#on one hand there's a lot of practical components to it and not a lot of assignments

[chibishortdeath]

Goodness, these doodles were all staggered in a way on the pages that made it really hard to take pictures of them and get everyone in there (>< ).

Explanations for all of it under here ⤵️ :3

I drew my Ratchet!!! My little guy!!! I’ve looked him up and he’s a little like “authentics” line one. He’s got really loose joints and his knees don’t bend hahahahsjdksjsjk, but yeahg. Tbh the big outer shells kind of design goes hard. Ratchet could benefit greatly from having shields on him, second doodle is a demonstration of those being used lol.

Hehehehehe he’s so fucking cute oh my god how did they make this one robot design to appeal to me specifically I’m gonna die— he’s sitting there so pleasant and polite :3.

This is an attempt at a Ratchet design that combines a bunch of other ones! I was trying to pick out stuff that I liked (big collar looking part, massive tiddie window with the ECG display, G1 as a base because G1 Ratchet is so aaaoiugauaugoihghgghhgh), but eh idk. I’m gonna go through a couple revisions of this design before I decide on one. Cause I did like uh start writing a fan continuity 💀💀💀. Like deadass I binged two seasons of G1 and was already so hooked and hyped that I started making OCs and plot lines and shit LMAO. The transformers hyperfixation got hands fr. Also, next to him is Starscream and a little very not finished Drift for size comparison :).

The largest Ratchet here was my first attempt at drawing him! I spent an unreasonably long amount of time trying to get his legs correct 💀💀💀. Directly next to him on the top is a little doodle that says “usagi ringo” and it’s comparing his forehead chevron to the style of cutting apples to look like rabbits of the same name hehe. And next to that is a bishoujo figure design because oh my god it would be so easy to make one of him and so peak— more on that later cause I’m proud of the design so it’s on here twice XD. Below those two: doodles of Starscream getting shot! 💀 There’s a lot of context behind these, but shortened version is Megatron got mad and shot him 💀💀💀. Any other explanation would be getting into continuity ideas I have not finished nor finalized yet lol.

Guys hear me out it would be so easy— he’s already got a boob window— and the red section of him looks like a bodysuit— it would be so so easy and so so peak please bishoujo line figure company— I would pay an unwise amount of money for silly anime girl pinup hahahajdkskkdksjskdkdahsj. Also smaller not skirt version as well if they wanted to go full “the red section looks like a bodysuit” lmao

Megatron!!! I tried to incorporate a lot of details that the original toy had like the chest decals and the gun elements :3c. The g1 toy is so funny holy shit dude, he’s so top heavy and has like teeny pencil legs it’s so dumb I want one 😭😭😭. Next to the ref image of him, there’s one doodle that’s like a shitpost of this stock photo of a guy drinking while watching TV, an unfinished doodle based on a pose ref from Pinterest, and an even smaller shitpost with him and Starscream and their shirts say “I’m high as fuck and have a gun in my backpack” and “cunt era” hahskdjkssj (X X).

Another Starscream practice and some other characters that require a lot of explanation— So, this big combiner guy that’s in this and the next photo is a combiner named Modulus and I found out about him in a very goofy way. A friend of mine saw a figure of a little known character (Medix) at Walgreens, didn’t get him, looked him up later, and went down a rabbit hole on the wiki, finding out this guy is part of Modulus, a combiner who… doesn’t exist??? 💀💀💀 Modulus only exists as a concept that was included in the instructions of one of his components and NOTHING ELSE HAHSJDKSHSJK. It is the most batshit insane thing, tiny wiki article and everything X,,,,,,D. But what’s really WEIRD about him is that— HE KINDA FUCKING FITS WITH AND TIES TOGETHER A BUNCH OF LOOSE IDEAS I HAD FOR CONTINUITY STUFF 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀?????????????? Idk it’s so scarily close it’s like as if I willed this guy into existence LMAOOO. Anyway, members of Modulus include: Scattershot, Medix, Ratchet, Starscream, and Rook. Two of these characters are like replacement members for other combiners that were basically created just so random games could function. One is the leader of another gestalt, BUT he’s also been in a TON of other ones. And then suddenly Ratchet and Starscream??? And in the original incarnation of the character, it was SG Starscream too????????? It’s not gonna be in my continuity (I have ideas—), but lol they just dropped the guy from another universe in there what 💀. Insane, deranged, maybe peak even. Why the hell did I end up latching onto the combiner that isn’t real help me (ToT ).

Above Modulus, there’s some doodles of Ratchet, Cliffjumper, Mirage, and Bumblebee, BUT these aren’t just those guys, oh no, it’s something worse hahahahahhasjsksk. My raised on undertale dumbass got plagued with the cursed idea of “huh, if Shattered Glass is like the Hasbro official swap au— F e l l A U” and uh… this exists now 💀. Fell AU (name pending) is basically just “the thing but edgier”, so in this universe the Autobots are still like The Good Guys™️, but they’re stuck in bad conditions. For that to happen, they’d have to not have access to renewable energy, meaning either humanity did not welcome them with open arms, there’s some kind of general crisis happening on Earth, or some mixture of both. So Fell (name pending) Ratchet is basically G1 Ratchet, but wayyy more stressed out cause they’re always short on things and barely scraping by. He’s visibly missing parts and damaged and he just does whatever quick temporary fix about it because his focus is on everyone else over himself; he lost an optic, a hand (that he’s replaced with his main tools), he’s got a crack in his screen, etc etc. Procedures are always messy and painful cause he’s just using what he has and the whole time he’s apologizing and trying his damndest to do the best he can— He’s a sweetie still, but man he could use a break (he will not get one alas). Cliffjumper is even more high strung and tempered than usual, he’s also got a nose ring and sharper horns for the edge lol. Mirage has his darker mask like coloring from the toy and typically is invisible far more often. They used to really fight a lot, but they’ve since gotten to a point where they’re the two each other trust the most. Cliffjumper does a lot of reckless shit and gets injured a lot (_ _ ). Then there’s Bumblebee. His colorscheme is still yellow and black, but they’re reversed. The reason for this is Edgy™️ but the in universe is that darker paints is just what they have. He’s also not the plucky rookie at all, he’s already gotten pretty jaded and hardened by everything, which makes Optimus really sad— he does get some rare moments of lighthearted antics because of Spike though. Idk it’s a funny AU concept and I might do more about it simply cause I think the Ratchet design goes hard lol XD.

