#my most fleshed out character is never drawn

[katyspersonal]

*boots down door*

You mention Bloodborr OC's

GIMME ALL THE BACKGROUND!!!!

Allllllright, I think I will tell you about my favorite!

Strangely enough, I did only draw her ONE whole time so far, back in, what?.. June 2022? And it is only a headshot! But I always imagine her wearing cyan/indigo/grey clothes, fashioned after Old Hunters' aesthetic, and... a particular iron helmet with only one eye hole, yes. She is an OC based entirely on how you choose to read this line:

She appeared in my head based off a few factors; that we can clearly see Valtr being summoned with both eyes visible (not a single effort to obscure the second eye, unlike with Djura), we know that Impurity rune that LETS you see Vermin was discovered 'within a forbidden Beast Eater' (so, Valtr himself), we know that Valtr curses not only beasts but the 'freakish slugs and mad doctors', and we know that Clocktower Dial has a rune similar to Impurity but not exactly it:

(Thank you @val-of-the-north for handy refs ( x ))

That gave me a thought, aboutl Valtr being taken right into Research Hall labs upon his (rather dramatic) arrival in Yharnam; as someone who ate a beast, he was expected to be very much contaminated, and, well... Research Hall offered the so-called voluntary-obligatory treatment for such people. Either get killed before you became a beast, or be "treated" to not become a beast :') And this is where he met an Old Hunter Geranea, that was likewise dragged into research - and already missing one eye, since all patients get one eye removed to become an Eye Pendant + for easier access to their brain.

I always presumed runes system was a deciphering system more than it was a set number of the runes, since Ludwig and Adeline were able to envision their own runes without Caryll! So, Impurity rune is special - it is a concept. Every person has their own alternative of Impurity rune, as it appeals to the individual concept of what IS evil. Geranea quickly caught up that there was something abnormally filthy in Valtr and insisted that he should not have gotten 'water' treatment under any circumstances lest he'd erupt under it flourishing and die right after. People that yearn to exterminate evil see 'human dregs' as pests, but people who yearn to treat it peacefully see evil as flowers. Geranea was able to see the flowers akin tomb mold that you find across dungeons and Hunter's Nightmare sprouting from people before they died, as indication of how 'dirty' their blood was, and... let's say, Valtr had an extraordinary amount of them because of what happened to him.

She helped him to envision his own idea of evil as someone familiar with Caryll's runes language, deciphering the weird sounds his body was emitting, and helped him to escape by giving him her eye pendant to use as a bait on the string for a giant crow that was frequenting Research Hall's balcony - think of holding a carrot on the string before a donkey! As for her own fate? Well, she was able to see through utter corruption of both 'Sea' and 'Stars', rejecting both and becoming one of the few if not the only one patient that banished the Arcane from her body with raw hatred and willpower alone.

She would manage to escape the Research Hall and cover her identity in new costume and with the new weapon, to not get caught by the Assassins. And... of course, she'd get the bucket helm, to obscure her face! She was to contact Valtr later under new identity, but their friendship was just not meant to last; they had drastically different ideas on how to treat human dregs and fell apart in a very nasty conflict over it, parting their ways.

Ever since then, Geranea was a strange cross between a Hunter and a Blood Minister (don't confuse with Blood Saint!). She would find people afflicted with human dregs through seeing whether they displayed 'flowers' sprouting from them. Her having banished the Arcane influence from her very body and soul via spite alone granted her blood a special immunity against both Beast and Kin afflictions, so her treatment? It included taking the blood from a person, transfusing it into her own body, putting up the mental fight against this person's darkest impulses (or corruption of Great Ones), and, after immunity has been worked up, she'd give the 'healed' blood back to this person. Just... Giving them free antibodies against their OWN afflictions that she'd work on her own. Doesn't it sound like too good to be true?

Well, that it was. Not only effect of such immunity still COULD virtually wear down, but also poor Geranea would let evil, insanity and pain of people through herself over and over. And over and over and over and over and over... In the end, it cracked her up, and she grew to be corrupted and no longer able to process all this - becoming evil and twisted herself. Her last sane thought however? That was Valtr.

She crawled back to him, being terribly mutated and having twisted thoughts, reflecting empathy to all afflicted people she healed from their darkest impulses. Their last meeting in long time was essentially her telling him that he was right and begging to be killed, that he did. He knew what exactly ruined her, and his conclusion was: "The filth of this world doesn't deserve compassion of a kind soul".

He took her helmet though, as a further reminder to himself to always stay relentless before human dregs extermination, and never had a heart to alter it even one bit, despite having both eyes. However, he later met Yamamura, who reminded him of her with his tender, sensitive heart, and he was not to make the same mistake twice; so he was to send Yamamura away as a "spy" for Healing Church in hopes he'd find new friends there and forget the mission. Granted, Yamamura appeared to be a very stubborn and prideful man, so the mission still inflicted insanity on him - especially since he saw it through Valtr's rune, not his own.

So yeah, that's for the story..; In general, Geranea was a kind person willing to tolerate a bit too much and to sacrifice too much, that is a stark contrast to her resting bitch face and kind of a rude demeanour. I can't even call her a jerk with a heart of gold, she is just a good person that might appear slightly too forceful with wishing to help.

And! Flowers thing comes from my idea that many patients had lumenweed subtly growing on them during treatment! Here are Adeline's and Rom's for example:

Geranea's faded and died upon her rejecting the 'cosmos' with both her body and her soul, but she never got around removing them as they became too entwined with her hair. But I like to think that when she finally broke mentally, those flowers in her hair were glowing and flourishing again, as if to seek for salvation.

...Aaaaaanyway, I can't believe I never really drew her that much ;-; That face ref is like... this is IT. Boy, I gotta fix myself.

[rawpastamoth]

More Inktowbew yay. Most of these are really quick since class has been stressful lately

Day 14 - Strong Badia - I actually didn’t do this one sorry. And I didn’t really wanna go back to it

Day 15 - Rejected Characters - Preshy and Rafferty my beloved

Day 16 - 4 Gregs - I didn’t know what to do for this one so I just drew them because I hadn’t drawn most of em before

Day 17 - Puppet Stuff - Puppet jams are so fun and I always liked that bit. So cool

Day 18 - Dangeresque - I LOVE SULTRY BUTTONS she is so cool. If I were Dangeresque I simply wouldn’t have broken up with her

Day 19 - Swap AU - I like this one actually. I wanna expand on this maybe and come up with better designs for Strong Bad and Marzipan

Day 20 - Senor Cardgage Appreciation - I don’t like him all that much but it was kinda nice to draw him

Day 21 - Favorite Ship - I don’t really ship anything… like there’s ships I like but don’t really actively ship yknow, so I just drew FCUSA’s 1st gay marriage

[thenamessparkplug]

please do not the cat

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror..............Part IV

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length in a later part)

Summary: Letha prevents the assassination of the Emperors and picks up a wound in the process. Caracalla's indulgent tendencies prove useful in a pinch. Geta has feelings.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood. Reference to Letha's Voyeurism if you squint, 18+ only

Word Count: 3.3k

Part 4 of 13?

[ Part III ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: And here we go. I hope you like this one.

Letha held the glass to her lips but didn’t drink, letting the wine stain her lips. She couldn’t afford a lapse in concentration, not now that she knew anything could happen. She was given no guidance, no indication of who could be responsible. She would only know once someone was making a lunge for Macrinus. The hand in her lap clutched the handle of the blade tucked into her dress, in a pocket she’d watched Hyacinthia sew in as she spouted dreams of a seaside home, the sound of the waves lulling her to sleep.

She had to get this right. Sure, for Macrinus’s plan’s sake, but also for her own sake. She’d drawn blood before, plenty of it. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to kill this would-be assassin herself. She wasn’t sure she had the stomach for it and there wasn’t exactly an opportunity to practice. In the weeks leading up to this celebration, she’d sparred with a select few of Macrinus’s gladiators. Those he trusted to actually help her.

She would do this.

Geta had looked over a few times, but he was currently attached at the hip to Lyra, a generous gift from senator Thraex, as he had loudly proclaimed at the start of the dinner. Probably hoping to garner favor now that his coffers were beginning to dwindle. Caracalla sat beside his brother, half out of his own chair, his arms slung around a pretty man’s bare shoulders. He had loudly praised Thraex for his thoughtful gift of new outfits for Dondus, the small monkey currently sitting on the table before them, plucking abandoned grapes off his plate in a shining outfit. Dondus was clearly used to the cacophony of sound that accompanied the Emperors wherever they went.

She couldn’t be distracted by Geta either, despite how his greeting haunted her all afternoon. Pretending like they had never met. Protecting their secret encounter as if it could mean something to him. Surely not, with the way his large hand squeezed at the flesh of Lyra’s bare thigh. No, perhaps it meant so little it had completely left his mind as soon as she slipped out of the room.

Letha could hardly stomach it. The jealousy was overwhelming. Macrinus noticed, but again mistook her half-hidden look of anger for her desire for revenge. 

“Soon, Letha. Channel that rage. Use it for this, in the right way, and soon you will certainly be in their employ. Then you can come and go as you please, and no one will ask questions of you. You will be able to do what I cannot. Just bide your time,” Macrinus instructed. She wished she still felt as angry towards Geta as she now did towards Lyra. It would certainly make her position in all this much easier to navigate. “You are my shrike,” he reminded her. “I’m letting you off the leash.”

At Macrinus’s words, Geta stood, having eyes for no one but Lyra. “As my lovely companion has reminded me, we are all here to celebrate. A toast, to Macrinus, and his hearty barbarians,” he smiled, lifting a cup in Macrinus’s direction. Most others did as well as Macrinus sat comfortably, smiling under the attention of the elite of Rome. Basking in it, even as he intended to ruin it. 

“And to Thraex, for his wonderful gifts,” Caracalla shouted, throwing himself up onto his feet suddenly. He reached down for the table to steady himself. Geta seemed a bit perturbed at his brother’s state of inebriation, but said nothing of it. 

Everyone drank, but Letha hadn’t lifted her glass. As her eyes were forced away from Lyra’s searching hand at Geta’s wrist, she spotted someone striding forward through a break in the columns on the opposite side of the room. Her heart caught in her throat. He wore the dark armor of the Praetorian guard, but something was off. Her adrenaline spiked as she spotted the glint of metal in his palm. She waited, watching for someone else to notice, but no one seemed to react. He strode forward, towards the tables. 

Before she could think twice she got to her feet, gathering her dress as she fought to get out of the chair without falling over on the hem. The man advanced, no guards yet intercepting him, the atmosphere in the palace giving everyone a false sense of ease. Perhaps if she wasn’t tipped off she might not have noticed him either. But she did, either way. And now, her inaction would get someone killed.

She passed around the edge of the long table, nearly breaking into a sprint as she realized he wasn’t headed to where Macrinus sat. His eyes were dead set on the center of the table, and his legs were carrying him there, right to where the Emperors currently stood, enjoying their party and the company. 

No.

Letha intercepted the man uncomfortably close to the table, startling everyone out of their revelry. The blade in his hand seemed prepared for a stab, probably between the ribs of one of the Emperors. She reached for the arm, forcing it up and away from her own ribs, pushing hard against him with her body, forcing him back away from the twins. The man grunted, trying to force her off her feet, but she was stuck firm, as if roots grew from her feet. She knew his center of balance was higher than hers, she could keep her position quite well. He let out a frustrated roar and opened his hand, changing his grip on the knife before plunging it straight down towards her with renewed force.

Chaos ensued as people began to realize what was happening. A scream cut through the noise of the panicked guests and Letha felt the bite of the blade in the top of her shoulder. Hot, searing pain radiated from the injury as her skin split. The pain had her sweating. She saw white, her breathing becoming uneven. She had to do something more, she was stuck here otherwise. If she had been smarter she would’ve drawn the blade tucked away in her dress before now. Still, it was her only recourse. She knew what she had to do.

