leave marks on your skin, that you were sure of – though you weren’t one to complain. The telltale signs of his high doomed on you; furrowed brows, twitching erection within you, frantic, passionate, messy, wet kisses against your mouth or your neck; the act of pulling you closer to him – and then the words, finally; “Fuck, baby, I’m– …I’m cumming. I’m gonna cum.”, before he did, spilling within you. He hadn’t waited on your release, only because he knew you’d reach it after his own – he had felt you being close, had noticed the fluttering of your walls around him, your calls of his name increasing in pitch and volume, had seen the expression on your face he’d never misread – and he knew his orgasm inside you would bring you to your own, would be the last push down the cliff.

Your muscles spasmed, your legs contracted and Hyunjin held you close, eased the pain off your legs with a tired grip on you. Despite it you didn’t dare get off, though – basking in your closeness, relishing the warmth of body on body, losing yourself in the giggled kisses Hyunjin now planted on your panting lips, the loving confessions spoken against the lobe of ear before it was nibbled on in adoration – affection never stopped after release with Hyunjin, after the reach of simultaneous orgasm; his love expanded the sheer physicality, mere lust.

Hours later you’d lay in bed again, naked then, bare bodies glued to one another, every painting, every drawing of you on Hyunjin’s desk long forgotten, if only temporarily, for the cleverest artist couldn’t possibly copy the beauty Hyunjin saw in you before his very eyes, every day anew; tirelessly.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang

[fallingforfelix]

❛❛midas touch❞

큐피드의 화살은 눈이 멀 수도 있지만 항상 마음 속에 그 표시를 찾아냅니다.

cupid's arrow may be blind, but it always finds its mark in the heart.

.° ༘🎀⋆🩰₊˚ෆ

synopsis: kinktober day #1 — hair pulling (trichophilia)

pairing: roomate!felix x fem!reader

content: 18+/explicit (MDNI tyvm), viewer discretion advised, so highly suggestive it’s probably considered smut, college au, second person view, older fem reader, mature and unestablished relationships

warnings: noona kink, colour word system used, profanities and suggestive language, teasing, bruising and consensual pain, bdsm power play and loss of control, mentions of orgasms, age gap, coercion, whiny kink, dom reader and sub lix, hair tugging, begging kink if you squint, mentions of oral sex, pain kink i guess, dry humping, begging, pet names (pretty boy, angel, doll, good boy, love, sweetheart), hickeys

word count: 2.3K (2392)

note: i wanted to commit to the ‘kinktober’ trend, but…four days in and not looking very strong😓😓 i also wanted to post something for channie’s bday yesterday but that didn’t happen either :( the smut scene was supposed to be wayyyy longer but i kept on having unsystematic bursts of motivation and really needed to upload some content. i think tmrw i’ll try to write smth, maybe fake texts or a short story where the reader/felix/another member comes to terms with their kink but nothing smutty actually happens. i might even be able to sneak in a fluffy kinks drabble later tonight but that’s probably just a load of big talk. anyways i hope you guys really do enjoy this🫶

inspired by: rosy by @rosylix, slowly to me by @jilixthinker, and pretty please by @naeviskz

song reference: midas touch by kiss of life

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“lee felix!”

you had entered the dorm, only a few minutes prior to felix’s arrival. and much to your dismay, the sight of an empty cookie jar greeted you, its desolate state an affront to your cravings.

the racket of keys stirred your senses, and the squeak of his high tops along the wooden floor announced his arrival. you called out, your tone laced with disappointment.

the aussie‘s head protruded from

the around the corner. “is something wrong noona?”

your gaze narrowed. “you know exactly what’s wrong, lix. i’ve been craving those cookies all day!”

a sheepish look crept across his face. "oh, uh, about those..." he began, scratching the back of his head.

you sighed heavily. “you owe me.”

“yeah, yeah,” felix drawled as he advanced towards the couch on which you were accommodated.

as he walked over to you, his blonde locks caught your eyes. felix’s hair was styled in two braids that were gently woven from the crown of his head, cascading down either side of his head like two delicate rivers of gold. each braid was tightly woven, with subtle wisps framing his face.

he plopped down beside you, his nonchalance testing your patience. a lecture about the sanctity of shared snacks brewed on your lips, but a mischievous spark intervened. your hand darted out, tugging at one of felix’s braids in protest.

you expected defiance, not a high-pitched whine that fled his lips as he tried extracting his braid from your grasp.

you stared at him, your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected vulnerability, and it took him a moment to cognise what he just did. felix’s face flushed pink, his relatively small hand rose to cover his pink, plump lips, and he breathed in shakily.

for a moment, the dynamics shifted, and perhaps it was a hormonal surge, or some other weird psychological phenomenon, but suddenly you found yourself conquered by a newfound self-assurance.

felix’s eyes met yours, a flicker of euphoria in his gaze, ignoring the unspoken tension that had just become palpable to him too.

“well, well, well,” you smirked, your vision tracing the blush that now dusted felix’s cheeks. “that was quite the intriguing sound you just made, pretty boy. mind if i uh…hear it again?”

felix’s dark eyes clouded with guilt as he hesitated, but you tightened your grip on his braid, the motion eliciting another sharp whine from his lips.

“n-noona. please,” he spoke breathily.

“captivating,” you purred, the fingers on your spare hand tracing the contours of felix’s jawline. “i didn’t realise you could make such…arousing noises, love.”

“you’re enjoying this…aren’t you?” he asked, his voice trembling.

you chuckled, otherwise ignoring his question. “you know, i’ve never thought about this before,” you mused as you continued to hold felix’s braid. “but these braids of yours really suit you.”

felix’s breathing was now noticeably shallower, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. he tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat, replaced by another whimper as you wrenched on his braid, this time even harder than the last.

“please,” he managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper, “i can’t...i need—“

your smirk widened as you heard the desperation in felix’s voice. you could feel the heat and tension radiating off of him, and it was clearly affecting him just as much as it was affecting you.

“hearing you like this…it does something to me,” you whispered, voice low and husky, cradling his braid.

“please,” he asked again, his voice thick with need. “touch me. i n-need to aah feel you. please.”

your heart was racing now, the sound of felix’s voice and the way he was begging for your touch driving you wild. you wanted nothing more than to give him what he was asking for, but there was a part of you that wanted to tease him just a little more.

“i think i’ve discovered a secret of yours, angel,” you murmured, leaning closer to felix. his ears flushed crimson as he attempted to turn away.

slowly, you reached out to his other braid, toying with it between your fingers before giving it a light pull. felix involuntarily let out a soft whimper, his eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intensity.

your lips curled into a sly smile, relishing the effect you had on him. “it seems like i’ve got a little weak spot, don’t i?”

felix’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “oh, you definitely do,” his words laced with a thick, raspy undertone, which, despite your dominant position, left your head reeling.

you released one braid, your fingers drifting up to softly cup felix’s chin, guiding his gaze to meet yours. his eyes were now visibly darker, a mix of shock and arousal, as he struggled to regain composure.

“you have no idea how much it excites me to hear you making these sounds,” you whispered, your thumb tracing the lines of his parted lips. “absolutely intoxicating, lixie.”

“feels like you’re shre—shredding my sanity, noona…” felix gasped.

“oh but look at you doll,” you purred, your eyes roaming all over his flushed face. “all red and flustered, it’s adorable.”

“i am not adorable. i’m supposed to be…to be hot mm. you’re supposed to be c-cumming at my blissedth state,” big talk for someone who was still trying to gather his thoughts, felix’s mind a jumble of sensations. and with each passing second, your words and touches were making him more and more unravelled.

“hot? you’re incandescent, felix, burning me up with every whimper. but let's see who breaks first—your control or my restraint,” you replied.

“i don't know how m-much longerrr i can...ah, fuck,” another drag at felix’s braid, securing a lewd groan from him.

“i could get addicted to these little noises you make,” you continue, your fingers now delicately outlining his jawline. “i’d make you whimper and whine and beg for more.”

“y-you’re already making me. you’re, you’re playing dirty…stop gloating mm,” he spoke, trembling.

“dirty? you have no idea how filthy i can be. and i'm just getting started. unless you want me to stop? or do you want me to push you further?” you grinned like a crescent moon, knowing felix’s resolve was crumbling with each passing moment.

“you’re insane... but i think i’m cra-zier for ngh wanting more,” felix slurred.

your breath hot against his ear, you whispered. “just imagine how you sound when i do…this.”

with a single, swift movement, you tugged harshly on both braids, pulling his back to expose his neck. felix let out a guttural moan, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensations coursed through him.

“oh, god…” felix whined, his body arching, yielding to your touch.

you took your chance. holding your breath, you leaned towards felix’s exposed neck, and you latched your lips onto the upper edge of his collarbone. gently at first, although the sudden contact seemed to have already aroused him judging by the way his body jerked at your touch.

a stifled gasp slipped from between felix’s lips as your tongue darted across his skin, making his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed heavily, fighting the urge to make any more sounds.

“aw don’t get all shy now pretty boy. let noona hear those angelical noises,” you teased, detaching yourself from his skin with a slight drag of teeth.

you licked a strip across the sensitive skin of where you just kissed him. felix did not hesitate this time, eluding a low groan which contrasted from his whines.

you began to suck at a new spot on his neck, closer to where his adam’s apple was, his braids still tightly in your grasp. you could feel the way his pulse was thrumming though his veins under your lips. felix’s hands, which had been laying uselessly at his side, jerked up to grip at your waist as an act of steadying himself.

his grip on your waist was hard, his fingers practically digging into your skin as he struggled to keep himself from trembling. felix’s breathing hitched in his throat as you continued to lavish his sensitive spot with attention, your tongue leaving a wet path in its wake. 

your hand progressed upwards, solidifying itself at the base of felix’s hair, holding as tight as ever. he let out sobs in pain and pleasure.

he started to feel light-headed, tipsy, overwhelmed by the feeling of heat rushing through him, spreading lower throughout his body. felix’s usually rational mind was fogged by the sensation of your hand in his hair, and your mouth on his throat.

he was losing control, and he knew that he couldn't take much more of this.

and neither could you.

you could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, your own desire growing stronger by the second. you couldn’t resist him any longer. the way felix was unraveling under your touch, the sight of him desperate and needy, was too much to handle. you wanted him, you needed him just as badly.

you gave felix a particularly hard suck, pulling his skin in through your teeth. the whine that followed ripped at your core and you almost combusted on the spot. that had to have been the highest moan you had heard from him, from anyone at that. 

you lift your head up, gazing at the boy below you who was losing all coherent thought.

“colour, pretty boy?” you inquired, your lips throbbing from all the sucking.

“green…d-don’t stop. don’t ahh- fucking stop, noona-yah,” he panted, words illiterate.

your spare hand came up to rest upon felix’s right shoulder, rubbing smooth, consoling circles around the area.

you swooped your head again, your warm breath dancing across the skin of his neck for mere seconds before you latched yourself onto his neck, now directly on top of his adams’s apple.

