#lmk if i missed something

[pavosnoctua]

hunt

minors do not interact, ageless blogs do not interact

for @goxjo's Into the Omegaverse event!

cw: yandere, manipulation, abuse of power, non-con, afab!reader but very little pronouns used, pet names (princess, love, darling, honey), imbalanced power dynamics, stalking, general fucked up relationships, A/B/O, Alpha!Diluc, Omega!Reader, knotting, i did some very mild worldbuilding for this idek man, forced breeding, heat cycles, drugging, dacryphilia, unrealistic sex slight choking, some physical violence, modern day AU, extremely unhealthy “relationship”. I do not condone beliefs nor behaviors Diluc exhibits in this. not sfw

VERY DD:DNE

summary: You are an Omega with large dreams, and you proudly tell Diluc that you want to change the world. Diluc, however, has different ideas for you.

if i am missing a warning, please let me know!

When he first met you, it felt like an instant connection - like you two belong together. Or better, like you belonged to him. Diluc had never felt this way before about anyone - every Omega he had come across never so much received his attention that rumors had started to circulate about him, that perhaps his father had lied when he was born and he was simply a Beta masquerading as an Alpha. And Diluc had begun wondering the same himself, even with his baser instincts, he had no pull towards any Omega.

But your scent was sweet when you graced his office with a kind smile and an earnestness that dug at him. You were just a fresh faced journalist, such a pure thing - untouched, chatty, but not nervous. You'd told him that you wanted to change the world for the better, so that Omegas could live a life without an Alpha at their side and without having to get an Alpha's permission to simply live and exist.

That's cute is what he'd think to himself in the beginning.

"You have big dreams then." Is what he said out loud and you smiled a bit, but it wasn't as bright at first. He said the wrong thing. Diluc swallows. Somehow, Omegas are difficult to talk to - more sensitive, more emotional. "I mean - it's not that I don't -"

"It's not that you don't support it, but Omegas are at a disadvantage." You complete the sentence for him - speaking the words he did not want to say out of fear of offending you. "Silly Alpha, change doesn't happen overnight but it'll happen. Watch me." You talk to him as if he's an old friend and not some millionaire you were tasked to interview.

You are a challenge. And Diluc realizes he loves challenges.

He'd looked you up - Kaeya called it stalking, he calls it research. Somehow, he had managed to pull your number from somewhere, considered texting you - calling you, something before realizing that maybe his adoptive brother was onto something with such a strong word. It could put you off if he did, so instead, he goes the alternative route.

He emails you, asking if you'd be up for brunch or dinner. Something, anything, to get that sweet scent back. Anything to see that bright eyed look, the grin on your face, hear the challenge in your voice. Diluc hungers.

Much to his surprise, you'd accepted and chose a place. It's your favorite, is what you'd said in your email, where you'd attached a little smiley face. You might not like it, Mr. Ragnivindr, it's not one of those rich places.

That's okay, he tells himself and you. He can try anything just once.

The food here is greasy and gross to him but it goes well and you tease him for thinking about the idea of brunch - you're not rich like him, brunch is a rich person's thing. And Diluc accepts your little teasing jabs before realizing that the sweet scent isn't there, or well, it is but it's very much subdued. You're on suppressants and that bothers him.

If you were his Omega, he would not allow for such a thing.

Diluc swallows that thought, forces a smile and engages in conversation with you. You have many interests, many activities you like to engage in that you shouldn't, in his opinion. You're a delicate Omega, you shouldn't be rock climbing. Your soft hands should not feel such a coarseness. You boast about being able to drink your Alpha friend under the table and that's unbecoming of a proper Omega.

Each and every date after that gives him glimpses into your life - you do struggle paycheck to paycheck. But that never seems to deter you from anything. He could take care of you, if you were his.

If you were his.

You could be his.

(Planning has always been an expertise of his. He is a very patient man.)

And here you are - disoriented, tired, and oh so pliable.

"Good morning." You stare at him with exhaustion in your pretty eyes, your soft lips parted to talk but no words come out. "I'm sorry you're likely not feeling very good. I think you drank a lot last night."

You swallow - he watches the lump in your throat bob and all Diluc can think about is biting that neck. Marking you as his in ways that just cannot be undone. He hungers, how he hungers.

"Wh-what?" You groan as you sit up, rubbing your forehead. "I don't remember going out last night. I had - I had a report to write."

"You do not need to worry about such things." Diluc tells you, and the look on your face tells him that you're not that stupid, but you are confused. "Not while you're here." That seems to pacify the worry that must be running through your mind, and he does feel some modicum of guilt as he watches you collapse back on the bed. Your chest slowly rises and falls. You're prettier like this, he thinks. Asleep, vulnerable.

When you wake up again, it's late afternoon and you're panicked. Your footsteps pad hurriedly in the hallway, until you find him in his office, hunched over some paperwork. At least you have some ability to feel shame, with your expression and your head ducked down.

"Thank you for helping me, Mr. Ragnivindr. But I need to get going now."

Diluc looks at you. "Why not stay for lunch? You have yet to eat today." He can't have you go hungry, not when he's going to have you round with his pups. "

“I appreciate it but I have to go.” You tell him, the slight sense of fear hitting you in a way you never thought. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Stay.” He orders as if you were a dog, the command making you feel mildly annoyed. “Lunch will be ready soon. At least accept that.”

You draw in a breath and consider your hunger. Accepting help is a difficult thing.

Since you are going to be his, he will make sure you eat the best meals, have the best anything and everything you could ever want.

After an awkward lunch, where you don’t say much, Diluc humors you. You go to leave but the doors are locked from the inside and he has the key. There is a sick sense of satisfaction when you come to him, confused and worried.

You rally against him for a while - swearing, screaming, cursing. Behaviors he dislikes, behaviors an Omega should not exhibit. At first, he drugs your dinners - pacifies you well enough to make you sleep and stop screaming so much. The room he keeps you in, after you tried to escape by convincing one of the maids to let you out, is much nicer than that small apartment you had. Much better furnished too, so much so you can build a nest with anything you’d need. Blankets, stuffed animals, pillows - whatever you’d like.

All Diluc does is sit and accept it - calmly responding to your outbursts, not rising in the same heated fashion. It upsets you more.

One day, you do speak to him in a calmer manner - softer, maybe defeated.

“Diluc.” Your scent is sweet, it fills the air and he swallows. “I-I need my-”

“No,” he tells, firmly and watches you deflate. “My Omega does not need such a thing, you have me.” You shake your head.

“I’m not your Omega.” You argue. “You’re delusional.” Diluc sighs and leaves you be. He has other things to do at the moment, that don’t require arguing with someone so childish.

Your heat hits you a few days after - your pride does not allow you to deal with it nor ask him for help. But you’re miserable - hot, needy, maybe a bit nauseated. He stayed out the first day, accepting your demands for him to stay away from you. The second day had pillows thrown at him, shouting at him to leave you alone. You’d built your nest and it is a sacred place, but he ignores it.

“Let me help you.”

