#maybe i should just stick to flat colors next time

[bythepen98]

Finally working on that tokoyami and Hawks fa but I am once again having problems with the coloring bc I want to keep it simple but I also want it to look like it's well rendered? Except when I do render it I overdo it bc my brain and hand get confused. Happens everytime smh 😵‍💫

[my-own-walker]

requesting kit with younger reader, where he picks her up from college and takes her for a milkshake but then they have sex in his car and after he has to drop her down the street because her parents don’t approve of him

Oh! You Pretty Things

note: this is cuteeeeee. thanks for the spicy kit request. i was getting bored of writing inside-the-asylum kit hehe

warnings: sm*t, p in v, oral m receiving, teasing, cursing, kinda overstim, not really tho

+++

The second hand moved so slowly on the clock, I thought it might be broken. Class always went slower when I knew I’d be seeing Kit afterward. Thursdays were our day.

My parents didn’t know. They hated the idea of me being distracted from my studies by some silly boy. I was, in fact, sticking my neck out by going to college as a woman, so I had to succeed. But, the new decade called for liberation for us women. I was proving a point by being able to date and do well in school.

I digress. I met Kit after my father's car got a flat. He showed up in his tow truck to save the day.

'Scummy, those mechanics,' my father quipped as we drove away.

I walked to the gas station Kit said he worked at the next day, set on getting him to ask me on a date.

We'd been secretly meeting up for dates ever since. He'd come to pick me up after my last class of the day every Thursday and take me out somewhere. I could, at times, sneak away to see Kit on other days of the week, but Thursdays were a set date. My mother and father had no idea. They thought I would stay late to study.

In my daydreaming daze, I almost didn't notice my classmates getting up to leave. I gathered my things hastily and rushed out of the room and into the bright daylight of the afternoon. The sun's light on the pavement was nearly blinding. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I walked to the curb, looking desperately for Kit's car.

Within seconds, his shiny black car came slowly up to the side of the street.

'Hey, pretty thing! You goin' my way, doll?' he called out of his window, acting as if he were a creepy stranger. I giggled and got into the passenger's side.

'You have no idea how nice it feels to do this,' I sighed, kicking my shoes off as Kit drove off.

'Rough day, beautiful?' He wore his work uniform. Some jeans, a white undershirt, and his button-up with his name on it. His hair was perfectly tousled, and the shirt was unbuttoned so that part of the white undergarment was showing. He looked soft and warm, and his smile lit up his eyes.

'Just a very long one, and I'm starving.'' I said, drawing out the word 'very.' I flipped down the visor and slid open the mirror, smoothing my hair and fixing the line of my lipstick while regarding my reflection. I pulled the tube of peach lipstick out of my bag and touched up my pout, making faces at myself all the while.

'Havin' fun over there?' Kit laughed.

'I'm beginning to think this shade is old hat,' I sighed. 'Maybe I should try red like Marilyn.'

'I don't care what color they are so long as I get to kiss 'em,' he smirked, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my upper thigh. I didn't even notice how far my dress had ridden up my leg since getting in the car.

I blushed and giggled, tucking the front pieces of my hair behind my ears. I will admit, I was still in the lavender haze with him.

He pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside diner in our town. It was quaint, tucked away in some trees, filled with truckers from out-of-state and old ladies meeting for lunch. It was a stone's throw from Kit's job, and the perfect place to hide away. Somewhere neither of my parents would dare go.

We sat at the tall counter in the center of the place. This was part of our little Thursday routine. I would always come out of class absolutely ravenous. We'd pick far-away or unknown places to eat before truly spending time together.

'You want somethin', my pretty thing?' Kit asked as the waitress stood in front of us.

'Honestly, a milkshake would be a gas,' I smiled up at the waitress. 'Strawberry.'

'That's all you want?' Kit asked as she walked away. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, Kit, I'm alright,' I replied, feeling around in my bag for a light for my cigarette. 'Shit, I must have dropped my lighter somewhere. It's not here.'

'Don’t worry doll, I got you,' he drawled, flicking his own open and holding it under the cigarette clenched in my teeth. I took a long drag and exhaled. The waitress returned and placed my drink in front of me, and Kit's meal in front of him.

I looked over at Kit and caught him taking me in. He looked me up and down and chuckled softly.

'My, you are a dream,' he cooed, placing a hand on my chin to bring me in for a kiss. I went in for a peck and was alarmed to find that Kit wanted more.

'Baby, not here,' I said through gritted teeth, pulling away quickly. I looked around to make sure no one saw. 'You're an animal.' I laughed and he returned the smile.

'I just can't control myself around you, pretty.'

'Well then hurry up and finish your food so we can peel out,' I giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

+

There was an old abandoned schoolhouse in town 5 minutes away from my house. Kit and I would find ourselves in the back parking lot frequently. Tucked away from the public eye in his car.

As soon as Kit parked the car, he dragged me into the back seat with him. We made out furiously, like two caged animals that were finally set free. It was a small space, but we sure made it work.

I took over, immediately pushing Kit's back up against the door, placing my hands on his chest to hold him down. His white undershirt was soft against my palms. I could feel his heart pounding furiously beneath my fingertips. A pace that signaled to me just how much he wanted this.

We kissed for only a short time before clothes started getting removed. First, I aided him in removing his work shirt. Then, I worked to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He slid them off quickly. I took that time to remove my panties, throwing them hastily to the front seat.

His erection was noticeable through his white briefs. My hand immediately reached to touch it, only for it to be held back.

'Not yet, sweetheart,' he smiled. He pushed me back into the door on my side and continued making out with me. His hands groped all over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts. 'Oh this dress just won't do,' he muttered.

My high-necked smock dress was fit for school, yes, but not for this. He reached behind me and unzipped the fabric smoothly. He tugged the material and it slid down to expose my bra. Kit smiled as he looked into my eyes, then turned his attention back to my chest. He peppered kisses all over my sensitive skin, making goosebumps raise all over my body.

First, he slid my left bra strap off my shoulder, creating a bit more slack and revealing more of my skin. He took his time to kiss all of the areas of skin he hadn't before, going agonizingly slow so that I would get hot and bothered. He loved when I was hot and bothered.

Next was the right bra strap. The ceremony continued. His ritualistic dance of adorning love to every inch of my body made every horrible minute spent without him worth it. His mouth inched closer and closer to the very edge of my bra. Eventually, I gave in to the teasing and reached back to unhook the damn thing myself.

Deciding I'd had enough, though, I pushed Kit back again. This time, all the way down so that he was laying across the back seat. My hand reached for his bulge and stroked it. He whimpered in pleasure. I took the waistband of his briefs in my fingers and tugged, making his dick spring loose.

I lined myself up with him and slid his throbbing erection into my slick middle, feeling every inch of it go deeper and deeper into me. I cried out involuntarily and began bouncing on it, feeling our two bodies connect naturally. My walls tightened around it. He moaned softly.

'Oh baby, yeah,' he spat through gritted teeth as I continued to ride him. I stooped down and kissed him passionately, still keeping a rhythm. His shaking hands reached up to grope my breasts again, this time more firmly. He slid his hands down to my waist and held it, almost as if he were trying to feel some sort of control over me.

I continued moving my hips atop his dick. His length went so deep within me, I thought I'd scream. I put both of my palms on either side of his chest to steady myself. His breathing got more ragged, and I could feel his heart racing still.

'Fuck,' Kit grunted, trying not to come so easily. He gathered what strength he had a lifted me off of his erection by my waist. I sat back and slid down to a laying position as he rose to position himself above me, both of us maintaining eye contact as we went. He wanted a turn on top.

I didn't even get a chance to settle before his large cock was inside me again. I yelped and screwed my eyes closed, existing at that moment at his very will. He held my wrists, which were resting just next to my head, down so that I couldn't move. I whined in protest but was silenced by his lips on mine.

Sweat formed on his brow. I could feel myself succumbing to the waves of orgasm. But, neither of us wanted to be the first to give in. I breathed heavily to steel myself, but it was to no avail. I came first, crying out and moaning loudly. He slid out of me and stroked my hair as the fits of pleasure overtook me.

Kit sat back against the door on his side of the car once again, breathing heavily. I regained my composure and sat up, sitting back on my heels. I stooped down and took his pre-cum covered dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and reveled in the whimpers and cries Kit was letting out. He grabbed and pulled my hair gently as I continued to suck him off.

'I-I'm gonna come,' he mustered, trying to warn me in case I wanted to stop. Instead, I let him blow his load directly into my mouth. I ignored the warmth and bitter taste as I swallowed. He moaned and threw his head back, eventually relaxing into his position. I wiped my mouth and sat back as well.

Recovered from his orgasm, Kit leaned forward and laid half-beside and half-on me, resting his head on my chest. I sighed in contentment.

'God, you're good at that,' Kit whispered, laughing softly. I laughed too. He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. He kissed the back of each finger as well to emphasize his gratefulness. He nestled closer into me. I nearly fell asleep listening to his breathing even out.

I gasped suddenly when I looked out the window and saw the sun setting. 'Shit, Kit, we have to get me home!'

We both worked quickly to redress. He helped me with the tough job of zipping up the back of my dress. I scrambled out of the back door and into the passenger door, slamming it shut and bringing the visor down to once again look at myself in the mirror. Kit clambered up to the front from the back seat and settled himself in.

He turned the key in the ignition and started the car up. He paused, though, before going. I looked away from fixing my lipstick for a moment to see what was the matter. Kit shifted in his seat and reached for something that was under him. In his hand was my panties.

'I uh, think you're gonna need these,' he chuckled, blushing. I smacked his arm and snatched them from his grip.

'Oh, hush! Stop! It's not funny,' I protested, half-laughing as well. I shoved them into my handbag demonstratively. 'Now hurry up and drive!'

+

The ride home was quick enough. The sun was still setting as Kit got to the end of my street. He had to drop me there to avoid my parents seeing anything.

'Are you sure you're gonna be okay walking over there this late? I don't need anyone snatching my girl,' Kit spoke.

'I'll be fine, Kit. No one really walks my street. Plus, it's not even that dark,' I assured him.

'Well okay, but I'll be parked here watching ya, okay?'

'Just don't be too obvious,' I warned.

He leaned over and grabbed my face, pulling me in for one last, passionate kiss. When I pulled away, my lipstick was all over his face. I just chuckled to myself and opened the door.

'I love you, you pretty thing,' he called after me.

'I love you too, Kit,' I smiled.

+++

Literally cannot lie I got a bit, uh, bothered myself writing this one LOL. Let me know if you liked this one!

[cleaverqueer]

DIY How-To; Aluminum Can Spikes

Preface; This will work with any kind of can as long as its metal. (soda, monster, ect) You can make them in colors depending on which side you trace your stencil on but im gonna teach you how to make them silver

And i cannot stress this enough,

BE CAREFUL WITH THE RAW CUT EDGES OF THE CANS, THEY ARE SHARP ENOUGH TO CUT BADLY

Material needed;

Empty clean aluminum can(s)

Sharp scissors (maybe a stitch ripper for attaching them but scissors work too)

A sharpie or permanent marker

Superglue if you want them perfect

An abundance of patience and caution

1 Gather your aluminum

First step is to turn those cans into flat sheets of metal. Start by making a small cut near the rounded edge of the top or bottom, about this distance

Then cut around the top to connect back where you started and take the ends off.

Next you cut a line straight down the side to interrupt the loop of aluminum.

What I do next is kinda just flatten it the best I can? Press it against a flat surface, make tiny bends against the curve, just to make it easier to work with, always being careful of the sharp edges

2 Make a stencil

So the general shape youre gonna wanna make it is like this

The big point will be the tip of your spike, and the little nubby ones will hold it on

imo it helps to have an extra can to experiment with what works best for what youre going for, but once you figure it out, have one flat cut out piece to trace for the rest, to make sure they all come out the same!

3 Trace a bunch and cut them out!

Sounds easier than it is. if you work with it, you can get more spikes sometimes by drawing them close together, but then theyre harder to cut out. Again, be careful of edges. If you want silver, trace on the printed on sign so you dont get sharpie on your spike (or dont, mistakes are punk)

4 Roll them up

This takes a little practice, but what you wanna do is roll up the wider end of the triangle, one edge over the other, into a pyramid, forming a spike with the point of the big triangle at the end. (this ones harder to draw)

Sometimes theyll stay curled tight on their own, sometimes they need a little help (superglue) i havent figured out how to make em curl perfect every time yet. You can also fill them with hot glue to make them sturdier ( BEING CAREFUL OF THE SPIKES WHEN THEY HEAT UP FROM THE GLUE) But the good news is your spikes are done!

4 Affixing them to your shit

Once you figure out where you want them, hold the bottom triangles on the first spike up to the spot it goes like you mean to put it in, mark where they touch the fabric, and then take your scissors or stitch ripper and cut four little tears that DO NOT connect at those points.

It should look like this, with the center dot representing where the spike point is centered!

You should also give each spike enough room that the tears dont run into each other. I usually do them one at a time but i dont think it matters.

After the tears are cut, you carefully insert the bottom triangles into the rips

flip it over, and fold the triangles in over themselves like a staple

Repeat until youve added on all your spikes and your piece looks sick as fuck

5 Bonus; patching over the studs

So when you do this, like a staple, theres the little pointy bits sticking in, and if its a wearble item, it'll prick your skin. If youre autistic like me thats a big drawback, but you can remedy this by sewing a patch of a thicker material (i use denim) over the place where these spikes are holding on.