“ooh…ooh f-fuck noona! ye-yes! mm, harder…” the noises he was making were blood curdling, toe curling even.

you swear you just cummed. you gushed with slick, your own body quivering now. the temptation to let go of felix and please yourself seemed like a losing battle.

instead, you relaxed your full weight upon felix’s lap, rocking your hips onto his erection, and oh boy, he was rock hard.

he exhaled another huff, followed by a string of curses and other incoherent words. you lost suction of the hickey you were forming, smiling lowly into his skin. as if it wasn’t already obvious that you had him right where you wanted him, and still pushing him over the edge.

you attacked his adam’s apple for the second time, opening your mouth wider to tease a larger area of his skin. his hips subconsciously bucked upwards into you, earning a sigh on your end. your warm breath on the newly-formed hickey sent felix into complete overdrive.

his hands slipped past the upper edge of your sweatpants, expertly finding the waistband of your panties, pulling the lace into view and rising it up level to your hip line. you winced in pain as felix began fingering your lingerie, occasionally bumping the side of your hip, where he had left bruises from his tight grip earlier on.

the hand that was on felix’s shoulder jerked up to his braids once more. you ran your fingers through the plaits, unravelling them like you unravelled their owner, leaving waves in his milky blonde tousles.

you kissed the spot where you were marking your possession, moving your placement to the underside of his defined jaw, teeth gnashing at his freckled skin. his laboured breathing echoed through the room, a symphony of surrender.

“s’good…oh you’re so g-good noona. what have i…been m-missing out onn?” felix spluttered.

you just yanked his hair in response, his braids now completely unthreaded. every word and every sound he expressed ignited your nerves, set your heart alight. your oxygen was depleting steadily, but you weren’t going to stop and take a breathe. you were going to suck felix’s skin to the death and die a happy woman.

but as that thought was revolving around your brain like an eagle circling it’s prey, felix came to an abrupt halt, releasing your lingerie and letting it hit your skin like rubber ricochetting. he mustered the strength to grip your shoulders, before gently prising you off him. a look of concern came over you, worry concealing the lust in your eyes.

“felix, sweetheart, i’m so sorry…are you hurt? what did i do?“ you voiced, exasperated.

“noo i’m all good…y-you’re all good, noona-yah. oh you’re fucking, fucking phenommmenal, god. i just…i need a favour,” felix tripped over his words.

“of course. anything, felix, you’ve been such a good boy. just tell me what you need. let me take care of you,” you replied.

your expression was filled with concern, worry, and just a hint of lust as your eyes travelled over his body, taking in his red face, messy hair, and heaving chest.

felix’s heart slammed into his rib cage, as his eyes locked with yours. he took a deep breath, feeling the air catch in his throat as he tried to speak.

“n-noona,” he murmured, his cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red. “i need you to…can you let me…?”

your heart skipped as you heard the hitch in his voice, they way it trembled with need and desire. you knew what he wanted, you had made him fall apart under your touch just a moment ago, but you had to hear him say it.

you leaned closer, moving your body against his, letting your breath brush against his ear as you encouraged him.

“tell me, pretty. tell me what you need.”

a full body shiver ran through felix as your breath ghosted over his skin, sending a wave of heat straight to his core. he closed his eyes, drowning in the sensation of your body so close to his, the weight of your words in his ears.

he swallowed hard, his voice quiet and husky again as he finally spoke.

“…can you hold my hair back…whilst i ea-eat you out? please?”

oh. well, you thought that he was going to ask you to suck hickeys onto him further down, on his chest maybe. or he might’ve asked for you to kiss him.

but when your pretty roommate offers to give you head, are you really one to decline it?

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

part 2??

©fallingforfelix, 2024 tag if inspired

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 ✩࿐

pairing: scaramouche x gn!reader

content: fluff, fluff, and more fluff, scaramouche is referred to as kunikuzushi, established relationship, makeup

summary: after noticing that your boyfriend’s eye makeup is more or less flawless, you ask him to test his skills on you.

a/n: this is what happens when you let me brainrot with @ilyuu for too long hehe... the scara brainworm has worked its way into my head. this is a cry for help.

“Hold still,” Kunikuzushi mumbles under his breath as he leans in towards you. With steady hands, he brings an eyeshadow brush up to your face, carefully placing the end of it against one of your eyelids. You have to stop yourself from flinching as the sensation of the bristles touching your face sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re moving an awful lot,” he reprimands you. A frown spreads across your boyfriend’s features. “Don’t blame me if you end up looking like an absolute idiot.”

Upon hearing his words, you have to force yourself to stifle a giggle. Kunikuzushi has a rather sharp tongue, but at times, even his irritated guise isn’t enough to conceal his love for you. Every single one of his emotions is displayed on his face for you to see, appearing as clear as a cerulean sky on sunny summer days. An entire rainbow array of sentiments is painted across his features.

Your proximity to him makes it easy for you to discern each feeling — after all, you’re so close to him that you can practically count all his eyelashes — so instead of focusing on the feeling of Kuni doing your makeup, you try to focus on him.

Porcelain skin tinted a very subtle shade of bubblegum pink at his cheeks; eyes that are filled with oceans of allure, adoration, and enchantment, containing a glint that speaks of the most mystifying secrets of the universe; and messy strands of hair reminiscent of the night sky framing his face make your pulse race erratically. The feeling of his breath tickling your skin only adds to the elation that threatens to make your heart burst.

It’s undeniable that Kunikuzushi is pretty — no, absolutely breathtaking — from any distance. After all, you had spent what felt like eons admiring him from afar before you could muster the courage to talk to him. However, up close, he is ethereal. Every single one of his features entices you, causing an entire sea of affections to flood your heart, overrunning it with feelings of unadulterated bliss.

As you stare at him in a daze, your gaze gravitates towards his lips. Although it’s difficult for you to look down due to the eyeliner pencil he just picked up tickling the edges of your eyes, you still manage to see them in the margins of your vision. His lips look so soft and plush, coloured a coral hue in stark contrast to his snowy complexion. They look so tempting. You feel a strong urge to kiss them — an urge that only intensifies as he subconsciously chews on his bottom lip as he concentrates hard on perfecting your makeup.

Your actions go entirely unnoticed by your boyfriend, or at least, you think they go unnoticed. He’s too focused on doing your eyeliner, quietly muttering a string of swears under his breath as his hand shakes. It seems like he’s nervous for once. You assume it’s because this is probably the first time he’s doing makeup for someone other than himself.

No matter how indifferent he acts on the outside, Kunikuzushi cares about you enough to become a mess on the inside when he’s doing something for you. It’s endearing in a strange sense.

With one final stroke, Kuni pulls back in order to admire his work. A small smirk adorns his features as he fixes his gaze upon you. Even though your boyfriend has moved, your eyes are still glued to his lips.

“Not bad,” he says. The galaxies of indigo swirling within his irises seem to glow brighter the longer he stares at you. It’s obvious he’s undeniably enamoured. He adores every aspect of your being. Kunikuzushi loves you down to every last detail, and right now, he’s especially enchanted by your eyes.

Slowly, Kuni’s face inches toward your own. His stare remains fixated on the corners of your eyes, which are tinted with dusk red eyeshadow reminiscent of his own makeup.

Before you know it, his lips softly press against your face, just barely grazing one of the areas he had just finished applying makeup to. Although no words are exchanged, you know what he’s trying to say.

You look absolutely divine.

When he finishes, he moves in once again. However, this time, he goes for your lips. Kuni slowly closes the distance between the two of you, narrowing the gap that separates you from him until you can feel his warm breath fanning your skin. He stops right before you kiss to gently caresses your cheek.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Kuni whispers slightly breathlessly, although in the moment, that phrase sounds slightly hypocritical. His gaze is locked on your lips, almost as if he doesn’t dare to look away.

Little by little, the final inch of space between you diminishes, and you are met with the sensation of a pair of warm lips against your own.

The kiss is magical. It feels like something out of a fairytale. Butterflies run rampant in the pit of your stomach as you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, and for a second, you picture yourself in a dream. A dream where the rest of the world is forgotten, and all that exists is you and your lover.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging/commenting if you enjoyed this!

[bedoballoons]

maybe like a character x mitsuri Kanroji like reader?

so basically misturi has pink and green hair, is very cheery and nice, has a HUGE appetite, she has almost inhuman strength a basically her muscle density is 9 times higher than the average human. And is extremely flexible hand a ribbon like katana. I think a pryo vision fits best.

I literally love your workkkkkkkk♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Awe thank you!!! <3 I had so much fun writing this!! I hope you like the characters I picked and I'll totally write others if you don't!! Sorry it took so long to finish!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Misturi Kanjiro like reader!~༺}

CW: Fluff! Sweet moments! Pet names! (Belle by Lyney and Love by Kazuha!), confirmed relationships for most of them!

(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Albedo, Kazuha, and Wanderer!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Diluc:

Your stomach growled hungrily in excitement as you stepped into the kitchen, Dilucs long red hair tied back in a messy bun while he prepared breakfast, his hands busy chopping vegetables and cooking up your favourites, just because he loved spoiling you. "Are you making what I think you're making?!" You asked excitedly, hurrying to his side to take a peek and smiling widely as the smell of delicious food hit your nostrils, making your tummy growl again in response.

"But of course and I made extra so you could have leftovers for lunch." He leaned over placing a kiss on the top of your head as you cheered and wrapped you arms around him in a celebratory hug. "Thank you!"

𑁍༄Lyney:

You had a bounce in your step as you made your way through the crowd of people, your long pink green hair tied up in sweet pigtails as your eyes focused in on the center of attention, which was Lyney and of course his assistant Lynette, the magic duo of the century. Pure joy bubbled through you while you watched the two of them perform trick after trick and the audience clap after each one, things you swore couldn't happen, but somehow he made them happen.

Then to your surprise his eyes landed on you, a mischievous smile taking place on his lips, as he addressed the group of watchers once again, "For the next trick, I'd like to pick someone from the audience! Hmmm what about you Belle, could you do the honours?" He pointed to you, your face instantly blushing red as you walked towards him, his hand gently taking yours and leaving a rainbow rose in its wake. "Could you hold this for me?" He asked, his cheeks slightly pink which made you want to giggle, he was kinda cute..."Okay!"

"Now put your hands together, rainbow rose on the inside and make sure no one can see it." You followed his directions, closing your hands around the rainbow rose and making sure there were no ways to peep at it, your whole body tingled with excitement as he spoke the magic words. "And reveal!" You pulled your hands away and suddenly your singular rose had turned into a whole bouquet, growing right in front of your eyes and bursting with all the colours of the rainbow.

"WHAT!"

𑁍༄Albedo:

"No matter what tests I try...it seems I'm unable to come up with a explanation for your inhuman strength. You're a mystery to me...a sweet adorable mystery." Albedo said softly, his bright blue eyes meeting yours as a blush spread rapidly across your face, your heart pounding harshly in your chest when he stood up and made his way to you, his hand reaching out to help you up from your seat.

"I'm not the only mysterious one Mr. Chalk prince, speaking of which! Do chalk people eat cake?" You beamed up at him, his arms wrapping around you as he placed a kiss on your forehead, a small chuckle escaping him. "Im not sure chalk people is the appropriate term...but either way, yes I eat cake." You hugged him back lifting him up slightly as you cheered, "Yay!! I have some in my bag! Let's go!"

𑁍༄Kazuha:

Fire swirled around you in brilliant orange and yellow hues, shifting and whirling in every which way with the wind as its guide, it mesmerized you to the point you were almost speechless. "Kazuha...this is so beautiful!" Your hand squeezed his tighter, your visions glowing in harmony as he hummed in delight and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. "The way wind mixes with the elements is very calming, the colours that flow with every breeze and the way it can bring vision bearers together, letting them work in harmony. It's lovely.."