“All you do is hurt.” You respond and he clicks his tongue. Terrible choice of words. “Go away.”

He ignores you as he gently kisses you - you hit your fists against his chest but they’re too weak and don’t hurt. Diluc continues to kiss you everywhere, your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth, your neck - everywhere and anywhere and you still flail against him.

“I’m trying to help you.” He breathes, pulling away. “Please, let me help you, love. You’re such a mess.” He slides his hands underneath your dress, bunching it up as he trails them upwards and you go limp, allowing him to strip you. Diluc knows that every bit of your instinct is telling you to fight against him, but the pheromones he gives off is keeping you still. Or maybe you’ve given up for now.

Once your dress is off, he admires you as if you’re artwork - lovely, beautiful, needy. Diluc kisses the area just above your pelvic bone before ducking down between your legs and giving your slit a long, languid lick. You taste so nice, and the noise you make is like music to his ears. He focuses on your clit, altering between suckling at it and licking at it, carefully and gingerly slipping his fingers inside of you while you’re distracted.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly at times to find that spot that makes you gasp against his mouth and makes your fingers dig into his skin. He is a feral thing, desperate and hungry for more reactions out of you - more cries and mewls as he eats you out as if you were his last meal. There’s a cry from your lips as you come around his fingers, slick and glistening in the light. Diluc brings his fingers up to his lips and sucks on them, watching you with delight as you stare up at him with horror.

“Good girl.” He gently praises and you shake your head, trying to push him away but he easily pins you down with one hand. “We’re not done, princess.” You try to kick him but a slap across the face stills you - and Diluc is frowning down at you with disappointment. A finger strokes the stinging area on your cheek, before lips press against it. “I don’t want to have to do that again. Be good for me, okay? I promise you’ll feel very good.”

You whimper and he smiles - kissing your lips this time, allowing himself to devour for just a moment. Breathless, Diluc pulls away and quickly unbuttons and unbuckles his pants. He has to be inside of you now, his cock aches and your walls are wet and soft and spongy.

He bends one of your legs to your belly, glad you barely resist him now - watching your eyes squeeze shut as he guides his cock to your wet, needy entrance and slowly pushes in. Your hands pull at the blankets beneath you and he hums.

“Good girl, be good. You’ve got this.” His tender praises fall on deaf ears as you let out a cry - his size hurts and he has to force the rest of his cock inside of you. Your hands reach and grab at his shoulders, nails digging in and he groans. You’re so tight, you clench around him with need. For now, he lets you keep your eyes closed as he starts to move.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through him and it makes you gasp, he kisses your throat, teeth scraping against the tender skin. Diluc desires to mark you up everywhere - just so you remember who you belong to, as he’s definitely not letting you go after this. His pace starts to quicken, pounding into you without a second thought as you cry, wailing everytime he hits a sensitive spot inside of you.

“Look at me, princess.” Diluc rumbles, his voice deep with need. You don’t open your eyes. “I said look at me.” His hand is at your throat, fingers gently pressing against it and your eyes open. “Gonna put my pups in you and you’re gonna love it.” The knot at the base of his penis forms and you whine, coming hard at the feeling. Diluc is gentle as he kisses you, massaging every bruise, whispering tender words as you sob a bit as his cum fills you up. Lips hover above the spot where lovers would bite. And he bites down, pheromones filling the air and you whine. You’re forever bound to him now, and soon, the knot shrinks enough he can pull out. Semen slowly drips out of your used hole and you sob a bit as his fingers shove it back inside of you.

You think he’s done, that’s it but the smile he has tells you otherwise.

“We’ve got all night, my love. Let me prove to you how much I adore you.” At his words, he slams right back inside of you and you moan. There’s something inside of you that slowly realizes that you like this - it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth but you cling to him as he fucks you into the mattress without much regard now, his own rut taking over.

“You’ll be the best Omega in the world,” he groans. “For me, only for me.” He’s releasing inside of you again. “Princess, my sweet, sweet love, you’re so good for me.”

That’s all you can be.

[drgnflyteabox]

lament [1]

part one -> honey || part two -> tbd

series masterlist

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: as you recover from prolonged illness, you meet a man on a hike in the woods just as strange things begin happening around you. tags/warnings: creepy / horror vibes, slowburn, phone sex, masturbation, injuries, mention of hospitals, pneumonia, mobility aids, softdom!price (for now), dubcon due to intoxication, tags will update as the story does w.c: 5.9k

The woods are a peaceful, meditative thing. You’ve been spending your mornings there walking with Diva, meandering through the local trails and venturing off for pictures of red mushrooms or Diva in her little yellow raincoat, sniffing something or other.

The trails were scarcely used and took a couple of hours to finish, a longer trek in taller trees that closed off the sunlight and created peace through insulation, like an echo chamber of wet pitter patter from rain the night before and the gentle calls of birds, broken only by the sounds of your hiking shoes crunching gently through pebbles and leaves.

Quiet. It’s just what you need, slowly erasing memories of bright fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptics. The trail isn’t elevated, it’s long, but not elevated. That’s important for your recovery, two months spent in a hospital bed attached to breathing apparatus.

Relief, freedom, as slow as your steps are and as beleaguered is your breathing, it’s pure relief. You’re no longer breathing through a straw, building strength walk by walk, spending time with Diva and watching her little tail wiggle under her coat. This time is good for her, too. You could sink to your knees and praise a higher being for the time off and sick pay policies your job has - so could Diva.

The shaking continues, your limbs still weak, muscles unused to standing and walking. You often find yourself sitting, on a log or a rock, and taking time to breathe and recover. Sometimes a granola bar makes its way into the mix, sometimes a handful of trail mix.

The last few times, there’s been a man. Tall, imposing, walking much quicker than you even with a brace around his knee. His posture tells you he takes himself pretty seriously, or he’s military, if there’s any difference.

Mutton chops, mustache, cargo pants. He’s been coming up behind you with sure steps, barely a limp even with his knee, and going by you so fast there's a breeze, makes you a little nervous to get mowed down.

Diva is weary of him. Her hackles raise, though she doesn’t bark, and she tucks close to you when he goes by. You don't feel unsafe, just a little surprised at the break in monotony no matter how tiny it is.

Doesn’t help that it’s pretty nice watching him go, that broad back and tight shirt, those well sculpted legs. Hey, you’re still sick and weak, still recovering. Sue me, you think, leaning on a tree when your lungs start burning again a little too much.

He stops, a few feet in front of you.

“You broken?” His voice is just as you imagined, rough maybe from smoking, maybe from overuse.

“What?” Broken?

“You alright?” He repeats, turning then. The quiet is a little oppressive now, with your struggle. You’re wheezing.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine-” you cough, dryly. “Just asthmatic.” It’s an easy explanation, you’re trying to get him to move on. You’ve never felt in danger, but it’s still the middle of the woods and he’s still a strange man.

“Need a hand?” He has to look down at you, even from a distance. His head is tilted down, arms folding across his chest, biceps calling to you like sirens.