[mochegato]

Forever Yours

It was bad. She knew it had to be bad. Why else wouldn't they have heard anything?  Why else would they keep her... them!  Keep them in the dark?  They wouldn't.  Unless there was a reason not to tell them... like something really bad had happened and they were trying to mitigate the fallout.

This was far from Adrien’s first mission for the Justice League.  They both frequently worked with various members.  It wasn’t even his first mission without Marinette.  In fact, they went on missions without one another a lot.  But there was just something about going on a two-person mission behind the Order’s worst enemy’s lines with someone neither Adrien nor Marinette knew well… or fully trusted if she was being honest, that kicked up the nerves.

It was supposed to be a quick mission.  “Two hours max”, they said.  “In and out,” they said.  “No real danger,” they lied.  But that was twelve hours and quite a few anxiety spirals ago.  The muscles in her hands were starting to cramp from her fidgeting, her fingers curling and flexing over and over like a compulsion.  She had paced around Mia’s apartment so many times, the carpet was beginning to show an indent from her perpetual path.

“It’ll be fine,” Dick assured her.  “Lack of information doesn't mean anything.  It's just standard operating procedure, really, especially for Constantine.”

Marinette shot him a flat, almost disgusted look.  “It’s standard procedure when something goes wrong,” she explained slowly, annoyance starting to seep through.  “No contact for twelve hours on a ‘two hour max’ mission, is NOT standard operating procedure.”

Dick held up his hands.  “I’m just saying I don’t think there’s a reason to panic yet.”

Zatanna sighed almost grudgingly.  She glared at Dick as she spoke up.  “I will admit, missions with Constantine often end like this.  Things get off track and I don’t think he ever communicates with anyone.  It’s kind of a blackout whenever you go out with him.”

Dick rapidly in agreement.  “Exactly!  It isn’t worth the worry.  I just think you should take a breath, let it out slowly, and relax.”  To his credit, Marinette did stop pacing, but it was to stare dumbfounded at him. 

Meanwhile, Roy let out a loud breath, almost a scoff, and dropped his head, but Mia was far more vocal.  “Did you just tell her to calm down?” she demanded.  “While she’s in the middle of an anxiety attack?”

Dick looked around, eyes wide.  “What?  No!”  He whipped around to face her.  “I would never… I just thought… It’s not productive to just pace here.  I thought maybe you might want to go home and relax.”

“Maybe you should go home,” Marinette snapped.

He looked around helplessly for anybody to back him up but nobody would meet his eyes, everyone looking determinedly away.  Finally, he nodded and took a seat meekly.  Marinette glared a few more seconds before returning to her circuit and abusing her lips and hands once again.

Roy watched her make a few more rounds before reaching his limit.  If she chewed any harder on her lip, she was going to draw blood.   Marinette was declining and he was not about to just sit back and let it continue.  Her purse had been tossed onto the coffee table in front of her so he took the opportunity to search through it until he found what he was looking for.  Like any artist, there was a sundry assemblage of drawing utensils at the bottom of her bag, always ready for when inspiration strikes and always too caught up in the euphoria of capturing their vision to put it away properly.

There were colored pencils, pens, markers, acrylic based markers, paint sticks, he even found a few crayons that he knew were likely for Alya’s infant.  He rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out his target.  He waited until she passed by again to grab her arm and pull her onto the couch next to him.  She barely had a chance to scowl at him and snap, before he held the Sharpie from her bag out to her with one hand.  The other hand he settled across her lap, his bare, clean forearm facing up.

Marinette looked between the sharpie and his forearm, her brow furrowing further with each flick.  She finally lifted her eyes to his, the furrow deeply embedded and a light frown pulling down her lips.  “What are you doing?”

“You’re freaking out,” he said, like that was in any way an adequate or even logical answer to her question.  She blinked at him, utterly dumbfounded.  The completely nonsensical nature of his response knocked her out of her anxiety spiral, at least temporarily, allowing her to focus on his words.  But being able to focus didn’t help at all because no matter how much she focused on his words, she couldn’t make sense of it.  When she still hadn’t responded after a while, he continued, “You relax when you draw.  I don’t have paper, but you can use my skin.”

Her eyes flickered back and forth between his face and his forearm.  “What?”

He waved the sharpie again and motioned toward his forearm, flexing it as he did to accentuate it.  “Use my arm as your canvas.  Get your anxiety out with it.”

“Really?” she asked uncertainly.  “Are you sure?”

He smirked and leaned closer as he waggled his eyebrows.  “I mean, I’m willing to give you other ways to work out your anxiety…” he chuckled at the scowl she shot him, but his expression quickly softened into something more sincere.  “You can use me however you want, Fire Flower.  If what you want to use me for is as a drawing pad, I’m here for you.”

Marinette groaned and rolled her eyes but shot him a small smile as she grabbed the sharpie and repositioned herself so she faced him.  He could see it as soon as she got into position, the way her mind instantly settled, and a calm washed over her.  It was like the sharpie flipped a switch in her and gave her mind purpose.  Her entire body relaxed.  All the tension that had been building up for hours dissolved once she had a focus.

The moment the felt tip touched his skin, he could feel her exhale.  She held the sharpie in the spot for just a moment before gliding it up into a delicate but simple design.  She was drawing for a few minutes before he heard a whispered, “Thank you.”

The grateful tone in her voice, and maybe the way she was almost sitting in his lap or the way he could feel each exhale fan out over his skin, spread a warmth through his body like a wildfire.  He leaned forward to drop a lingering kiss on the crown of her head.  “Always,” he whispered into her hair.

Her hand faltered slightly at the contact, disrupting the line she had been drawing and breaking the perfect stroke, but she recovered almost flawlessly.  She almost seemed unaffected by the move otherwise, but after a few more seconds, she leaned her body against him and rested her head on his chest.  The movement almost seemed thoughtless, like a natural movement, made without taking her focus from her art.

She was too focused to notice the reaction in the room to their intimate proximity, but Roy wasn’t.  He was all too aware of the looks and knowing smiles.  It was a familiar sight.  Because this was a familiar position for them.  Not the drawing on the skin, but the familiarity and affection.  He had been harassed more than once about it.  But it hadn’t worked yet, and it wasn’t going to work that night either.  He glared at them with a one finger salute to make sure they knew it too.

><><><><><><><><>< 

It had been two weeks since Adrien had returned from his mission, a bit disheveled, a bit tired, and quite a bit traumatized.  But he had returned.  And most surprisingly, uninjured… physically anyway.  He still shuddered whenever he saw a headband and Marinette was positive she did not want to know the story behind that trauma.  Perhaps more disturbingly, since that mission she would occasionally find him staring blankly until she would shake him out of it.

So that night, there was a new mission: Cheer Adrien Up.  All of their friends in the area were invited to the party.  She’d ordered his favorite food and gotten Adrien’s favorite games and movies ready, she was even considering letting him win a few of them… maybe.

Maybe not.  Because not everybody else seemed to have that perspective.  A few… okay, maybe just one, brought their competitive spirit and once they started, she just couldn’t back down, especially when Roy started trash talking her.

That was NOT something she could let slide.  Roy didn’t need the ego boost and she refused to give up her gaming crown.

They were midway though their sixth head-to-head battle, everyone else having decided watching them play was far more fun than playing themselves, controllers held so tightly knuckles were white, both sitting on the very edge of their seats and still leaning forward to get closer, eyes for nothing but the screen and each other, and yet somehow the tension was getting even higher.

She smirked at him when a particularly creative combination caught him off guard and knocked his player down quite a few percentage points.  Unwilling to back down, he narrowed his eyes and pushed his sleeves up to remove any distractions.  However, the result was the opposite.  Marinette stared at his arm, the controller going lax in her hands.  She didn’t even notice when the game ended announcing his first win.  Roy jumped up and yelled in celebration, turning to Marinette to rub it in, but froze at the look on her face.  Her eyes snapped to his and without saying a word, she grabbed him and dragged him out of the room, still oblivious to the whispers and grins of the people around them.

She pulled him into her room, her hand a vice grip on his wrist.  As soon as the door was closed behind them, she rounded on him and shoved his sleeve up to his elbow before he could even react, exposing his newly healed, freshly inked forearm.  She stared at it for a few seconds, her eyes following the lines before lifting them up to him accusatorily.  “Is this… Did you get my drawing tattooed on your arm?”

“Yeah, a few weeks ago.”  He grinned proudly at her, not oblivious to her accusatory glare, if anything, it made his grin widen.  “Like it?”

Her face scrunched in an incredulous expression.  The action itself was baffling, but the cocky reaction was driving her from bewilderment to indignation.  “Why did you get this?”

His smile stayed firmly in place, but it eased into something softer.  “I liked it,” he shrugged like it was a no-brainer, an obvious resolution.  “I liked the way it looked on my skin, so I inked it.”

She let out a long-suffering breath, something of a cross between a sigh and a groan and pulled his arm closer to study it.  The tattoo was an almost perfect replica of her design.  The intensity of brush strokes was duplicated, heavier where she’d pushed harder with the marker, thinner where she’d almost ghosted the marker over his skin.  Her fingers traced the design with an almost reverent wonder.  She paused at an irregularity in an otherwise smooth, unbroken line.  “You even got where I messed up,” she murmured.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, extremely careful not to dislodge his arm from her grasp.  “It’s part of the memory.  It’s one of my favorite parts of the design, actually,” he added quietly.

She continued to stare at the imperfection, almost transfixed for a few moments before finally lifting her eyes to his, stealing the breath from his lungs from the awestricken look in her eyes.  He raised his other arm to wrap around her waist but dropped it when she finally spoke before he could make contact.  “What the hell were you thinking?” she demanded, her voice low and hissing.

He quirked his head to the side at the unexpected tone, taking a second to ascertain if she was serious.  “It’s beautiful and I want a piece of you on me forever…” he dropped his eyes to his tattoo, not only as a way to avoid her eyes but to seek a source of reinforcement before continuing with a bit more vulnerability than he usually showed, “and maybe I wanted you to mark me.”

It took a few seconds before he looked up to meet her eyes, hoping to see an affectionate gaze, but instead Marinette was staring daggers at him.  “That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said!” she exclaimed, shoving his arm back at him.  She paced away and ran her hands through her hair before turning back to him, her eyes no longer blazing, now closer to pleading.  “You’re a hero!  You have incredibly dangerous enemies!  You can’t just…” she motioned helplessly toward his arm then threw her arms up in the air in frustration.  “If someone saw that, they’d know who you were.  They could trace your identity because of me!”

He stared at her dumbfounded for a few seconds before chuckling.  Cautiously, he approached her like he was afraid she might run away… or hit him.  “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever done and you’re yelling at me?” he asked incredulously, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Dying is not romantic!” she yelled, pushing him away.  “You could get hurt because of me.  It would be my fault you were hurt!”  His chuckles died down at the tortured look in her eyes and the desperate tone to her voice.

He moved to her instantly, wrapping his arms around her before he’d even thought about it, unwilling to let her suffer at all, especially if he could comfort her.  He held her tighter when she didn’t pull away.  After a few moments he leaned back and ducked his head to catch her gaze.  “Marinette, Baby, have you seen my other tattoos?” he asked softly.  “Fire Flower, if I was going to get recognized for a tattoo, it’s probably the massive, conspicuous ones on my completely exposed biceps, not the one covered by my gloves that are part of my costume and that I never skip when I go out.”

She stared at him looking for the lie in his words.  Finding none, she shook her head and looked down gathering her thoughts, which clearly didn’t go in his favor based on her dipping out of his embrace and groaning.  “Roy, we’re not even together!”

His mouth lifted into a smile.  That response meant she had accepted that she hadn’t put him in danger.  Now, he just needed to convince her that he knew what his action implied and he meant it.  “We don’t need to be together for me to love you,” he answered simply. 

Marinette opened her mouth then closed it again with a groan and ran her hands through her hair.  “You can’t just say things like that,” she whined.

He edged towards her again as his smile morphed into something closer to a smirk.  “The truth?”

“Yes!  No!  Wait.”  She let out an exasperated huff then pouted at his widening grin.  She shoved him again, but with much less conviction this time.  “Stop smiling at me!”

He stepped closer to her, a move that forced her to crane her neck in order to continue to meet his eyes.  “No.  I like when you get flustered.”  He ghosted a finger over her cheek, keeping his touch just shy of making contact but close enough she could feel the movement in the air.  His eyes met hers in an intense gaze.  “I like everything about you.” 

The air left her lungs when he finally made fiery contact, running his knuckles along her jaw this time.  His eyes roamed over her face like he was memorizing every curve and contour, they caught on her cheeks when they flared the most delectable shade of pink, the shade quickly became his favorite color, until he met her eyes again and remembered that shade of blue was his favorite.

“Even if we never get together, I know I’ll always care about you.  You will always be important to me.  You are already carved into my soul.  The tattoo might be more visible, but that?”  He laid a hand over his heart and shook his head adoringly.  “There’s no amount of time or separation or drifting apart or conflict that will take that away.  I won’t regret this.  Not tomorrow, not next week, not next year, not next lifetime.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, his heart racing when she went to him easily.  “Do you know why that irregularity in the line is my favorite part of the design?”  It seemed like it took her a few seconds for her to snap out of her trance and register his words.  She shook her head slowly, refusing to break eye contact.  “Because it happened as a reaction to me.  I did that.  I had that effect on you.  My kiss did.  It was the moment I knew.”

“Knew what?” she asked, her voice soft, almost like she was afraid anything rougher would burst their intimate bubble.