Letha freed a hand and accepted the blade deeper into her shoulder in favor of drawing the blade hidden within her dress. Any hangups she might’ve had about killing the hired attacker went out the window as soon as he’d stabbed her. She sank the small blade into the unprotected space beneath his arm, just above where his chestplate began at his side, striking bone, just like Viggo had instructed her. The force exerted on the knife in her shoulder ceased and she felt some small relief. She pulled her blade free and stabbed again, her other hand gripping the lip of the chestplate firmly, drawing him in close as he gasped. Once more for good measure.

After a few more agonizing breaths, he was pulled away from her, her knife wrenched free from his side as she held it in a vice grip. The guards stood around him as his blood poured out of the wound and onto his scrabbling fingers pulling at his armor as if in disbelief, spilling out onto the ornate marble floor. He fell with a loud clatter, blanketing the room in silence. She stared down at the blade in her hand, sick at seeing his lifeblood staining her skin. 

She felt faint and took a step back, stinging emanating from her shoulder. She remembered the attacker’s blade and reached up for it, pulling it up and out of her flesh, the pain a white hot flash that blinded her for a moment as she swayed on her feet, her own blood falling over her shoulder and dripping onto the floor in large droplets, the rest soaking into the dress she wore, the deep purple of it turning black. She would need to apologize to Hyacinthia.

“Letha, come here, give me those,” Macrinus soothed, his hands like hot coals on her arms. He gently removed the blades from her hands and tossed them aside before returning his hands to her upper arms, steering her away from the scene and back to her empty chair. Her vision was blurred, but she could see Macrinus knelt down before her, something close to worry in his eyes as he turned to rifle through the contents of their table, eventually finding cloth to press down into the wound at the top of her shoulder. 

He couldn’t lose his asset, she thought bitterly.

“Press down, Letha,” Macrinus barked, pushing her left hand down over top of the linens. “Hold that there,” he muttered, not quite panicked, but as close to it as she’d ever witnessed.

“Summon a healer!” a roar reached her ears. “Everyone get out, please,” the stressed voice ordered. Geta. “Where is Tegula?!”

A warm hand overtook hers, lifting it away from the cloth and pressing down itself, much harder than she could’ve. She hissed, swiping out at her abandoned glass on the table, knocking it down to the floor. Her nails found the wood and dug in as she grimaced, brought back to reality as this fresh pain cut through the rest.

“Letha,” Geta muttered, his other hand reaching out to pull at her wrist, trying to free the poor table from her crushing grip. The familiarity in his use of her name didn’t escape her. She could feel the heat of his body against her upper back as she felt ever colder. He succeeded in prying her fingers from the wood, wrapping her aching hand in his, an offering that should have delighted her. She could hardly pay attention to Geta and his softness with her. She would dwell on it later.

“Where is the healer?” Geta demanded, his voice laced with frustration. 

“Emperor, I can take her back to the arena, I have a doctor there that can stitch up her wound,” Macrinus offered. She thought of Ravi. Yes, he would be able to do it.

“No,” Geta frowned. “She saved my brother. We will look after her.”

“...Of course, your majesty,” Macrinus relented, his plans bearing fruit. He watched Geta carefully.

“You are staying close?” Geta questioned.

“Across from the Colosseum, yes,” Macrinus answered.

“Good. I will keep you informed.” Geta was dismissing Macrinus. 

Macrinus would mark this moment as the one that confirmed that all his work had been for something after all. There was no going back. “Of course. If you need anything at all,” he offered, getting to his feet. 

“You will know,” Geta promised, still applying pressure to Letha’s shoulder as Macrinus got to his feet. 

Macrinus leaned down, near her ear. “You did well,” he praised, pressing a kiss to her hair before gathering his robes in his arms and striding away. It shouldn’t have buoyed her spirits, it was all for his gain, but she still felt relief at his praise. 

“You were magnificent!” Caracalla’s giddy voice met her ears before he leaned down to be in her line of sight. “Just–Ugh!” he shouted, mimicking her stab to the man’s armpit with a reckless swipe between them.

“‘Calla,” Geta warned, though his tone lacked any real bite. “Give her space.”

Caracalla just giggled, sitting down on the floor before her, elbows on his knees. “You must be strong,” he commented. “What are you doing warming Macrinus’s bed?”

She reflexively gripped Geta’s hand in hers, reacting to the implication. “I-I don’t,” she clarified, her voice weaker than she expected. The mere act of speaking made her vision swim.

“Then what does he keep you for? His gladiators?” Caracalla’s words probably weren’t meant to incite her, but they did all the same, her grip on Geta’s palm tightening uncomfortably. 

If only you knew, she thought carelessly.

“Caracalla, move,” Geta ordered, the healer finally arriving, setting down their things before Letha on the floor, blocking Caracalla from view. Her grip relaxed.

Geta spoke calmly with the healer, explaining what had unfolded before his eyes, finally lifting the blood-soaked linen from her shoulder. The healer’s eyes widened momentarily before looking down to their supplies. Through all this, Geta never removed his hand from hers, made no attempt to withdraw. Even when he was arguably in the way, the healer didn’t mention it, probably assuming it would do no good to demand anything of an Emperor.

She groaned, grimacing as a liquid was splashed over her shoulder, the burning sensation deep in the wound almost worse than when it was created. She kept a vice-like grip on Geta’s hand and the moment the pain began to lessen she released it, apologies tumbling from her lips.

“Do not be sorry,” he spoke. “Take it,” he ordered, slipping his hand back into hers. She reluctantly did, thankful for his hands taking the ice out of her fingers. The healer got to work, threading a needle with skilled hands as if he had done this countless times. All comfort Letha had begun to feel abruptly left her as the needle pierced her skin and she let out a sob.

“Do you have nothing for the pain?!” Geta begged. The bones in his hand were forced tightly together and he wondered if they would break in her grip.

“I did not grab it, Emperor,” the healer apologized, his hands stilling over her shoulder, wondering if he should continue. 

“I might have something,” Caracalla proposed, stepping around his brother, his eyes focused on the split flesh over her shoulder, fascinated.

“You’ll kill her,” Geta accused, wishing he could send his brother away like he had everyone else. 

“Perhaps just a little,” the healer suggested, glancing at Geta as if asking permission.

“Give it to me,” she all but whispered, lifting her bloodied hand slightly off her lap. 

Caracalla beamed, reaching into his robes. He eventually withdrew a vial, lowering it to Letha’s open palm. 

“Don’t,” Geta groaned, pulling the vial quickly from Caracalla’s hand. “Wine,” he ordered. A cup was placed on the table and quickly filled. He finally pulled his hand free of her grip and stood, opening the vial over the glass. 

“Only a few drops,” the healer guided, watching carefully as Geta tilted the vial, only allowing a small amount to disappear into the wine. 

Caracalla came back around the back of her chair, stealing away the vial from his brother and stashing it back in his robes, a grin on his face. “You see, brother, I am good for something.”

Geta made no comment as he swirled the glass. He noticed the blood staining his own hand, thinking of how cold hers had been. He was reminded of his dream, a highly confusing one that left him stewing, right up until this afternoon. 

Letha had turned him to stone, one look was all it took. And he was trapped, trapped in his own skin. She just sat, watching him, observing him in some liminal, featureless place. Every part of him her eyes roamed over, he felt a trace of warmth, the barest hint of it. And that was enough for him. He woke up sweating, dazed and slightly embarrassed. He reminded himself he might never encounter her again and that brought him crashing back down to reality. 

But he did. He did, and he couldn’t deny the flare of satisfaction he felt when his attempt actually worked. When he saw her sitting there. It only lasted a moment, though, before his eyes traced the point of a blade up from her shoulder, along Macrinus’s fingers, up his arm, his shoulder, his jealousy forcing him down a murderous path.

“That’s quite enough stirring, Caesar,” the Healer offered, right as a giggle burst forth from Caracalla’s lips. If Geta thought they knew what he’d been thinking of, he might’ve felt anger. 

He held the glass in front of Letha’s mouth, gently pressing against her lower lip. His eyes were trained there, watching as she opened. He only poured a little of the hastily made tincture in. He waited as she swallowed, staring at the column of her throat, eyes lowering to the darkened fabric that had been cut away from her shoulder, the nearly-dry blood covering much of her skin. Her hand squeezing the fabric of his tunic took him out of his study of her and he tilted the glass, offering her a little more. 

This was not at all how he expected this evening to go. Finding Lyra waiting in his chambers after returning from the arena took him by surprise. He had enjoyed her, sure, but he didn’t think he’d expressed any particular desires to Thraex for his concubine. He figured the senator didn’t want to leave one of them empty-handed. He almost sent her away but thought better of it, hoping it would remind Letha of their encounter, and maybe he could relieve some of the tension lurking in his shoulders too. 

He was sure it was successful, if not a bit too successful. Letha had sat beside Macrinus the entire evening, stone-faced, definitely not enjoying herself. And then he’d toasted Macrinus. He thought the evening was going quite well otherwise, until he realized a man was stalking toward his brother, the shine of a blade in his hand. 

He’d moved in front of Caracalla, trying to shield him from this grave injury just as he had always done. Caracalla had gripped the cloth of his robes quite tightly, but didn’t voice his fear. He didn’t have to, they had experienced similar scenarios far too often. It was as natural as a reflex for Geta to step in to receive the blow. But it never came. The blade never came close, and it took him a moment to realize why. 

Letha. 

It didn’t make sense, none of it did. The guards had been so slow to react, he knew they needed to be replaced. Where had she come from? Why was she protecting them like this? As the attacker’s blade pierced her skin, he felt it as if it were his own shoulder. Where had she gotten a knife from? 

He couldn’t deny the way his chest fluttered at her easy violence. The way she clung to the man, her fingers curled around the lip of the chestplate. It stirred something within Geta that he couldn’t name. He wished it had been him pressed against her, some small part of him would even have endured the fatal wound to be that close. It was so intimate. He felt his skin flush at the sight.

And then it was done. She reached up and pulled the other blade free of her shoulder and Geta could only watch, his rapture morphing into fear as her own blood welled up and fell down either side of her shoulder, the drips echoing in his ears as she swayed before him. Before he could vault over the table Macrinus was there, steering her back to her seat. 

“That’s probably enough for now,” the healer instructed, bringing Geta back to the present moment. “I’m going to begin again, and you must keep still,” the healer warned Letha, meeting her eyes. She nodded weakly.

Geta returned to her side, dragging over a chair so he could sit behind her. His hand found hers again and she squeezed it, though only a fraction of as much as before. His brother’s penchant for recreational drugs had somehow benefited someone other than himself. 

As the needle pierced the other side of the wound, Letha hissed, turning her cheek into Geta’s chest. He welcomed her, turning his torso into her, letting her bury her face, hide her discomfort and pain as the stitches slowly knit her skin back together.

Geta did not lack intimacy. He got as much or as little of it as he desired, the nature of his position and what it granted him. But what he did long for was sincerity. True desire. He could tell the difference. It wasn’t in how they gripped his skin. It was in the eyes. And what he saw in Letha’s as she looked up at him, exhaustion weakening her eyelids, left him stunned.

[ Part V ] coming soon

[rainforest-daisies]

Day 10|uniform kink

Character: Leon Kennedy x afab!reader

CW: PIV, dirty talk, pre!apocalypse AU

A/n: i started to hate this after i wrote like the first paragraph😭

Kinktober masterlist

Your feet were planted on a soft rug in front of the kitchen stove, cooking a batch of scrambled eggs that were most likely over-salted, with the strap from your nightgown sliding down your shoulder as you scraped the eggs onto a plate.

It was earlier than you would have rather woken up, but with the ruckus of Leon getting ready, you couldn't possibly fall back asleep. Your eyes zoned out, almost spilling the eggs, when Leon's hands wrapped themselves around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, the fast movements causing you to jump. “Thank you for making breakfast, sweetheart.” A kiss was pressed to your cheek before his figure pulled away and stepped to the coffee pot, hearing the clicks of his dress shoes against the floor.