You nodded happily, your eyes trained on the incredible sight all around you...

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer flashed a smirk at you, his eyes wide with excitement as you readied your weapon, the ribbon like texture of the blade making him raise an eyebrow...what the hell were you going to do with a ribbon? "You sure you don't want to back down? I won't go easy on you, even if this is sparing." His voice rang in your ears as you smiled back at him, your katana glinting in the sunlight as you held it up in his direction, "I won't back down! Just you wait!"

He chuckled and with that the match begun, the two of you shooting forward at high speed, wind blades flying mere centimeters from your face as you delicately dodged. Your body spinning slightly as you got closer, your katana swirling like a protective shield around you and yet also being sharp enough to draw blood, which became clear when the two of you parted.

The dust parting and revealing a small cut on wanderers face, his eyes absolutely shining now as he laughed maniacally, "I shouldn't have underestimated you! This is going to be fun!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[mysteryanimator]

ANIMATION BREAKDOWN PROCESS OF THIS LETS GO (Sorry for any grammatical errors!)

SCRIPT/STORYBOARD: (you can watch here)

Now THIS. The script was very weak because I wanted to board immediately, so it started strong then fell off at the end (also generally I'm not a stronger writer, which haha fics my beloved). Now I know this, spending more time simmering with the script will genuinely only 1) stronger compositions for storyboards 2) it will be so much faster to board. Like I can board fast, but I can board fast AND well if I sit with the idea a bit longer. This will be a massive running theme how I like my shots earlier rather than further in.

side note I LIKE PANEL 11 A LOT, I just feeI didn't translate it well enough into animation which sucks because its a pretty panel and you get a softer moment from Olrox which I found was important to get across.

Also at some point, the 180 rule (which keeps characters on like one line behind the camera... not sure if I worded that right) gets broken and it bugged me for AGES but decided I had to just move on LOL.

These are my thumbnails b4 I go to animatic/cleaned storyboards which are SO MESSY (I'm a lot better at annotating my thumbs now LOL). The original prompt was top service blood bag x powerbottom vampire and i don't think i portrayed that well enough throughout BUT i think the intro did a good establishment. Which fun fact, this was scrapped but there was actually 20 seconds of Mizrak eyeing Olrox "What is it like? Blood?" Then Olrox leans down and commences the thigh glide.

These backgrounds are a mix of texture-bashing (walls/floors) along with some good ol' painting materials from scratch. Also, these are olddd and I can do a lot better yay, but was a good test to see how to make a consistent-ish scene.

ANIMATION: (You can watch the rough anim here)

I'll be super upfront how I don't like most of it AHHA. From starting this in July to posting this in September, I've improved a lot since then.

Since this was a bit ago, I don't remember too much but I remember going ham onto learning material from Dong Chang and animation servers. However in all honesty I think this was only really applied to the earlier shots. I got super frustrated with my "slow speed" so I tried to jump ship and do cleans super early on, which like lets be honest- pumping out two rough anims a day with uni on top is not slow idk what I was on about. This ended up giving me MORE work during the line/colour stage PFFT because I would end up correcting my mistakes in my roughs. Like Myst stop, this is for fun and you're learning, please take it easy LOLOL.

COMPOSITING:

Working on compositing this time around was slightly different, and I'll also admit it is not my favorite composite I've done (and again, I like my earlier shots then my later shots). My after-effects layers looked insane keeping track of the highlight glows on their clothes BUT it definitely paid off. Skin tones however were SO DIFFICULT (mostly in part to the fact I decided to experiment with how I approached it, so it definitely skewed how I worked with this)

I also definitely struggled between the dreamy look and keeping it clean and crisp, and while the dreamy blurred aesthetic does work in some cases, I opted out for the sake of clarity.

Beloved edge light my friend. It's making me learn SUPER late into it how I probably should have planned out a third shadow pass since edge light at the point is a crutch and I think planning it out ahead would get nicer more precise shadows LOL.

Because I brain rotted so hard for this animation I actually commissioned two people to help me work on this! I'll briefly talk about their stuff but please check out their work!

MUSIC: Astralbardkeep

Due the fact I don't have voiceactors, and I had a very specific vision in mind, I decided to go "you know what, let me be super self-indulgent". I had a lot of notes and inspirations for the music, BUT i wanted to have Olrox's theme from the original games peek through, which you will notice happens at the bite AND at the end.

TITLE CARD: Hataui0

This might've seemed overkill, but this friend of mine is very talented at making graphics/typography to suit the requirements of each individual project. (Also a secret ploy to make him make nocturne fanart /lh). So that entire end bit, he illustrated it along with that title, in which the themes I bestowed him were Mucha and Gothic art.

Thank you for reading if you got this far! Suffice to say this was supposed to be a compare and contrast between the animation I did in February, and while I may not quite find this body of work up to my normal standards, it substantial amount of improvement, which is the most important thing here! With the ten billion other things in my life going on, I can only be happy with the progress thus far :D

February on the left/September on the right

[avielex]

Ashes

[POV: Jordan / Professor Budd, twelve years after Protego Diabolica.]

Part 1 of 3

I didn't think I'd have it happen to me.

Then again, there were many things I didn't think I'd have, about ten years ago.

Getting to teach an elective class was one of them. Getting a flat chest was another. Getting to have both things in the same lifetime and getting to enjoy my new everyday, though? Yes, each day is always going to be yet another test to how good these actually are (as I remember from experience, kids get bored fast), but I strive to say yes each time. Always.

Well, for an elective, kids sure get enthusiastic in my classroom, so I'd say it's been a yes from the soul for most of those days.

But I'm worried of having to say no.

"Look up here, everyone."

"In front of you will be a visual of which colour of Muggle fire will be for its heat level, from coolest to hottest. If at any point you see fire being produced by a Muggle devices and you see the hottest colour, please! Please keep away for the sake of your souls. And your pretty faces."

I heard a couple chuckles.

I'm not sure I remember the pipeline of thought I had prior to this lesson. It was going to be simple enough: The science of heat. The principles and interactions of that heat with other things. If wizards will setting fire to a lot of things for whatever reason, then I better give them a reason to consider the things fire can really do and be.

Blazing hot. Beautiful. But dangerous.

Much like the eyes of Mr. Gillebrand here, a fifth-year Slytherin — unwavering from every motion I made in front of the class. He's always been a pretty focused guy, perhaps occasionally tunnel-visioning into what he sees right, but his friends behind him there I could trust to give him a much-needed bonk here and there too.

Mr. Gillebrand — oh, it doesn't matter here, we're bloody friends — Trey's observant. Always been, maybe too much so. If anything, that day, he must've seen some sort of reason to watch me extra closely during that demonstration. And I hate to say it, but he might've had the right idea.

No. Not that.

He might've already had an idea.

"As we'd discussed in the lecture last time, we'd have to invert our perspectives of these colours when we look at natural or Muggle fire," I continued, in spite of Trey's gaze digging into my face. "What colour's our coldest again?"

A deep scarlet flame hovers at the tip of my wand. The class choruses "Red".

"Getting hotter."

An orange ember, with the chill colours of a sunset. Some people called it yellow, some orange. For some of the kids I noticed to have stayed silent, this would probably be one unfortunate way to find out you're colourblind.

"Hotter still."

A "Yellow" as golden as the softboiled yolks at the Great Hall's breakfast table.

"And hotter?"

As "White" as the wisps that trail off the tattered ends of our castle ghosts' long clothes.

"Right, at the center here," I said, pointing at the white center of the flame bursting from my wand. I flick it off with a wave, a little column of smoke ghosting from the tip of my wand as I continued to speak.

"Now, it's hard to find this hottest colour of fire in nature." I hold my wand out again. "I'd discussed before that fire needs fuel and oxygen to burn. That fuel can vary from wood to clothes to... really, a lot of things, including gas. Muggles have learnt to contain some of these gases as fuel for cooking, and the flame it produces at complete combustion is..."

I flicked my wand—

And that was where I had it happen to me.

[OC CREDITS, behind Trey: Azi (left) by @praxieserver , Leshi/Snakey (right) by @cindyvonotakuuwu ]

[themotherofblood]

My dear author, I know your requests are closed, but I couldn't miss the opportunity so I'm going to try my luck… If you can make an exception, I can get an inspired imagine/oneshot Daemon x Dornish reader in "tabaah ho gaye" by Shreya Ghoshal, with a lot of anguish (breaks my heart) but with a happy ending, please? (feel free to ignore and if you can't accept it I completely understand)

yes!! i’m loving all the bollywood inspired chapters. I was hoping I could use this as a part of the dragon and the dancer since y/n is a dancer and she could be ripping a solo in the mirrored palace like madhuri. Also just for the sake of the story we are gonna pretend that these girls magically know the same choreo as Y/N because we are doing things old school bollywood

masterlist

Part 2 of The Dragon and The Dancer

Daemon Targaryen x Martell! Reader

There was much bustling around the Old Palace in the past fortnight, Qoren’s nameday was upon Dorne and the celebrations as usual were to be magnificent, the Mirrored Palace was brighter yet again, every candle burning anew as sweet jasmine filled the palace; coating its walls in the sweet aroma of the flowers. It had been ten years since this palace was used, there was no joy in using it other than when you spent your nights there.

Another reason to rejoice was thrust into your hands by the gods and you simply didn’t want to linger in the misery of your loss, you provided the Sand sisters with keys; under guise that they would be performing for Qoren, along with your younger cousins of nines and tens. You step daughter Rhaena amongst the little girls, you had gotten her ghungroos of her own, made of blue cloth and light gold bells of her ankles to adjust to. She had been running a muck in her chambers, the little bells jangling as she tested her newest trinket.

You had already been dressed for hours, dressing your little cousins as they could barely standstill for more than a few moments, Rhaena’s curls were put in a puff over her head with a stringlet of dahlias, in a beautiful gold ensemble that matched yours, Baela had gone out with her father to mingle with guests arriving from all over Westeros and Essos.

You had led her out, hand in hand as her eyes wandered over to the sea of guests, many ladies approached you; to greet the newly minted wife of the rogue dragon. Many wondered what you had that they didn’t, many frowned at your colour; scoffing at your exoticness. Your husband was rather easier to spot, his striking silver hair inviting you over from a crowded room of people. You shuffled your way to him, offering more polite greeting to whomever spoke to you.

Daemon had been scowling at an envoy, sent to sway your father about the fighting in Stepstones and side with Craghas Drahar; your father had another reason to remain neutral, he wouldn’t harm your husband’s prospects for your sake but refused to side with them for old time nemesis sake. You reached near him as you followed his path of vision to lay upon a much familiar man, a man you wished you would never see again when you left his court at six and ten.

“You are going to make my men and I very happy.” His grimy fingers held your cheeks as he presented you with your own ghungroos.

You immediately intertwined your hands with Daemon’s, almost slotting yourself behind him as the old master recognized your face and gave your a filthy once over before approaching you. Daemon hadn’t quite realized what the man was looking at until the old master stopped to greet them.

“Ah, sweet Y/N. Look at how you have grown,” He gestured at your body as you partially hid behind Daemon. Given where the man had come from, it didn’t take long until Daemon out the pieces together.

“Prince Daemon!,” The old man sneered “Are you here to entertain us with your dragon?” He japed, you could see a nerve bursting in Daemon’s head as he held your hand tighter.