“That I had to act,” he answered in the same tone.  “I got the tattoo because I wanted you forever on my body, like you’re forever in my heart, and what I want now is you forever in my life.  I’m tired of waiting for the exact right moment for it to happen.  I’m tired of waiting for fate or destiny or whatever is out there to provide.  I’m taking my fate.  I’m creating my own destiny and that’s you.  A lifetime of happiness and teasing and laughter and loving together.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear to give her a few moments to let his words sink in, let her internalize them, and consider them fully.  “The question is, what do you want?”

She stared at him dumbfounded.  The idea of acting was scary.  They had always danced along the edge of doing more, flirting with each other and with crossing the line.  They’d always shied away just before tipping over.  There was so much that was at risk if they did.  They were always together, either as part of their larger friend group or by themselves.  If anything happened, Marinette didn’t know how she would be able to experience each day.  But the prospect of not acting was even more terrifying.

She pushed up to brush her lips against his tentatively.  Even after his most ardent declaration, she was still apprehensive of how he would react, terrified he would suddenly realize this wasn’t what he wanted.  She wasn’t what he wanted.  But before her mind could sabotage her, he wound his hand behind her head, running his fingers into her hair and pulling her harder against him to intensify the kiss.  His lips moved greedily against hers like he was afraid he would never get the chance again, almost devouring her.  She responded instantly, pulling his body against hers by his shirt then sliding her hands up his chest in part to settle the electricity that was humming through her veins.

After a long, highly pleasurable, while he pulled away just enough to press his forehead to hers, his breathing, like hers, ragged.  “I think I want that,” she panted.  She opened her eyes to find his already staring at her.  The hope in his eyes stole her breath and steeled her resolve.  “I want that version of forever.”

His responding grin lit up the dim room.  “Let’s start tonight.  Will you go on a date with me?”

She opened her mouth to respond but instead of her voice, Adrien’s floated through the apartment.  “Dinner’s here!”  She snickered and dropped her head to his chest for a few seconds before looking back up, resigned but happy.  “I’d love to, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Roy agreed.  He pecked her lips quickly and led her out to the party, fingers intertwined and smile beaming.

@maribat-calendar-events

[obsolescent]

The Necessity of Saints - Part Two

Part One

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x SingleMom!Reader

Author's Notes: Um. I went in LMFAO. I literally had to cut myself off from writing anymore for this. I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, P in V sex, multiple orgasms, protected sex, fingering, squirting, nipple play, cumming from nipple play, Simon is a gentle lover and always aiming to please, reader is touched-starved.

Word Count: 3,241

You let Simon know your availability, agreeing on a time–a date–something you haven’t been on in years. You’re filled with excitement, giddy at the prospect of dressing up and going out with someone, thinking of what all you two could do. Dinner, of course, maybe a movie? Oh! Maybe that carnival that’s in town for the week. You laugh to yourself, so many possibilities. So much anticipation bubbling, it has spilled over into your interactions with everyone around you.

“You’re chipper than usual, have anything going on?” A coworker asks. “Mama, you’re literally glowing, it’s so cute,” Your daughter says with a giggle, delighted to see you with a pep in your step this whole week. Friday night arrives, your excitement now mingling with nervousness. ‘Need something to wear, should I dress casually or should I be bold? Something slutty? Ugh, I don’t think I even have those types of clothes anymore.’ You don’t, you really don’t have much except for comfortable clothing now, some flowy dresses and skirts, and flats and sandals.

You pick out your fanciest dress. A long sleeved, empire cut, burnt orange dress with a sweetheart neckline. The length reaches mid calf, and you pair it with some comfortable, strappy flats. You fix your hair and makeup, looking sophisticated yet casual. ‘Probably the best for a first date.’ You and Simon spoke some more in regards to plans for that night, settling on a restaurant downtown to begin with. You agreed to meet there, not wanting him to know where you live just yet.

Your hands are sweaty as hell. You continue to wipe them off, pacing the living room while the time gets closer for you to leave. “O-M-G mama, relax! It’ll be fine. Just take some deep breaths and sit down,” Rhea says, having watched your anxious movements for the past ten minutes. “Ugh, I just…Don’t know what to do with myself,” You say, finding your way to sit next to her. She pats your shoulder, “Are you worried he won’t like the way you look? You look great, mama, I think he would think you’re pretty even if you showed up in a trash bag.” You guffaw, grinning at your daughter. She is a light in your life that you’re so glad to have, thankful for her reassuring words.

The clock reads 6:45 PM, fifteen minutes before your arranged time. “Reckon I better get going,” You let out a shaky breath, standing up and grabbing your purse. “Have a good time and have fun, love ya and be careful!” Rhea shouts from the couch as you’re opening the front door, “Love you, too!” You shout back, closing and locking the door. You get inside your car, backing out of the driveway and heading to the restaurant.

You arrive with five minutes to spare, giving yourself a pep talk. “If he doesn't like you, he can stick it! Go off on your own and treat yourself,” You say out loud, looking at your reflection in the visor’s mirror, making last minute adjustments to your look. You cut the engine and step out, locking the doors. Walking towards the entrance, you notice Simon standing off to the side, a bouquet in his hands, the other in his pocket. You’re internally screaming, face turning red at just seeing him with the flowers, in a black button up with matching slacks. 

He notices you approaching, giving you a smile, “Hello, love. Glad I didn’t scare you off,” He greets you, handing the bouquet over. A bushel of ranunculus, all varieties of color. “Thank you so much, these are beautiful,” You inhale their scent. “Could say the same about you, you look wonderful,” He says, his gaze following the contours of your body. You give a meek ‘thank you’ blush reaching the tips of your ears. “Shall we?” He asks, extending his arm for you to take. You nod, grabbing onto it, feeling him flex his muscles. ‘Good Lord he’s ripped.’ You both head inside, where the host seats you at a table in the corner, Simon taking the seat that faces out into the restaurant.

Light conversation begins, learning about one another. You find out that Simon is retired from the British military, which prompts you to ask why he’s here, of all places. “I like the liquor,” He says, causing you to laugh. Conversation carries on into dinner, your nerves far away from your thoughts, the wine Simon ordered helping to ease them. You’re honestly happy to have Simon’s company. He insists on paying for your meal, you opposing the whole time. ‘Let him treat you, he seems to really like doing it,’ The thought swimming through your mind. You bite your tongue, smiling and giving your thanks.

After the bill is paid, he escorts you out, once more offering his arm to you, which you gladly hang on to this time. You walk out into the crisp night air, feeling light and full of happiness. “Anything else you’re up for?” He asks, glancing down at you. You mention what you had been thinking about earlier, about the visiting carnival or a movie. He chuckles at your suggestions, “A movie sounds nice, yeah?” You nod, him leading you to his car. A sleek, black, Chevrolet Silverado is what he brings you to. Looking at it in astonishment, big and hefty. ‘Just like him.’ 

He helps you practically climb into the passenger side, settling in and buckling your seatbelt. He joins you on the other side, turning the ignition on and pausing, seeming almost nervous about what he’s going to say next. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be opposed to watching a movie at my flat?” He asks, shifting in his seat, using your wording from your first proposition. “No, no at all opposed,” You respond, replying with his past sentence. He looks over with a grin, “Alright, love,” Is said before he pulls out of the parking spot, in the direction of his apartment.

He gives his thanks, sitting down beside you. He picks up the remote and turns on his television, scrolling through the selections. You had mentioned liking the horror genre earlier, him also in agreement. He seemed to be checking out the movies in that category, noticing one you had been meaning to watch, but hadn’t gotten around to it. You express your interest in that film, before he selects it.

The movie begins, you settling against the cushions to immerse. Simon shifts a bit closer to you, before putting his arm on the back of the couch, the warmth radiating from him. You give a slight shiver, haven’t been this close to someone other than your daughter in a long time. He notices, grabbing a throw blanket near the end of the couch before draping it across your form. You turn red, not having the guts to tell him the real reason why you shivered. 

As the movie progresses, you steal glances at his profile. Blond hair effortlessly tousled, stubble adding a rugged look to him, his pronounced nose slightly crooked, likely due to it being broken before. He’s quite the looker, with a great personality to match. He looks over at you, catching you staring. Your gazes lock, looking deeply into his honeyed eyes. He smiles, before clearing his throat. “Would you like some bourbon?” You weren’t expecting that, but agree, him rising from his seat and making his way to a liquor cabinet, pouring you both a glass.

He hands you yours, taking a cautious sip. It goes down smoothly, warming your throat. You hum, thanking him, while he settles back into place. Immersing yourself once more, you don’t realize how much you’ve drank until the glass is empty. You set it down on the coffee table, the warmth now spreading throughout your body. He sets his down besides yours, having finished his own. His arm brushes your own as he sits back. You contemplate on asking him to cuddle, worrying your bottom lip. ‘It’s just cuddling,’ you think, inhaling through your nose, taking a deep breath. “Could we, uh, cuddle?” You ask, grimacing at how unsure it sounds. He raises an eyebrow, “Is that what you really want, love?” Your body buzzes at the pet name, but you squish it down, nodding your head. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

Your body ignites at the sensation, nerve endings buzzing at his grip. ‘Bless your heart’ you say to yourself. It never occurred to you that you would be touch starved after all this time, but it’s made itself known. His cologne, the fabric of his shirt rubbing against you, his breath fanning out over your hair, small touches that feel so immense. You then notice the brush of his thumb, slightly rubbing at your waist. Heat surges downwards, like you’ve been set on fire. 

You don’t realize you’ve made a noise until you feel Simon tense up against you. “Everything alright? Do you want me to stop touching you?” He asks, beginning to pull away. “No!” You squeak out, face aflame. “It just…Feels really good? Ugh, sorry, you’re not even…I haven’t been touched in a long, long time. I didn’t know it would affect me like this,” You try to laugh it off, beginning to fidget under his gaze. He nods in understanding. “I’ve been like that as well, nothin’ to be bashful about,'' He says, shifting to face you, his firm grip steadfast.

“Y-yeah, I’m just more…Sensitive? Than I thought, I hope it isn’t bothering you,” You respond. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, large hands engulfing the side of your face. Your breath catches in your throat, frozen in place. “Not botherin’ me at all, love,” he mutters, studying your face. This close to him, you notice more details. Faint scars scattered across his face, likely due to his field of work. Feeling emboldened, you bring a hand to his face, tracing one that reaches from under one of his eyes to the top of his upper lip. He tenses again, watching your movements. 

Reaching his lips, you let your thumb graze across them, a huff of breath leaving Simon’s mouth, warming your finger. “Somethin’ you want, is there?” He whispers, pulling you closer. Liquid courage coursing through you, you ask, “Never got to properly thank you for your help at the store. Could I…?” You trail off, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does, but that open ended question isn’t the exact wording he’s looking for. “Could you what, love? You can ask for it, can’t you?” 

Needing words of consent, you take a deep breath. “May I kiss you?” He smirks. “There you are.” He allows you to close the distance. At first, you give a peck to his cheek, before pressing your lips against his. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, clutching at his shirt. Simon threads his fingers through your hair, sighing against you. 

Oh God. You want him so badly, a profound yearning within your gut blooms throughout your body. Feeling desperate, your hands comb through his locks, a firm grip on them. He grunts, before tugging on yours, causing a rather loud moan to slip from your mouth. “P-Please, Simon. I want you,” You plead, breaking away to kiss along his jaw. He hums, “Good girl, using your words,” He pets your hair, his hand trailing from your hair down your back, fingertips light across your spine, sending a shiver through you.

His hand finds its destination, firmly grabbing your ass. You gasp out, arching against him. “Touch starved, are we?” He asks, chuckling. You whimper, grasping at his forearms, close to getting on your hands and knees to beg him to keep going, please please don’t stop. “Been needin’ someone to take care of you, yeah? Allow me, sweet girl.” You feel like igniting at his words, his sweet talk adding fuel to the ever growing heat inside your body.

His hands reach towards your upper back, locating the zipper on your dress. He hesitates, waiting for your approval which is given with a quick ‘yes yes yes’. Agonizingly slow, he pulls it down, before taking both hands and pulling at the sleeves to move the upper half away from your heated flesh.

Oh. You forgot you hadn’t worn a bra tonight, the dress having built in cups, you didn’t see the reason to, until now. Feeling bare under his burning gaze, you hunch over. “None of that now, love. S’just me,” He says, moving your arms away from your chest. Sitting upright again, you jut your chest out some, closing your eyes against his wandering stare, taking you in. “Gorgeous,” He whispers, fingers running along the slope of your left breast. 

Gasping, you stick your chest out more. You’re hoping he doesn’t need verbal approval, not trusting yourself to form cohesive thoughts at the moment. He continues, your reactions enough. His light touches are bordering on driving you feral, needing more. You squeeze his forearms, hoping he receives the message. He seems to understand, leaning down and taking a nipple into his mouth, his hand pinching the other. 

You cry out, sensation like lightning electrifying you. Your eyes roll back into your head, chanting, “Please please don’t stop, feel s’good, God, please keep going!” He obliges, sucking harder on your hardened nub while tugging on the other. You begin trembling. “W-wait, Simon, I think I’m–” A loud moan rushes out of you along with wetness, soaking your panties from suddenly squirting. A tug of your nipple between his teeth sent you careening over the edge into glory. Your orgasm spreads throughout your body, holding onto him for dear life.