His hand poured the burning hot coffee into a travel cup, sealing the lid and looking back at you, only to see you bending over, picking up a spilled piece of egg. His tongue met his cheek, a smirk rising on his face as he saw the unclothed flesh he had been worshiping the night before. His cup dipped down onto the counter, Leon almost forgetting about it as he walked back to your body, catching you by surprise once again when you stood back up.

“I know what you're doing…Baby, I can’t be late for work. not on my first day, at least...” a pondering look appeared on his face the moment he saw your teasing pout, gently giggling at your facial expression, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You can be quick, right?” A joking scoff left his lips, as his hands were already fondling the buckle of his belt, undoing the faux leather and dropping it to the floor. The buttons of his black trousers were next to be undone, revealing his tight boxers that hugged his hips, and his already hardening cock. his body pressed yours against the stove's opposing counter, gripping at your waist so tightly that its flesh protruded between his sprawled fingers, his insatiable desire for your body fogging his mind of any consequences.

His free hand dragged itself down your navel, catching ahold of the nightgown hem and lifting it, spreading your thighs as far as you could without sliding off the counter. His finger brushed your slit, collecting arousal that was proof of your evergrowing neediness.

“Was this your plan, hm?” His smile never faltered from his face as he questioned you, “Cook me breakfast and make me miss it? Cause I'm too busy playing with you?” He teased your clit with one hand, freeing your waist with the other, reaching down to pull his dick from the confinements of his boxers. He teased your cunt with the tip, rubbing circles as his precum leaked against you. With a sudden movement, he entered you, simultaneously kissing your lips.

At first, his thrusts were slow, continuously rubbing your clit to aid the pleasure, yet, he couldn’t control himself anymore, his hips were suddenly rampant, surprising you. His cock brushed your cervix, making your body jolt in his arms, gentle coos fell from his lips as your moans grew louder in his ear, “fuck…you feel so good…” The fabric from his unbuttoned pants still rested on his hips, and tickled your inner thigh with each thrust, “feel good? Yeah? Is my girl enjoying herself?” Your hips began to buck upwards, matching the pace of his thrusts as your lips sucked in breaths between your teeth, nodding at his question, too preoccupied to answer with words. “You like it when I fuck you in my new uniform? Shit…I can tell. You're drenched, baby...” his words were drawn out, in between gasps and moans.

His thumb begins to tremble, thrusting you into your awaited orgasm, which causes him to follow promptly. With a loud moan, he spilled his load into your clenching cunt, arm wrapping around your torso and holding the back of your head against his shoulder. “Shit…” his arms pulled you closer, heavily breathing as his eyes trailed up to the clock above your kitchen sink.

“sh…shit! I'm late!”

[asa-miaow]

fwb! childhood friend! Lip Gallagher x GN! Reader

Synopsis: Who doesn't get drawn to Lip Gallagher? Not you. You're hoping to commit, he hoped you never asked. So you commit to something else. It's not what he thinks

Word Count: 898

Content Warnings: Allusions to sex, light kissing, cuss words idk, some smoking, yearning on reader's part and some jealousy from lip

A/N: No use of Y/N. Just a blurb, my first ever actually. So if you read this, congrats! You've taken my writing virginity muah! You gonna take responsibility?

He just draws people in without meaning to— all dirty blond curls that brush against his ears, roman nose that plagues that back of your mind, and a brain you can't even fathom the depths of. He's made of stardust, Lip Gallagher and all his freckles, then you stop your line of thought because you're not that much of a pathetic mess.

(You wonder if this is what Homer felt when he looked on to Calliope, all untapped potential and inquisitive blue eyes and snarky lips wrapped around a cig. Try as you might to put it in words: his character, the way he thought, the way his lips curl that makes the corners of his eye wrinkle, he's Lip and you're merely mortal.

Admiration can't bleed through your words enough so they bleed into your blood stream instead.)

It was hard being his most unfortunate and unwilling victim. You might have wanted to be in a relationship with him at first, might have even told him that only for him to vehemently be against it. It comes out as a snort, unbidden from what you can tell with his eyes going wide like that. Your fingers grasp the back of your neck, brushing against skin so you don't feel the shame of wanting more.

That's fine. Your friendship with him was more important than anything else anyway. Might as well have him when he wants to and how he wants to, if you can't have all of him.

You're pathetic enough for that, you think, looking for stability from someone who'd never known any. However, life had beaten you hard enough to accept things that cannot be controlled.

It takes weeks for the awkwardness to settle, one difficult night where your room was more of a solace than his shared room was with the boys.

But when you wake up in your bed, he takes out a cig and passes it to you, calls you a bum in a way that makes your nose feel sharp and everything is back to the way it was.

Lip was at your place, but calls you a bum for a cigarette that you didn't even ask for. Go figure.

It's fine for a while, really, really. You might not be as smart as Lip, but you had a pragmatic mind and steady shoulders despite your rapidly beating heart.

The lingering looks lessen, focusing more on your prospects—in your career, your future, God knows there's no one quite like Lip Gallagher and you have no desire to touch that part of you that aches still.

Your eyes dart to your phone screen, cracked and scratched, more often than not these days. Waiting, just waiting for an email that says you got accepted to that internship. Or that minimum wage job that pays you less than what you get from Patsy. It's an uphill climb towards experience in your vocation and you want to reach the summit.

Not that a lot of people would even know that. All that they could see is that you check your phone more often now.

Every ping, it rouses you from whatever it was you were doing. Or who.

"Fuckin' focus," Lip finds himself grabbing you by your jaw, cheeks squishing under the pads of his fingers. His other hand paws at your thighs, digging into the flesh.

A string of saliva connects your lips together, leaving petal-soft flesh looking shiny and pink.

Lip had always been selfish, it comes by nature. Or nurture too. Who cares at this point when his digits dig into smooth skin and you look at him all confused and outraged?

"Wait," you say. "Could be important."

Seriously? Fuck you. Lip is the one who is confused, he is the one who is outraged. He bites at your lip, wanting it to hurt, wanting to draw blood.

Something has been taking your attention recently and he's not used to it, he ain't happy at all. He doesn't make a secret of it even if he doesn't know why. All he knows is that he never had to share your attention, you were always there, always present, always pissing him off like you're doing now.

So easily satisfied and content even if he's out meandering around with god knows who. Agreeable, understanding, patient and always-

Your phone vibrates again.

How dare you?

Your eyes dart to your phone in a way that makes his shackles rise.

How fucking dare you?

Be understanding here with his chub, be agreeable, fucking focus.

Fingers pressing harder, lips searching yours frantically. He drinks in your protests, your words, your fucking spit.

Anything, everything to keep you away from your fucking phone. He'd chuck it out the door if he didn’t understand how needed it is, really. Would fucking throw it down on the pavement and stomp on that shit for good measure.

He thought it was subtle, how he would wrap his hand a little too tightly on your thigh, on your face. Whoever it is you're talking to, he fucking hopes that they notice. The bruises on your hips won't match anyone else's but his.

He knows that when they kiss you, they'll hear your voice and the way your breath hitches. If he's kissing you too much, leaving you breathless. Lip wasn't sorry. He's making sure that whoever kisses you, they taste him instead.

[odd-im-o]

How to Create an Imaginary

*this guide has been created based on my own experiences and what has worked for me. it is purely a recommendation and should by no means be treated as the final say on imagimancy

*the items within this post have no set order. do whichever points you want, however you want, whenever you want and only IF you want!

*enjoy :D

There's many reasons someone may want to summon an imaginary. Maybe you had one as a child and miss them. Maybe you never quite figured out how to make one in the first place. Maybe the idea of having sentient thoughtforms and willos is a big commitment you're not ready to take yet.

Whatever the reason, I wanted to compile a guide of sorts outlining how to create your own!

What is an Imaginary?

An imaginary is a non- or partially-sentient being drawn from someone's imagination. This could be a fictional character, pet, companion, or anything else! These friends are typically constructed in ones mind and projected out into the real world. It's like a para outside of the paracosm, or an oc specifically designed to interact with you, the creator.

This guide will outline tips to create and maintain your own imaginary.

Choose a Type

Before you can summon an imaginary, you need to know what role your imaginary will play. Are they meant to be a pet, friend, caregiver, lover, or something else entirely? Are they human? Mythical? Something else? Will they be brain-made? Or maybe they're drawn from pre-existing media?

The limits are your own imagination. Choose what fits your own interests and needs.

Draw Inspiration

Your new imaginary may be born from your mind, but it's helpful to draw inspiration from other places. Maybe there's a character you want them to resemble, or a personality you find fitting with your own. Maybe you have an idea for an aesthetic or style your imaginary will take on.

Gather those inspirations and use them moving forward! Maybe make a folder in your phone filled with interesting images, write down what tickles your fancy, or make an collage online. Whatever the method, have fun with this step! It will help flesh out your imaginary.

Visualization

Once you've gathered ideas for your imaginary, it's time to start visualizing. This is, personally, the most difficult part. Your companion, afterall, doesn't actually exist quite yet. It's through your own mind that they will manifest, and that takes a bit of time and effort on your part.

One method of visualization is art. Draw what you want your imaginary to look like, or use picrews or other online-makers to create them. Make them a few times over, see what fits and what feels right, and eventually you should settle on something that's correct.

Another method is picturing. Turn on some music or ASMR you want to associate with your imaginary, close your eyes, and see what appears. Write down anything notable or simply observe. See what comes to mind.

Regardless of your method, at the end you should be able to picture the key traits of your imaginary. Don't worry if these traits change later on. Your imaginary is a being, afterall, and is subject to change. Just settle on what feels right and give your imaginary room to grow as they get settled.

Characterization

As you start to visualize your imaginary, their personality should start to shine through as well.

Observe your imaginary and see what personality traits begin to arise. How do they act? How do they speak? How do they interact with you? Interact with others?

Alternatively, make these choices for yourself! Do you want your imaginary to be friendly? Aggressive? Assertive? Are they an ally to you or a needed opposition?

Also take the time to flesh out your relationship with your imaginary. What role do they play in your life? How do they add to or subtract from your world? How do you two interact?

Once again, these answers may change as your imaginary grows, but begin to take notes of some key factors you notice or want within your imaginary.

Interaction

This is the fun one. While it is completely valid to not interact with your imaginaries, I personally find that interaction is what sets an imaginary apart from OCs or fictional character daydreaming.

That being said, your imaginaries aren't sentient and are somewhat controlled by you. Here's some tips for interacting with your imaginaries and helping to build a relationship between the two of you.

Schedule Interaction Time

I, personally, spend time with my imaginary every morning while I do my daily routine. It provides set-aside time for us to bond and helps to make sure I don't forget he exists.

Choosing a time to interact with your imaginary can really help to build a relationship and make sure they consistently appear. Maybe you talk with your imaginary during lunchbreaks everyday, or Saturday afternoons are always set aside for the two of you. Try not to let this get in the way of other relationships, though. Those are important. It's simply helpful to know that, say, while you do the dishes everyday, a friend will be sitting there to talk with you.

Choose Points in Space

When interacting with your imaginary, try choosing points in the world around you where they appear. Maybe you have a dragon sitting on your shoulder, or a giant crouched outside your window, or a fairy flying just ahead of you. Even if you can't literally see your companion, imagine where they would be while you interact.

Chat with your Imaginary

Talking with your imaginary is a great form of interaction. I personally will talk out loud and give my imaginary time to respond. Another method is to have a mental conversation between the two of you.

At the start, it may feel a little awkward and forced. You may be choosing what your imaginary says and how they respond. But keep with it. Over time the communication should begin to feel more natural.

Forming Habits

Once the hardest parts are done, your only other job is to form habits. Choose moments when you want your imaginary to appear and regularly summon them then. Get used to interacting with them consistently. Observe the way they change and grow as the two of you get to know each other.