You shake your head, squatting down as best you can, taking the breaths learned from your doctor and pulling out your steroid inhaler. One puff, two puff.

The man looks at you skeptically, eyes small and narrowed, flitting once to Diva who would fail as a service dog, but tries her best at guarding you despite being so small. Her gaze is pinpointed to him, as stiff as he is.

”Right, then,” is all he says before he’s back to his soldiers march.

You imagine him with horse blinders on and pulling a sled behind him, wheezing a laugh into the empty air.

Recovery is not linear. That’s what your doctor tells you, what you were told before you left the ICU, before you were discharged all together. There’ll be ups and downs, moments where you feel you’ve backslid to the point of having to start all over.

You get it, really. It’s a mantra. Recovery is not linear.

What they don't warn you is that it’s different when you’re actually feeling it, waking up weaker than ever and coughing, burning in your chest. It’s jarring, every cell in your body crying for oxygen and yet you aren’t low enough that you need to go back to the ER, just sit up in bed and stare out the window to the fortress of green that surrounds your house.

Recovery is not linear. You watch comfort shows - animated Halloween specials, a couple months too early. They fit the cooling temperatures, the slow yellowing of the trees.

Food is hard when you can’t stand for long periods of time, so you order in. Soup, and an extra chicken crunch treat for Diva on her dinner.

It’s only when you turn Charlie Brown off that you hear it.

Tap tap tap. Deliberate, timed taps, like a mini hammer on a mini nail. Quiet enough that your ears strain, and yet you can just barely catch the sound. It’s coming from the side of your house, opposite to your bedroom and closest to the living room you were just in.

Tap tap tap. Maybe it’s the vibe you put yourself in, but you shiver with apprehension. Could be an animal, you do live fairly far out, and by the woods. Your driveway is long, separated from the highway just outside of town.

Diva is usually a false alarm - she raises her hackles at the stove, she’s not trustworthy when it comes to alerting you. And yet you look, and find her standing straight up and staring at the wall the sound is coming from, lips peeling back.

Only there's nothing you can do. You aren’t gonna go check, not with your weak limbs and thin breath. Theres a landline in the kitchen with a long cord, and your cellphone. The best you can do is lock the windows and doors, which you do, shuffling so as to make the least amount of noise possible.

Next the lights and curtains, drawn and shut. You tuck a knife under your mattress, more for reassurance than anything, and close your bedroom door behind Diva.

The only reason you’re able to sleep is the bedroom door locks. The handle has one, and there’s a chain above that. You tuck into bed under the covers like a child hiding from their closet, straining to hear the tap tap tap. Sometime between you locking all the entries and exits, it stopped, but you’re still unmoored.

Your lungs fare better the next morning, eased by rest. You’re back in the woods by late morning, driving up to the trailhead through the canopy of trees. It really is beautiful, part of the reason you moved here, other than peace and quiet.

There's another car as you pull up, a reliable model in a dark colour, a surprise since you’re usually the first one there. 

You park away from it in an effort to not be creepy, but still sneak a peak while Diva does her post-car ride shakeout and pee.

It’s the man from before, sitting in the front seat, talking on a phone. He looks serious, frowning, talking in a measured way but you can still hear the volume as you pass by.

He waves, and you wave back, giving him a little smile.

Diva leads the way, prancing into the woods without fear even as the leaves start blocking out the sun. She inspires you - a little dog, brave, braver than you were last night.

God, it was probably a rabbit or a possum stuck somewhere. Maybe a mouse, and though you hope it isn’t it is the season for them. Cooler temperatures means creatures trying to enter your house. Means you have yet to drive down to town and pick up insulation supplies for your windows before fall really hits and you’re freezing.

Making a mental note of that, you lean heavily on your walking stick and pause. It’s one of those days, needing more aid than usual after yesterday and more breaks.

Crunch.

“Sorry, honey,” the army man holds his arms up, seeming sheepish as you flip around to face him. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “Just jumpy today.”

“That’s alright,” his eyes crinkle at the corners, softening at the edges. He’s approachable today, not speed walking through the woods like there's a pot of gold at the end. “Mind if I join you?”

Unexpected, but with your eyes at pec-height it’s an easy yes. You deserve a handsome escort for the second half of the trail, and your emergency alarm is tucked in your front sweater pocket if you need it.

“Sure,” you nod. “I’m pretty slow, though, just to warn you. Recovering.”

“That’s fine, I should be taking it easier anyway. Make my physio happy for once,” he gestures to his knee with a chuckle. “John.”

You tell him your name. John. It suits him, the masculinity of it, the simpleness too. He gives the impression that he’s careful about how he presents himself, that outside of this sudden friendliness he’s very closed off - the way he was when you’d come across him before. Now he calls you honey, and touches his fingertips to your back as you navigate a patch of rough terrain warped by roots.

“I’m off until my knee is battle-ready, again,” he says it like it’s a joke, but there’s a steel edge beneath his words. You ask about his job: contract work, he says, not self-employed but with pockets of free time.

“Did you move here recently?” The wind shivers the trees, chillier than last week, as you meander.

“Ah, didn’t move here,” he scratches his thumb with his nose. “Staying with a friend. Needed the fresh air.”

“I get it,” your shoulder brushes his arm. “That’s why I moved here too.”

“Helps your asthma?”

You pause for a moment, confused. And then.

“Oh!” You’re a little embarrassed. “I don’t have asthma, actually. I mean I could have it, or develop it. But really I had pneumonia for a while, really wiped me out.”

“Ah, I see,” his voice says surprised, but his face stays the same. You wonder if he notices. “Terrible, that. My mum had a bad bout of it a couple years back, gave us a scare.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” you aren’t sure how old John is, but you can assume it was dangerous for his mother to have caught such a bad infection. “How’s she doing now?”

“Much better. Healthy as a goat.”

“A goat?” You’re laughing, then. A giggle that has him smiling back at you. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

John hums when he doesn’t reply verbally, and nods like you’re giving a university lecture. The attentiveness is nice, but it makes you self conscious, unused to having so much attention so focused on you. And he is so focused, like you’re discussing nuclear launch codes or what a quark is or something important. Honestly, it makes you hide your face in an embarrassingly shy way, avoiding eye contact.

He walks with you slowly, patiently down the path, arms crossed behind his back. Every once in a while either or the two of you laugh, which seems to bother Diva, whose been looking back at John suspiciously or trying to get between you the whole time.

“So sorry about that,” you really don’t know what’s gotten into her. Sure, she’s a pro at finding innocuous things suspicious, but you’ve been walking for a while now and she usually warms up when she realizes you’re okay with the offensive person or item.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” honey again. He sure knows how to make a lady flustered. “She’s just looking out for her mama, right?”

If your pussy reacts to that, it’s no one’s business but your own.

The air chills, day by day. John has begun joining you on your walks every other day, and sometimes you catch him jogging to the trailhead from the road instead of driving it. It makes you wonder where he’s, whether it’s close or he’s really pushing his knee, and whether or not he’s flirting with you when he shows up all sweaty in a tight shirt.