Simon groans, pulling away. “Fucking hell. Cumming from me barely touching you.” He’s looking at you in wonder. He lays you back against the leather, pulling your dress off all the way. Left in just your soiled underwear, he soon pulls those down as well, moaning as he sees the mess you made. “Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, pocketing the ruined panties. He quickly unbuttons his shirt, exposing his chest in all its grandeur. You bite your lip at the literal marble statue hovering over you, running your hands down his pecs and abs. 

You reach his slacks, tugging at his belt. He unbuckles said item, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. Now able to see his rather hefty cock straining against his underwear. You let out another whimper, legs automatically spreading open. “Goin’ to give you all you need, sweet girl. Being so good for me,” He says, running his hands up and down your legs, giving a reassuring squeeze to them. He kisses down your chest and stomach, touches soft and sweet. Reaching the apex of your thighs, his hands slot behind your knees, pushing your thighs against you, laid bare before him.

The passion in his eyes is so intense you have to look away, biting your lip. He tuts at you, “Want you to see this next part,” He says, directing your gaze back to him. He smiles, before suddenly a hot stripe of his tongue runs up, through your folds and to your clit. You toss your head back and yell, his chuckle vibrating against your pussy. Your legs are shaking even harder than before. Your words incoherent, you grasp at his hand, pulling him closer to your heat. ‘Good Lord, he’s a goddamn professional.’ Good to know your thoughts are still intact.

Your thoughts come to a standstill, Simon sliding a finger into your warmth. He swirls it around inside before adding another, crooking upwards while sucking on your clit. “Ah!” You’re thrown over that precipice again, legs clamping around his head. He pulls away, watching you shudder and convulse, wetness releasing from you once more. He grins, proud of his work. “Think you have one more in you, sweet girl,” He says, matter of factly, like he didn’t just remove your soul from your body twice in under ten minutes. 

He pushes your thighs further up this time, knees almost bracketing each side of your head. ‘Good God, this man is going to ruin me.’ You’re thankful your thoughts have returned for the moment, knowing your brain will be scattered again soon. He reaches down, pulling a condom from his wallet, slipping it on. “Ready for me?” He asks, lining himself up with your quivering hole, clenching around nothing for the moment. You nod. “Yes, yes, yes please,” you beg, shame be damned, needing Simon inside you now.

He slides in effortlessly, going achingly slow. The stretch is a lot, not surprising, though. It definitely matches in accordance with the rest of his body. He fully seats himself inside you, letting you adjust. “Please, move. Fuck me, Simon, need it so bad,” You’re able to form a coherent sentence, it rushing out of you near the end when Simon pulls out and glides back in. “Fuck, so tight, love. Feel so good, baby,” He moans out, picking up speed. Skin slapping against skin fills the quiet space, movie long over with. 

He’s hitting every single inch of you, rubbing just right. He leans over you, letting your legs drop. You take the opportunity to wrap them around his waist, pulling him flush against you. Simon brings you in for a searing kiss, rocking his hips into you, barely leaving you now. Your moans and panting are music to his ears, his own noises making you sing to the heavens. Reaching in between your bodies, he works your clit in unison with the grinding of his hips. “One more love, you can do it, there you go sweet girl, so good f’me,” He feels the rhythmic clenching around his cock and your squealing, reaching euphoria for the last time that night. He picks up the pace again, his thrusts soon stuttering as he reaches his own end, gasping and whimpering into your neck. 

He keeps himself propped up on his elbows while you both calm from the frenzied activity. As your breath evens out, he pecks your cheek, grinning. “Most proper thanks I’ve received,” He says, laughing at your widening eyes. “You–!” You swat at his chest, beginning to laugh yourself. He slides out, disposing of the condom before picking you up, carrying you to his bedroom. He sets you down on his silken black sheets, before laying next to you. You toss your leg over his before snuggling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, feeling warm. You mumble a ‘Good night’ before drifting off, Simon not far behind you. Allowing himself to fall asleep cradling you in his arms. Feeling content and happy for the first time in a long while.

Tags: @dwkfan, spicy part two ♡

[eluminium]

WOOO! WE MADE IT LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND EVERYONE IN BETWEEN AND OUTSIDE! SKIZZ WEEK 2 DAY 7!!! YIPPIE! Can't believe I managed to actually get all the days! Crazy ngl. As your reward, and mine, have some Imp and Skizz being silly and dancing with each other. Is it platonic or romantic? Eh, that's up to your interpretation.

AS ALWAYS BUT DIFFERENT, thank you to @skizzlemanweek for organizing this round of Skizz Week! It was really fun to do! You better go to their blog and look at the other Skizz Week 2 creations when you're done here!

Prompt 7: Free day!

It's not often Skizz finds himself in an environment like this. Specifically, he hasn't been at an off-server party in lord knows how long. He got most of his partying out of his system by the time he was 25, if not even earlier. So excuse him if he's a bit rusty, he's doing his best. His best being standing on the sidelines with a glass of overly fancy strong cider in his hand and watching the whippersnappers have fun on the dance floor. The noise of people having fun and partying is music to his ears, if a bit loud. Above him, beautiful light shows play out in the dark sky to the beat of the generic but still bopping music discs the DJ is playing. The massive and beautifully decorated Decision Dome stands proudly in the background.

He's honestly grateful that they're outside, not just because of the beautiful view but because it keeps the temperature comfortable. Back in his day, they used to party in whatever run-down shack they could find, and those turned into SAUNAS by the end. And they were TIGHT too, which sucked for a guy like him, with his clumsily large wing span. Said wings puff up at the memory and he makes sure to stretch them out just to bask in the fact that he has enough personal space to do that without knocking someone flat on their ass! It may not be fully fair to compare those parties to this one though, considering this isn't just some random party. This is the afterparty of one of the biggest events in the multiverse. MCC. Of course, it would be a bit fancier!

Skizz brings the glass to his lips and takes a tasteful sip. The refreshing taste of pear hits his tastebuds gracefully, hiding the mild but fulfilling taste of popped chorus fruit. The alcohol leaves its familiar burn as he swallows, his eyes wandering back to the dance floor. It's like a little rainbow in there, everyone's color-coordinated outfits blending together into a light show of its own. Various wings, tails, ears, horns, antlers, and other distinguishing features stick out of the crowd, clearly enjoying the opportunity to stretch out as much as Skizz. He can't help but smile, a sappy happiness rising in his chest at the sight. Although that may be the alcohol making him soft.

"Hey man, you thinkin' about something nice?"

Skizz looks to his side and meets a pair of kind chocolate brown eyes and a teasing grin. "Nah, not really Dipple Dop. Just enjoying the moment," he responds, patting the spot next to him. Impulse takes the hint and sits down next to him, a fresh new drink in his clawed grip. His second that night, surprisingly.

"Where's Top? Did he decide to head home with Etho?" Skizz asks when he notices a lack of firey hair anywhere nearby. Impulse takes a sip of his drink before he answers.

"No, he's still here. He got caught in a conversation with Cub about Railroad Rush. They're in the Dome, by the bar, if you're wondering."

"Aha, I see," Skizz responds with a nod. A little bit of pride hits him at the information. Usually, Tango avoids busy social events like the plague. It's nice to hear that he decided to stay a bit longer! As for Etho, there's no convincing him. He dipped as soon as it was socially acceptable. Mysterious as always, although maybe it's because many of the players here are Etho fans. Sounds like his worst nightmare to be stuck in a conversation with people who admire him and are probably drunk. Maybe he should consider not being as awesome then, but Skizz digresses.

Suddenly, a very familiar sound reaches his ears. Specifically, a song. He can't help but snort.

"Oh my god." Impulse says with a surprised and slightly flustered laugh as he also realizes what song they're playing.

It's an oldie, but a goodie. A tune from when they were but naive teenagers. But it's not the song itself that tickles Skizz's funnybone. It's the fact that, with this song, comes a specific dance that was all the rage back then. A partner dance. If you wanted a girlfriend, or a boyfriend back then, this was what you practiced to perfection before you took them to the club.

Oh, he remembers it like it was yesterday! How a soft-faced Impulse timidly approached him and asked him to be his practice dummy for the dance because he wasn't satisfied with just practicing it in front of a mirror and he really wanted to impress this one girl. And of course, a younger Skizz helped him out, after laughing at him for a minute for being such a cheesy romantic. He remembers every attempt, every re-try, and that's impressive because there were a LOT of them. Bless his best friend and his need for perfection.

Skizz meets Impulse's gaze again, and it's clear that he also had the exact same flashback. Skizz can't help but giggle, a giggle that turns into a full-blown laugh as Impulse covers his face with his hand.

"I'm never escaping this! It haunts me!" He exclaims as he takes a deep swig from his drink like a depressed alcoholic detective in a mystery movie.

Skizz has to wipe a tear from his eye with how hard he's laughing. "Come on, dude! You got SO good at it! You were great!"

Impulse gives him a playful glare. "Oh yeah, I got SO good at it, huh?" He shoots back, his voice dripping with salty sarcasm, which causes another bout of cackling from Skizz.

"It's not your fault she was a lesbian! If she wasn't I'm sure you would have had her smitten with your dance skills!" He knows he's rubbing salt in a decades-old closed-up wound but in his defense, it's funny.

Impulse struggles to hold his faux seriousness in the face of a torrent of Skizzleman laughing. "God, I still can't believe I didn't know! I was so in love yet I couldn't figure out something so obvious!" He says with a barely repressed snort.

Skizz's laughing eventually dies back down into giggling. "Come on, you were both still cool with each other after that! No harm, no foul."

"Yeah, except my dignity," Impuse quips in an overly whiney and weepy tone.

Skizz rolls his eyes fondly. "Shut up, man!" He fires back. They both giggle and Skizz takes a gulp of his cider. A comfortable silence settles between them as they both look back to the dance floor. Multiple people have paired up with each other for the song. Others have created some sort of three-people version of the dance. One is even a group of five! Makes sense that the dance has evolved to be more casual as the years have gone by. Now not just couples and potential couples get to enjoy it, but friends too!

However, there is one difference Skizz spots that he's less than impressed by.

"Wow, they kinda suck at this." Impulse dryly comments before Skizz can even say anything. He can't help but laugh at Impulse's uncharacteristically sharp observation. The booze is getting to him for sure.

"What, you think us old farts can do it better?" He pokes back with a raised eyebrow.

Impulse splutters a bit, borderline offended at the mere suggestion. "Yeah, obviously! They don't even know where their feet are!"

Skizz is content to laugh it off at this point. The song is basically over by now, so it's not like they'll get a chance to prove-

The sudden cries of "ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE!" force him to reevaluate. Well, that changes things quite drastically!

"You wanna go put your money where your mouth is, Dipple Dop?" He jokingly says, pretty sure he's gonna need more than just that if he wants to convince Impulse of anything. He has to swallow his prejudice when he meets Impulse's gaze one more time. His best friend's face is flushed from the alcohol, and his eyes are a bit glazed over. But even more terrifyingly, he can see that familiar glint of competitiveness in his eyes as well. And if Skizz is honest with himself, he can feel the buzz of his own drink clouding his brain. He's ready to make some questionable decisions.

Impulse doesn't even respond, he simply slams the rest of his drink, places the glass down, and starts walking towards the dance floor, tail whipping back and forth. Skizz quickly slams his own and follows him.

They get there just in time for the encore to start. Impulse lunges to grab Skizz's hands in time so they don't miss the rhythm. Skizz raises an amused eyebrow at his best friend's antics, and he gets an unimpressed look in return. Impulse's slightly scaled hands rub up against Skizz's scarred ones, but it's a feeling Skizz is extremely familiar with. It's like two puzzle pieces fitting together. Then the melody starts, and it's off to the races.

Skizz can't lie and say he isn't impressed by both himself and Impulse's ability to remember the motions. Moving around each other almost feels subconscious, each sway to the left and right perfectly timed. At first, they're both looking down at their feet to make sure they aren't stomping on something important, but they quickly realize they don't need to. Their gazes slowly connect instead, and a dumb goofy smile graces Impulse's face. Skizz feels himself responding with just as stupid of an expression, but he can't help it. It's like he's back in that memory again, except without any teenage awkwardness.

One step left, two steps right, twirl back around, two hands connected reaching for the stars above. It's silly, really. Two middle-aged men dancing in a crowd where the max age is early thirties, to an old love song, with a dance originally meant for wooing potential partners, after competing in the biggest competitive event in the multiverse. But Skizz never cared about useless details like that. He's having fun with his best friend, m'kay? And they're smoking the competition at the same time!

Skizz eventually gets lost in the motions, lost in orbiting around his other half in long-ago practiced steps. For all he cares, the only things that exist to him right now are Impulse, the music, and the ground they're standing on. His best friend's familiar marrone eyes keep his blue ones locked, and the few times their bodies graze each other in the dance it causes a certain softness in Skizz's heart to spike. Impulse's hand in his is solid, but the hold is gentle, casual, despite the energy in their motions. But eventually, the song starts winding down, each step taking them closer to the end. As the singer lets out the final words, and the instruments their final notes, their right hands detach and fly out behind them. At the same time, both their right feet take a step backward. They strike the final pose perfectly.

The song ends, and the new one that plays plunges Skizz right back into reality. Oh my god, he doesn't remember being this tired afterward! He lets go of Impulse's hand to place both his hands on his knees so he can try and regain his breath. Impulse seemingly has the same idea, but he also has the brain cells to grab Skizz by the shoulder and lead them out of the crowd and off the dance floor. They both crash on a nearby bench.

"I am so sweaty dude, holy moly" Impulse exclaims as he wipes his forehead.