Ultimately, if your imaginary doesn't stick around, don't fret! It's totally okay for them to fade. But with a bit of time and effort, you can have an imaginary that sticks with you for a long time :)

[artificial-transmutations]

Out Now: Dam Breakers

Hello everyone! I'm extremely excited (and, quite frankly, more than a bit nervous) to announce that I finished my fantasy romance novel Dam Breakers!

For the very TLDR-version: It is available here! Be sure to read the disclaimer below, though.

First of all, thank you! Everyone who reads my stories or likes them shows me that there is at least some interest in my mediocre writing. And even though the novel is not exactly like my stories here (more to that later), it gives me hope that you and other people might like it.

Now, for the actual novel!

Dam Breakers is the tale of Jared, a rather normal modern day college student, and Aleron, an apprentice mage living in a secluded tower with his teacher. One fateful day, they meet and are drawn into a maelstrom of magic, change and love - and dark secrets threatening to destroy everything they loved.

With over 120000 words, this is not only my longest story yet, but also my most carefully crafted one. I will attach an image of my Obsidian graph for the story at the end of the post.

Disclaimer:

As I have mentioned, it is a bit different from the stories I usually post here. First and foremost, it's a lot tamer. This novel isn't meant as a porn piece, but as an intriguing fantasy and romance tale. While there is love, desire and sex, of course, it's way more sparse and less explicit than, for example Closer Than Flesh.

It also features transformation themes, and the concept of change is one of the main focus points of the book, but, again, don't expect 500 pages full of transforming bodies because of it :)

And, finally, for a multitude of reasons, it does not contain AI generated images. I wouldn't be able to generate any that do the story justice, anyway.

Now that you know what not to expect, here are some things you MAY expect:

Transformation. Both in the sense of bodily changes but intriguing character development as well.

Gay Love. This is a story about two men from different worlds falling in love with each other, and their stony road to being together.

Magic. It's a fantasy story, and a truly enchanting one at that, with a fresh concept of magic and change.

Story. Last, but certainly not least, it's a good and interesting read, at least according to my opinion. Since I might be a bit biased here, let me tell you that my beta readers agree.

If you still want to read it (and I hope you do!), then you can grab your copy here:

If you are not in the US, you can just replace the .com with, for example, .co.uk to go to your local Amazon marketplace

I have not forgotten, of course, that I promised a special condition for you folks at Tumblr. Since Amazon makes it a bit difficult to actually implement that, I plan to offer a time limited discount or giveaway in a few weeks. I'll announce the exact time here on my blog beforehand.

If you really want to support me, it would mean a lot to me if you could leave a review on Amazon. That influences the algorithm a lot and helps the book get visibility, which is incredibly important . So, please, if you like the book, leave a review.

Teaser / Preview (mild spoilers)

And here is a short look into the book, from chapter 4. It contains some mild spoilers, but nothing too important. I also added an AI image, which is not in the book (see above).

[...]

Even though the weather was unstable, Jared enjoyed the journey through the vibrant spring land. It was a closeness to nature he had never experienced. Even back home with his parents, in rural Texas, the land had seemed different. Back there, the wilderness had been tamed decades if not centuries ago. There was no wonder, no adventure. Here, there were hills and forests, rivers and bogs, and who knew what else. It was as if Jared was seeing the world for the first time. Not to mention the smell. Jared could not remember a time when he had smelled the spring air like this.

In addition to the landscape, Jared's traveling companion also played a big part. Aleron was an intelligent and witty conversationalist, and Jared learned a lot about his new friend. They spoke of everything under the sun, and Jared told stories of his home, of modern inventions and the differences between this world and his. Even though Aleron was fascinated by his tales, he was also clearly skeptical about some of them, especially when it came to the more complex topics. That was only fair, though, as Jared himself had a hard time believing the fantastic stories of this world, even after having experienced some with his own eyes. Dragons, for example. It didn't matter how often Aleron recited what little information he had about those magnificent beasts, something in Jared resisted fully believing in them. He hoped that he would be able to see one of them for real - although Aleron repeatedly stressed how dangerous they were - in order to be able to fully believe in them.

While Aleron's world was certainly magical, it wasn't all like in the Lord of the Rings. There were, for example, no other humanoid races, as Jared learned. No elves, dwarves or orcs, at least to Aleron's knowledge, which, to be fair, mainly included the Kingdom of Myrthien. Although the Whispering Woods were not technically a part of Myrthien, and were generally considered wilderness, it was clear that they were no part of another nation either. The closest neighboring country to the Whispering Woods would either be the Golden Isles beyond the coast south of Eldoria or the Verdant Lands to the west. According to Aleron, the Verdant Lands couldn't really be considered a nation, too. It was more of a loose confederation of tribal communities, living in the characteristic dense forests of that region.

As Helena had promised, Luminara wasn't difficult to find. The capital of Myrthien was well known and if there was a sign post somewhere, it was sure to point to Luminara.

There was no shortage of smaller and bigger settlements, and about every third or fourth night they were able to sleep in beds. During the other nights, they made camp a bit off the road in order not to attract too much attention. It was one of those nights, about two weeks after they had left Eldoria, that Jared woke up in the middle of the night. Aleron, who was sleeping next to him, was moving in his sleep and occasionally made a sound, which had caused Flicker to gain a bit of distance to the sleeping man.

It was clear to Jared that his friend was dreaming, and he briefly considered waking him up from his nightmare. However, judging by the sounds, Jared began to suspect that Aleron was not having a nightmare but quite the opposite, although the dream seemed to be just as intense.

Quietly, he left the tent, careful not to wake the sleeping mage. Outside, he was greeted by the stars and a clear sky with an almost full moon. The campfire was almost dead, just a few embers and ashes were left. It was a quiet, peaceful night, and Jared decided to go to the nearby lake to drink. Aleron had never once shown a single sign of sexuality before, except for demonstrating a certain uneasiness around nudity and related topics. He never had commented on any woman - or man - in a suggestive way, so Jared had been half- convinced that this whole topic didn't have any relevance to the mage at all.

Of course, for his own reasons, Jared had avoided the subject as well, so, perhaps Aleron thought the same about him. Jared didn't mind that. As magical as this world was, he had yet to encounter a single sign of same-sex attraction. Perhaps this wasn't a thing here, biologically, or perhaps it was socially frowned upon, like in his world's medieval ages - or rural Texas, present day. In any case, there was absolutely no reason to bring that topic up, so he didn't. Not bringing up his sexuality was a sport he was very experienced in for 9 years straight now, after all.

As Jared neared the lake, he was feeling weird and tingly all over. It was not entirely unpleasant, but it stirred a vague memory in Jared. He had felt this feeling once before, but he couldn't quite recall when.

When he bent down to scoop some water into his hand, he stopped before his fingers touched the surface of the lake. The moon was bright, and Jared could see his reflection in the mirror-smooth water quite well. The only problem was that it was not him who was looking back at him.

Of course, there was a strong resemblance, but the details weren't right. His face looked somewhat stronger, his jawline a bit squarer. His hair a bit lighter and styled like the day he first stepped out of the mirror. On his chin, there was a short well-groomed beard even though he had shaved just last morning. It wasn't just his face, though. As he looked down on himself, he looked fitter than he should, as if he was visiting a gym regularly. In fact, the definition of muscle on his torso increased further, just as he was watching. Suddenly, the wonder was replaced by fear. He had felt that way before, and now he remembered when. It had been during his first visit to Aleron's world, when his body was 'destabilizing' as Aleron had put it. Given, the feeling had been stronger then, but it was definitely the same. And now, his body was changing again, and he was weeks of travel from the magic mirror.

Half-panicking, he sprinted back to the tent, not caring about being quiet anymore. Perhaps Aleron knew what to do! He ducked into the entrance and called out to the mage.

"Aleron, wake up!"

Almost immediately, the apprentice jolted awake. "Jared? What is wrong?"

"I... don't know, it's me. Look at me!"

After a few words of encouragement, Flicker began burning brighter, allowing them to see in the tent as well. Aleron looked at the half-naked Jared critically for a few moments before asking: "Okay... what am I looking for?"

"Can't you see? I'm..." However, as Jared looked down on himself, everything was fine again. He was looking at his plain old self, just as he should look like. The tingling feeling was gone, too.

"Oh." Jared felt incredibly stupid all of a sudden. "I... must have been imagining things."

[...]

If you liked the teaser, be sure to give the whole thing a read :)

Let me close with another whole-hearted Thank You for your continued interest!

Stay awesome!

And here, as promised, a peek at the creative complexity of the story:

[fluorynn]

💙 — 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 !

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Valentine’s spent with Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo’ak !

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @aristocolourway @deadgirlrin @missisaz @faintfill @honeycinnamon @by-bananant @lauren1523 @xobridgertonblues @hungrynessforfics @dananannanana @innercreationflower @angie-1306 @cozybubble

𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!

a/n : It is love day, everyone !!! To those Avatar lovers still out there who adore these characters — these are for you ! Please enjoy, and happy Valentines Day!<33

Valentines Day with Ao’nung, Tsireya, and Rotxo !

— Neteyam !

Anchored. Unrelenting. Sizzling. Neteyam’s mind was anchored, his heartbeat unrelenting, and his body sizzling over your dampened frame. The propinquity he shared with you allayed him, the water’s ambience soothed him. Shallow were Awa’Atlu’s pristine oceans for each gentle wave covered you both lying within it, complying to the silhouette of his body lithe and tendered into yours.

A rarity of a sight it was to witness him, Neteyam the strong and mighty warrior, in a state of relaxation, for he habitually carried a solemn countenance, resolute in his duties. As not only the eldest son but older brother, the golden child, he adhered dutifully to his responsibilities. And you, trainee under your mother, Tsahik, in hopes to become your Clan’s future Tsahik were in freedom from its worries for the time being, in freedom of being the eldest child and daughter, something that had drawn one another together. The profound joy derived from sharing tranquility with someone who served as the paramount source of it marked an unparalleled and cherished experience, and you liberated him all those titles as he liberated you, giving each other the simplest and most valuable one yet: your Neteyam, his Y/N.

Tucked beneath the outline of your jaw was his head, the wet entwines of his hair grazing your turquoise flesh with every movement of his burrowing deeper into your neck. The shore’s aroma was strong from the current breeze laced with the currents, the aromas you’ve inhaled, embraced and adored your entire life; but Neteyam’s potent fragrance was the single one that inebriated you in this moment. Pandora’s multicolored fluorescence illuminated the ocean’s vibrant blues, clashing breathtakingly with both your distinct tones under the night sky. This felt right, this felt nice and tranquil. Something you knew he needed far more than you ever did.

You felt the brims of his lashes fluttering, hearing him breathe in the pure essence that is solely yours, and this dragged a shuddering sigh from your lungs. You raised the three of your fingers and let them trace down his spine, tips soon straying from its path to outline his endearing stripes, to memorize the star-like specks shimmering upon his rich blue contours. The lingers of your ascend elicited a shiver from the young warrior, an elicit you hoped for.

“That feels nice…may you do it again?” You couldn’t help the giggle bubbling up your throat at his request, so sweet, so polite in asking even when eager for your touch, so Neteyam. Not a second of the day goes by without the lightest of contacts with you, always savoring each and every touch you gave his being and you could never ever deny him the privilege, so of course you more than willingly agreed. There it was, that sound of acceptance, that feel of content that you chased when with him, it is what you savor; to gratify him, to fortify him.

“I have made a gift for you, ma ‘Teyam,” Your soft utterance brought his head to lift from its haven within your warmth while his lips twitched. “You did not need to do that, my love. I can conform with the gift of your presence. That is all I need and want.” His fingers rose to softly thread through your dark tresses, chuckling at the pretty purse your lips now formed despite the flush pigmenting your cheeks.