Another anomaly is that the tapping has returned, nearly every night. You’re scared every time, won’t even let Diva out for a final pee and have stuck to walking up at the buttcrack of dawn to make sure she’s taken care of.

Tedious, is what it is. Ridiculous. And yet when those little taps come, in different places around the house now, different walls, you hide under the covers with Diva growling her little growl at the bedroom door and try to sleep.

When cabin fever starts to set in, anxiety and insane thoughts like, what if someone is trying to break into my house? You decide it’s past time for a visit to town.

The trip serves many purposes, anyways. Diva needs treats, kibble, and a new ball. You need groceries, tampons, new socks. Overall worth it outside of the fresh air and human interaction with more than just one person.

“Hey! Hey you!”

You’re in the bakery, weighing with your hands two loaves of artisanal bread. Just the one will do, since your freezer is small, but you want both. Pumpernickel or dark rye? Which will go better with the honey ham sandwich slices?

“Hello? Earth to-”

Your deliberation is interrupted by a waving in your face. You realize Jo, your only real friend in town, has run across the street to catch your attention.

“Oh gosh, my bad,” you look down at your shoes, then reach for a hug. She squeezes you.

“That’s okay, babe, off in your own world?” She’s dazzling, too cute for such a small town. Her ringlets bounce on her shoulders and her mouth, which is always smiling, is stretched wide with mirth. Makes you feel warm inside that she cares for you.

“Trying to make a hard decision. You know, end world hunger or stop all wars.” Stupid, but she laughs. You love making her laugh, and if you were lesbian you’d have made a move on her. Maybe you were, just a little.

“Why not both?” Her hands find your shoulders and squeeze. It’s then that you notice someone behind her, a much taller someone. At first the muscled chest and thick neck make you think it’s John, and a small squeeze of jealousy grips your stomach.

Then you see the mohawk, the difference in height. This man is looking at you with a similar intensity, though, all piercing blue eyes, thick furrowed brows, pin-straight posture.

“You’re right,” your laugh is more awkward, then, motioning with your eyes to the man.

“Oh, I’m so rude,” she turns to him. “This is Johnny, we met a few weeks ago.”

A wink. Ah, they met a few weeks ago. You picture them in the only bar in town, low lighting and Jo looking like Botticelli’s Venus, plump cheeks and red lips. And yeah, Johnny’s pretty good looking. You’d laugh about the mixup and the names if it wasn’t rude.

“Nice tae meet ya,” his accent is thick, palm warm and rough against yours. “Shall we, lass?”

He’s talking to Jo. They exchange glances, him looking at you once so fast you almost miss it. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about the look he gives you, but you shake it off. Nerves, you think. From the taps.

“Right,” Jo looks a little sheepish, then. “We’re off to the movies, but nice to see you!”

You raise a brow. You can’t help it, it’s 10am. Jo laughs and they leave.

You bake, sometimes. It’s a good hobby for someone on a leave of absence with nothing much else to do but read, walk and play with her dog.

The oven sometimes scares Diva, and she curls up in your room indignantly until you’re done using it. You’ve always wondered why, since she came to you as a puppy and hasn’t got a single reason to be upset with the appliance. 

Oh well.

You decide to bring brown butter chocolate chip cookies on your hike, hoping to see John and give him one. Your interactions haven’t progressed past leisurely chatting and walking together, but he’s a handsome man and you're still a little stir-crazy. At least with work, it wasn’t just hours on hours of uninterrupted alone time.

Funny how that works, isn’t it? You spend every day at work wishing not to be at work, and once you have the opportunity you have no idea what to do with yourself.

John loves the cookies. He takes two right out of the Tupperware, flattering you by groaning as he eats. The recipe is that good, but you think he might be putting it on a bit anyway.

It’s sweet.

“Fantastic,” he says, licking his fingers. You try not to look. “You bake often?”

“Just something to do, keeps me busy.” Diva has growled at John again, her second offense. She’s being a real heel today, rude and fussy. You elect to schedule a vet visit for a checkup soon.

“No one to keep you company in that house?” He stops when you need to stop, takes the opportunity to stretch his bad leg.

“What?” You take a puff of the inhaler, frowning a little.

“Are you lonely?” A weird question, but you chalk it up to small town weirdness.

“A little, but that one over there keeps me company,” as if she knows, she turns and yips. “What do you mean, that house?”

“You mentioned you live in your grandfather's house, no? Inherited it.” He chuckles at Diva.

“Did I? I don’t think…” you fully frown, thinking back to your conversations. Did you mention that? You haven’t even thought of it yourself for a while, not wanting to revisit painful memories. Your grandpa did pass you his house, but you’re usually more private than offering more than surface-level information to strangers.

“I believe so,” he looks deep in thought himself, squinting up at the umbrella of trees above you. That comforts you, the fact that he’s trying to recall. You’ve been so anxious lately.

“I must have forgotten, sorry. I’ve just been so scrambled lately.” John perks up at that, turning towards you as you finally continue walking.

“Scrambled?” His palm finds the back of your arm, the meat of it. He squeezes you, and it fills you with warmth. “How so?”

“Ah, well, just some animals around my house. I think,” you meet eyes, and he gets the best of you, so you elect to stare between his brows.

“Want me to take a look?” His tone is very serious. You shiver.

“I don’t think it’s necessary… I think there’s just some mice making a home for winter. I gotta call an expert,” He slides his hand down to your elbow, holding it gently. You’re nearing the end of the trail, the woods getting brighter around you. Diva marks her territory here more than anywhere else and yips at John again. 

“I could do it for free though, honey,” the air drops where you are, a gust of wind creating a symphony of sound all around you. A little romantic, you think. Ridiculous.

“Well,” far be it from you to pass up free help. “Only if you let me pay you back somehow.” 

“You have already,” he holds up the cookie Tupperware, shaking it gently. 

“Then let me make you dinner. Whatever you want!” The enthusiasm in which you say it has you cringing at yourself, but mentally you justify it; it’s completely normal to invite a friend over, especially to pay back a favour. You’re not being obvious that you’re attracted to him at all, no sir. Definitely not scared and in need of comfort, Mr John sir. 

“Sounds like a plan. I’m free after 7 o’clock.”

You elect to be cliche and make British food. Good British food, a proper roast. Something you’d had a few times with friends in pubs or that time you’d visited London as an exchange student. Hot, smothered in gravy, salty and perfect with a mug of beer British food. You really hope he likes it, that he doesn't think you’re weird or making fun of him for his accent.

John is a proper gentleman, so punctual that he knocks on your door the very second it turns to 7:30 on your oven timer.

Diva has to battle her hatred of the stove with her need to announce a guest, staying in hallway purgatory barking at both.

The smell of garlicky roast beef, rosemary and thyme, salt and boiling potatoes is rife in the air, no doubt spilling into the woods through your badly insulated windows.

The moment it hits John, you can see it. Your door opens, creaking, and his eyes fix to you so quickly it’s almost physical.