"That was fun though, man!" Skizz responds between his huffing. Impulse gives him an acknowledging noise, but not much more.

Suddenly, someone is applauding.

"Wow, didn't know you guys could dance like that!"

Skizz looks up to see Jojo.

"Thanks, Junior Shabado," He says with a kind smile. "What he said," Impulse adds on.

"Maybe next time we have a training session, you could teach me!" She adds on, a slight slur to her words. Skizz has to fight for his life to not start laughing.

"Yeah, I'm sure Impulse would love to pass down the tradition!"

The unexplainable noise that Impulse emits at his suggestion will fuel him for the decades to come.

(What he'll also be fueled by was that someone managed to record them dancing and posted it online. Sober Impulse's flustered but still proud reaction was nothing short of glorious. Because yes, as the comments on the clip point out many times, they really did SLAY the competition.)

[max05nb]

Day 23

Pris redesign/my take on her design. My favorite redesign so far, I love how detailed it ended up as! I was first scared of doing the semitransparent parts but I love this piece! You you like it as well <3

(masterpost)

So this was one of my favorites to make despite actually loving the og design and not having any problems with it.

I just loved trying out different dresses moving between more princess or more practical. I went all in on mermaid theming and given her more of ocean witch vibe. I was inspired by mermaid and princess dresses but took a huge inspiration (even though it didn't make it into the final design) from Empires season 1 Lizzie! I was actually watching Pris when she just used to make theory videos about empires and there she occasionally spoke about her oc's backstory and about her oc's race being closely connected to Esmp1 Lizzie, so because of that I tried out a lot of variations with clothes inspired by Lizzie's but found them not fitting Water witch Pris's vibe.

I went through a ton of dresses because other than "pretty maxi dress" I didn't really have a clear goal in mind, I known I wanted mermaidy feel to it and I was very set on the sleeves being very flowy.

I couldn't really decide on her shoes being heel or not, from one point heels look amazing and her og design had them but on the other hand girl you ain't going swimming in heels but on the other other hand you ain't swimming in a dress either so yeah, I still ended up on a flat design just for practicality.

I cycled trough a bit of different very similar hair styles before finding the perfect wavy to straight ratio and front, I also went through some different ways to incorporate the bows but ended up with just adding them on like on the og design.

You know what I found out when looking for reference pictures for this dress? That I really need the word to move on from these basic boring simplistic maxi dresses that are just straight up boring like live a little pls add at least a fun pattern or something I don't want to see the same dress copy pasted unless you use a different font at least! Like girl respect yourself '-'

When I think of mermaid I think of pearls so I might have went overboard with pearls oops well that's gonna be fun to draw over and over again! ••

One of my favorite details is the bag, I tried drawing it to look like a seashell and was very proud afterwards!

I wanted to give her an abundance of jewelry so she got a lot of necklaces and bracelets!

I also might have made her into a fish... Took me a bit deciding what type °°

I gave her a weil and a semitransparent layer of skirts what was one of my first time drawing something like this in color so hope you guys love it as much as I do! I feel like the weil just really adds to her design and the skirt is only so we could her shoes. I'm not making very throughout decisions okay? I will forget what shoe I picked otherwise anyway. Now that I think about, oh my I should have gave her fish nets, nahh how did I not think of that earlier??? Okay next time I draw her I'm going to draw her with fish nets! This is a promise I probably going to forget to keep but I still can't believe I never thought about this before...

I tried making the dress resemble still her og dress with the corset element but ended up drawing her in a very different dress. I was debating if it's okay to have her design so different but ultimately decided that, there's only like a total of 5 ppl maybe if we being generous who actually could possibly care about the post and from that maybe 2 know what Witchcraft smp even is and from that there's only possible like 1 who actually cares even a bit about accuracy so yeah I'm sticking to some dress that I like and the vibe fits the most!

Drawing this made me think about the fact that I might be covering up characters more than I should. I like modesty but I also a big fan of sl-tty fashion cause you know style is style and that's more than what the straights have. What I figured out is that because I also hyper aware of sexualization of characters I more often than not, I cover them up and make them more modest, realistically I know it's not a bad thing, but it made me think because the creator was okay with og design showing off chest area but I covered it up still, why? Am I uncomfortable by drawing cleveg? Idk? I don't draw my main oc's like that but that's because they're underage and just wouldn't make sense to do so but that doesn't apply to these characters that are of age, and besides, I do draw characters with more skin showing just not regularly. Maybe it's the association with the creators? Or maybe it's simply that I always cover up? I have sensory issues and constantly need something covering me (I have specifically problem with the sun touching my skin) so maybe that's why. But yet again I love fashion where that isn't the case I just can't wear that so why do I still cover characters up that are of age, already have an approved by creators design with exposed skin and overall don't even have a sexual design? Well anyway I was just wondering because I needed constantly keep in mind to let myself draw a exposed shoulder cause damn it it looks good why am I against fun TT. I also did cover up chest for both Pris and El from og card designs so yeah...

[gamergirl-niffler]

number 7, please write it with no one else but Keigo Takami ♥

Niffler's note: OoooOOooooOOOO! Painting together! With Hawks! As someone who likes to paint... I say YES!

Am I An Artist? || Keigo Takami x fem!reader

Taking your easel and painting equipment out onto the balcony was the first thing you did this morning.

You weren't given much opportunity to paint beautiful landscapes living in the city, but observing life below gave you ideas for new paintings. Particularly today, when the weather was nice and sunny, which meant more people came out.

In your little chair, you sat absorbed in thoughts, looking at the world around you.

Within minutes, you felt a weight resting on your shoulders, upper back, and head.

Keigo sighed, placing his head on top of yours. "You left me alone," he muttered. He had a rare day off, and you left him alone? He was all alone in the big bed! How could you do that? Another dramatic sigh escaped Keigo, and soon his tired, golden eyes landed on the still empty canvas. It made more sense now, whenever the weather was good enough, you loved to paint. He smiled and hugged you. "Any interesting ideas?”

Putting your palms on his arms, you shook your head. "Not yet. Sometimes it takes time."

Keigo nodded and yawned, stretching his wings lazily. "Yeah, right."

You stayed like this for a while. While you were deep in your imagination, he was basically lying on top of you, enjoying your presence and the warm sun kissing his wings.

In an instant, he was struck by a brilliant idea. It's probably the finest one ever. "Hey! I have a great idea! Let's paint together."

You looked up at him with astonishment as you blinked at the sudden idea. "Excuse me?" It's not like you thought the idea was bad, but he has never shown much interest in your hobby. It's true, he liked to watch you work and often complimented your paintings and hobby, but he never said anything more than that. That was quite a surprise.

As soon as you looked at Hawks, he smiled. "Like a couple spending some pleasant time together. Just us, doing something original. My little feather is already a pro at painting."

You eagerly nodded and hurried to gather your things as soon as possible. "We can go to my workshop! There is an additional easel, as well as more canvas."

Keigo watched you run back to the flat after collecting your stuff. As he followed you, he chuckled to himself and shook his head.

There was already a little workshop set up and ready for two people. As you waited for him, you sat in front of the empty canvas set on the wooden easel.

He sat down next to you and looked at the empty canvas. "I was wondering what we could paint," Keigo hummed.

You shook your head and smiled at him. "Maybe we should paint whatever we want, and then we can discuss it?" 

He nodded, agreeing to the idea after considering it.

At the beginning, you painted whatever came into your head, while Keigo worked hard on his own masterpiece. 

As he focused on his own masterpiece, you could see him painting with his tongue sticking out just a little - it was the cutest thing you've ever seen.

Despite working for at least an hour, you didn't paint anything interesting, just a random cat you spotted on the street. You couldn't focus and make better paintings when your beloved boyfriend distracted you, even if he wasn't aware he did.

You loved the faces he made while working and how eagerly he played with the paints. It was oh so cute!

“I'm done!” Keigo exclaimed happily and looked at your painting. “Wow! My work isn't as good as yours, but I'm so proud of it. Come see it!"

Standing right next to him, you tilted your head, watching the many colors. It was hard to tell what it was.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize that face," he sighed as you shook your head. "That's Endeavor, isn't that obvious?"

Despite not seeing it at first, you made an oh sound and nodded. Could it be that you needed to look closer? Ultimately, it didn't matter, he did an amazing job and you both enjoyed this activity and quiet time spent together.

As soon as Keigo returned home after another assignment, both paintings hung on the wall in the living room, framed in wooden frames that you had bought and painted yourself to match the paintings. As a result, he was even prouder of himself.

As a matter of fact, you were proud of him as well, since he had discovered his creative side that had been hidden for too long.

[rayslittlekitten]

Rich Girl Mood

“Toff Girl” (aka “Damsel” Universe) Masterlist

A/N: I started writing this a long while ago but have been sitting on it because I was still trying to figure out the end game (I still am) but I'm a little closer and I think however this series ends, this chapter I think is still solid for what it is so I finally finished it. This I think gives more insight of the reader character than her relationship with Ray. Title and chapter inspired by "Rich Girl Mood" by Dounia and Kehlani (YT link below)

Rating: T

Word Count:  3,294

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!reader

Plot: Another year, another birthday party.

Contains: angst, recreational drug use, hurt, jealousy, light mentions of D/s relationship, collars, cursing

After your cryfest in your car, you cleaned yourself up and went in to see your parents briefly and sort of lied about a missing pair of shoes. You then feigned looking in your old bedroom which has become a bit of a storage closet for you. You also act surprised when they hand you the gift box Ray mentioned. You told them you would send Mickey and Ray a thank you card.

You're now back at your flat staring at the big Tiffany blue box while stuffing your face with your favorite pastries from Astrid's Cafe and Bakery. You put the mostly eaten slice of cake down and pull the shiny black ribbon loose. Of course it feels so soft. Ray probably spent a good quid on the ribbon alone. You wouldn't be surprised if it was made of actual silk. Only he would do something so extra.

You take a deep breath and finally lift the lid. This asshole even took the time to wrap your things in tissue paper? You roll your eyes and huff. You grab the small cream-colored envelope sitting on top of the neatly and carefully folded white delicate sheets. You flip the envelope open and pull the card out.

Hi love,

I hope this letter finds you well. I figured you'd eventually want your things back, especially your shoes. I know they were one of your favorites. I even took the time to polish them for you since last time you had scuffed them. There are some things in here that I also thought you should have as I have no more use for them.

Take care,

Ray

You gently tear open the tissue paper and as expected, you find your heels looking shiny as new. You see what else is inside the box and find a few things like your toothbrush, toiletries and some clothing, neatly folded and stacked in true Ray fashion. You know he had your clothes washed, dry cleaned and pressed as well, including the outfits he picked out for you. You look through them and choke up a little seeing your collars carefully placed between the perfectly folded clothing. They're all there, including his favorite, the one with a little bell on it. You tilt your head curiously when you find a small velvet box. The rock in your belly is creeping back in. You stare at it for a moment before reaching for it. You nervously grip the box between your fingers as you take your time flipping the lid open. You let out the breath you'd been holding when you don't see a ring, but instead you feel your heart breaking all over again seeing your day collar. The same one you ripped off your neck and threw at him.

Your eyes blur up for the millionth time today and you swipe your fingers over them. In the corner of your eye, you notice another envelope sticking out from under the clothes. You reach for it and pull it out. Flipping it around, you notice it's completely unmarked. You open it and pull out two business class plane tickets to Greece. Confused, you look in the envelope again and find a folded piece of paper. You pull it out and open it up.

I had planned to whisk you away for a week for your birthday, but I can't use these anymore so I thought maybe you can. Enjoy your birthday, my love.

-Ray

This isn't fair. This isn't fucking fair. Not fair to you, not fair to Ray. You don't know how much more your heart can take.

***

Over the next few weeks, you go on a date or two with Fred just to get out of your flat. You've been sulking and comfort eating and sniffing Ray's cardigan long enough. The dates were fun, but if you're honest with yourself, while Fred is a really nice guy, he just doesn't do it for you romantically. You had to be upfront with him as you didn't want to string him along. He deserved to know the truth, but thankfully he took it with ease and understood. You did invite him to your birthday party though and you know someone who would actually pair real well with him. You usually don't play matchmaker, but you think you've got this one in the bag.

Speaking of birthday parties, you just wanted something small but your parents insisted on throwing something for their only child. They do this every year, but you let them because you know it's really just an excuse for them to throw a fancy party to show off to their fancy friends. You know after the first hour or two of greeting people you either don't know, don't remember or haven't seen since you were a wee child, you're going to disappear into the garden shed to get sloshed on expensive liquor and smoke the best weed in all of England with your closest friends like you did when you all were younger. Growing up around so much money, you've always hated the posh snobby kids who thought they were too good for anyone, but you have a small group who were never like that and you always stayed close to them. Everyone else at the party can fuck off and freeload on the booze and food.

You do a once over glance in the mirror to check your makeup and hair. Your hand touches your bare neck and after a moment, you get up from your vanity chair and slip on your heels and smooth out your sickeningly expensive dress. It clings on to your every curve and dip. That’ll sure get some lookers. You still feel like something is missing though.

"Darling, are you ready? Guests are waiting!"

"I'll be right out, mummy!" you shout back.

You quickly go through your overnight bag and pull out a box. You open it up and look at the jewelry for a moment before putting it on, then take one final look in the mirror and you're satisfied with what you see. It doesn’t hold meaning anymore, although it’s sentimental to you, but it has always comforted you, feeling it snug around your neck. It was like your security blanket. It made you feel safe because whenever you wore it, you always knew Ray was close by.