“Rutxe, Neteyam ( please ). I did it for you out of my love. Please allow me to show you, and please accept it because it took some time to make it.” He knew denying you was a task he had never done, and Neteyam knew he could never even comply with it when it came to you. Those alluring swirls of blue orbs you carried relished him to let out a deep sigh but reluctantly agreed, for he did not want your efforts to go to waste, much less when it was made from the affections you held for him.

You lightly tapped his shoulder and he pushed himself away from you, much to his dismay, though he was genuinely intrigued as to what you have made for him. Your fingers reached behind your neck, unclasping a necklace above one he had given you with, though he hadn’t been aware of though the way it was woven had been familiar, and his golden hues brimmed confusion at how there was another similar with its design like the one now in your palm, displayed for him to catch the way the one you held carried a vibrantly blue stone in the middle, assisted with 2 tiny stones accompanying each side.

“It is a necklace.”

You nodded happily, bringing his wrist out of the water and had him splay his fingers out to place the jewelry there. Your translucent gaze caught his own and smiled at how curiosity colored his beautiful features. “Would you like me to put it on, pretty boy?” His eyes resisted from rolling at the nickname given, but he would admit it had grown quite noticeable on him; his ears batted bashfully from the sound, his tail swaying in anticipation, creating cute splashes against the ocean that made you giggle beneath his playful glare. “Yes, please.”

He settled himself in front of you as you kneeled, carefully moving the longer length of his single braid before it was assisted by the myriad of his much thinner ones. You smiled to yourself at the way he exhaled deeply from your feathering touches, and you knew that he was waiting patiently for you to elaborate the reason for your gift. “I know how much you miss your home, so with the help of your sister and mother, I made this out of the material you used back in the Forest.”

He turned back with a softness in his eyes, and he caught onto the similar lace accentuating your neck had, the one he’d given you; the middle being an oval-shaped, light blue stone while assisted by soft colored stones. He stayed quiet, knowing there was more you wished to say, but his heart couldn't help but feel concerned at the way your ears so very slightly flattened alongside your head. “I know my father said you are Metkayina now…but I am sure that if Eywa gave you the chance, that when conflict is over, you’d like to go back with your People–”

“If that ever were to happen, I would not leave you, if that is what you are thinking. I will come back to you, Y/N.” He was in haste to reassure those doubts, those fears, not wanting to think or continue a life without you by his side, without you as his future mate. Neteyam did not know anymore what path has been set for his family or himself, but he much rather it be one with you in it and him in yours. To which is why he paused for a moment before he reached to take his necklace off. His fingers then slithered between the long cascades of your locks and to the nape of your neck without tearing his eyes from yours, and unclasped your own necklace.

“Neteyam, what–” Unaware you were to the exchange he’d done, the necklace made for him now adorning your neck while yours adorned his. Your eyes shyly peered up, chest blossoming a rareness of warmth as he gave you a precious smile and interlocked his fingers within yours. “We now wear each other’s, so we carry a part of the other everywhere. No matter how far away we are from each other, no matter the time, no matter the People, I am and will forever be yours, Y/N.”

Gleaming and utterly gorgeous was your smile, and he took in the purity of your beauty, of your love. “And I, too, am and will always be yours, Neteyam.” He kissed you, sweetly and delicately yet enough to have your mind and heart soaring higher than you ever thought possible. “Wherever, whenever.”

He gave you one more of his precious smiles before settling back down into your neck, soft kisses brushing and accompanied by the water’s light current across your skin.

— Kiri !

There was noise, some semblance of it at least, you thought. Yet Pandora’s outside world was reduced with every word spewing from Kiri’s lips. You decided then and there that no other melody could vanquish the one she created, not even your songcord – of course, you’d never say that aloud to anyone besides her.

Kiri, the Na’vi girl with humanistic features that everyone in Awa’atlu thought to be odd, even you. Yet not the bad kind, never the bad when it came to the Sully girl. Beyond compare and contrast was her beauty, alluring was her smile. It was easy to get lost in it, so effortlessly to overawe its brilliance.

Kiri’s feet very lightly whirled within the translucency of the waters, the glittering light of Pandora’s tiny fishes circling her motions. You scrutinized her every expression though, smiling at the way her eyes brimmed with thrill down at the little creatures while your focus remained solely on your Kiri.

Something then fell from her lips – a subtle tug down following afterwards when she turned to look at you. Her once lax-hold on your hand was quick to direct and persistent, and this time your gaze fell to your twined fingers and smiled even more at the sight. But to reassure her, your thumb grazed over the back of her palm lovingly and gave a small nod. Kiri protested your dissociation for she was not indulgent with it in this second, not amused of your dazing irises. If only she could know one did not – couldn’t or shouldn’t ever be allowed to dissociate when near her presence. If anything, the only possibility for you was to associate with her. Kiri, despite the silent and rather be reserved with her thoughts and emotions, was so worth listening to, so worth being able to associate with the way her eyes twinkled brighter than the fluorescence Pandora had to offer, dimming every light encasing you as you sat at the edge with your feet dangled in the water, life wavering you as the night’s stars shimmered.

“I don’t think my family believes that I can feel her, Y/N.” She rolled her eyes with a soft scoff, the act that anyone else would believe as disrespectful and angry but you knew her; you knew this facade, how much this tethered her heart with hurt and sadness. And you also knew – witnessed the strong connection Kiri had with Eywa, and even if you hadn’t you believed in her word with no doubts, no hesitations. Of course, she was reluctant in how you quickly believed her but you reassured the Omaticayan girl. You gave her the closest thing there was to feeling like she did belong, like she did have something – someone to emotionally open up to and depend on. She then smiled softly, “But as long as someone believes me, that someone being you, I think I can settle with tha–”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The sudden blurt of your declaration halted her words. The rareness of a blush pigmenting beneath those glittering star specks across her cheeks. You didn’t see it because her face dipped down as quickly as it came, yet you didn’t need to. You knew Kiri, purely and confidently. “I made you something, by the way.”

Her head lifted at your words and her nose scrunched. “Why, out of all days, today?”

“Your brother had told me something about … a festivity Sky People have. One your father said they had back on their planet.” You paused, eyes averting. “He asked me for help in making something for Tsireya and while I did…I was convinced to make you something.”

Her eyes squinted as if trying to recall this holiday before realization settled in and a groan erupted from her throat. “That festivity is so … so cheesy, I swear. Why would you make me something?”

You shrugged, a bit confused as to why she thought this, “The way he spoke about it intrigued me… you do not want the gift then?”

Her eyes widened and mouth pursed. “But I didn’t get you a gift.”

“Having you is more than a gift.”

She groaned once more, but it was a mirthful sound. “You need to stop hanging out with Lo’ak. And my dad maybe. But okay, fine…let me see it.”

You grinned widely and brought your legs out of the water to retrieve the gift and returned with it hidden behind your back as you settled down, “Give me your feet.”

“Perv. Why out of all things my feet?”

“Kiri, please just listen! – What is a perv?” You shook your head before bringing one hand to her knee. “Never mind – Come on… it is nothing bad.” Her brow was hitched up high, letting a few beats go by until she sighed and gave in, propping both her dampened feet over your thigh. “Now what?”

You goofily grinned at the glare she gave you when you squeezed her foot. “Close your eyes.”

She narrowed her eyes even more , trying to inspect and unravel what you were up to. “If you tickle my feet, I will personally end you.”

“Everyday in your presence, you end me by taking my breath away.” That brought out a groan and laugh, her eyes crinkling beautifully. “You’re so corny, I swear. But fine, let’s get it over with.”

You chuckled but continued, fingers very lightly curling around her ankle and wrapped the piece you had made for her, occasionally letting the tips of your fingers stray the heel of her foot. “Stop! Y/N, that tickles, stop it or I will open my eyes!” She’d huff at the whispered giggles you would let out, trying to keep the deep furrow between her brows and yet with every joyous sound you made, she could no longer contain the warm smile curling her mouth. You adjusted the piece on the other ankle then, smiling proudly at your work. “Open them.”

Kiri’s lashes fluttered as she complied and very quietly gasped. Her feet had been embroidered with incredibly crafted barefooted sandals, the color scheme assisting browns, yellows, and green tiny fragments of trinkets, and she recognized the patterns to be similar to the necklace around her neck, the one that once belonged to her mother.

Her head snapped to you. “W-what, how did you—”

You smirked, “It helps hanging out with your brother and dad.”

Golden irises broadened in awe as she retracted her feet from your lap, her leg bending as her fingers brushed over the fine jewelry. “How did you even make this?”

“It took time…and a few minor injuries with the beads, but nothing my mother couldn’t fix,” She looked down at your hands, tiny and faint cuts scattering your digits and palms and she frowned. “You skxawng,” she lightly hit the back of your head but reached for your hands, bringing them close to her face and placed a soft kiss over each scratch. “You beautiful, considerate, lovable skxawng.”

“Don’t know if I should feel insulted or flattered,” you chuckled out. She giggled, bringing one of your palms to her cheek and the pads of your fingers stroked her bangs, giving her that heartwarming look that always mollified her insides. “Thank you, Y/N…but I still didn’t get you anything.”

You waved her off, “Do not worry about it… though I do have another surprise.”

“Again, I didn’t get you anything!”

“You didn’t need to! Look –” You outstretched your leg over her lap revealing your ankle being bejeweled with a similar patterned anklet. “I'm matching with you now!” She grinned widely and feathered her touch over it before wrapping her hands around your leg and tugged you closer. “I love it. I love you, in fact.” she didn’t give you time to respond because her complete enamour with you led her to kiss you soft, firm, lovingly.

— Lo’ak !

“My dad had told me of a celebration the Sky People once had on their planet — a celebration that included gift giving.” Gift giving that included the special gift in a pocket tied to Lo’ak’s loincloth, unaware to you.

“Really?” You smiled, a wonder and intrigue morphing your features. “That seems like something we do here when courting your future mate! Is there a name for this celebration?”

“Valentines Day. That is its name…but it’s not only about the gift giving, if not the motive behind it.” The swaying motions your interlocked hands created slowed down as the tips of his fingers pressed deeper into your skin. “Oh? And what is that, ma Lo’ak?”

He smiled briefly at the nickname given, a reflection of what his mother called his dad, and the love they shared swelled his heart of the love he shared with you. “To celebrate any sort of connection with your loved ones. Preferably friendship, admiration…love.”

“Lo’ak, what is this?” The melodic sound of your giggles normally mesmerized him, eased his nerves with the soft joyous sound. Today, under the setting eclipse should be no different, for this is how you spend your evenings together; hands clasped together, swinging through the air while the both of you strided through Awa’atlu’s sands, the winds astoundingly tousling through the rich ringlets of your hair, and you’d both soothe each other’s struggles of the days with sweet words and gentle touches.

But today, his nerves could not be tamed by even you, his sweet girl, as he stopped his steps indicating you to do the same, and stood in front of you with a shell-made case in his tight grasp, his saffron colored eyes looked anywhere but those cerulean ones he adored endlessly. The points of his ears flitted from his resistance of emotions while his tail lashed, and your smile faltered with the final sign that indicated his nervousness; the way he practically chewed off the corner of his lip, incisors puncturing the flesh.

“Lo’ak, what is wrong — are you okay? Is something the matter?” The soft tone and light touch of your hand on his clenching one brought his gaze up, and his brows knitted in awe at the delicacy of your features, of the ocean pools you carried. He swallowed hard, briefly smiling with a nod.

“D-do you know what a ring is?”

A subtle quirk resided between your eyes but nodded. “I do not wear them…but I do know what they are. A type of jewelry worn on the hand, yes?”

He nodded, thumbs tapping over the shell’s thin dents. “What does it mean to you? I-if I gave you one? For this celebration of love that Sky People have?”

Your lips parted and the corners threatened to lift into a smile, but kept quiet as you observed his expression. “I would be more than happy… especially if it came from you—”

“But do you know the purpose of a ring? What would it mean to you?” He felt the pulsing of his heart, practically heard it and wouldn’t be surprised if you too could, with the way its wild and profound beating hammered against his chest with each pump of blood in and out of the organ.