“Hey! Thanks for coming,” you open it, motioning for him to come in. “Don’t mind Diva, she’s not a fan of the oven being on.”

He toes his boots off, still staring, like you’re a prize heifer and he’s set on buying you at the farm auction. A little sexy, mostly nerve wracking. Diva peeks around the corner at him and the sound of her little nails on the hardwood breaks the tension.

“Smells like home,” he leans closer to you to put his coat up on the rack. “You really went through all this trouble?”

“It’s the least I can do for your help.” At that moment, he seems to remember.

“Right, the mice. Want to show me where you heard them, or can I not steal you away from the stove?” His voice deepens as he talks, intensifying, grating hot coals and growling like a bear. Blue, focused eyes find the half-apron you’re wearing. You swear his pupils dilate, but he shakes his head before you’re sure.

“I can show you, there’s still a few minutes left for everything.”

The air is biting outside, cold with the evening breeze and dark already. So dark you equip your biggest, brightest flashlight and walk around the house with him, explaining the taps all around.

“I figure it’s them trying to dig holes so they can get in,” you hand the flashlight to him, feeling your fingers brush, and shivering in response. “I’ve been too chicken to check, to be honest. I keep thinking it’s a person walking around, not some animal.”

John nods as you speak, squatting by your little tool shed, looking diligently and moving items as he needs to. Then, he looks up, smiling a little.

“Why don’t you head inside, darling? Let me take care of this.”

“Sure,” you squeak. Squeak. Your stomach makes a knot and you scurry like one of the mice he’s looking for back into the house to mash the potatoes and make the gravy.

You are quite proud of this meal, not a proper cook by a long shot but it looks and smells pretty good. The Yorkshire puddings are alright, too, and that was the hardest part. Plus, you think, it’s free food. He’s gotta be happy with the effort, even if he winds up not liking it, right? That’s something your mother always told you. Someone’s put in a lot of effort for this meal, she’d say, pointing at you with a long nail. Better eat it.

“Think I found the little buggers,” John startles you just a little as he comes in, toeing his boots off again. You’re plating his plate, huge portions of mash potato and roast carrot and brussel sprouts nestled to the beef. His eyes look at the plate, then to you, then down to your apron, and you pretend you can’t see him adjusting his pants.

This isn’t what you think it is, you remind yourself. Two friends, one lending a hand and the other paying them back. You don’t even know his last name.

“Oh god, how bad was it?” You ladle gravy over his portion, then yours, pretending to be unaffected when he walks into your kitchen and takes a huge sniff.

“Not too bad. I’ll have to come back with some traps, if that’s alright.” You want to say John, you can come back anytime, but you don’t.

“Glad to know it was mice at least,” that’s the truth. A feeling you didn’t totally realize you had turns from paranoia into relief. “I was really scared it was some creep walking around my house, trying to get in.”

“Here,” John takes his plate when you hand it to him, but puts his phone into your hands before you can get yours. “Put your number in there, honey. Call me if anything like that happens.”

Honey. You fucking love that, so much it renders you temporarily mute as you punch in your number. He doesn't let you bring your own plate to the table, picks it up while you’re busy and comes back to shepherd you there with a palm on your lower back.

“Thank you,” you say, struck timid by his casual and yet firm guidance of you.

Diva makes an appearance for supper, summoned by the smell of beef and the oven being turned off. Her little claws tip tap against the hardwood as she circles your chair, tucks herself under the table looking for scraps, and whines at John while he’s trying to eat.

You nudge her away from him with a socked foot, stuttering that she isn’t usually like this, honest, only for him to brush it off kindly.

After supper, when you’re full and you can’t handle him looking at you with those half-lidded, well-fed bear eyes anymore, you move to pick up the dishes and bring them to the kitchen.

“Ah ah,” John cuts in front of you, stealing the plates and cutlery. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Useless to argue - he’s built like a brick shithouse. You’re forced to pack up the leftovers, one container for you and one for him to take home. For no reason other than you’re feeling especially soft and gooey, you wrap up a few homemade fig and date granola bars for him to take too.

“Thank you,” he gruffs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, flexing his forearm muscles, making you hot again.

“It’s really the least I can-”

Snap. Fuck, the day that creepy noises don’t happen near your house is the day you convert to whatever religion that’ll make it happen. Both your heads turn to the living room window, where the sound came from, a crack in the otherwise quiet night air.

Anxiety curls in your stomach, sharp and dreadful. You try to remind yourself that you live in the woods for gods sake, there’s gonna be sounds, but that awful sense of danger is back and if you were Diva your hackles would be raised.

John frowns, wiping his hands on a towel. He doesn't seem as phased as you are, probably because he’s not worried over boogeymen haunting the forest like you are, but when he looks back at you and sees your fright he leans in and murmurs that he’ll go take a look.

“It’s okay, it’s probably one of my furry friends,” you try, but he shakes his head, putting a palm on your hip for a brief moment as reassurance and then he’s out the door.

God, you’re so nervous you whip out a bottle of wine, desperate for a little courage. The feeling is so strange, you’re used to feeling safe and cushioned by your home, by the forest. Even your little dog whimpers, tapping her way into the kitchen, rubbing her face on your leg like a cat. She’s a comfort still, something about there being a more nervous person (or animal) that inspires bravery. Still, you won't peek out the window.

The wine is good. A little too dry, but still good. A housewarming gift from your mother, even though she knew you didn’t drink unless it was social.

Or unless you were nervously waiting for some man to come back, having dealt with your problems for you. She’d weep to see you, aproned and wringing your hands and sipping red wine too quickly. Whatever, you think. There’s nothing wrong with letting him help.

John comes back in, maybe a few minutes later or maybe a half hour, you can’t tell. Your wine is half empty, and you feel awkward about it so you pour him one without asking.

“Think you’ve got more than one furry friend,” John says, laughter in his voice. In his fingers he’s got tufts of light brown hair, which he holds up. “Dinner, if you hunt.”

“Ah, I don’t,” and you wouldn’t. You’re fine eating meat or even purchasing it from a local hunter to eat, but there’s something in you that’s deeply uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe it’s cowardice, unable to do the dirty work and yet enjoying the fruits of someone else’s labour. Maybe you’re putting stock in something that really isn’t worth stressing over. Either way, you’re overthinking, and only stop when John steps into your space.

“Hey- you alright, darling?” You like darling too, just as much as honey.

“Yeah, sorry,” your hands find the wine glass you poured for him, and you hand it over. One thing about abstaining is that it hits you quickly, even with the big meal. “Want to sit? I’ve got a fireplace.”

You cringe at yourself, not meaning to sound so suggestive. Oh well, he doesn’t seem to mind, just nods and takes you by the elbow again to your living room.

“This all the heading you’ve got?” John asks.

“Er, no. I have to get my windows insulated for winter, then I can turn the heating on without it all going to waste. For now, I make do with the fireplace,” when you sit, Diva runs to you both and demands to be swaddled in her blanket. It’s an old knitted one, a college project finished between essay assignments and readings. There’s sentimental value there, especially with your pup who doesn’t even let the presence of a strange man come between her and her cozying up.