Ray dominating you wasn’t just some kink. It wasn’t just about being in control, or rather giving it up. Being his sub meant he would love you and protect you deeply. It was a shared bond. He brought you pleasure in so many ways and made you forget when you had a bad day, but most importantly, he made sure nothing can hurt you. You completely allowed your heart, body and soul to be delicately encased by his own design.

You take a deep breath and polish off the whiskey you've been nursing while getting ready before putting your face on for the crowd. 

When you reach the bottom of the long grand staircase, you’re greeted by your parents and some people you don’t recognize. You plaster on a smile and shake their hands, thanking them for coming. As you walk off to go greet more people, you grab a flute of champagne and down it, placing it back as quickly as you snatched it up when a server walks by with a tray. You’re reminded why you hate these big parties.

You almost spit your champagne out when you spot Mickey and Ros. The nerve. Of course your parents invited them. You know Mickey only does anything if he’s getting something out of it so while it appears he gives a shit about your birthday and respecting your parents’ cordial invitation, he’s probably rubbing elbows with people who can be potential partners. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already negotiating and sealing deals while he’s here. You now wonder if Ray is somewhere around this giant house.

You walk over to the Pearsons to greet them with the least fake smile you can manage to put on.

“Hi, Mickey.”

“Hello, there. The woman of the hour!” Michael turns to you with a smile. “You’ve met my wife Ros, right?”

“Yes, pleasure to see you again.” You and Ros greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. She might be the only one in his posse you actually don’t mind. Her and Bunny. That gentle giant.

"Thank you both so much for coming!" You try to stretch out your smile but your facial muscles can only go so far.

"Happy birthday, love,” Ros smiles.

Although, you know Rosalind is probably on the up and up on what goes on in Mickey's world, including what happened with you and Ray. There is no way tea didn't get spilled on her.

"Thank you," you slightly bow your head. “How are you doing? Business is going well I assume?”

“Ah, let’s not talk about business. We’re here as guests, not salesmen. How are you doing?” Mickey returns the attention to you.

“No business? What a surprise,” you try to jab subtly. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

“Sweetheart! There’s someone I want you to meet,” your mother suddenly comes out of nowhere.

“Excuse me,” you tell the Pearsons. "I hope you both enjoy yourselves.”

They nod at you before being whisked away by your mother.

***

After being introduced to a bunch of random people including some suitors, you sneak off into a secret side room to get a breather. You used to hide here a lot when you were younger when you wanted to isolate yourself when everything felt too overwhelming.  Especially from these parties. It always felt so performative when you just wanted to be a kid and play with your friends, but you were expected to be prim and proper, until you were old enough to realize you didn’t have to do any of this. You still remember those long boring etiquette classes and sometimes still use the wrong utensil on purpose as an act of rebellion. 

You feel around your body and realize you left your joint and lighter in your bedroom. Letting out a heavy sigh, you savor another moment of silence before marching back out into the wild. As you make your way to your bedroom, you round the corner and smack right into a hard chest.

“Oh my gosh, I am SO…” You look up at the man and your voice dies.

"Kitten…” Ray gasps quietly to himself when he sees your day collar sitting against your neck.

You can't get away from this man now, can you? Ironically, it feels like you're actually seeing him more often than you did when you were together. Like muscle memory, you plaster your cookie cutter smile on your face and greet Ray and the woman standing next to him.

"Hi, Raymond." You mentally kick yourself for overdoing your enthusiasm.

"H-hi."

You never thought there'd be a day you'd make Ray all flustered and stumble over his words. Mr. Calm and Controlled, my arse.

"Didn't expect to see you here tonight, but thank you for coming," you say, still with your painful smile on your face. You’re pretty sure it’s going to be permanent by the end of the night.

"Uh, just here for Michael," Ray quickly comments and nods. "Um, this is–”

“I know dear ol’ Rebecca.” Both you and Rebecca greet each other with air kisses on each side of your faces. “How are you? Haven’t seen you in quite some time,” you tell her.

“I’m doing very well. My company nearly doubled its revenue last month so I can’t complain,” she beams.

“You mean your father’s company?” you clarify.

“Yes, but he made me the president of the company a few months ago so it’s really mine too,” she explains. “He’s retiring soon so I’ll be CEO any day now. Anyways, how are you? I don’t really see you around much,” she shakes her head.

“Oh, I’m just always so busy,” you reply. Avoiding the lot of you. “I was actually thinking about taking a little trip to Mykonos next week. An unexpected birthday present.”

“I hear it’s fabulous this time of year,” Rebecca says. “And the men there are gorgeous.”

“Really?” you ask curiously. “I should probably go then.” You quickly glance over at Ray to see his reaction, seeing him shift uncomfortably.

You spot Fred in your peripheral vision and instantly grab his arm, pulling him in close to you.

“Freddy, love. You remember Raymond, right?” you ask him. You look back at Ray and can see his jaw ticking.

“Oh, hey! Good to see you again, mate!” Fred puts his hand out and Ray reluctantly takes it and as soon as he does, Fred pulls him in for a hug. Ray grimaces and lightly pats Fred on the shoulder. There is some actual genuine joy behind your smile now. 

“Freddy, darling! It’s been ages!” Rebecca exclaims.

After Freddy pulls away, he greets Rebecca.

“Bloody hell, Becca! When did you get so tall?” 

While they hug and catch up, you and Ray stare daggers at each other.

“Wait, are you two dating–” Freddy starts but you interrupt him.

“Um, Freddy,” you loop your arm around his again. “I think I’m ready for…” you vaguely gesture your head, nodding in a general direction towards the garden.

“Oh! Sure, yeah. I’ll meet you there after I stop by the loo,” Freddy says. “It was nice seeing you both again. Excuse me,” he says to Ray and Rebecca before walking off.

“Well, hope you’re both enjoying the party,” you say, clapping your hands together. “Excuse me. I have something I need to do.”

You walk off, not even bothering looking back as you make your way to your bedroom.

***

“Oh my gosh, Sophie, you have to tell that story about that time we pulled that prank on Lit’le Henry. Remember Henry?” you laugh, after taking a puff and passing it to Fred. 

“I don’t think Antonia here has heard about this story.” You wink at Fred. You introduced Antonia to Fred and they seemed to be hitting it off really well.

“‘Enry was a lit’le shite. It wasn’t a prank. It was revenge,” Sophie starts.

Sophie proceeds to tell the story about how a mutual friend kept getting bullied by Henry so the group of you teamed up to exact revenge on him. It was originally Fred’s idea but in the end he also took the fall for all of you. However, Henry never dared to bully anyone ever again.

“And I’d do it again,” he boasts.

You were finally able to sneak off with your friends to go hide in the shed to have a party for yourselves. No pretending, no masks, no manners. Just laughs. For those few hours, you were able to actually enjoy your birthday. You can’t remember the last time you had this much fun or laughed this hard. 

“Oh, fuck. I must have dropped my stash when I went to the toilet,” you say when you realize you can’t find the spare joints you rolled up. “I’ll be back. I’ll also get another bot’le of wine.”

“Love, it’s your birfday. Get one of the servants to fetch it for ya,” someone jumps in.

“They work for my parents, not me. Besides, I can use some fresh air,” you chuckle before bursting out of the shed.

As you cut through the long garden to make your way back into the house, you notice Ray pacing back and forth off to the side of the house while talking on the phone.

“Yes, boss. I understand.”

When he hangs up, he looks up and sees you cautiously walking trying to avoid being seen. You nearly twist your ankle as you tiptoe around and miss a step but Ray quickly catches you instinctively. So much for trying to dodge him.

“Are you alright?” Ray asks, looking into your eyes.

You stare back for a few moments, breathless. It might be the weed and alcohol but you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and let him hold you and never let go, but your daydreaming gets interrupted.

“Oh my! Looks like someone’s had a bit to drink tonight. You always know how to throw a party,” Rebecca comments as she walks over. “Ray, I’ll be back in a few. Need to powder my nose,” she winks before walking off inside the house. 

You quickly remove yourself from Ray’s grip and straighten yourself out.

“Are you alright?” Ray repeats.

“I’m fine,” you reply and start heading towards the house.

“Wait!” Ray takes a step in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“What is it, Ray?” You ask, now annoyed.

“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, Rebecca and I are not together. She’s just here with her parents and it’s my job to keep her entertained while her parents and Michael have an informal meeting,” Ray tells you.

“Ray, it’s really none of my business,” you shrug. "But I'm not surprised that's part of your job. I just hope she doesn't take it too hard when you're done with her and tell her to fuck off." You then try to maneuver around him but he side steps you.

“I know it’s none of your business but it’s important to me that you know. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to hurt you in any way because that’s the absolute last thing I want,” Ray shakes his head, ignoring your snide comment. “I don’t want to be at this boring party as much as I know you don’t either.”

“OH!” Your eyebrows shoot up to your almost perfectly coiffed hairline. “I’m so sorry my party isn’t dramatic enough for you.” You cross your arms under your breasts which are now accentuated by your arm placement.

Ray’s eyes begin to twitch as he realizes what he had said.

“No, that’s… that’s not what I meant—“

“No cunt to punch in the face. No damsel for you to save,” you say as you raise your arms above your head and wave them around.

“Can you please lower your voice? I was genuinely concerned for you. That cunt put his hands on you!” Ray snarls.

“It’s my fucking party so I’ll be as loud as I want!”

Ray looks around nervously to make sure they don’t draw any attention.

“You just can’t go around punching every bloke who puts his hands on me! You’re not my boyfriend anymore!” You push right past him with all your might and shoulder check him out of your way.

“Well, your actual boyfriend should have, but he left you all alone in a crowded pub full of drunk men!” Ray growls. “That would have never happened with me. I would have protected you!” 

You stop in your tracks and twirl around.

“Oh, please! You weren’t protecting me. You just don’t like seeing someone else’s hands on me!” You walk up to him and poke your finger into his chest. “Why do you even care so much? You’re the one who broke up with me.”

“I still care about what happens to you,” Ray adjusts his glasses. “Kitten…”

You start shaking your head.

“Just because I can’t love you the way I want to, the way we want to, it doesn’t mean I automatically stop caring for you.” Ray’s face and voice softens.

“No!” You growl into his face. You grunt out of frustration and rip your necklace off for the second time and throw it at him. “I don’t give a shit what you do with that. Just don’t give it back to me.” You spin around and stomp away towards the house.

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

Some people are very stylish in fashion and change their clothes to match the seasons. So can I get bay hotrod, Bee, Optimus, and wheelie and brains reacting hc's to their friend who changes their car color according to the seasons. Like for fall, they turn a leaf color, winter white, summer, red or orange or yellow, and spring pink or light colors?

Hot Rod:

He loves it, he thinks they are so stylish and pretty. He also gets excited at the end of the season, wondering what color his friend is going to choose next.

He starts suggesting colors and patterns, telling them what he thinks would look good on them. Suggesting stripes, flat color, matte paint or sparkles. He thinks they should try it all.

It kind of makes him want to change his paint, but he loves his colors too much. He knows he looks great in black and orange, and he doesn't want to risk switching to something that doesn't suit him.

Bumblebee:

He understands wanting to change colors. There are so many to choose from, it is hard to decide on one. He also really likes that they make it match Earth's seasons, he thinks it is very clever.

He has changed his paint before, but reverted back to his normal yellow just because it suited him better. He doesn't think he would change again, but he is glad his friend finds joy in changing their paint.

He thinks it makes things more fun and quirky. It can also be a great stealth advantage because the Decepticons will never know exactly who they are since they change their colors. It will make them harder to track.

Optimus:

He has no problem with them changing their paint color as long as it's not something excessive or extreme.

And as long as they don't try to convince him to change. He's quite happy with them doing it to their own paint, he just doesn't want them trying to convince him to change his colors. He's happy the way he is.

He has sometimes lost sight of them because they have switched their colors and not told him. Now he just expects them to look different each time he sees them.

Wheelie:

He thinks it's a bit excessive. Do they really need to change that many times?

He doesn't deny the fact they look good, because they do. But he just wonders if they spend too much thought on their paint. He thinks they should just stick to one, or maybe cut down to changing it twice a year.

Is it perhaps because he's jealous because he doesn't have a great flashy car where he can change his colors? Maybe. But he won't admit that.

Brains:

He wishes he could change color. He thinks he'd look great in other paint. He often asks them what they think he will look good in.

He tried to change his color once. He went to red instead of blue. But it didn't last, because his hair looked like it was on fire and people kept trying to put it out.

He likes living through his friend though. He suggests a color he would want, and his friend changes to it. That way Brains gets to enjoy the color still.

[lenfantdeverone]

Say YES to the tuxedo!

Gordon stood awkwardly on top of the platform, slightly turning around in front of the full length mirror. His eyes were fixed on the little details of the light blue tuxedo he was trying on, carefully studying every inch of his body like he had never dared before. He couldn’t pin point exactly what was wrong with this particular suit, from the color choice to the weird way it fell flat on his unusually broad shoulders. Gordon held his breathe, a hand on his chest as he breathed in, analyzing how the fabric acted upon the sudden movement. For as ignorant as he was in terms of clothing, it was still pretty evident to him that the tuxedo didn’t fit him properly.

“It makes me look short.” Gordon concluded after a while of meticulously inspecting and judging, sighing heavily as he desperately turned around to seek the opinions of his brothers (who were his future groomsmen as well).

“You are.” Alan chuckled; his eyes still fixed on the wide shawl lapel imposing on his big brother’s chest. “You look like a discolored penguin.”