“Here to celebrate with my wife actually, you know. The princess of Dorne.” He gestured at you.

“I wish- wish you good luck in convincing my father, old Ser.” You gave him a practised petty smile before letting Daemon drag you along to the main hall in the Old Palace. The old master’s eyes widened as he watched you embrace Qoren and he placed a fatherly kiss upon your forehead as you wished him a happy name day.

You had found yourself in the chambers were your sisters and cousins all lounged before the performance, you informed them of your withdrawal without any reasoning before stomping to your own personal chambers. Daemon had caught up to you as he found you angrily undoing the knots of ghungroos to free yourself of them. Daemon kneeled infront you, offering to replace his stable hand with your shaky one’s as he undid the knots as you ranted your reasoning.

“I re- refuse to dance for such perverse, his entire court has seen me much bare than I am.” You sighed angrily, “I really wanted to dance for Qoren.” You pouted. Daemon found your reasoning justified as he pulled you onto his lap.

“You have the world’s time to dance for him again, you should do it when you feel ready, not when the known world thinks you are.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

That was weeks before Daemon Targaryen had decided to descend dragon fire into the Stepstones.

“Your niece’s husband has a dragon!” You reasoned in stress as Daemon prepared his dragon.

“This is the matter of my house, wife. I must fight.” He urged frustrated, hoping for you to see reason in his excursions but all you could picture was you being widowed.

“And what of me? Your daughters? Don’t you owe us your life too?” You bellowed, yanking his gloves from him. He now looked at you perturbed and the scene you were causing. He motioned you to return his gloves and you insolently refused.

“Perhaps if your father would have provided men, this wouldn’t have happened!” This time Daemon let his frustrations get the best of him as he yelled at you, yanking his gloves free from you hands.

“You know I tried!” You shook your head, hoping to fight the tears that threatened to spill.

“You should have tried harder! Or mayhaps your claim to his heart isn’t as meaningful as he poses it to be.” He snapped before existing the chambers. He too didn't want to fight this war and yet he wouldn't allow shame to loom over his brother’s name.

You followed the girls out to the beach mount, Caraxes remained idle as he waited for his rider to mount him. Baela began petting the red dragon, talking to it as if he understood every word. However Caraxes held an odd attention towards you as his giant nostrils flared as he kept sniffing at you. You couldn't quite place what he meant to do and yet pet his snout, hoping he would return your husband to unspoiled; regardless of how angry you were at him at the very moment.

Daemon embraced both his weeping girls, kneeling at their level as they pressed kisses on either side of his cheek before he kissed their foreheads. He looked at you with guilt, hoping to gorge his words from before down his stomach and hitting his head with a rock over how tactless he had been, he came to embrace you; leave you with a parting kiss and yet you pulled away. Pointing at his red dragon, demanding him to leave, he approached once more but you shook your head. Again aggressively point at his dragon.

Daemon’s guilt-ridden eyes gave the women of his life one more look as they embraced one another before Caraxes let out a shrieking whistle and whisked him to the orange clouds of dusk. Just like that he was gone.

Your anger simmered in the coming fortnight as letters began to arrive from the Stepstones, they were written in haste as stains of dirt adored the corners of the papers. He wrote for his daughters and you, making the war sound like an entertaining ballad for his daughters and yet you knew the truth of how ineffectual the dragons had been in this war. He was fighting by hand, starved and pained.

Perhaps the distance and stress for your husband began to claw at your health, you grew nauseous everytime you laid awake to brink of morning as you wondered what he would be doing, was he hurt; was he alright?

Then the universe japed at you as you sat with Maesters, your stomach could barely keep down anything you were eating and as of last fortnight, your handmaidens began behaving oddly up until when they dragged you to the Maester’s chambers.

“Mayhaps two moons princess,” He exclaimed as he washed his hands “Shall I call for your father?”

You shook your head as you rubbed your belly, shaking your head as you realized the night conception. Qoren’s nameday.

More letters were shared between Daemon and you, yet you hid your condition from him; you knew if you told him he would evade his sense of strategy and begin recklessly tearing through people to end the war, with no adhere consequence of his own mortality. The fighting turned dirty as more Velaryon men lost their lives.

You had confessed your pregnancy to your father as you lounged with him at the beach, he had been elated; far too ready to throw yet another extravagant feast and you refused. Urging for him to hold off until your husband returns and not to mention this to anyone else. Perhaps they would figure it out as your belly grew but for now you needed to tell Qoren just to alleviate the gnawing sense of doom in your heart.

Then the letters grew less frequent, muddier and rushed as he professed his love over and over again. Every time you would wish upon them and burn the letters, praying he be returned to you whole. Until a moon turned and his letters stopped entirely, within the three moons he had left, you had never felt the kind of dread you had felt in the moment when the Maester informed you of no letters.

You fought your hasty beating heart, quarrelling for it to stop, to let you breathe normally for just a moment. You rummaged through your chests, hoping to find your ghungroos. For just a while you needed to escape this fear, it was the only thing that would protect your child from yourself. You hurried towards the Mirrored Palace.

The doors had been wide open as echoes of girls giggling and talking were heard from within the main hall, you didn't care to usher them out. You just needed to dance. You had opened the palace for the girls to dance in, it was a shame to keep such a place locked away when it was built with much love for your mother.

Your sisters saw you approach looking troubled, they understood why and sympathized. Some of them caught onto your growing belly during the last turn of the moon. Others figured it out from how you refused to eat certain foods that were once your favourites. Many figured with the four months remaining of your pregnancy, any wife would grow paranoid about their husband’s absence.

“Care to join us, dear sister,” Aliandra spoke up, shushing all your Sand sisters in the process. You didn't say a word, just nodded as your handmaiden helped you tie the ribbons in your ghungroos. Your sisters, with Baela and Rhaena had spent a better part of an hour; arguing over which song to dance over. They knew a few pieces that your mother had taught them and yet everyone had their favourites.

You simply walked to the middle, shrugging your shawl off to not have it in your way, you needed to dance, free-hearted and unabashed. They all awaited, letting you pick the song out of courtesy in your distressed state. You let out a wavering sigh before tucking your right leg behind the left.

Your sweet voice let out the first line of the song, and the master of musical arts and his entourage immediately recognized the song. The strings played their part as a melancholic tune echoed the marble in the palace.

A war widow’s prayer, a macabre choice in tunes and yet far too fitting to portray what it is you were battling within. It called for the safe return of her husband, how she offered her life to the gods for the safe keeping of her husband. Your sisters looked at one another before joining you at the center, all of your ghungroos created a melodic jangle as you danced as one. Rhaena remained seated, still unaware of this piece.

The flute chimed in, calling for the joyous days between Daemon and you, you closed your eyes envisioning the afternoons you had lounged on a sailboat as his daughters swam in the sea. The second verse forces you to remember the sheer aura that drove you toward him, the adoration you held toward him that scared you to the core, praying that your own envy of his essence wouldn't reflect as ill will.

You turned, and so did your sisters; making your skirts flare out in unison. You had to stop for a moment, your singing choked in a sob, as the words whimpered out of your mouth. The colours of your sisters' dresses blurred within the tears pooling past your eyes, they kept dancing knowing better than to not let you feel the anguish you were in.

You recalled your arguement, you hadn't let him kiss you when he left. It couldn't be the last time you kissed him, it simply couldn't. You refused to let that fight be the last of your conversation; even if you had to travel to the Stepstones yourself. There was one thing evident in the last three moons is how incapable of pure joy you were without him. A piece of your heart, packaged in the belongings that he took with him.

Your feet began to ache, from the change in your body due to babe but also how hard you landed on the footwork. The last verse past the bridge echoed across the walls, the notes of your siren-like voice called for far more spectators as you laid your emotions out on the floor, he needed to be okay- he had to be okay. As the last beats of percussion led to the crescendo of footwork, a foot soldier stopped at the gates of the Mirrored Palace, whispering something in your hand maiden’s ear, Her eyes widened as she ran inside, looking toward your dancing figure.

You paused in the middle, everyone still finishing the piece around you, she whispered something to your daughters who ran out of the palace. The shock in her eyes filled your stomach with dread as you walked past your dancing sisters, the thud of ghungroos as you took hastily walked towards the main gates, rubbing at your swollen stomach; far too afraid that if you lost your husband your body would force you to lose this last part of him too.

“Please don't be dead.”

“Please don't be dead.”

You stopped right by the doors, far too afraid to witness what was behind them. You patted your tummy, taking deep breaths as the knights stationed by the door opened them at your approach. There kneeled Daemon, head buried between his daughters’ shoulders as he engulfed them in his giant arms, you stood atop the stairs as tears of relief replaced the ones of anguish from moments before.

You hurried down the stairs, stopping merely a few feet away from him, praying that he was real. He looked up, face still spotted with specks of soot and dirt; his hair chopped much shorter as he wore a crown made of bone. His lips widened in a smile, a soft smile as he took sympathy to your tears. You threw yourself at him, sobbing the moment his arms wrapped around your shaking body.

“I thought- I thought.” You stammered still sobbing as he held your face in his hands “Your letters stopped and there was no news Daemon.” He nodded, letting your emotions pour out of you “I thought you were dead.” You wailed. He lifted you hand to his thudding heart inside his chest

“See, not dead,” He wiped your tears “I’m here, I’m here.” He cooed as his daughters also wrapped themselves around you and him. You caressed Baela’s hair as you felt her rubbing your arm.

You finally calmed down enough to pull apart, most of your emotions were to be blamed on something Daemon was unaware of, until he pulled back to give you an adoring once-over. His eyes stopped at your middle, letting his hand trail to the soft yet firm swell of your belly. It was unapparent from the fullness of your skirt at first glance but his eyes shot to you, a thousand questions looming behind those purple eyes.

“Five moons now,” You informed him, still sniffling as you smiled wider at his shock.

“Healthy?” He asked, still unable to grasp that there was a child within you.

“Healthy.” You nodded, Daemon’s eyes remained fixated on your middle before he engulfed you once more, picking you off your feet and twirled you around. You shrieked.

Daemon had not only returned victorious despite his brother's shunning and misjudgements but also returned to become a father to three children. There was much preparation to be done since he planned to take his wife to the king's landing, and use the celebrations of his great victory as a momentous event to introduce his wife, and now oncoming child to the court. Just as he had his twin daughters.

That night a steaming bath was prepared for the prince to wash himself of the muck and grime from all the fighting. It has only been mere hours since he learned of your pregnancy and had already begun the chicken mothering, he insisted that you lay in bed until he was done, before that he scolded you for bending to untie your ghungroos and anklets, kneeling down himself to undo them. You, however, as little defiant as ever followed after him to the bath.

He dropped his robe, giving you a full view of his back and the newest burns coating his left side. You gasped making him turn and scowl at you. “What did I say about going to bed?”

You shrugged the subject entirely, frowning at the gashes and stabs of arrows on his body. Your feelings bubbled up to a precipice yet again as your bottom lip wobbled. This time you scowled at him, pushing him towards the bath before dropping your own sleep shift to the ground.

Whatever Daemon was mildly irked over just moments before absolutely abandoned his mind, his eyes took in your bare body, the swell of your breasts and your prominent belly. He had no choice but to cave as you joined him in the bath, shuffling to straddle his legs as you gently washed at his wounds. He hissed out loud making you flinch your hand away.