You thought for a moment, trying to connect a response that would somehow calm him. The three of your fingers fiddled over the five of his, smiling at the way his deeper blue tones contrasted with your aquamarine ones, coming together as one. “It will be an act of affection on your part if you did. And I would cherish it very much. Though I do not know the…actual significance of a ring.”

His father had told him of the ways humans bonded to each other for eternity without the intimacy of tsaheylu, of how all the things tied to love were forged into a single promise, a single piece of jewelry such as a ring.

“Why did you never get mom a ring then?” He recalled Tuk questioning, and he would only chuckle while scratching the back of his neck. “Your mom isn’t fond of human things and the Na’vi’s got their own thing for marital acts, baby… besides you need five fingers for this to work.”

But that did not matter to him, not in this case, because when he heard and unraveled the details behind a ring, he found it to be beautiful and significant. You had been one of the greatest things that have ever occurred to him since the Sky People returned. Since he had to flee from the only home he’s ever known. Since the death of his big brother. And in the months that he has known you, in the months living in uncertainty and fear only for it to be washed away by those ocean eyes of yours, he found a firm certainty in something after a long time; about the love he felt for you, about you deserving something that beautiful, that significant. “Why do you ask?”

Because within this shell, the shell you and I happened to catch from the bottom of the ocean and you praised me for it, is a ring that isn’t exactly for marriage but as a promise to you of my undying love and promising future I will make sure to have with you. Because I am certain that I do not ever want to lose you, because you have seen me at my worst when he died. I cannot risk going on without you.

Another bob motioned up his throat before his shaking fingers opened the case in his palm, catching onto the soft gasp emitted from your lips.

“Dad told me the meaning, and I learned that it signifies an eternity of love; no beginning, no end. That the hole in the middle, it’s a gateway that leads to things and events known and unknown.” His accent was increasing its thickness as he spoke, internally cursing and hoped that you could still understand him. “The marital ring means forever, and I know that I want forever with you,”

It took you a moment to recognize the chiseled figure over the twig-like band — a single pearl in the middle, twinkling and impressively tiny trinkets embedded around the band. You knew it must’ve taken the Omaticayan boy quite some time to create this. Though you then caught a glimpse of a new necklace around his neck, one that assisted a pearl similar to the one upon the ring .

“But in the meantime, I want to give you what they call a promise ring, a-and when the time comes, I can….if you’ll take me, be your mate. Forever.”

Tears glistened the vibrancy of your irises, threatening to fall down your cheeks, clogging the words within your throat. All you could do was create a wobbly smile as he took ahold of your hand and slipped the ring around your middle finger, sliding perfectly into place.

“And as soon as everything gets cleared out, as soon as we hit that age, I won’t hesitate in making this the real thing, h-how does that sound to you?”

The sudden wrap of your arms around his shoulders and the soft pecks meeting his face spoke the answer, and he chuckled against your lips. “Happy Valentine's Day, baby.”

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 17

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Drew Tanaka's True Love Connections by @buoyantsaturn

Will smiled. "I have an appointment next door with the, uh… Matchmaker lady?” He winced at his own awkwardness, trying to bite back the embarrassment he felt. “Well, actually my friend set it up for me, but-- Sorry, do you know anything about her? The matchmaker lady, not my friend, I mean. I’m just not sure what to expect, you know? I’ve never, uh, done something like this before.” 

THIS WAS SO SICK I LOVED IT!!!!!! flowershop au with a twist oh yes ma’am. also im so pumped drew was in this every time i see her im like hello my love how are you

2. just desserts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

It’s just a cupcake, Nico reminds himself. Surely that justifies breaking into the infirmary at the break of dawn. or: nico's love language is baking and will solace gets a lot of cake as a result.

end note hate me GIGGGGLIIING. also i am OBSESSED with this author but i haven’t read the solangelo book yet so i haven’t read a lot of her stuff and i’m DYING to. this was as sweet as nico's baking fr!! i'm writing less of a note on this fic (altho i love it) bc the WORDS i have to say about the next one,,,

3. caught in the river of tears that i cried by @thegoldenappleofdiscord*

In all honesty, it was really for the best that Will didn’t think about all the strange things that sometimes happened around him. After all, his mama had more than enough on her plate already. He was a good kid, and it was best everything stayed as it were. (Though admittedly, the flock of flesh-eating maniac pigeons, men with hooves, and the growing darkness in his veins might just make this a tiny bit more difficult than he anticipated) or: will can only push down a part of him for so long (will has plague powers, but he's known it from the very start.)

UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN REESE PLEASE 😭😭i am genuinely so obsessed with this fic and the WAY everything is woven together....like fear is a driving force!! you can feel it!! this is one of those starred fics fr bc it Changed the way i wrote and characterized will. he is fr a character who has been controlled by fear his Whole life actually. of the world and what it takes from him. of the Fates that do not care for your fragile love. of the things they are forced to do. of the precarity of life. and perhaps most intimately and ardently Himself, and the abilities he does not want to have, the life he does not want to live. the parts of himself that do not fit in the mold he has Built for himself and Forced himself into. and this fic shows that so so beautifully like this story is Woven.....i think about it literally all the time it's insane

4. a handful of almosts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

He’d said it so easily: “Best friends don’t do that to each other, Will.” It had been a throwaway comment after Will decimated him in a card game, which was usually Nico’s forte. Following that had been a furious, “Besides, it’s war. Entirely luck-based. Winning this game doesn’t mean anything. Stop laughing – why the hell are you laughing?” He’d mostly been laughing because of Nico’s expression – eyebrows drawn tight, mouth twisted in an adorable scowl – but also because of the sudden elation pumped into him like helium. They were best friends – and maybe someone else would be hopeful for more, and maybe one day he'll pursue it (he did want it, had wanted it for a long time) but for now, he’s content where they are, sitting in Nico’s room and cursing at each other through a deck of cards. or: 5+1 of will solace being a pining loser

A HANDFUL OF ALMOSTS!!! WHAT!!! every once and a while u just hit a title that Hits u u know. like a handful of almosts. yeah. what a deeply poignant and tragic thing. how fitting for the pjoverse, a universe of people who are haunted by their almosts. god. and then to turn around and make this story FLUFFY?? MAKE IT THE CUTEST THING IN THE WORLD??? "will solace and his rose coloured glasses" REESE!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!

5. Damage Control by @nikkira

“I couldn’t save Lee. I couldn’t save Michael. I couldn’t save Silena.” “You saved Annabeth when she was stabbed, right? And Annabeth was kind of imperative to the whole saving the world effort. The people you save go on to do things and help people and save people. When you lose someone, you lose them. But when you save someone, you save a dozen more people.”

"i dream of the people i could not save. they're mad at me." oh i am UNWELL. ill i tell you. i read this line and had to sit down for a little while like actually. one thing about will solace is that he never stops punishing himself and no one got that like this fic nine years ago

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know I just sent an ask regarding the Miss Raven relationship post, but I saw the scrapped Yuus one and I wanted to ask smth related (⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠) sorry if two asks in a row are too much in this regard too!

first of all I LOVE YOUR STYLE 😭 it's so cute, I always get excited when you post art. and it's so interesting to get to see a part of your creative process in making characters, even if they didn't end up existing. ( THE ONEE-SAN YUU... Miss Raven was saved from falling for another charming smile... and so were the rest of us )

in regard to ocs, I wanted to ask... do you have any other twst ocs? I think I read some old posts about some RSA ocs, but I wanted to ask specifically if there's another "big" one in terms of story/being as fleshed out as Miss Raven 🧐 or if you ever plan to make another Big Oc™️ in terms of lore like u did for her

also... I wanted to ask... now that you finished her main story, is there any other long form (?) stories you want to explore with her? I know you're hosting the future!au event rn, and you've written more side stories (?) about her in similar events... but I mean as in- again, a longer sort of story. I'm just genuinely curious, since I really like your work + her specifically and I'm curious about whatever you have planned for her 👀 but ofc it's totally okay if you have other plans orrr if you'd prefer to let the heavy Raven lore rest for a bit!!

[Referencing this post and this blog event; the asker’s Miss Raven relationships ask is here.]

adskjblfabfqyovf OTL Thanks??? I get anxious about posting my art because its usually hand drawn, non-committal sketches 💦 I personally really like reading about other people's creative processes so I tend to scribble notes all over my drawings, and then they get all messy and cluttered... I'm glad you like them regardless though.

I like drawing Onee-san!Yuu’s art eyes and hair… She is very dainty and cute! Her personality is fun to toy with too, since how she acts and how she’s truly feeling are so starkly different. I’ve thought about her so many times, it’s almost like she’s psychically reaching out to me in an attempt to have me formally implement her 😂 Again though, not sure if I’ll ever settle on a Yuu because the concept of a Yuu does not really interest me.

Aaaah, my RSA OCs were back from like 2020-2021. I never did manage to flesh them out and I think I’ve lost the fire to. I have several NRC OCs that I haven’t shared because they aren’t that fleshed out either. Of those, I think my favorite is my twisted!Iago (who is in part also inspired by my own pet)… He’s just a punk ass (first year Scarabia) kid and Jamil’s self-proclaimed minion (Jamil has no idea who he is).

Ironically, I think the most detailed NRC OCs I have at the moment are the three based on mob students:

Even then, I don’t think they’re super deep… Pome A can be summarized as "ex-delinquent who now has the goal of becoming 'a gentleman'" (similar to Deuce, who wants to be an honors student). Scarab B is basically a Jamil fan boy (though he's less angry/pushy about it than Sebek is; he has more eager puppy energy). The most detailed one of the bunch is Octa A, who is very anxious (Idia-sh) due to being sorted into Octavinelle, where his dorm members are constant sources of stress. Outside of that, he's a very... homely "boy next door" type. I picture him coming from a tightly knit island town and helping out his family at a community center where they help people find jobs that best suit them. (If you couldn't tell, a lot of Octa A's backstory is inspired by the Lilo and Stitch animated series.) The mob student OCs were conceived because I thought it would be funny to sometimes write from the perspective of unrelated onlookers watching all of the crazy stuff that happens on NRC campus and just going, "What, AGAIN????" They feel more like unserious gag characters, if anything.

I have actually considered writing a sequel to the Tale of the Cursed Raven for the longest time! If you've read the original tale, Vil, Azul, and Idia play prominent roles throughout it. The second saga would theoretically give the other dorm leaders (Malleus, Leona, Kalim, and Riddle) importance. Note that 3 out of 4 of the dorm leaders in the latter group are nobles or have noble relatives. That's because the (potential) sequel would involve themes of social status and who gets to shape the future. A-And hey, maybe it could focus on Raven's relationship with L*ona instead of J word this time-- The synopsis is as follows: Having finally broken her curse, Raven Crowley is now free to live as she wishes in a happily ever after of her own making... or is she? One day, a strange invitation arrives from an unknown sender, beckoning her to Briar Valley. Amid whispers of Malleus Draconia's ascension to the throne and a grand ball to decide the dragon's bride-to-be, the timing is certainly strange. "This is far too suspicious," she thinks. "I simply won't go." Then a sparkling carriage pulls up to the gates of Night Raven College, claiming to be looking for a princess in black feathers. Accompanying that carriage are two men cloaked in white and a woman that shines like starlight.

"Who are you?" Raven asks, feeling as though they've met before in some distant past. "Why, I'm your Fairy Godmother. I'm here to make all of your dreams come true."

Perhaps this meeting was always meant to be.

(I WANT TO BE CLEAR: despite how the synopsis sounds, it is NOT meant to be Raven x Malleus. I would appreciate it if readers refrained from discussing this topic, please and thank you.)