“Shut up, look who’s talking!” buried inside an ill-fitting tuxedo, Gordon appeared much less intimidating as usual as he hissed at his baby brother.

“Calm down you two, this is not the time and place.” Scott admonished his baby brothers, a hand distantly raised inquisitorially. He still had his eyes proudly glued unto his baby brother, awkwardly rocking an unusually formal garment which enhanced all the secret qualities that Gordon never really showed off. “It looks good to me… weird, but it looks good!” Scott admitted, but Gordon didn’t perceive the intended warmth in his eldest brother’s reaction. For once, he wanted to be more than just good.

“Maybe a satin lapel is a bit too much.” John appointed, taking pictured from various angles so he could zoom onto the details a little better. “Considering that we’re going for an… unusual color, maybe a less shiny fabric would be better.”

“The double-breasted tuxedo isn’t a good option either.” Virgil tilted his head a bit, his gentle gaze scanning his baby brother from head to toe. Gordon blindly trusted Virgil’s wise judgment, as his big flannel-lover sibling had without the shadow of a doubt the most knowledge of the family when it came to fashion. “You look constricted, as if you are trapped in a cage.”

“I’m going to look like an idiot, am I?” Gordon bit his lip, too defeated to even spare another glance at the mirror. It was the third tuxedo he had tried on, and he had felt terribly stupid in all of them. Maybe he was just meant to make everything look bad on his beaten body.

“No, you’re not.” Virgil firmly assured him. “We just need to find something that suits you. We should try more comfortable single-breast tuxedo next, maybe one with a grosgrain lapel instead of satin, what do you think?”

Gordon hesitated, not really brave enough to put together the picture that Virgil was trying to describe. He was just so tired and defeated. “Maybe I should also stick with black… this color is just… stupid.” The groom-to-be suggested, shrugging that familiar nauseating feeling off.

“But black is boooooring!” Alan rolled his eyes, sinking into the luxurious sofa where the groom’s entourage was assisting the appointment. The littlest Tracy wasn’t really a fan of formal attire, and he had made fun of all the previous options Gordon had tried on. For as innocent as his usually pungent comments were, though, he hadn’t really helped that uneasy feeling slowly devouring Gordon alive. “It’s a beach wedding, bro, I’d rather have you look like a lost merman than look depressed.”

“If I try on anymore of those ugly suits, I’ll be depressed for good.” Gordon dared one last, defeated look into the mirror, suppressing the urge to tear the suit apart and leave the store as naked and humiliated as he felt in that moment. “Virg, please help me out.” He pleaded, voice slightly cracking, exposing how vulnerable and helpless he actually felt in the situation.

“Gotcha.” Virgil simply smiled in return, a gentle hand firmly on his baby brother’s back as he gently guided him towards the changing room.

***

With tears slowly forming in his eyes, Gordon patiently waited for Virgil to bring him some new options to try on. He felt miserable, pathetic. The man who had survived the worst hydrofoil incident in the history of mankind was sitting on the floor of a fancy boutique changing room, crying his heart out and wearing only his boxers. Never in his life, not even at his lowest, had he imagined that he would end up in such a mediocre situation. It was moments like that that made him realize just how much he despised himself. He had managed to defeat all odds and re-learn how to walk when every single doctor who had visited him had deemed it impossible, yet he was unable to enjoy what was supposed to be a happy shopping day with his family. And for his upcoming wedding nonetheless! Gordon breathed in; hands buried in his hair.

Why couldn’t he just be normal about life and be happy for once? Why did it always had to end up like that, with him crying silently in a corner where no one could see? Why was he always messing things up?

“Here, try this one on.” Virgil rested a hand on baby brother’s shoulder, carefully bringing his baby brother’s back to reality. Gordon stared at him for a bit, eyes puffy and red, and his mouth agape craving for air. Virgil bit his lips, trying to keep his facial expression calm and gentle. He really couldn’t afford scaring his brother even further, especially when that doomed shopping day could still be saved. “I really think this is the one. I promise.”

Gordon gulped, his own saliva tasting sour and salty. He tended to trust Virgil’s promises, and he knew his big brother only wanted the best for him. He was tired. He felt like a nuisance. Yet he couldn’t let his family down, not when everyone had managed to take a day off just to be in that stupid boutique with him to pick the less ugly dress for him. Hesitantly, Gordon looked up to see yet another light blue tuxedo hanging before him.

“I said I wanted black.” Gordon’s voice was sore and raw.

“Black doesn’t suit your personality, bro.” Virgil smiled at him. “You’re a force of nature, you’re bubbly and dynamic, just like the ocean.” The elder gently ruffed his baby brother’s blond hair. “Could you try it on just for me? Please? You don’t have to show the others, if you really don’t like it I can go pick a black tux if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

The light blue tuxedo impended over him menacingly, yet Gordon solemnly considered the idea. He really didn’t want to upset Virgil, especially after his big brother had turned the store inside out to find that one tuxedo just for him. After thinking about it for a moment, Gordon finally decided to lift himself up, pull the curtain, and try the suit on.

“Penny would love to see you in blue.” Virgil commented distantly from the other side of the curtain, trying to be as supportive as he could after he had seen just how exhausted and defeated his brother actually was.

“You helped her choose her dress too, haven’t you?” Gordon asked, struggling to figure out the side adjusters on his pants.

“Mhmh.” Virgil proudly confirmed, smiling fondly. “Me and John did.”

“She… she’s going to look perfect, doesn’t she...?” just thinking about his bride-to-be was enough to make Gordon’s voice crack ever so slightly. He really loved her so much. “Of course, she always does…” she was perfection at its core. Penelope was the most amazing woman in the entire universe, she was so wonderfully flawless, she came straight out of a dream. She was calm, secure, confident, always so effortlessly gorgeous, and Gordon just adored her so much. “This is all a mistake, I… I just can’t, I’m ruining everything, Virg, I can’t-” he was pleading, begging, his hands trembling and struggling to even reach the single button on the tuxedo jacket.

Virgil didn’t hesitate a second to reach out for him, carefully capturing his baby brother in the warmest, tightest, most loving embrace. Gordon sobbed silently; shoulders hunched as he buried in face in his big brother’s sweater. Virgil gently rubbed the youngest’s back, shushing comforting words until the crying calmed down a bit.

“I know she’s the right woman for you, because she sees you the way we do, the way we all wish you could see yourself.” Virgil spoke softly, Gordon could distinctively hear how worried he was, yet Virgil was smiling ever so brightly. “We all love you so much, fish, and I really hope you will trust your future wife when she tells you that you are the perfect man for her.”

Gordon sighed heavily; his eyes fixed on the ground. How could he be the perfect man for Penny when he couldn’t even wear a tuxedo without looking like an idiot? Virgil carefully fixed his collar for him, and then he gently shook Gordon’s shoulders.

“Would you please look at you for a moment?” Virgil asked joyfully, and Gordon dutifully obeyed.

Turning back, Gordon held his gaze low for a moment, looking at his shoes. It took him a deep breathe, before he felt brave enough to look his reflection in the mirror. When he finally did, it felt like the world had stopped. The young man just stood there, frozen in place, mouth wide open as he stared at himself in disbelief. He could distantly hear Virgil chuckling right behind him, but Gordon’s mind was too overwhelmed with the sight in front of him to even bother.

“Single-breast, with a neat peaked lapel wonderfully shaping your swimmer shoulders, a textured grosgrain fabric on the collar to compliment the color choice, perfectly balanced with a double slit in the back of the jacket to elongate your figure.” Virgil spoke like a professional, illustrating each feature with precise and elegant gestures. “And it’s a standard size. Just picture how gorgeous it will be once it’s fitted to your measurements!”

Gordon couldn’t help the enthusiasm growing, despite not understanding a single word of what Virgil had just explained. He just knew that he felt… right. Good. No, more than good. He felt beautiful in a way that he had never experienced, in a way that he thought he could never allow himself to feel. Everything was perfect. The suit felt like an extension of his own being, showing off all the best qualities he could offer. He smiled through the dried tears, lips trembling, overwhelming happiness numbing his muscles.

“It’s… it’s perfect already.” Gordon managed to mumble, his eyes drifting from detail to detail. “I can’t believe it, it’s… it’s just…” he was at a loss of words, but for once he wasn’t bothered by it. He was way too happy, way too surprised to express it. He felt at peace, and he knew his brother could tell. “Thank you so much, Virg.”

“Shall we show it to the others?” Virgil asked, proudly waiting for his little sibling to make his big entrance.

Gordon didn’t hesitate, he was ready.

***

“Wooow…” Alan could only stare in shock as his big brother walked confidently across the boutique, his back straight and chin up, happily showing off his beautiful suit with a smile on his face. “Oh yeah, I like this one a lot!”

“Mh mh, that’s what I was thinking.” John nodded in approval, studying Gordon from head to toe with a genuinely satisfied look on his face. “It looks definitely looks great on you.”

“I know, right?” Virgil followed the groom-to-be, arms crossed and a proud, sly smirk on his face. “I managed to make our fish look like a prince, haven’t I, Scooter?”

Virgil patted the eldest Tracy brother’s back, trying to get a positive reaction from him too, knowing just how much it meant for Gordon to have everyone’s approval, especially Scott’s. As a result, Virgil only got a strained whine from his big brother in response. Everyone in the room turned worriedly to check on Scott, as Gordon froze in place, holding his breathe.

“What the heck is going on…” Scott whined, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sniffed loudly. “I’m literally crying.” The eldest attempted a smile, his deep dimples wet with happy tears. “You’re going to look fantastic on your day, baby brother, I’m so proud of you.”

Gordon had the widest, most sincere smile on his face as Scott hugged him tightly, loosening up after years of acting tougher and stronger than everyone else. Gordon was ecstatic, he felt gorgeous and loved. That’s what he was signing for, with this marriage. A beautiful life of love and happiness, surrounded by all the people who lifted him up and made him the best version of himself.

“So… are you saying yes to the tuxedo?” Virgil happily asked.

“I am saying yes to the tuxedo.”

[literallyjustscrollingthatisit]

The Process For "Heart Behind The Strings"

Unlike with my first drawing, since I'd already gotten pretty used to the brushes, the first session was a lot more productive. I remember the hair took me a while to flesh out the way I wanted it which is pretty consistent even now. Hair is usually my favorite part to do and I like to really take my time with it.

Session two was not nearly as productive but hey, the hand with the sword is in! Hands have always been the bane of my existence... they're so hard to draw! I definitely used a reference for both hands in this drawing. It should be noted that for a while, I didn't really do "first drafts" and liked to get each stage done and just move on. This is consistent up until the literal last drawing I did where I experimented with rough outlines for positioning. Who knows if I'll stick with it! Being consistent is not really my strongsuit.

I usually like to get the sketching done before I even touch color. However, the front hand was giving me so much trouble that I switched to color because I got so frustrated. But on the brightside: I finally figured out how to screenshot properly so the quality from here on out is better! (Took me an embarrassingly long time.)

The front hand has arrived! It took me way too long to draw this in but the reference helped a lot! It appears I forgot to turn off my guidelines on Kris's face and armor when I took this screenshot... whoops. The other primary addition is the scarf changing a bit. Scarfs and capes are my other favorite thing to draw. They're abnormally fun to outline for some reason.

The flat color has been laid out (except for the armor). And apparently some shading on the underside of the scarf. Also I noticed the background color keeps changing in between. Sometimes I change the color so it's easier on my eyes but then forget to change it back for the screenshot.

Almost everything is colored and shaded by this point! Except the scarf is not fully colored with the stripes yet for some reason. This session also introduced the sweat on the left side (our left) of Kris's face. It's pretty hard to see since it's so small and even harder on the actual one since this isn't the final size of the piece!

The stripes on the scarf have arrived! You'll also notice Kris's body and the back plate are different! The body shape felt off somehow so I changed it here to the one in the final! On another note, you might notice that the shading sometimes looks weird on my drawings. Shading and lighting are still something I'm in the process of learning (and I wasn't taking classes at all during most of these drawings!) so that's why it looks off. I try to look at references or for hair I have a way I like to shade it on top of that.

With Kris complete I moved on to the soul and the gray hands in the back. I'm pretty sure I basically drew one hand then copy and pasted it onto the other side (flipped it too of course). Like I said earlier: hands are hard! I think I liked the black background and just ran with it. It also helped to make the hands kind of just come out of nowhere but still implied to be tied to the soul in some way.

And it's a wrap! On another note: I made a new post on my main blog that may have an alternative version coming to this one later.... (maybe)

Next time, I'll be taking you through "To The Punishment Shack!" That one is actually rather short with only three sessions.

[joshriku]

if you r still taking dialogue prompts "you look like a mess" for luna & magneto or pietro & magneto or pietro & luna, your choice 🙏 hope you r having a great day

HI. sorry. things happened!!! your prompt found me at a funny time (i was already writing luna and erik and tommy) so i was like hey. we should add pietro in it. so it became the last scene of this fic, where tommy, luna, and erik go to a pottery class together. THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT I OWE U THIS ENDING! :3

“There’s like, so many classes left,” Tommy says as they step out. Despite the apron, they’re all covered in clay—and Tommy will never stop finding clay underneath his fingernails. “Are you guys sticking around for the next ones?”

“I am!” Luna says. “I’m fully in. You, grandpa?”

“As long as you’ll have me.”

“Then we’re good, I think,” Tommy smiles. “Plus, we need to finish our projects. I don’t like unfinished business.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Erik says. Then, staring around, he continues: “How are you two going home?”