The frown on your face was all too adorable as he chuckled at your reaction, he had lost feeling to the burned side of his shoulder long before and yet the concern on your face for a devious man like him made him melt behind his demeanour. One thing he knew for sure, was that after this bath, with no mind to the injuries that still caused him discomfort, he was going to ravage your swelling body like a beast gone feral on a full moon.

[look-a-yandere-fandom-blog]

Reader tried to break into Moira's lab but ended up messing up something which led them to get injured and caught.

They thought they were ready for anything but turns to their surprise the doctor seems to have taken a sort of liking in them.

Reader is not sure if it's better or worse than simply being treated like a spy.

(Yes the Overwatch one. Sorry I wasn't aware that there were others with the same name among your fanchises as I'm only familiar with OW.)

Break-In | Oneshot

Moira O’Deorain / Gender Neutral Reader

Fandom: Overwatch 

_________________________________

Ambiguous yan - can be read as platonic or romantic.

_________________________________

Content Warning: Injury detail, blood, implied obsession, Moira being condescending as hell (so pretty much how she usually acts).

(If there’s anything else I need to add to these warnings, please let me know.)

Thank you for the ask anon, and also thanks for the additional clarification! Moira’s always been a fave of mine, so this was super fun to write! (outside of tumblr glitching out and not letting me save to my drafts haha)

_________________________________

The job was simple.

Get in.

Steal the vial.

Get out.

What was in the vial?

To be honest, you had no idea.

The mission brief was the same as the previous two, so you didn't pay much attention.

You knew the drill, having worked alongside Overwatch for a few months now. You weren't exactly a member of the group, but your knack for infiltration led to you being roped into a few assignments here and there.

These missions allowed you to stretch your wings: they gave you a chance to hone your skills in the field, without being limited by the security of a simulation or training program. Every mistake would cost something, every slip-up would eat away precious time. This was the real deal; which made every victory that much sweeter.

And apparently, your actions helped prevent an array of nefarious plots from being carried out. That's a nice bonus. So, despite the little pay, it's not the worst gig you've had. 

You start to climb through the lab's window carefully. The alarm was easily disabled during your first mission here, and, after a quick check, you confirm that it's still inactive. 

The security here must be pretty lousy to not have fixed the alarm, you think. And even lousier to not have noticed it’s deactivation. It’s weird… as you remember the brief saying this was a pretty high-tech place. High budget. Higher-profile investors. Fancy gadgets and all that. 

But, if it saves you from having to find another way in, you’ll take advantage of their ignorance. 

You swing your legs over the window frame, setting yourself down on the tiled floor of the laboratory. The room was meticulous, as always. Its occupant must be the diligent type. 

Test tubes, chemicals, and strange-looking contraptions that you couldn’t even try to guess the purpose of are dotted about the room. They’re kept in organised groups, neatly distributed on the lab’s countertops. 

It’s spotless. Shiny. Blinking lights of green, blue, and red reflect off the countertops’ dull steel. The garish gleam of artificial colour bounces off the edge of every surface, lining corners and curves while the rest of their forms remain shrouded in darkness. 

You tread the room carefully, eyes trained in their search for any new cameras or alarms. It doesn’t matter if they catch you on film, as long as you can escape before they alert any guards. 

After a few moments, you see movement on the edge of your peripheral vision. A camera is lodged in the corner of the room, attached to the ceiling, panning back and forth blindly. The hunk of metal is indifferent to you, continuing its monotonous loop.  

So there have been changes since your last visit. And with it, a chance someone could be watching you. 

But you’re already in. It’d be a waste to back out now. 

Swiftly, you start to rifle through cabinets, through drawers, searching for that vial. Intel had given a vague description: it being rather small, glass, easy to miss, and containing a purple fluid. They couldn’t get much more on it, the lab’s owner intent on keeping most others out. 

The name of its owner continues to elude you. It was mentioned during the first mission’s brief. Upon hearing it, those attending alongside you gave each other concerned glances, but you didn’t pay much mind, focused instead on memorising the building’s layout. It didn’t much matter to you who worked here, only if you could get in. 

Then, finally, you spot it. Tucked away in a corner of a cabinet. Just a little too high for you to reach. 

Damnit. 

You shift to stand on the tips of your toes, leaning on the countertop to keep yourself steady, as you reach up. Your fingertips grasp at nothing, while your thoughts are occupied with prayers that you don’t knock the cursed thing further back. 

Almost, almost, then…

Pain. 

Sharpness tears into you. Air knocked out of your lungs. You look down. 

A trap digs into your leg. Rippling patterns upon it as it strives to blend into the floor. Cloaking technology. Near-invisible until activated. 

Your vision blurs. Adrenaline fogging up your sight. Like smoke filling an enclosed space. Choking. Inescapable. 

It does nothing to dispel the sting. Agony biting into your leg as you sink to the floor, trying to pry your limb from the trap. But every movement only makes the injury worse. 

Blood, your blood, glints with blaring colours. Green. Blue. Red. 

Red coats your hands, making the attempt to free yourself clumsy. Blood pools atop the pale-tiled floor. It gathers in the shallow channels between each tile. Flowing like rivers from their human source. 

Gritting your teeth, your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

You can’t hear the sound of a door opening, nor that of footsteps stepping closer. 

You can’t see the figure approaching. Assured. Confident. Striding close with an aura of victory. A hunter returning to their snare. 

Their outline shifts into focus. Faint colours saturated by the blinking lights of the lab. Red hair. Black shirt. Purple tie. The details fade in and out. It's all blots and blotches and assumptions. 

Then, the figure crouches down right in front of you. 

She is right in front of you.

“Awh…” She coos, condescension falling from her lips in waves.

"Aren't you just pathetic..?"

A hand emerges from the haze. It rests upon your face, thumb and forefinger along your cheekbone, ring finger against your jaw. 

"Did you really believe you could fool me thrice, little thief?”

Your hand fumbles to hers, trying to push it away. Blood smears across her pale skin as she chuckles. Words rise in your throat, but are smothered by your lung’s ragged breaths.

“Marvellous contraption, isn’t it?” She continues in her rhetorical speech, knowing that you’re in no state to reply. Her hand trails down to your injured leg, nails brushing against your punctured skin, captivated and cruel. You look down to the trap, its blurry outline barely visible. 

“One of Sombra’s works. Remotely activated, imperceptible, and immobilising.”

“While the disorientation-” She grabs your chin, suddenly yanking your head back up. Eye to eye. “That is thanks to something of mine.” 

“In fact, it’s what you came here for. Laced along the points. Distilled, of course. I wouldn’t want you to be… permanently afflicted by it.” Your vision swims, your surroundings fading in and out. Her face remains the only constant, the only thing your cloudy eyes can keep their focus on. 

Then, even that begins to fade… your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. Falling closed, despite your efforts to keep them open, prompting another laugh from her. 

“There’s no point in fighting, little thief. You wouldn’t make it far regardless.” Amusement fills her voice. You both know that there’s no escape for you here. Not now. With this concoction in your system, and this metal jammed into your leg. 

No escape… no way out…

As you slip away… into the unknown of unconsciousness… the last thing you see is her face… mismatched eyes glinting in the blinking lights of the lab.  _________________________________

[zombiecicada]

Running program and loading document.

Security bypassed.

Upload complete!

Document of specimen designated ‘Subject #42’

Case Number: 19.15.21.12

Date: REDACTED

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

1: Subject #42’s Eyes

Subject #42 has large forward facing eyes, its pupils can easily expand and shrink to account for glare or near total darkness. The sclera of the eyes are vibrant yellow. This was later concluded to be due to having high levels of some bilirubin adjacent chemicals within the body.

Originally, it was assumed Subject #42 was suffering from liver failure, but further examination and blood tests revealed such was far from the truth. Whereas that much bilirubin in a red blood celled organism would be a sign of toxicity, because Subject #42 does not have red iron based blood, these high levels of bilirubin do not strip away or break down the blood cells. Instead of causing toxicity, it’s a natural antioxidant.

Subject #42’s eyes appear to have entered a near constant state of myosis, even in low lighting.

———————————————————————

2: Subject #42’s wings

Subject #42 has broad webbed wings that suggest an adaptation for long periods of non stop flight over vast distances.

Such an hypothesis was confirmed reviewing the observation notes of Subject #42 traveling vast distances prior to its capture. Subject #42’s wings were bound with cold iron cuffs shortly after its capture. While Subject #42 later outsmarted the attempts to restrict its ability to fly by simply using its abilities to levitate, the cuffs serve as a successful means to stop it from phasing through the walls of its containment unit.

The second finger of Subject #42’s wings are covered in small, aged scars along the whole length of the limb. The patterns and depth of the scars are consistent with wounds received from scraping against rocks and deflecting debris with the limbs. Subject #42 will swing its talons around like weapons with remarkable precision.

———————————————————————

3: Subject #42’s teeth and mouth

Armed with impressively developed canine teeth and a pointed, papillae covered tongue, Subject #42’s diet is primarily that of a hypercarnivore.

This has lead Doctor Cruce to hypothesize that Subject #42 might have been following the armed forces to feed on the bodies of the casualties produced by the conflict. Subject #42 does share some characteristics of scavengers, such as strong jaws and sharp teeth, but the metabolic cost of traveling such far distances, alongside its abilities, claws and the sword it was found wielding suggests that Subject #42 would likely or primarily have hunted opposed to scavenged. And yet, there was no reports of Subject #42 hunting anything prior to its capture.

The blue colouration comes from the subject’s blue blood, being copper based instead of iron based and highly oxygen efficient. An endurance test concluded Subject #42 can go almost four hours without breathing, suggesting Subject #42 comes from a low oxygen environment where it pays to be able to make the most of the little oxygen available. However, it seems to be perfectly fine in environments of standard 21% oxygen levels.

———————————————————————

4: Subject #42’s paws and forelimbs

Everything about Subject #42’s paws and forelimbs suggests it is a highly efficient climber. It has tough palms, strong claws for grip, an abundance of collagen within its body, and well developed tendons and ligaments.

A test concluded that with ease it can swiftly scale up vertical walls, alongside being highly oxygen efficient, it does not tire easily, leading Doctor Cruce to suggest Subject #42 might’ve evolved in a rocky, mountainous environment.

———————————————————————

5: Subject #42’s standard vision

A vision test conducted on Subject #42 determined it has remarkably clear long distance vision, able to spot small movements and small details from over several hundred feet of distance.

It can see a wide range of colours and in various levels of lighting.

Interestingly enough, it is badly nearsighted, seeming to have put all its points towards seeing very far instead of close up.

When Subject #42’s powers are activated, its eyes go fully lavender in colour and light up in a bioluminescent display.

—————————————————————————————————————

6: Subject #42’s ‘soul vision’

Finally approaching Subject #42’s bizarrely dare say otherworldly powers, hooking up various scanners and devices to Subject #42 to scan its brain Doctor Cruce discovered Subject #42 has an ‘alternate vision’ that she’s come to dub ‘soul vision’. When activated, Subject #42’s retinas stop perceiving light entirely, instead seeing a vast spectrum of the electromagnetic wave length that shows up to Subject #42 in various ‘colours’ and shapes.

While it took a bit of trial and error, it was discovered that people who have what’s been commonly dubbed a ‘soul’ will show up to this alternate vision as a figure with white eyes. Anything without a soul, be it people or objects, will be entirely invisible to Subject #42 during this time. It seems to be able to toggle back and forth between these two modes of vision at will.