As you can probably tell by that 💦 the story sounds very ambitious... and unfortunately, I don't feel comfortable writing it because we're still missing so much from the canon main story. I'd like the OB Malleus and Grim arcs to complete so I understand the full scope of the story and how the loose ends are tied up (particularly Malleus's reaction post-OB and how, if at all, he embraces change). More lore on dragon fae would be helpful as well. I'd also ideally like a Briar Valley hometown event so I can see what the culture, traditions, people, politics, etc. are like before I attempt to depict it in my writing.

In this sequel, there would be many OCs introduced--at least 4 of them! I've been cooking a lot behind the scenes ^^ One of these OCs you've actually met in the original tale; it would be the Enchantress (Estella) that originally cursed the Storyteller. 2 of the other OCs are what I would describe as Estella's helpers, who are meant to be her equivalent to Silver and Sebek. One is inspired by the concept of the “messenger dove + dove with the olive branch” and the other is inspired by Swan Lake. The 4th and final OC is basically all but confirmed would be a foil character to Malleus, an ambitious nobleman twisted from Nerissa (the villain from Enchanted).

Here’s some doodles I have of the 4 OCs I mentioned! The first two are “the dove” and “the swan”, respectively. The bottom two are concepts for twisted!Nerissa and Estella.

This sequel would expand more on Estella's motives and background (something I mentioned in my afterthoughts), as well as tie in history and political intrigue as Raven’s forced to navigate those circles. It would most likely be set a year or so in the future, and the events that take place would inform Raven’s internship decision in her fourth year. (She would be a scribe in Briar Valley!) I’d like part II to feel like a story event that supplements or follows up on the development in part I/the main story.

xbjsbsjsjsb Anyway 🤡 That’s all I feel okay with revealing for now. I want to be clear and reiterate that this is all just a theoretical sequel and I’m not sure if I’ll actually get around to writing it. It’s definitely been fun to conceptualize though ^^

I’ll leave you with this concept art:

[jinbedreams]

Exposed Bone

Pairing: Brook x Jimbei One Piece, Fishbones Content: General Audience, old man crushing Word Count: 944

Note: God I never write fic, so this is barely anything, but Brook and Jimbei seem to have made enough noise in my brain that I had to change that. I blame @badly-drawn-doflamingo for making me think about fishbones. Maybe I will write more of this at some point. ~~~~~~~

Brook is a conundrum, a soul with no body, a body with no flesh, a mind inside an empty skull, and no heart in his chest. Yet he lives, somehow he lives, he has no choice. 

He also feels. His emotions weave through him, with no skin to shiver through and no muscles to clench they can overtake him like a wave. Where else does his music come from but his emotions? How else does he know he is truly alive without them? He has no belly to laugh from but he laughs all the same. He has no chest to ache with sadness but he aches all the same. No tear ducts to weep with yet it is impossible to prevent the flow. 

He feels purely through his soul, and sometimes if he does not think too hard he can almost feel his flesh sing with these emotions too, like a phantom limb all over him. 

He avoids thinking about the absence of the warmth of touch on his skin at all times. 

He spent 50 years alone, his bones picked clean and smooth, he cannot change what has happened. He is simply grateful he is no longer alone. 

“That’s beautiful” 

If Brook had eyelids he would have opened them but instead his gaze simply refocuses on the big blue shape that has moved in close to him here on the top deck of the Sunny. 

“Yohoho” Brook chuckles as he pulls his violin out from under his chin.

“Thank you Jimbei” he smiles (he can do nothing but smile in these bones) 

“Is that a new . . ah, piece ? that you’ve been working on?” Jimbei asks, his deep baritone voice rumbles and not for the first time does Brook find himself wondering if Jimbei would ever consider putting those big lungs to use in song. 

“I suppose it is” Brook inspects the instrument, plucks at a string with a bone pick of a finger. 

“I was simply going with the flow, I suppose” he says thoughtfully 

“Ah” Jimbei nods “I know all about traveling the flow . . “ 

Brook cocks his head curiously towards Jimbei, sensing he is missing something from the way the fishman spoke. 

“Helmsman joke” Jimbei smiles, an obvious reference to one of Brooks recurring bits, and then laughs. 

That glorious big belly laugh, his face turned up, eyes scrunched up, rows of sharp teeth on display. It’s one of the most intoxicating laughs Brook has ever heard and he never tires of it. 

“Jimbei you kill me” Brook teases as he laughs. 

Their laughter peels off as Brook turns to lounge against the railing Jimbei is leaning forward on. He picks the violin back up to tuck it under his jawbone and pluck it for tuning. 

“Oh, but wait, I already died,” Brook chuckles. 

This time Jimbei only smiles, a soft look. Brook redirects his gaze from the fishmans face before he can identify the moment that soft look turns to pity. He’s not sure if it will but he would rather not take the chance. He hears Jimbei take a breath as if to speak and braces himself for the concerned lecture, wise and careful, the way he has heard Jimbei advise Luffy and many others before. 

“Play me another” 

Brook turns to look at him again, unsure if the surprise is readable on his blank emotionless skull of a face. Jimbei is still smiling, open and gentle and bright, like a calm ocean at sunset. Brook busies himself with the G string immediately, trying to recover from being set so suddenly and unexpectedly adrift by the expression. 

“Of course my good sir!” Brook slips into an exaggerated character of himself, hamming it up as the merry musician of the Thousand Sunny. It’s safer there, when he is less himself and more of a performance of himself instead. Why would he explore his feelings when he can just let the Soul King express them for him. He strings out a merry tune for Jimbei, an old song about a drunken fisherman catching a mermaid for a wife, neither of them sure which one drinks more like a fish. It only occurs to him halfway through the song that this is a rather old one from before he died and could possibly be considered uncouth in Fishmen society today. 

However when he glances over at Jimbei he sees the man smiling with genuine amusement and laughing at the funniest moments. This is both a relief and also a curse as the sight of that smile sends goosebumps across his phantom skin. He takes a deep breath to steady his phantom lungs between verses and finishes off the song by pushing off the railing and dancing with aplomb. 

“Oh I enjoyed that very much” Jimbei chuckles and applauds with gusto. Brook does a few deep bows, in a very becoming and gentlemanly manner. He tries to remain composed but the sight of Jimbei so joyful has him almost twitching from the overstimulation. All these emotions with no body to express them. It almost feels like he wants to jump out of his skin . . oh but it seems he already has. 

Instead he decides to put his violin back into its case, taking care to tuck it into the shaped depression, laying the bow by its side. He finds himself considering how bonelike it is for this instrument to be compressed safely inside a perfectly shaped casing. He must have paused noticeably because he hears Jimbei ask, 

“Everything alright?” 

“Why yes of course! I simply grow tired of playing for the moment, perhaps instead we could have some tea?” 

“I would like that”

[downtowncannibal]

Some of my fav quotes so far, or ones I think have a sense of importance to them.

Some tacky/silly, but some I gen like and have written down!!

"Guys like him were everywhere. They were a Brotherhood, where no woman told them what to do. The White House held men like him for the past 5 years, breaking and entering after dark, just like him." (Damn right.)

"He was hot under the collar, with a fire in his loins." (Light of my life, fire of my loins ass sentence)

"Girls didn't like him, though; not a single one, ever. It was as though their defenseless species sensed the threat he posed, the predator in the wild. He despised the objects he desired."

"Billy was misogyny made flesh."

"Making moist memories."

"Billy's hate added weights on his shoulders and in his head. With violence and murder, the weight was momentarily lifted. Normally he has a slouch, but after murder he stood upright, broad shouldered, at his fullest height. Powerful, triumphant." (I really like this one, there's something about it that's like. Just makes so much sense.)

"Eventually, he would let each girl see him. And they would understand what he was, and that their time was up. It was imperative that they feared him first, that was where he got his greatest pleasure. When he felt most powerful. What made him a man."

"But he had to admit, he enjoyed the smell when they wet themselves in fear or death."

"And you are little, aren't you? A little man with a teensie-weensie weenie like a Vienna sausage, all cold and slimy!" - "the only thing fat will be your lips if you ever come around here, creep. Why don't you find a wall sock and stick your tongue in it that'll give you a charge. Then stick your dick in it, it'd probably fit." (the real DIVA 💜)

"Though tipsy, Barb was more self aware than others realized. She knew everyone saw Claire as the virginal innocent, while she was the resident ornery lush. Barb would play the bitch, the role life had cast her in, and she would revel in it. Whatever reputation she had had been shot long ago. Her wide-eyed ingenue doing days were already over, but she could occupy the severe character roles like Betty Davis and get all the best lines."

"Despite the Mrs of her name, there has never been a Mr Mac. She didn't like men much and would certainly never live with one. There were reasons for that. Those reasons she never shared with anyone, and nobody asked. The Pi Kappa Sigma house was her all female Kingdom and she was the queen. Their domain was unspoiled. What more could she ask for?" (I'm kind of wondering if this is implicative? Perhaps not, but seems a bit. Also may just be a reason for Billy to hate her more.)

"As her vision went dark, she hooked onto competing sounds. There was the meowing of Claude, who have been trying to warn her. He'd even drawn blood. If only she'd gone out to bandage the wound in the bathroom. She hoped Claude would survive because she would not."

"This was The Moaner aspiring to be The Murderer"

"Billy wanted to be her first, her one and only. It was important that he ruin her before any other man could. Nobody could ruin a girl like him."

"He softly sang her a lullaby, one with special meaning. Hopefully she was paying attention, because there would be a quiz later."

"He understood Dracula's allure, how women beared their necks so he could suck out their lifeblood. What he did wasn't much different

"A light snow began to fall outside, but Claire's bulging eyes could not see it. She was Billy's plaything now, his toy, at least until he got tired of her. Billy like to break his toys, smashing them to pieces in a tantrum."

[twinkrundgren]

a weeks worth of work... for a show i love to hate, and hate to love.

over the course of getting stockholmed into enjoying the setting of hazbin hotel, i ended up liking angel dust the most. even if he's an annoying gay stereotype with the most cliche'd backstory possible, at its heart i still like him and see potential for a three dimensional character if he was just written better. i think he's a fan favorite for a reason, despite his cliches: he's charismatic, funny, and pathetic with probably the only backstory taken seriously by the story.

he's also the only one to go through real character development in a breezy 8 episodes, being probably the only upstanding member of the hazbin hotel by the end of season 1 but my critiques on pacing and writing are better left to my friend robin who's a lot better versed in analysing *why* hazbin's writing is so bad.

anyway, here's a portfolio-worthy turnaround of my angel dust redesign. a lot of it was just making him more spider like, for the most part aside from all the random spots on his body i think his design is pretty well done but it could be stockholm again. read more cause its an essay on all the design choices i made

one of the main things i did was flesh out his head shape: for a long time angel dust's head shape felt like the worst of drawing for 2d, his hair and tufts are so entirely cheated to the side no matter the angle that it was impossible to understand what he'd look like at every angle, so i simplified it to a half circle shape where his big hair tuft is just overlayed on top, cheated to the side no matter the angle unless he's looking up/down, where i drew what i think those angles would look like.

he also now has spider fangs at the sides of his mouth, with one gold to match valentino's gold tooth. since spiders don't have teeth, he doesn't either, but can be drawn with some if the expression needs it (though i noticed that stolas is never drawn with teeth no matter his expression, so maybe that's not needed.)

instead of a bowtie he has a choker with a cock ring on it. you know what its referencing.

the spider thorax is attached a bit higher up than a tail would be, not only because of actual spider anatomy but to give him enough room to get dirty as his career requires him to do. it can flip up as well, i imagine its very manipulable.

leg designs were mostly to specify the sort of rhythm and curving i want his legs to work at. it's not perfect, but i think if someone was drawing from this reference they'd have a good understanding of how i want his legs to be drawn. they're one of my favorite aspects of his design and i think specifying how they'd bend is very important.

fun fact: i thought i made his legs too long, but comparatively to the canonical design he's a LOT more leggy. i even think you could get away with giving him more leg and the design still feels proportional.