“I can help with that,” John says. Briefly, Westley pops into your head shouting As you wish! and it makes you smile.

“That’s okay,” you sip, tasting spice. Would’ve been good with dinner. “I owe you double now for helping me again.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Oh, he’s full of names - and getting bolder. 

The conversation ebbs and flows naturally. Sometimes you both sit in silence, sipping, refilling glasses, staring at the fire. He’s easy to talk to, soothing, his confidence and sureness leaving you relaxed.

“I better get going,” he grunts as he stands, extending a palm to you.

“Are you okay to drive?” You’re half worried, half disappointed. There’s been a steadily building sense of heat between your legs the entire evening, brought on by his touches and his pet names and his taking care of you

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I live close-by.” That’s one mystery solved.

“Well, okay. But will you call when you get home?” If you weren’t three glasses in, you might be embarrassed. John crinkles his eyes at you while he puts his boots on.

“John?” You’re in your pajamas, face hastily cleaned with a makeup wipe. Your door is double locked again, anxiety beaten down by the wine.

“I’m home,” he sounds distant. You can’t really hear anything, just his breathing, the sounds of him taking off his coat and his boots. “You tucked in bed, sweetheart?”

“I am,” you breathe, eyes slipping, drunker than you thought you were. “Did you drive okay?”

“I did,” he laughs. His keys jingle and make a clamor as he tosses them. You imagine him in a house that fits him, a log cabin or a house built by hand, before remembering he’s talking with someone. Disappointment dampens you a little.

“I guess I should let you get to bed then,” you try to keep it out of your voice, but you’re curled on your side with a hand pressed against your clothed pussy and it’s hard not to be sad at the fact that you have no idea if he’s actually been flirting with you, or just being friendly.

“You sound disappointed,” either he’s perceptive, or you’re more obvious than you’re trying to be. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you without saying goodnight.”

A pulse, between your legs. You rub with all four fingers, moving the phone away from your mouth.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to keep you,” you scrunch your eyes shut, trying to stop, not being able to. You’re starved, really, haven’t been touched or talked to like you’re desirable in quite some time and he makes you feel safe. Taken care of.

“You touching that wet little cunt, sweetheart?” A shockwave, from your nipples tightening to your toes tingling, curling. You stop hiding, breathing whines into the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, biting your lips. It feels like permission, and maybe it is or maybe it isn’t, but you stuff your hand into your pants and start focusing on your needy clit. “I’m so-”

“Shh, sh, sh,” you hear a mattress creak, a grunt, and imagine him laying back. Maybe palming his cock. “That’s okay, baby, I could tell how needy you were.”

Panting, you stuff two fingers in your soft hole, grinding your palm into your clit. You hear him making sounds, quieter than you, but you’re straining to hear them.

He starts talking you through it, murmuring into your ear, calling you sweetheart and honey and baby, telling you to put three fingers in and to play with your tits.

“Go ahead and touch your nipples, sweetheart, go on,” his breath is growing laboured. “Needed to come so she could sleep, did she?”

For a moment, you think he’s talking about you.

“Poor little pussy needed some attention,” his voice gets rougher again, like when he walked in and saw that you had made him a roast. “Give it to her then, baby, go on, let her come.”

That’s all you need. You squeeze your nipples one last time, letting your tits out of your shirt and turning over to hump your hand unashamedly. Your clit drags against your palm still, hips desperately moving, listening to him grunting and groaning on the other side of the call, waiting to hear him come before you let go.

You shake, shiver, curl into yourself as your core tightens and explodes like an elastic band snapping. It’s great, just what you needed, and you’re half asleep by the end of it

“John..” you mumble into your pillow, just enough consciousness left to pull your hand out of your pajama pants.

“It’s alright, it’s time to sleep now, alright? Close your eyes.”

“Alright, John.”

“Good girl,” his voice is distant, sleep taking you, muscles more relaxed than they’ve been in so long.

You’ll deal with the rest in the morning.

[puerileaccismus]

Just finished the tf2 comics. Miss pauling is one of my favourite characters and im really bad at articulating why but ill try.

She is the perky assistant. She is a loyal minion to the ambiguously evil Administrator, but shes not oblivious. Shes more level-headed and self aware than the other characters but she ls still silly and casually ingages in morally scrutinisable and violent things on a daily basis. She has a surprisingly mysterious background for how outgoing she is, we don't even know her first name. She knows something, she knows there's something more she doesn't know but is still vehemently dedicated to the Administrator. Shes an unassumung preppy girl and she might be gay. I want her.

[notsocharmingmagician]

[unfriendly-neighborhood-feminist]

where the fuck is ren

[k-is-for-potassium]

i feel like many people use "straight"...wrong

it's used a lot to mean cis, het, allo, perisex, etc.

basically just not lgbtq+ at all

but that's not true

trans people can be straight and lgbtq+

intersex people can be straight and lgbtq+

neopronoun users can be straight and lgbtq+

arospec people can be straight and lgbtq+

acespec people can be straight and lgbtq+

polyamorous people can be straight and lgbtq+

genderfluid, bigender, and other gender non-conforming people can be straight and lgbtq+

people who are biromantic, panromantic, etc. and heterosexual or vice versa are still lgbtq+

and there are so many more identities that can absolutely be both

straight does not mean not lgbtq+

[riuhere]

They are constantly on my mind 24/7. I literally can't get them OuT of my hEad-

...Yup... I'm screwed-

Triad Au belongs to @novelcain

Vault Hunters AU & Eternal Servants AU belongs to @emelinstriker

Twice As Bad AU & Monster Boyfriend belongs to @semisolidmind

Bone King Au belongs to @ninjasmudge

Cross belongs to @jakei95

[gammija]

the real reason tmagp is on break 'til april 11th is so sam can observe ramadan without being chased by a murderous clown blob

[punkkrat]

Some things I've painted. Hello and goodbye

[samuelroukin]

BARRY SLOANE as Joe 'Bear' Graves in SIX (2017—2018) Episodes 2.01/2.08

[tuseranita]

vetted palestine gfms • december 17th 2024

a list of the vetted fundraisers i got on my askbox, listed in alphabetical order

abedallhferwanagaza — gfm, €18,001/€35000

aiamaher2 — gfm, €5,343/€55000

alihelles1997 — gfm, €4,476/€100000

dianatalb — gfm, $70 AUD/$20000 AUD

familgazaamal1 — gfm, $9,576 USD/$30000 USD

huda123sblog — gfm, €90/€50000

mahmoidjsy — gfm, $10,566 USD/$25000

massagaza — gfm, €878/€45000

maysolin — gfm, €378/€20000

najouha2 — paypal, €907/€10000

nasreenshawa — gfm, $950 USD/$20000 USD

save-alaa-children — gfm, £30,694/£56000

shareeffamily — gfm, €2203/€50000

shimabshahin — gfm, €688/€60000

somaiahassansworld — gfm, €2,285/€50000

wasimhourani37 — gfm, $3,591 USD/$20000 USD

[potato-lord-but-not]

drew this little holy ghosts smooch and it reminded me of you

so i though to give out a small (late) christmas gift

hope you like them 🫶🏻

(CHARLIE DOWD COME BACK TO ME I MISS YOU SO MUCH IT HURTS huh who said that)

OIUGFFGGGH NY GHODDDDDDDD OH MY GOD IM ILL IM ILL IM ILL THANK YOU

[kiwifie]

I want to eat with you again forever.