Currently, it is unknown if the ‘colours’ that show up have different meanings. Subject #42 continues to show no ability and or interest in answering any questions that are asked of it.

—————————————————————————————————————

7: Further manifestations of Subject #42’s ‘soul magic’

Subject #42 is highly proficient in the use of its magic. It appears capable of instantly and immediately telling if something with a soul approaches it, even through walls and when its vision is restricted, suggesting the soul vision might be able to see through solid objects and see a remarkable distance away.

Alternatively, it may just be a sense that Subject #42 has passively.

When focused, this soul magic can form highly energetic lasers (resulting in biweekly maintenance required to Subject #42’s containment unit), an energy field around itself, and various other high energy attacks.

Subject #42 has a large quantity of energy within it, which it appears to get by steadily absorbing the lifeforce of everything around it.

Subject #42 has a large quantity of energy within it, which it appears to get by steadily absorbing the lifeforce of everything around it.

While it initially caused concern and almost led to the immediate order to terminate Subject #42, Doctor Cruce confirmed at the time that Subject #42 does not appear capable of doing this to such an extent that it would cause death or noticeable symptoms, quote ‘it's not taking from you anymore than the rate of you already naturally dying’. This statement was later retracted when, during a test, Subject #42 killed a test subject by simply touching it, examination to the body shows no wounds or signs of bodily trauma. It appears that Subject #42 instantly killed the fellow subject by removing its life force.

Doctor Cruce now believes that Subject #42 can indeed at any time rapidly and fatally absorb the life force of another being, but must come in contact with it first. For safety precautions, and yet another complaint from maintenance, Subject #42 was later moved to be held in stasis.

Up until that point Subject #42 had simply been very aloof and standoffish, during its final moments before being put in stasis it seemed to enter a state of hysteria, repeatedly calling out for something or someone.

—————————————————————————————————————

There are still many unanswered questions regarding Subject #42, such as the unnatural origins of its abilities and its origins in general.

Doctor Cruce’s conclusion is that it would benefit Nightmare Enterprises to make demonbeasts using Subject #42’s DNA.

However, she stressed a high deal of caution and time to conduct further research before proceeding with any attempts to make new monsters.

Subject #42’s highly unpredictable nature and abilities could lead to the creation of a monster far worse than it that could be impossible to contain that could become an unimaginable threat to the company, especially if it escaped and got into the wrong hands.

(END OF LOG)

[sugar-grigri]

I am not super deep into the Chainsaw Man fandom, but I do know two things about it:

1: It's the coolest thing to ever meet the printed page.

2: It seems like a very anarchist work of fiction.

Am I right to think these things?

I can't say that you're objectively right, because if I had to be morally correct, I'd say: you know… tastes and colours…. blah blah blah... just like the fact that it's an anarchist work is disputed.

But since I'm the one replying with MY opinion, I'd say you're ABSOLUTELY right ‼️‼️

CSM is such a brilliant work, whether it's my drawings or my analysis, it only reflects the idea of pointing at every chapter that comes out every week, jumping up and down and screaming, because I'm such a fan of this manga!

Each chapter is a treasure hunt, and I always find myself surprised and then stressed, thinking: my God, what am I going to say about this, what is Fujimoto up to…?

And even when the chapters are as absurd as possible, by trusting the author, you always manage to make sense of them.

I can say that it's an anarchist work in the sense that it tends to abolish and challenge codes, but it's not politically anarchist because although Fujimoto criticises the state and society, he doesn't advocate its abolition

Chainsaw Man is a work of protest because I maintain that it is politicised, but above all it is a manifesto on art, on Fujimoto's relationship with his readers

Chainsaw Man is the only work where I have the impression of having an epistolary exchange directly with someone's vision

Some would say that it's very uncomfortable to see someone love a work so much

But the only people who find it strange are those who haven't yet fallen in love with a work, which I hope they do 🫶

[cauldron-of-oddities]

Many birds, including owls and crows, have better vision than humans. Very useful when you're out looking for spare parts, or when you want to find a cool trinket to gift to your love friend.

Love the idea of Powder flying about looking for a perfect gift, afterall gift giving it is one of her love languages.

Summary Powder sets out to find a perfect thank-you gift with her newly enhanced sight. She finds it, and she and Ekko have their first date outing after her birthday.

I spy with my little eye

She sees things just a little differently as a crow. It's all just a bit brighter, a bit more colourful (which she loves), and a bit sharper. actually much sharper. And she thinks finally now she has an up in finding all the good things.

Perched in the Entresol. A mix of Zaunites and those few ‘brave’ and ‘adventurous’ pilties who would come down to see the sights or do ‘business’ walk by. The first came in two sorts, generally the ‘oh how novel’ and ‘look at what I dare’ in the sunken city of birds, and the second usually greed driven, their fancy coats did not make up for that.

How the Pilties never realised many of the birds of Zaun were actually its people continued to amaze her. She cackled, spooking someone passing by. Oh yeah, being a crow meant she could mimic sounds. Thus far, it had been a right hoot. Speaking of hoot, she was on a mission.

Gift. Ekko. Now what? Would he like it? She thanked the stars that the birds couldn't blush. She was still feeling all fuzzy. His words from her birthday happily bounced in her mind, leaving her wondering just how she could share how that had made her feel. How it made her feel like a swarm of sparrows wanted to escape her, how it had left her warm. How thankful she was, how she lo…liked him. He gave her the most wonderful things both in objects and words, and she really wanted to return the gesture, so that was what she would do.

Looking down at the streets again, she thought there was one thing those obtuse pilties were good for, namely dropping things. The value of the object really didn't seem to matter to them. Or it mattered way too much. With that, she scans her potential victims.

There! Something glints, not on a person or one of the stalls but on one of the piles of discarded mechanical pieces. It's piled high, and most wouldn't be able to pick anything useful out. But there in the pile is something blue, really, really blue. Blue, which she saw so much better these days.

Buried under all sorts of scrap metal was a little container holding something that was sparkling blue.

With her beak and small talons, she carefully removed pieces of scrap until a small metal and glass container, holding a shard of blue crystal, appeared. It buzzed with energy. Could it be something to power their projects? A battery? It was pretty, probably useful. It was perfect.

“Hey there, nice birdy, hold still birdy.” She hears from behind her. There's a rather tall and boring looking pilty creeping up to her.

Who did this jock think he was? And was he reaching for her hard sought gift? With an angry cawing and pecking at this dullard's too large hands, she quickly picks up the little vessel in her talons and flies away.

In the distance, she thought she heard a dismayed “Shit! My test shard” Well, tough, it was on the discard pile. It was fair game.

Up in the air, she wondered what to do. She has her gift. Should she go wrap it? She's close to Benzo's shop, though, and she's way too excited by the potential of what she found. Lost for a moment, she gets caught off guard by a gust of wind and tumbles down. Luckily, not far enough to do damage, she shifts as she hits the roof of Benzo's shop.

“Hi Pow!” Ekko's suddenly in front of her, and of course, she looks like she'd been through a turbine. To distract from her mortification, she shoves the little bright container to him.

“Here!"

“Wow, what is it?”

“No idea, but it has some sort of energy in it, a battery maybe and it's pretty and you like blue and I thought um, it's for you.” Could she get any more awkward, rushing out her reply like that? She peaks up at him.

Why does he look bashful now? “Thanks Pow” His voice is soft and pleased. He's quiet for a moment before a grin splits his face.

“Want to get a bite at Jericho's and brainstorm?” He asks.

She scraped enough of her senses together to enthusiastically nod.

Jericho greets them and sets them in a corner with a small plate of snacks. Powder thinks they must have been sitting there for hours, their heads close together throwing ideas about what the pretty crystal could be, about how to use the energy it clearly could make. “You should see it with your owl eyes. It'll be spectacularly glowly then.” she tells him.

Too soon, it's dark and getting cooler, and their ideas start to slow. A breeze passed, and she rubbed her arms as a shiver ran through her. She's not ready for today to end. It's too much fun, and she will not give in to being a little chilled. “Here.” is all she hears as warmth enveloped her. She realises Ekko had slipped his hoodie over her. Before she realised it, she nuzzled into it. He holds his hand out to her. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

He walks her back to the Last Drop. Ekko pocketed his gift in his pouch and wrapped in a scrap of fabric, and took her hand. That was nice. Almost home, he squeezed his hand around hers and told her thanks for the gift. She really feels fluttery now and really doesn't want to let go, but suddenly she's home and her hand is instantly cold when he lets go.

Powder kicks her toes a few times and bites her lip. It feels wrong to just say bye and go inside. When she looks up at him, an impulse takes her. She leans up and kisses him on the cheek. “Bye” she rushes out and runs inside past a bemused Vander at the bar and down the stairs to her bed before she can burst into flames.

It was late but not late enough for the others to be sleeping. Luckily, the bedroom seemed to be empty. Alas, it was not.

“Soooooo, how was your date?” Eying her little sister's red face cuddling up in what had to be Ekko's hoodie.

“It wasn't a date!” How she wished it was.

“I just wanted to say thank you…” her voice sounded bashful even to her own ears.

“Sure looked like a date from where I was perched.”

“Wait! Were you spying on me!?”

“What can I say, Powpow you need to start looking a bit further.”

With that, Powder launched herself at her sister with a pillow.

Outside with burning ears and a delighted grin, Ekko stands for a moment, fingers running over his cheek. It seemed he would need to up his game if this was the result.

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

There’s the link but ao3 seemed to be going a tad slow so I’ll post you guys the chapter here too

Enjoy! ;D

27

The Damned, The Lost, The Forgotten

. . . . .

For one moment, everything was as still as nothing, like a plunge straight to the heart of a black hole.

Din activated his visor’s newly furnished night vision, adjusting it to automatic.

Gradually, the now inert security control room visualized in a ghostly outline with the colours all wrong and muted but the image clear. The enhancement would self-regulate, balancing its strength to supplement the surrounding light and provide a seamless visual (or, at least, that’s how Sabine described it working—Din hadn’t yet had a chance to test it).

The reserve power kicked in sluggishly, like a tired old thing that hadn’t been checked on or called upon in so long, no one could vouch for its state and all they could do was guess at its lifespan.

Dim lights awakened, the Empire’s preferred stark white traded for an easier to maintain soft flame.

A few screens tried to come back online but Chopper shut them off and then disconnected from the panel.

Without a word, they left the room and split up: the droid still had a batch of Sabine’s explosives to distribute throughout the base before they left and Din had to get to the brig before Zeb and Ahsoka.

Blaster out, finger on the trigger, he covered the distance to the nearest lift with a sharp sprint.

Reserve power usually prioritized lights, doors, essential environment-control functions, and lifts. Din could only vouch for the lights and doors until he pressed the button and the row of lights above the lift doors began blinking, assuring him the lift was coming and relieving him of the highly unappealing prospect of running down multiple flights of stairs.

The lights inside the lift were completely out. Din stepped in, selected the ground level (the main lift didn’t go all the way to the sub-levels; he would have to run straight across the hangar to reach the lift that would) and then the doors closed. It didn’t matter that his visor enabled him to see: he could feel the claustrophobic dive into absolute darkness, like the doors of a cellar—

He focussed on the mildly disconcerting weightless sensation of the lift descending, its efficiency ironically increased with the main generators offline.