[frisbys-artwork]

Meet Koobori & Shin

The oldest of five brothers, Koobori was an animal lover from the start, and had his parents take him to zoos almost weekly. Koobori knew he wanted to become a zoologist and conservationist the moment he watched a documentary on an animal network. He also became fascinated by bodybuilding at a young age, and committed to working out to be able to compete in shows, winning 2nd place in a show held in Bushsray at just 17 years old, and became an IFBB Pro by the age of 22, to where he continues to compete to this day when he gets the chance.

Never the type to sit still, if he wasn’t playing sports or actively with his brothers, he was always out traveling the outbacks of Kiwattle, surfing, and diving in reefs; sometimes even volunteering at schools to give wildlife shows to kids.

Shin was born with strong psychic abilities, able to sense the presence of spirits from a young age. For many years he trained as a Kannushi, and was able to banish yurei and yokai from abandoned homes with much ease. At the age of 17 he had decided to join nursing school, since he always enjoyed helping others.

Both met by pure chance. Shin was heading to school when he stopped to check out a large crowd near a convention building, when he spotted Koobori posing for fans and the cameras in all his half naked glory. When he was too shy to get any closer, Koobori practically shoved his way through the crowd to approach Shin and ask him out to the best ramen shop in the city (he described that any trophies and medals he won didn’t matter as much as wanting a date with the Ustonese guy). Shin’s Common was too broken at the time to understand what the Kiwi was saying, but he could tell by the expression alone on the muscular man that he was being asked out. Realizing he was running late, Shin agreed and handed Koobori every form of contact he had, and rushed to school.

Both now have three sons, Giallo (16), Calder (12) and Oshan (9), and expect their triplets (which Kobori promises will be their last kids).

—

Hey guys! Back at it again, and this time with my oldest couple relative to age closeness lol. Yeah, I finally drew an older couple expecting kids, but there’s a reason for that, and that’s because their oldest kid was part of a series of characters I did many, many years ago as the lead of said series. So you can say they aren’t the main characters but that doesn’t matter as I’m not really sure where I’ll head with these two at the moment. I like them a lot, but for further related context Koobori here is actually a modernized drawing of him, now with an improved style and anatomy, design, etc.

Long ago before I came out and before I did much actually characters development, most of my characters were just colorful and there for the sake of being there, so Koobori was married to a woman originally, and so I’ve pretty much decided on redoing the entire characters a new way. Koobori is now married to this guy, who’s an entirely new character, and still has the same amount of kids, only now they’re going to be designed to better suit their designs and origins, etc.

I’ll stop there for now as I want to surprise you guys later on when I get these designs more fleshed out, but I’m happy with this design on Koobori, and I like his hubby. It’s the first time I’ve drawn a fully South Asian characters and damn are they HARD to do.

Here’s the tattoo design on Shin’s shoulder and his badge ID if anyone wanted to get a closer look at them.

Lastly, here’s a comparison of the old and new Koobori. Like wow.

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice)

• Characters: Levi Ackerman, fem!Reader

• Genre: fluff, smut

• Warnings: vanilla sex

Loving Hands

༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻

Levi’s Pov:

My whole life I thought of hands as I thought of weapons. That’s what they were for me after all. Deadly weapons made from flesh and bones. I used them to steal, to harm and to kill and all my life others used them against me with the same intentions. So if a hand came near me I knew I was in danger.

And then I met (Y/n).

After the Survey Corps captured me and made me work with them I got introduced to her rather quickly, since she‘s the leading doctor there.

For the first time I was introduced to gentleness, when I watched her as she took care of the other soldiers, nursing their wounds and using her hands to ease their pain and heal them. And when she nursed me for the first time I was able to experience it first hand.

But also beyond her job she‘s a gentle and loving person. She is strict but in a loving way. If she demands you to do something you know she does it because she thinks it’s best for you. Or that one time we met at the stable. I forgot something in the saddle bag and as I went there to collect it (Y/n) stood in front of a box, petting one of the horses.

I watched her, watched how her fingers traced the nose of the animal and how it neighed, pleased by the soft pets it got.

I found myself more drawn to her with every day that passed. It scared me but at the same time it was one of the warmest, most beautiful things I was ever allowed to feel. Especially when I found out it wasn’t one sided.

It felt unreal to me. Back then I didn’t thought of me as anything more than a criminal from the underground so it surprised, no it shocked me, that this woman saw something more in me. I could act like a total asshole, always having a snappy response in store but she didn’t let herself get irritated by this. She cared enough to get to know me and was patient enough to wait until I found trust in her.

One night when the emptiness inside of me threatened to eat me alive again she was beside me like she always was. (Y/n) held me close, not trying to find words of advice or affirmation because she knew there wasn’t anything she could say to make it better. She just held me with her loving hands, giving me a feeling that I could almost call home.

Her hands rested on my back while my head was nestled in her neck, smelling the scent of her (h/c) hair and everywhere where our bodies touched felt warm and fuzzy.

I think this was the moment I knew I loved her. Or at least the moment I admitted it. What I know is that in this moment a wave crashed over me. A wave of so many feelings that it could made someone feel dizzy.

We never gave our relationship a label. It was obvious that we love and trust each other dearly but besides that everything was a bit blurry. We didn’t kissed, yet the tension was always there. We did sleep usually in the same bed though, (Y/n)s body always close to mine since it gave us both some sort of peace.

When I lifted my head to look her in the eyes I could see the love I feel for her reflecting from her (e/c) eyes and while I figured that kissing her wouldn’t be a bad idea she had taken the lead and closed the distance between us, pressing her lips on mine.

I was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to act. No one ever came this close to me but thankfully (Y/n) continued to guide me through the situation so all I had to do was kiss her back, which I did more than gladly.

The combination of her lips on mine and her hands roaming over my body made me feel things I didn’t know even existed. I wanted to feel her everywhere at the same time. I wanted her hands in my hair, on my cheek, on my arms, wrapped around my waist all at once. Wanted her lips to kiss mine while they also kissed my forehead and my knuckles. Wanted to feel her whole body beneath my hands and breath in the scent of her skin and her hair.

„I wish you would never stop touching me“, I whispered breathless against her lips. „With your fingers on my skin the world doesn’t seem that bad of a shithole as it actually is.“ The giggle I earned from her was such a beautiful noise to me. „I think we should keep going then“, she whispers back and starts kissing my cheek down to my neck.

Her hands slid underneath my shirt and I felt her fingers against my bare chest for the first time. Well, for the first time without a medical reason. „Wanna take this off?“ Instead of answering with words I grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head, throwing it next to my bed. I could tidy up tomorrow.

With her index finger (Y/n) drew over the outlines of my muscles. „You look amazing.“ She saw me shirtless many times before but it felt like all the times before didn’t count. „Usually I look for injuries but now I can concentrate on all of this.“ Her hands glid down my muscles and I couldn’t stop tensing my stomach at this funny sensation.

I watched her in awe as she took off her shirt too, throwing it next to mine and then crawling up to me, straddling herself on my legs. Almost as if my hands had their own will, they sneaked to (Y/n)s hips while my eyes studied her beautiful body. I started to pepper feather like kisses over her shoulder, enjoying her hands tracing over my body.

I let my right hand travel slowly upwards after I found the courage to and cupped her breast softly which she reacted to with a pleased sigh.

The excitement flashed over me and went straight to my cock, standing stiff in my boxers. But next to the burning desire was also fear. Because of this new and overwhelming situation. And because of the memories sitting in the back of my mind.

„My mother was a prostitute“, I blurted out, leaving (Y/n) a bit surprised, but she waited for me to continue, sensing I was about to tell her something rather important for me. „I can remember her crying when customers came over.“ I spat the word customer with as much disgust as possible out. (Y/n) kept looking at me with her beautiful (e/c) eyes while she cupped my face.

„I don’t really know what makes me so anxious right now but…“ My voice died as her thumbs rubbed softly over my face. „Fear isn’t rational“, she says. „We can stop, Levi.“ I shook my head. „No. I don’t want to stop“, I reassured her. „I am just a bit scared.“

(Y/n) guides my hands to her hips and kissed me again. „Do you trust me?“, she then asks.

Trust was a big word and usually I wouldn’t blindly say yes but every other answer would be a lie. I trusted (Y/n) like I never trusted anyone before. „With all my heart.“

Not only she needed to hear this. The little critic in my head needed to hear it too, so it would finally shut up.

She stood up to get rid of her pants and her underwear before her hands made their way to mine, unbuttoning my trousers and pulling it down with my boxers. While she did all this, her eyes never left mine, to make sure I’m comfortable with every step she took. My eyes on the other hand traveled over her whole body, adoring every detail of hers. A few scars here and there and the little hair curling between her legs.

The women in the books are always described with smooth and clean skin and without any flaws. Perfect on the first look, but unnatural, unreal on the second. (Y/n) was perfect and real at the same time.

My cock rested against my abdomen, waiting for any kind of release. (Y/n) placed herself back on my lap again and reached out for my hands to guide them back to her body.

My left hand was on her right breast while my other hand traveled over her back down to her ass and up again. My mouth was busy with her other breast, kissing the soft skin and licking over her nipple.

My worries got smaller and smaller until they were nothing more than a tiny whisper in the back of my head, easily drowned out by the loud beats of my heart and the quiet moans from (Y/n) as she took my hand again, this time guiding it to her wet core.

Slowly I let my fingers run trough her warm folds before I pushed one finger in. Her pussy hugged it tightly and at the thought of how it would feel on my dick, I could feel said body part twitch impatiently.

„I don’t want to wait any longer“, she whispers in my ear while her fingertips brushed over my chest and traveled down to my cock, which she put in her hand and started to stroke it. „I want to be close to you. Want to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good Levi.“

My heart almost bursted out of love and lust and with that I pulled my fingers out to lay them back on her hips. I concentrated on the feeling of her hand, which stroke me for another couple of seconds before she let go of me too.

She then repositioned herself to hover over me. „Ready?“, she asked, my dick back in her hands. I could see in her eyes that she was just as nervous as I was.

Tied to her eyes I nodded and then felt how she sank down slowly, burying my dick deep inside her.

I felt so much overwhelming feelings at the same time that I closed my eyes for a second and let my head rest in (Y/n)s shoulder. „Are you okay?“, she asks after taking my dick completely in.

„Never felt better“, I mumbled as I took all my willpower together to not thrust into her. I wanted to savour that feeling. Her warm, wet walls, hugging my cock, while her strong and gentle arms hug my body. Her soft breasts were pressed against my chest and her hair tickled my nose. In that moment, (Y/n) was all that existed. She was everywhere, she was all I could see, all I could hear, and all I could feel.

And then she started to move. Slowly she lifted herself up to grind down again. After a while her hands were on my shoulders to support her movements, while mine were on her hips. I stopped trying not to thrust into her and so I tried to fuck myself even further into her. I felt like I was about to melt right there and then.

The room that was filled with my cries of sorrow half an hour ago was now filled with the lewd clapping of skin against skin, (Y/n)s beautiful moans and my heavy breathing.

„Levi. I‘m close“, (Y/n) muttered between her moans. A few thrusts later I watched her coming undone with a loud moan on top of me. Watching her being overcome by such intense pleasure was so lewd yet so pure to watch and I hoped this wouldn’t be the last time I would make her feel this good.

She got off me and instantly grabbed my dick, that was covered in her juices, and started to jerk me off again. Her palm glided up and down my shaft while her thumb drew circles on the tip, causing me to grab the bedsheets tighter.

I hissed and a lot of ‚fucks‘ and other curse words left my lips as the pleasure somehow increased until it exploded and I was shooting ropes of cum on my stomach.

Out of breath and sweating I opened my eyes again and met (Y/n)s that looked at me in awe. She quickly got up and got a towel out of my dresser which she used to clean up the cum on my body. „How are you feeling?“

Instead of answering, I pulled her in for a kiss. „Yeah, me too“, she giggled against my lips and kissed me back.