[biblically-accurate-dca]

full breakdown of the daycare attendant's color scheme & minor design details throughout their apperances

bc im mentally ill abt them lol

warning: this is a very long post and will probably only interest a very specific audience of people

3d model

(source)

their body follows the pattern of having a "primary" color, a "secondary" color, and an "accent" color. this pattern shows up for all of their apperances.

the primary color is the one applied to the crescent moon on their face, the right half of their torso, the upper half of their forearms, the middle "in between" sections of their fingers, and their legs.

the secondary color is the one applied to the other half of their face, and the other half of their torso.

the accent color is applied to their lower forearm, their palm, and their finger tips.

sun's color scheme is a pale tan color(primary), a light orange color(secondary), and a light grey(accent). notably, sun's 3d model's palms are colored with their primary color instead of their secondary.

moon's colors are a pale white, a blueish black, and bright dark blue respectively. also the white of their upper arm fades out into the blue of their lower arm before ending at the elbow, but this doesn't show up on sun's arm. (also also, moon's eyebrow & eyelash are colored in with their secondary color, while sun's isn't colored in at all.)

the buttons on their chest tend to fall more in line with the main colors of their clothes, except for moon's 3d model which is their body's secondary color instead.

nothing major to say about their clothes, so here's a thought about their color schemes: even though moon shares a lot of colors with sun (red, orange, and yellow), sun's design doesn't have any of moon's blue. (though sometimes sun is shown with blue eyes? so who knows.)

their ruffles and ribbons all tend to stay the same color (red), all except for the ruffles on moon's neck which turn blue. this is a consistent detail throughout all of their designs.

their little elf shoes are orange and stay the same color regardless of which form they're in. there's a crescent moon on the inner facing side and a star on the outer side. the crescent moon's two pointy parts(?) are pointed towards their heel.

i will not talk too much about their head/face, but here are some details that are different in other iterations: their eyes do not move, sun's rays cannot rotate and can only move inwards and outwards, and moon's hat goes over their forehead.

also their ribbons have no physics in this game LOL

concept art

(source)

covering this first because the general color scheme and the placement of those colors is nearly identical to their in game model (albeit with brighter, more saturated colors). the overall design is also highly similar, but with a few notable discrepancies:

one major detail that's different in all their drawn iterations is that their torso is one solid piece instead of two separate parts like it is with their 3d models.

moon's arm gradient is still present on their concept art, however sun now has a lighter colored gradient on the end of their arm to match moon's coloration! (this could always be shading but it feels too specific for this to be the case). (also, moon's arms, fingertips, and stars seem to almost glow? which is potentially what their unused emission textures are based off of.)

sun's palms are colored grey! also, the middle sections of moon's fingers are colored dark grey on the concept art (pretty much everything with their primary color is colored like this ((except their face)), but it's probably just due to shading this time since it's not present anywhere else but here.

they seem to have a little circular panel near where their arm bends that isn't present on their 3d model. same with a rectangular panel on their leg.

their clothes, ribbons, and shoes are mostly the same except for a couple small things: moon's pants have faint lines on them to match sun's, their shoes have no symbols on them, and the bit of ribbon on the ends of their pants is colored yellow instead of red. (also moon's shoes are colored darker.)

their face has a lot of notable differences too, but one of the biggest ones is that they have no left cheek! their grin stretches a lot farther up on that side of their face because of this (they have no lips on that side of their face either!). the circular indent on their cheek is colored in on sun's face, their eyes aren't being squished by their cheeks anymore, and they also have a lot more teeth (which don't stretch into the corners of their mouth, and are colored differently than the rest of their face.) lastly, they share the same color for their eyebrow and eyelash!

official art work

something important to note is that all of the dca's (current) official art will have this color scheme and all of the same details due to them either being drawn by the same artist, or because all other current official artwork of them is based off of this design and/or the concept art. (any and all additional artwork i mention can actually be found on their wiki page, but i'll link to it here if i feel it's important.)

one of the most notable details of their official art is that their accent color has been changed to a light grey color for both of them (albeit slightly warmer or colder to match their respective color schemes). though, interestingly enough, moon's palms (similarly to sun's 3d model) are colored with their primary color instead, despite both designs having this detail in the concept art.

additionally, something that was changed from the sketch for this drawing, is that (like their concept art) their shoes lack the little symbols on them, and the ribbon tied on the end of their pants was colored yellow instead of red. something that wasn't changed though is their lack of a left cheek.

moon's button aren't visible here, but other artworks (such as their claw machine artwork) show them as a blue color to match with sun's red.

sun's arm still has the little circular panel near their elbow that can be found on their concept art.

their face has a lot of similar details to their concept art, while still being stretchy and cartoony. they have a lot more craters spread around their face, and sun has consistently been shown to have a chipped tooth... it's cute.

before i move on, i'd like to talk a little bit about their various eye colors! there are several instances of sun with golden colored eyes (e.g. this drawing here, their in game plush, their claw machine art, their piñata from ruin, their actual design from ruin, and an exclusive design from steelwool's store.), while there are only two instances of sun with blue eyes (the sunnydrop candy poster and their icon on the daycare pass).

moon's eye color (when their eyes aren't just... closed) tends to just be red, but there are still a few instances of them with a blue right eye (their plush and piñata, with their claw machine art's eyes being entirely blue).

there's actually even a few specific instances of their eyes being black (their 3d model, the golden moon plush, and the golden sun plush... however that one is more brown than black.)

there's also that one book cover of moon with the pink spiral eyes but that was more of a one off thing.

ruin

this is where my bitching session starts

very noticeably, their eyes move around in this game. did they finally get the glitter glue out of their eyes after the earthquake or something? does no one care about their dead fish eye swag...

speaking of eyes it's actually kind of lame they have yellow eyes instead of blue. the blue eyes actually have some additional meaning to them when you consider moon, but the yellow eyes are just... well, they're already super yellow. what makes them so special. make moon's eyes yellow for a change.

ok actually relevant: they use a mix of both sun and moon's primary colors, while using exclusively moon's secondary colors... both of their accent colors are used too with sun's on their right and moon's on their left.

suddenly their unused emission textures decide to join the party... this was a weird decision for them to make when those textures weren't even visible before. but ok.

all things considered they're actually not even that damaged. the most major damage is to their outer casing and their leg... like, compared to the others this is pretty good? even compared to the original shattered animatronics this is good??

wait is their hat just sitting on the very top of their head? is that because of the rays? are they holding it up? why was this a thing that was changed.