And he got ready.

Level 2.

He rolled his shoulders.

Level 1.

He breathed in, he breathed out.

Ground level.

He clicked the blaster’s safety off and stilled his heart.

The doors opened.

A trooper whirled around but Din stunned him, shooting through the crack of the lift doors, immediately shutting the trooper’s window to do anything before it even truly opened.

He stepped over the gracelessly dropped body and took up a run again, referencing the base layout on the small screen of his vambrace to make sure he was headed in the right direction.

Across the hangar was no short distance.

But, thankfully, there weren’t even half as many troopers milling about now.

Through the gaping hangar doors, he glimpsed a slash of emerald light as he ran past. Secretly, he smiled at the crisp sound of Sabine’s lightsaber and the beskar spear deflecting blasterfire. Out of the corner of his visor, he caught the streaking trail of either the Light Thrower or the Nightingale—he couldn’t tell exactly which—as it swooped down low, adding to the fray.

They were a ragtag mob comprised of the galaxy’s damned, lost, and forgotten, but they worked with the kind of harmony the grand armies of legend could only dream of.

The troopers yelled to one another, trying to coordinate a response to this surprise attack; clearly, they hadn’t had a chance to get their bearings before their defences and the base’s power had all gone out, compounding their problems.

Din ran.

He stepped fast, he stepped light as he wove around the vehicles sheltering in the hangar, using them as cover.

He reached the lift without interference.

Ducking in before he could be seen and stopped, he hit the button to shut the doors with the side of his fist and then selected the first sub-level.

Again: the sharp claustrophobic sensation coiling around him like a vice, the unnatural weightlessness, a heartbeat to get ready, a breath in, a breath out.

Gravity reclaimed him.

The doors opened.

Two troopers, two stun bolts through the crack of the doors—it was all done before Din could hear the thought of it in his own mind.

He barely got a pace away from them before he heard more coming.

A blaster bolt sliced through the air—shot by a twitchy finger, it went hopelessly wide. Before the trooper could loose another, Din whirled around and stunned him and his partner, the blue rings hitting them both square in the chest and arching through their whole bodies, disrupting their consciousness.

Another three followed: a pair and, in the opposite direction, the trooper from earlier, the one who wore a poncho over dirty armour; the one who had asked if Din ever took his helmet off for “some things.”

Din lifted his blaster as if to shoot but then ducked down as flat as he could.

As expected, the poncho trooper fired, hitting one of the troopers opposite. In the split second of confusion, Din stunned the unaffected trooper.

Poncho trooper—the last standing—spat a curse and a blaster bolt glanced off Din’s helmet.

It didn’t touch him, of course, he didn’t feel its heat or suffer the damage it intended, but the force of it knocked him off balance.

He stumbled back, ears ringing, sight confused.

It was just a split second but the trooper had bought himself a perfect advantage.

Din braced and fought to right himself and bring his blaster to bear.

But another shot didn’t come.

The trooper jolted forward, like something had barrelled into him from behind; not expecting it, he dropped his blaster.

Din took the chance opened for him and stunned the trooper.

He collapsed with a bodily thump and a clatter of plastoid, revealing Jacen behind him, hands still cuffed in front of him.

“Gutsy move, kid,” Din praised, nodding in genuine admiration—he had bowled into that trooper with the kind of mettle the instructors at the Fighting Corps. would have applauded.

“Thanks!” Jacen beamed as he opened his hands and the binders fell off.

Din tossed his head to look up and down the hallway. “Are there any more?”

“No. There were six already down here and then him,” Jacen answered, nudging the poncho trooper with the toe of his boot, his young voice holding a quickly grown but understanable grudge against the soldier.

“Alright.” Din holstered his blaster and picked up the binders, closing them and clipping them back on his belt. “I have to check something down that hallway,” he explained, jerking his head in the direction of the lone prisoner. “The kids are down that way,” he pointed down the hall the trooper had been leading Jacen down before the ruckus erupted. “Can I ask you to go on ahead and get them out so long?”

“Okay,” Jacen said, uncertainly but not like he was opposed or reluctant.

“They’re in the last two cells at the very end.” Din pointed to the unconscious heap of the trooper. “Take his code cylinder. Slot it into the port and then just open the doors. Should be straight forward. Any problems, shout for me. Zeb and Ahsoka should be here soon and they’ll get you all out.”

“Wait! What about you?” Jacen asked, a sudden franticness flashing in his bright eyes, enhanced by the dim lighting.

“Me?”

“You’ll get out, too, right?”

Too late, Din realized the mistake in his phrasing.

“Of course,” he assured, warming his voice for the boy’s sake. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise. I just have to check that—that no one gets left behind.”

Jacen didn’t quite hesitate but there was a glimmer of disbelief in his expression as he nodded, accepting his assignment and Din’s answer. His doubt and worry paled as the same look of determination Din had seen in both Hera and Kanan’s eyes shone in his own. “Okay. I’m on it.”

Din returned the nod. “Thank you,” he said and waited to see that the boy got the code cylinder alright before continuing on.

A long, sterile corridor rolled out before him, closed doors spaced intermittently, interrupting the sheer grey walls at precise intervals.

He ran with his heart pounding and his lungs straining, screaming for air yet only taking in short bursts.

There was no sound: no alarms, no pursuing troopers; just the sounds of his own steps and his own mind.

He didn’t know who he would find in the cell.

He tried to picture everything Ezra was not, just to give himself a cushion, something to break the fall when it turned out not to be him at all.

But it didn’t work.

Din ran, the image of his brother fixed, frozen, stained in his mind’s eye.

It was not an absolute image as he had no perfect picture to reference, but, rather, it was a cluttered collage pulled together from paintings, murals, holopics, and descriptions.

He couldn’t hear the cynic in him right then—that necessary part he had built and maintained and relied on for decades, the part that told him nowhere was ever safe, nothing was ever permanent, and no one could ever be trusted all the way, the part that didn’t believe fairytales and myths, the part that wouldn’t reach for anything it didn’t believe he could touch and hold.

All he could hear in the time it took him to cover the distance to the final cell was a child’s voice.

A voice that echoed in a cellar just too small for anyone but him.

A voice corroded over time, scarred and small; lost for so long but never discarded.

A voice still innocent, still reaching, still hoping.

It will be him, it said.

He didn’t know.

But the voice in his head was so clear and so sure, it made his heart believe.

He reached a dead end.

There was a door either side. He had to slow down and check the registry on his vambrace.

It was the one on his right.

He fished out the code cylinder and inserted it into the port beside the control panel. The panel unlocked, turning from red to blue, and he pressed the button to open the doors with a hand he could no longer feel.

The doors opened.

Just like that, they opened even though he thought it should take pleading, it should take time.

It shouldn’t be so easy.

For one awful moment, he saw only an empty cell and he supposed that was it, that was why it had been so easy—because there wasn’t meant to be victory. Then his gaze adjusted and he made out a form laid out on the bench.

A human.

A man with a mop of dark hair and an unkempt beard, his thin frame dressed in dark, simple clothes without shoes or even socks.

He laid stretched out and still, one leg hanging off the bench, an arm slung across his middle. Everything about him looked limp and lifeless—he didn’t even look to be breathing.

Din switched his visor from night vision to heat vision, relief flooding through his veins as the form in front of him registered as a shapeless blotch of pink.

It faded too soon into the blue, his extremities almost as cold as the room.

But there was warmth there, ever emanating from his core.

He was still alive.

Din switched functions on his visor and then stepped down into the cell and approached, his steps intentionally soft as if he were afraid of disturbing him. A dreadful smell permeated the small room; it crept into Din’s notice and then hung there, heavy and despairing: the foul stench of sweat, fever, malnutrition, and a sore lack of bathing.

It turned his stomach, not just because of the olfactory affront, but for the fact it was a state that could not be achieved overnight.

He had been here a good while already.

Din wanted to deny the possibility it could be Ezra then, more so than ever. He didn’t want his brother to be here, to be going through this; he could not ever have deserved it.

But the last dregs of his doubt evaporated as he came closer and peered down at a pale face with two faded but distinct scars cutting across a bruised check.

Though pale and scarred and beaten, it was a face Din recognized instantly.

It was the last face he saw before the cellar doors closed.

Ezra looked just like their father.

[kopathefox]

Characters :

Vyffor (the purple-ish novabeast thats BASED OFF my furry version of Vakuum from Pokemon xenoverse)

Losi (the razewing rathalos/blue winged red wyvern, in my AU his name is Losi instead of Ratha)

Kyle (as a grey-ish Corgi)

Vakuum (the dragon creature with the same patterns as Vyffor)

Avinia (as a blonde lioness)

Frostfamg (the barioth/Wyvern sabertooth monstie)

Cheval (as a red wolf with stegosaurus’s spikes on him)

Rathi (the Rathian/the green wyvern)

Ena (the blue-ish Wyverian dragon, that dragon creature is basically the way i draw the wyverians, Wyverians are basically humans with pale skin & long elf ears that can live for above 100 years and they will still look young)

Navirou (the small blonde & brown cat)

Tsukino (the grey cat with the purple clothes & pink human hair)

Zellard (the black Wyverian dragon)

Kayna (as a blonde-ish caracal)

Oltura (first appears as the shadowy figure, the colourful & bright dragon with 6 wings in total)

Forsaken winged Vyffor (the wolf-wyvern thing that is basically Vyffor’s monster form)

Explain time:

Yes! I got into monster hunter! But only monster hunter stories, i finished 2 but not 1 so please do not spoil me, so basically this is my Monster hunter stories 2 au of the arsism au (its not only pokemon anymore), so basically the protagonist is Vyffor, the lil strange-looking novabeast, basically it goes that way: this takes some years later after the events of the Pokemon xenoverse au, Vakuum still didn’t got an answer to his question, how come a mortal can have such a big & meaningful effects on someone? Specially a god like him (cuz Sorrel made him change for good), so he said “hm, this world of monsters & humans seems like its gonna have a new threat coming, why not testing it by overpowering a random mortal?”, so he basically blessed Vyffor with his power (which caused him to look like him), but despite that, Vyffor didn’t really had the best life out there, as you can see in the beginning, Vyffor sitting by the window for days, slowly getting sad & saying “Red?….”, he was waiting for his grandfather, who was the only one available to take care of him, but little did he know that Red was killed by a Nergigante (when he was 2 years old, he’s currently 13), as the other frame shows, “Homeless, moneyless, lonely, bullied, orphan, unhealthy, trauma, phobia of Kayna”, he was homeless for the entire main story & its prior events, he had no money to afford even food, he was lonely, he lived in the streets all alone, he was unhealthy because he lived in poor conditions & always had to eat from the trash, he is orphan (well, spoilers, later on his parents, Sivan & Sam, comes back after they long vacation, they just didn’t knew that Red, Sam’s daddy, died), he has trauma from both his rough past & his entire traumatic moments of his journey (like Oltura, everytime he almost died, Losi getting kidnapped, getting taken by force to Lulucion), Phobia of Kayna, while Kayna means well, she’s very rough with him ever since he was small, and he’s a big softie, so that causes him a fear as he sees her as a threat, bullied, he was bullied all his childhood, although when he started his journey nobody dared to bully him anymore cuz he had his monsties to protect him & they had no monsties nor weapons, so basically during his journey he met some new friends & even few enemies (like Zellard & his cult),