“I can just run there,” Tommy says. “And Luna—”

“I texted my dad, ‘cause I’m staying the night, so he should be—”

Swoosh!

“—right here,” Luna announces with a smile. “Hi, daddy.”

“Luna,” Pietro says, fixating on her first, and then taking in the rest. “Nephew. Father. You—you look like a mess.”

“Clay time,” Tommy puts his hands up. “We are never going to be free from this.”

“Clay?” Pietro opens his arm for Luna to sneak under. He half-hugs her affectionately, and there’s a little pang in Tommy’s chest. What was it Luna called it? Yearning. “And you didn’t tell me? I love pottery. Most manual work, really, but this one is my favorite.”

“I had no idea!” Luna looks up at him, shining a little. When Tommy looks at Erik, maybe, maybe, he’s yearning, too. “Tommy texted me about it, I said yes, then he spent the whole day overworking me—”

“I was the one working—”

“Then we ran into grandpa, who’s also into it,” Luna summarizes. “There are a lot more classes left if you want to join us.”

Maybe involuntarily, Pietro’s eyes go to Erik’s, then down to Luna again. Too fast for Erik to catch it, but slow enough for Tommy to see it happen frame by frame. What would their colors look like? How does Luna stand it?

“I’ll think about it,” Pietro says. Whether he’s honest or not, Tommy doesn’t know. “Right. We’ll be taking our leave, then.”

“You don’t have to be so awkward about it, uncle,” Tommy tries to relieve him from the clear tense situation he’s in, but it falls a bit flat. “We’re not going to ask you for a hug.”

It luckily makes Pietro laugh. “I’ll drink to that. See you, then.”

Luna lets go of Pietro to hug Tommy, then to hug Erik. “Bye! See you next class!”

Next second, they’re gone.

Erik’s shoulders relax—and it’s only now that Tommy notices he had been tense before.

“You, uh,” Tommy begins. He could leave, but that’d be wrong, to leave him all alone in his brooding. Something about his crushing sadness reminds him of what he feels for Master P. Plus, he missed Erik. He doesn’t see him often. He might as well shoot his shot. “Want to get dinner, grandpa? Unless you’re already sick of me, which is totally understandable—”

Erik nods before he finishes. “Dinner sounds lovely, Thomas.”

Tommy carries him, ignoring his protests, and runs off to find the best restaurant he can.

[blueeyedrat]

Steam Next Fest, summer 2024. At this point "hey look at some video games I think are neat" is the one thing I'm still writing about consistently. Maybe I should branch out a little more. A matter for another time.

With the summer event lining up with a whole bunch of game announcements and showcases and whatnot, I cast a wider net and landed some pretty solid catches. Some that were already on my wishlist, some that caught my eye during the week of showcases, some I found while browsing the Steam listings. Additional thoughts under the cut.

From the moment it was announced it seemed like Arranger was a game that existed for me specifically, and trying the demo has done nothing to dissuade me from that notion. Likewise, LOK has held my interest for a while, and I'm looking forward to falling down its abstract word puzzle rabbit hole. Other puzzle games like Townframe, Pup Champs, and SCHiM met my expectations, but I'd like to see if there's more to them than what was presented in their respective demos.

On the subject of expectations, Tiny Glade is pretty much exactly as advertised as a cute little building tool, though the demo is somewhat limited in what options you have available. Tiny Bookshop was a bit of a curveball; the core loop of the game involved minimal input and waiting for a day's work to play out, but everything built around that loop had way more depth than anticipated.

Of everything I tried out, Wander Stars was the most stylish of the lot. An episodic turn-based RPG, where your arsenal is a dictionary of words to assemble into flashy maneuvers. It's a pretty unique spin, and the "pilot episode" in the demo does a good job showcasing both the gameplay and narrative. I had an eye on this game before, and it may be moving up the list quickly.

Beyond These Stars and Airborne Empire are both sequels to city builders I've previously played and enjoyed, and both launched demos for this event… very early, kinda buggy demos, so I wasn't really able to dig into them much. I didn't really need the concept proven to me, though, and they both seem like the final product will have all of the things I liked about their predecessors, so I'm happy for now.

Undusted seems like it could be a pleasant game about cleaning and fiddling around with handheld objects, a slimmed down variant of Powerwash Simulator, but in practice it's a bit finicky and not particularly rewarding, so it fell a little flat. Simple Trains just ended up feeling like a less interesting version of Mini Metro.

For more positive comparisons, Lost and Found Co. seems like it doesn't stray far from the mold of hidden object games, but has some very charming presentation that made it worth the time. Constance wears its Hollow Knight inspiration on its sleeve, and it looks like it could be a pretty solid 2D 'vania in its own right.

On Your Tail presents an interesting mashup of genres. A sandbox game set in a sunny Italian village with sites to explore, activities to partake in, and a colorful cast of characters to meet… paired with a detective story about pursuing a master thief and solving a myriad of mysteries along the way. Both sides of the game have potential (solving a mystery through a board-game-esque abstraction of cards and game pieces was particularly charming), though I wish the demo had more of it to show off. We'll have to wait and see.

Neongarten and Technotopia each caught my attention for similar reasons, being minimalist builder puzzles centered around balancing various building types and keeping pace with ever-growing resource costs. They diverge in subtle ways, from artstyle (though both are striking, Neongarten is simplistic cyberpunk while Technotopia leans more heavily into art deco) to gameplay direction (Neongarten stacks buildings upwards in a confined space, while Technotopia sticks to two dimensions and expands outwards), but my thoughts on both are more or less the same. They're a bit restrictive at times and there's a lot to keep track of, but overall they're both enjoyable. I bet someone could put together some absurd combos and ridiculous high scores in either game… though I'm unsure if I'm that someone. Still, they both have their charms and might end up as hidden gems in an ever-growing genre.

And of all the games that weren't already on my radar until last week, I think Caravan Sand Witch was the most pleasant surprise. It reminds me of Sable in all the best ways — a world of sprawling deserts and forgotten machinery that's as pleasing to look at as it is to traverse. Even in the demo, it felt good to get around both on foot and by vehicle, and that's without all of the fancy tools you'll unlock as the game progresses. This is one I'll be keeping an eye on.

[panpanpanini]

detco salt. moonlight sonata remake rant below

forewarning that i am a staunch funi-dub enjoyer and fell in love with this show in the first 50 episodes (and still consider the early show to be superior)

-

broke sequence and watched detco episode 1000/1001 yesterday, and not to be a negative nancy but jfc i think i would've been pissed if i had tuned in to watch that on premiere day.

maybe i set myself up for failure expecting anything more (especially given my very low ceiling for ridiculous anime shenanigans) but for transparency's sake i watched the tubi dub (👎) with my brother, since we grew up watching and loving the funi dub version. ooh man did we think it sucked

remaking moonlight sonata at this stage in detco is only a good idea on paper bc it's sentimental. that's literally all it has going for it though. it didn't hold a candle to the original, not even close, not in translation/writing or voice acting, not in animation or color or background or music direction. it was so so bad, the kind of bad that cuts so deep disappointment turns to insult. rigid and stilted, environments feel sterile and vacant and weirdly huge (this is a uniquely me criticism of modern detco lol, absolutely fuckin MASSIVE environments), all sense of small town superstition and tension are gone, no time is spent even acquainting with narumi and so i felt nothing when his identity and status as the killer is eventually revealed, let alone when he self-immolated. and coming off of that, conan himself barely feels like a character. the funi dub does a stellar job of cementing shinichi as the overarching narrator of the series both in writing and in the decision to dub conan's inner monologue with his "true" voice, so while the tubi dub is already at a disadvantage in that regard there's next to no framing of the situation by him otherwise and it just kind of feels like we're flies on the wall in the most boring way possible. this isn't to say the original, subbed or dubbed, is a masterpiece of high art or anything, it just knows what it wants to do and it does it well enough to get you invested in it. there's a reason it's an iconic case, right? in the remake, you just don't get the sense that conan is invested in the case or moved by any of the ominous circumstances at all. it's so fucking weird because he should be the audience surrogate for these cases and instead it's flat and the opposite of immersive. maybe it's harsh of me to say but dare i say it's incompetent. absolute night and day compared to the original, even if you remove the dub variables.

speakings of dubs. i don't know any japanese so i have no meaningful input as to whether or not the tubi dub is a more """accurate""" translation than the funi dub but i'm firmly of the opinion that 1:1 translations belong exclusively to subs. there's way more at play in a dub than just "accurate translation" and i can't fucking tell you how awful the tubi dub is all around. it's just so wooden. i'm sure the cast are capable actors and the rigid writing was more than bogging them down but every time a name was said i made a face. every time a character spoke like a wired informant i made a new one. have the writers ever heard real people converse with each other before? does whoever was in charge of voice direction know what good performances sound like? nobody talks to each other the way the people in this dub do!! christ on a stick

(as an aside, people have pegged my criticisms of anime shows as 'expecting too much realism' but in my defense [1] detco likes to treat itself as a show that--compared to its other big-name modern shonen counterparts-- exists mostly within the bounds of real-life rules and [2] people talking to each other transcends expectations of realism. the show already expects me to think of it within a certain box and i'll eat my hat if you or other people in your life normally talk to each other like they're wearing a wire, repeating everything that's said to them like someone is on the other side of the glass)

overall verdict 1/10. mid episode for the late 900s/early 1000s era piggybacking mostly off nostalgia and good intentions but horrifically executed outside of that bubble and especially in comparison to its predecessor and the legacy thereof. extremely underwhelming and upsetting thing to put out as a commemorative special. i'm not impressed, but i'm not mad either - i'm just really, really sad

[cagedchoices]

Hiiii I'm really sorry to bother you but I noticed on your old blog you used to have a rule that said not to treat your character like Jesse Pinkman. I think I get why its a concern but I'm wondering why it doesn't say that anymore and also I'm curious to know about what you think the differences between Caleb and Jesse are

omg ok first of all bb, you are certainly not bothering me by asking questions. i appreciate being asked thank you 🥰

secondly uh, i removed that disclaimer from my rules bc i felt like i didn't really need it anymore. it does still apply but i really only had it up bc when i was still fairly new to writing caleb i would get a lot of anons making br.ba jokes. so naturally there would be a lot of people pretending to be fuckin walter white in my inbox trying to tell caleb "let's cook" and like "jesse stop screwing around with robots and get back to work" and shit and like. yeah it's a fun little joke. ONCE. 😬

when you're seeing it multiple times a day/week it loses charm real quick. so i decided to be kinda petty about it and be like 'y'all know that caleb is NOT jesse right?' and i did two things. i flat out stopped responding to br.ba anons and i added that warning to my rules. and it seemed like it worked! i stopped getting flooded and my inbox was allowed to know peace again. but like i said, i don't think i really need it anymore because it should just be kind of a given, right? i mean i'm sure this has happened to other people before and will continue to happen bc that's the internet and unfortunately some people have no concept of boundaries and others just struggle with understanding that they might be making someone uncomfortable without intending to.

but like. to think of a popular example which i'm sure has happened before and will surely happen in the future i just think of a mun who writes joel from the last of us and maybe they like using pedro pascal's portrayal and they enjoy using him as an fc. now imagine that rper getting an inbox filled with anon messages treating joel as totally indistinguishable from the mandalorian. telling him he's gotta go find grogu or asking him why he abandoned his son for ellie or something along those lines. there are some GLARING differences between joel miller and din djarin. they're clearly not the same character.

so it might be funny to the person sending the messages and they're probably just having fun like. i'm sure they don't mean anything bad by it. but lemme tell ya, it's not as much fun to the mun on the receiving end. and in my case it sent me into a lil bit of a writer crisis like 'oh fuck is caleb nichols just a carbon copy of jesse pinkman is that how other people i write with see him?? what can i do to make him stand apart and be different without pulling him away from westworld canon too much??'

so anyway that's the rant over with. to answer the second half of this, caleb and jesse are different people. they just are. they do have a lot in common ranging from appearance to basic personality traits to the way they use body language, but they aren't completely the same. they come from different backgrounds which were influenced by various different factors.

jesse is more creative, he's an artist at heart and he has an artist's mindset and that's a kind of freedom to him. he expresses himself mainly through aesthetics. he draws, he wears a colorful wardrobe that really makes him stand out, the first time walter tells him that cooking crystal is chemistry jesse argues back that it is art and he has his signature style and he resents that walt forces him to change it. the reason jesse got involved in the drug trade is predominantly because it's the one place he is allowed and encouraged to express himself freely through art.

caleb on the other hand, is a soldier and he has a soldier's mindset toward most things. he is/was for the most part content with being told what to do next, following orders, sticking to a game plan. he expresses himself mainly through acts of service in canon, particularly to family as we see with his mom in the hospital and when he leaves his wife and daughter behind to go try and put a stop to the war that's coming. he wants to help, he wants to keep everyone safe and the only way he really knows how to do that is to fight.

i'd also say that while jesse and caleb are both highly empathetic and sensitive to the feelings of others, caleb is more stoic about it. i'm not totally sure if that's just how he is naturally or if he's so wracked and troubled by traumatic experiences and was trained to swallow those emotions in the military or otherwise learned to shut down but like. where jesse is always emoting something and never just sitting completely still and blank, caleb seems more comfortable with staying quiet and not always necessarily showing what's on his mind at a given moment.

and there are or course many more things i can say about specific differences but i feel like i've made this post long enough and gone on a scattered tangent so like. i might explore it way more in depth at a later date. ❤️