hw2

ok well the hat is even farther back now. what the hell. why

iirc their eyes don't noticeably move around as much as they do in ruin, but they do still move around sometimes (iirc they spin around after sun's cartwheel?) which i guess is fine. whatever. im the only bitch who would care about this anyway

they nerfed moon's ultra bright high beam eyes in this one... sad!

this is such a non problem but sometimes (especially in sb) when you shine a light on moon their pants have this little purple shaded section on the inner thigh parts and it looks. weird. in this picture it's not visible due to the shaders but it's very noticable in the daycare section of sb when you get a good look at them with the flashlight.

actually you ever realize how their design literally makes no sense whatsoever. how does their casing change color, and why is their coloring so inconsistent between the two without visibly affecting the other? how do their CLOTHES change color like that?? where the hell does the hat come from??? why do specifically and only the neck ruffles change color???? where do their pupils come from????? i will stop talking about this now

jack o' moon

they do have moon's color patterns, they're just shifted around a little. they even sort of have the lack of a texture on the sun rays that moon's model has! but this time it's actually intentional.

their face has the world's shittiest paint job which i think is really funny. i guess it does sort of look like a pumpkin yeah.

idk how the hell their glowing mouth overlay works but it's certainly a thing they have. the glowing eyes are also pretty cool looking admittedly. and the insides of their eyebrow, eyelash, and craters glow a little bit too.. that's cute.

the ruffles on their neck and waist, and the ribbons around the bottom of their pants are green, while the ribbons around their wrists are purple (but a small part of the ribbon on their right wrist is still red)? their shoes are similarly purple.

potato sack pants ♡ it's a really good part of the whole look actually

basically their design is like if bbw eclipse was stupid. but like in a funny and endearing way WAIT ACTUALLY SPEAKING OF THAT

balloon world eclipse

bitching session is officially OVER

first off: sun's faces! so the first face very obviously takes inspiration from their in game artwork while still having the general face shape for their regular look. the scattered look of the craters on their face and the color of their eyebrow reflect this as well. sun doesn't have their trademark chipped tooth but overall it's a very nice look and it serves it's purpose very well.

since sun's 2nd face and moon's are the same i'll go over them both here... this look is very much based off of their concept art look! but it's more noticable in the shape of their eyes and the way their teeth are drawn this time, because they actually do have a left cheek... but the corner of their mouth still stretches up the same way it does when they don't have one! also, the base color for moon's eye is a little purple here which is always fun.

now ECLIPSE... brightly lit yellow eyes with red flickering pupils... the light being pushed out between the cracks of their teeth... a menacing color scheme too dark for sun but too bright for moon... the faint color of the illuminated crescent moon hidden inside the darkness of their face... their complete and utter lack of a left cheek because it never got added onto this sprite... this is PEAK eclipse design

also, this isn't about their design but i edited these sprites for something a while back and noticed that some of the pixels were just ever so slightly off color? which leads me to believe this was done in a regular art program not made for pixel art, and that whoever made these isn't super experienced with it.. however that honestly just adds to the charm for me. i really love these sprites.

harvest moon

oh mmy god look at it

[cringefail-clown]

okay, so we know that godtiering heals you. tavros gets his legs back, vriska gets her eye and arm back etc etc. furthermore, it could be interpreted as healing perceived disadvantages. terezi wouldnt get her sight back if she were to godtier, because she doesnt see (pun not intended but here we go) her blindness as something that weakens her, quite the opposite - and when aranea heals her sight, she hates it and purposefully wears a blindfold. sburb would recognize her preference and honor it once she ascends.

we could go even further. once ascended, all your perceived weaknesses would be removed, and what weakness means varies wildly from person to person. harlenglishcrocegberts keep their glasses, as well as vriska - we can assume they never felt like their bad sight was any issue for them, so it was left out. for trans folks, and lets put myself under the microscope - if i were to godtier, sburb might throw my way a nice and quick top surgery, but leave the rest alone since i dont have any strong feelings about those.

it could even heal things like brain damage, chronic pain, migrains, cancer, anything that you feel like brings you down will be removed. alpha kids get their hangovers healed up. ascending basically builds your body up from the start, atom to atom, whole dna rewritten if you want it to be.

my question now: would it, or would it not remove karkats or kankris mutation, making them limebloods? everytime we see vantases who are god tier theyre ghosts, and their wings are not shown. it might be because theyre small (which is a popular headcanon) or they dont have any, be it because of their mutation or because its a feature of the bloodcast they originate from, or theyre simply hidden. either way we never see what the actual color of their wings is, which would indicate the color of their blood after ascention.

basically i have no idea. but its a fun thing to think about and ive been doing it for the past few days now

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

unpopular opinion but whump should and deserves to be messy

"Yeah duh there's plenty of scenarios with blood and tears--" no. I want more.

I want pink tinted spit dribbling out of Whumpee's mouth. I want strings of saliva connecting between their busted lip to Whumper's tongue. I want drool running down the corners of their mouths because of a gag that makes it difficult to swallow.

I want sweat making Whumpee feel sticky and clammy to the touch. I want their skin to be slick and soaking into their soiled clothes. I want them to squirm in discomfort of a dirty shirt clinging to their back from precious fluids that are going to risk further dehydration. I want their hair to be continuously damp and hanging in thick strands in their face.

I want the scabs to turn white with pus and black with infection. I want old wounds to tear open and bleed a thick red. I want the pink flesh underneath to pulse and quiver, the sight of yellow fat and cartilage. I want blood vessels and capillaries to burst and spread over an area, I want burns to start brown and peel away to a tender pink.

I want Whumpee to vomit out of their nose because their mouth is gagged. I want bile to reek on their clothing and on their tongue. I want them to grow use to the taste of bitter blood and burning chyme forever in the back of their throat. I want them to have to snort and hack to be able to spit out whatever was still caught on their tongue or risk swallowing it down.

I want their tears to remain unwiped and crusting over their eyes. I want snot to smear over their cheeks and leave their lips uncomfortably tacky. I want their face to remain blotchy and red because they just can't get it clean. I want dirt and blood and skin to build up under their fingernails to the point they risk infecting their own wounds if they try and mess with it. I want Whumpee to only be sprayed down with cold water and an old towel, never any soap and never in all the creases of their body.

I want their bodies caked in grime and viscera and bodily fluids. I want Whumper to never give them the luxury of feeling clean and in fact actively making them more filthy each time. I want Whumpee's clothes yellowed and their hair matted and their skin sickly. I want injuries to never properly heal so that the only option is to amputate the necrosis. I want Whumper to force Whumpee to clean up whatever kind of mess they made by licking it off the floor.

I want arteries to spew like a garden sprinkler. I want the exposed roots of pulled teeth to dangle freely in their mouth. I want Whumpee's hair, including all of their body hair, to grow to unruly lengths that are constantly tangled and ingrown. I want them to find comfort in starving because it means there's nothing to risk throwing up. I want them to scrub their skin raw and bleeding, uncaring how much it aggravates their injuries or how the soap stings, the first chance they're given for a real bath.

I want it to be nasty!!!!!!