he met Avinia, Kyle, Cheval, Orgo (not shown here), Tsukino, Navirou, Ena, Vakuum (first met in a vision of Vyffor), Lilia (not shown here), Reverto (not shown here), Alwin (not shown here), he also befriended new monsties, Losi (same as the actual story, by hatching him from an egg from Ena), Lil Kitten (Nargacuga took from the nest of a dead Nargacuga), Kadachi (tobi-kadachi after slaying an hostile tobi-kadachi, he found Kadachi as a baby, all weak & starving to death so he took him with him), Dylan (Lagiacrus, that moment where the crew had to fight a Lagiacrus so the Lagiacrus was about to kill Vyffor until Dylan came out of nowhere & fucked the Lagiacrus up & joined Vyffor), Palamute (got an dragon palamute egg as a gift from Kyle when he wanted to confess to Vyffor so instead of a diamond ring he gave him a Palamute egg thinking its much cheaper but he had to buy a lot of better equipment so no, not really Kyle), Mizu (Mizutsune, Basically, when the crew were about to leave the Porome garden, Vyffor saw a Green Nargacuga killing a Mizutsune & trying to kill Mizu/its son so he saved Mizu & ran away without slaying the green nargacuga), Losi was the closest monstie to Vyffor that Vyffor owns, Vyffor views Losi as his big brother, although sometimes treats him like his child, without Losi Vyffor will go on scared-feral mode & will freak out, his relationship with the characters are: Kayna is like his predator in his view until some events after the main story (my own postgame events), where they’re simply friends, he sees Lilia as his aunt (specially after when he realises his parents are her childhood friends), she knows it & really likes that, Kyle & Vyffor are literally boyfriends, Vyffor sees Avinia kinda like his mommy, she knows it, she thinks its cute (specially because he’s a furry & he’s very cute-looking), but never comments on it, Vyffor’s relationship with Cheval is basically a father & son, Cheval even adopts Vyffor at a certain point in my exclusive post-game events, it wasn’t that hard for Cheval, after all, he raised Sivan (the mhs1 protagonist + Vyffor’s mamma) ever since she was 1 years old, so why would Vyffor be a challenge? Cheval is also really protective over lil Vyffor, Reverto & Vyffor are simply friends, Navirou & Vyffor are really good friends, Vyffor might sometimes cuddle him in his sleep, Orgo & Vyffor are also simply friends, Tsukino is really close to Vyffor because of his relationship with Kyle, exactly like Navirou, Ena is also kinda like Vyffor’s mommy figure (yes, 2 mommy figures & 1 daddy figure, totally normal), Alwin is very protective over Vyffor because of him being Red’s grandson, Vakuum really loves Vyffor mainly because he was the key to the answer to his question, How can a mortal have such a big affects on someone or something? Even mortals are meaningful, only because they aren’t some powerful beings that can create & destroy stuff with simple fingers snap doesn’t mean they’re weak & useless, they’re strong in their own ways, and he saw something really special in Vyffor as well, and thats it i guess

[ikoarts]

December 2023 Art

final post for 2023 art! and... i guess probably the last one of these masterposts? it'll be nice to start fresh and post as i usually would, so, thank u if u have been sticking around and liking + reblogging and all that, i appreciate it! bit dramatic its like im moving to another country or something... but rly like it hasn't gone unnoticed, ty for sticking around :)

vvv dates + info under the cut vvv

1 - 02/12/2023 : liked the idea of Heidi with a buzzcut, i think it really suits her, a radical change from her usual hairstyle, but a cool one... i love having futch OCs

2 - 04/12/2023 : chike chike chike.. frogot why i drew him think i was thinking of him doing cat things and it was gonna be a lot more than 2 drawings but i gived up x ,, but this is the most up 2 date drawing of his current design aside from like. the one colour wheel wip. so ur getting crumbs for him im sorry chike fans (1 person)

3-6 - 05/12/2023 : firstly, saw sum official art of Peach on twitter and wanted to redraw it, i loveee her eyes.. slay.. secondly, DIESEL REDESIGN YAY1!! it is now up to date. yippie. i decided he should be fat, very big brain of me.. i didnt Hate his old design but it was kinda giving kokichi danganronpa and like thats not him LOL.. but anyway i luv this drawing

thirdly, a Robin, was testing out the redesign a lil, think i was listening to his playlist again hence the comeback kid lyrics.. aaand fourthly (is that a word) another Diesel, a bit of a model series expression redraw, u kno the one where hes like >:D i enjoyed drawing his coat.. oo duende..

7 - 08/12/2023 : okay guys lets take a silly one now!!! erm anyway. was thinking about nina and the neurons, as you do, thought it would be funny to draw nina activating her neurons, like that 1 pic of the guy levitating pizza.... she served so hard with her claires accessories rave ball earrings and fluffy bobbles tho lets be real.. was very disappointed to learn shes not a real scientist

8 - 12/12/2023 : twas in the middle of finalising a design for my human Sonny, so heres some lil phone doodles where i was figuring out his hair and hat, i ended up going with the right hand side, thought it would be worth posting them

9 - 16/12/2023 : first sort of draft of his design being put to use, not my faaave drawing but it was nice to finally get him drawn, it was an absolute ballache trying to get his design perfect, the art block was Strong that week.. anyway, i did end up changing some things, just tweaks mostly, and i scrapped the hoodie, i wanted him to have a bigass varsity jacket collar to hide behind, so i opted for him wearing a plain t-shirt underneath instead, eventually

10 - 20/12/2023 : Buttercup and his scary ass big blue freak eyes, based on a tweet i saw, the OP went private eye fink but the og tweet said like "i don't have rizz, i have unsettlingly large blue eyes that are haunted by visions", and thats just Buttercup.. so heres him, having a jolly good stare

11 - 22/12/2023 : that chooshada drawing again, just recoloured with NER apple green livery :) i think she looks super cute with it, it's not entirely accurate in terms of lining coz i was referencing pics of her basis which are like 10p black and white taken on a potato kinda deal

12 - 28/12/2023 : silly little throwaway idea of a toni hair revamp, im not sure i would redesign it but, the idea is there... so who knows x

[r0achezz]

I finished the fic for you :3

CW: Non Consensual Use of Potions

He tried his hardest to push the monster back with his weapon but force was not his strong suit. He felt his boots splash against water and a chill ran through him as he realized he was being pushed back into a lake. He tried to think quickly of an escape route but he was pushed in and his magic activated as he choked, water filling up his lungs and he thrashed while his legs merged into a tail and gills sprouted. He was about to go back up when something latched onto his arm and he couldn’t quite catch what it was. He fought tooth and nail trying to escape whatever was holding him back, not even thinking to see who it was. 

Then something slid into his arms and he jerked, feeling himself go numb. His vision went black.

                            ~~~~~~~

When he woke up he was still in water. He tried to swim around but he hit something. He was in a glass box of sorts…Through the glass was two men exchanging a conversation. He listened closely.

“If we want to get closer, just a mermaid won’t do it,” One of them hissed.

“Would a siren do?” The other man’s lips curved into a slight smirk. 

“With all due respect, how would that be possible?” 

“Well, I may have concocted something recently that might do the trick. And we have a mer here to test it out. If it doesn’t work out we could always find another one.” 

A chill ran through the veteran’s body. Did I get captured…? Where are the others?

“Uh…if you say so. Boss would be impressed if you could get a siren…” 

“Good. I’ll fetch the concoction, if you’ll keep watch here. We can’t have the subject escaping.” 

“Fine…”

Legend waited nervously, trying to plan a way out. If he broke the glass somehow, he’d be able to escape but he could cause serious damage to himself in the process. He wasn’t sure it’d be worth it. Even if he did, he’d have to face the man keeping guard and he wasn’t armed. Could he somehow get out through the top? If they were planning to make him swallow something, they needed a way in, or someway to get him out. When they did, maybe he could get out of there quickly. Just how fast could he be, though, once he was on land and transformed out of the curse? It always hurt. 

“Alright, I’ve got it. The mer needs to swallow it, so use whatever methods you must. If you need him out of there, restrain him first.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not an idiot.” 

He waited for a way out and saw the guy open the top slightly. “Here, mer, something for ya.”

Legend kept his mouth shut and stayed as far away from the man as possible. “Can we move the tank, to force him out?” 

The other man began to think and while they were both distracted he leapt out of the water and tried to get away from it, to inactivate the curse. But the tank went on its side and he was splashed with more water. He gritted his teeth as one of them grabbed his arms and he felt rope bind his wrists together. With a tail there was nothing he could do but bare his teeth and hope they came close enough that he could bite, or smack them with his tail. He was on land but they kept pouring water on him, so the curse wouldn’t budge.

It usually isn’t this persistent. Damn.

“Sit still and we’ll do this the easy way.”

Legend hissed as they brought potion bottle close. It had scarily dark red liquid in it. The red potions they used to heal were more light and less thick then whatever this substance was. He kept his mouth shut. 

“We’ll do this the hard way,” one of the men sighed.

Through methods of cutting the scales on his tail he couldn’t stop the cry that flew out of his mouth before the liquid was forced in. He coughed and gasped, the liquid vile on his tongue. He felt a little hazy as his eyes stung, his tail shifted into a red colour instead of its usual pink and his throat burned. 

What?

“It worked,” One of the men gasped. “You really did it.” 

“Did you doubt me? Now we’ve got something worthy enough to turn over to the boss. Fetch another tank.” 

That was the last he heard before he fell to unconsciousness.

                            ~~~~~~~

He woke up, groaning and shifting against soft fabric. He opened his eyes to see he was in some sort of room and when he tried to remember what had happened his head began to hurt and he couldn’t come up with anything. He saw a familiar figure sitting nearby and said, “Wars?” 

The captain stood up almost instantly and walked over to stand by his bedside. “Are you with us, vet?” 

“Yeah,” Legend murmured a little groggily. “What happened?” 

“You don’t remember?” Warriors furrowed his eyebrows. “How much do you remember?” 

“Uhh,” He thought for a moment before recalling at least something. “I got captured and these two guys wanted to turn me into a siren…was that not a dream?” 

“It wasn’t. They succeeded and we managed to find you but you were far beyond us, didn’t recognize us, only sought to attack us,” Warriors informed him grimly. 

“Oh…does that mean…that I can’t transform into a mer anymore? Just a siren?” 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry. Let’s not worry about that right now. Do you need anything?” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

A siren…attacking his brothers. He felt sick. What if his curse had changed so that when he transformed he was a siren? How would he be able to get control of himself back? What if it happened when he wasn’t prepared? His stomach churned and he felt tears drip out of his eyes and he looked at Warriors. “I’m so sorry…”

“Hey don’t blame yourself for this,” The captain chided softly. “You weren’t yourself, bud. All that matters now is that you’re back with us.”

“…Did I hurt anybody?” 

“You managed to scratch the cook’s cheek, and bite the old man’s arm but it was easily taken care of. Again, don’t blame yourself. I’m sure if you were to apologize to either of them they’d tell you the same thing.”

“Alright,” Legend mumbled but he couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty that he couldn’t get ahold of himself, even though he was supposed to be the veteran.

He didn’t protect anyone. He’d done the opposite.

okay.wow. What the freak man. 😨 /j /pos

srsly tho this is so good!!!! I LOVE MERFICS/SIRENFICS AGHHH