[autumnoakes]

developmental biology is really neat so far but i have a feeling this course is going to make my head explode

[mephisto-reporting]

The Engineer's Gravity - Yandere! Caleb

Plot: You're a biomechanical engineer in Caleb's fleet, incharge of repairs of prosthetic parts. What happens when you become the subject of the Colonel's obsession? Based on this request. Pairing: Non MC Mechanic! Reader x Yandere! Caleb Note: This story is with slightly darker themes. I do not want people to come at me saying Caleb isn't like this. Yes, I know. This is a Yandere! version of Caleb. Please keep that in mind. If you want to be a part of my taglist, please let me know in the comments, DMs or inbox. Content warning: Yandere male, implied deaths, mutilation, mentions of blood, possessiveness, gaslighting, voilence

CALEB'S POV

The faint hum of the Farspace fleet’s engines was a constant background noise, a rhythm that Caleb had grown accustomed to. It filled the silence as he walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the engineering bay, his gloved left hand flexing instinctively while his right hand remained eerily still. It wasn’t the arm itself that unnerved him anymore. No, he’d gotten used to the weight, the cool touch of the synthetic skin against his chest when he rested his hand there. What grated on him was the maintenance—the vulnerability of needing someone else to keep it functional.

The first time he’d come to the mechanic for maintenance, he had been indifferent, as he was to most things in his life. The arm was a tool, no more. Just another part of the machine that was Caleb, the Colonel. She was just another cog in the vast machine of the fleet, a means to an end. He barely remembered their first meeting beyond her clinical efficiency and soft voice, far removed from the barked commands of his officers or the detached drone of his superiors. She’d introduced herself simply, a name he didn’t bother committing to memory at the time, and had begun her work without wasting a second.

He’d sat in silence, his arm stretched out on the diagnostic table, his gaze fixed on the wall as she meticulously checked the connections and replaced worn components. She’d asked him questions—about the arm’s performance, any discomfort he’d noticed—but he’d only answered in monosyllables. He wasn’t trying to be rude; he just didn’t see the point.

She had been… different.

No. She spoke with compassion, with a voice that held an undercurrent of something human. When she’d first touched his arm to inspect it, there was no clinical detachment in her touch—no cold professionalism. Instead, there was a softness, a care.

But she kept showing up, week after week, her presence a constant thread in his routine. She didn’t just maintain his arm; she paid attention. She noticed when he was tense and adjusted her tone accordingly. When she worked, she hummed under her breath—a tune he couldn’t place but found oddly soothing. And unlike the professor who saw him as little more than a prototype for their next experiment, she treated him like a person.

Caleb first noticed it when she spoke to the other fleet members. The soldiers and officers with Toring chips embedded in their bodies, their minds augmented for efficiency but stripped of their individuality, were often treated as tools. Most of the crew barely acknowledged them, but she… she smiled at them. Asked about their day. Made sure they were comfortable during her examinations and modifications.

It wasn’t long before Caleb began to see her differently.

Their interactions changed subtly over time. He found himself lingering in the engineering bay longer than necessary, watching her work under the sharp white lights. She was focused, hands deft as they manipulated wires and micro-tools, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’re due for recalibration next week, Colonel.” she said during one session, not looking up from the neural interface she was fine-tuning.

“I’ll be here,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “You’re good at this.”

She glanced at him, surprised. “I’ve had a lot of practice.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not just the work. The way you… treat people. You’re good at that, too.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might dismiss the comment. But instead, she smiled—a soft, genuine thing that made something unfamiliar stir in his chest. “Everyone deserves to be treated like they matter.” she said simply, turning back to his arm.

He didn’t respond, but those words stayed with him long after he left the bay. Caleb watched her closely, taking note of every smile, every laugh, every time she showed kindness to someone else. It made something dark curl in his chest.

The first time Caleb intervened on her behalf, it was almost instinctual.

He was passing through the mess hall when he heard the sharp edge of Lieutenant Varro’s voice. “You know, for all your compassion, you take forever with repairs. Maybe stop coddling the freaks and do your job faster.”

Caleb froze, his blood turning cold. He rounded the corner to see Varro towering over her, his expression smug. She was holding a tray of food, her shoulders tense but her expression calm as she replied, “I do my job thoroughly, Lieutenant. If you’re unhappy with my work, you can file a complaint.”

Caleb’s steps faltered, his jaw tightening. A cold, simmering rage filled him as he turned to look at the man. He wanted to snap his neck right then and there, but he couldn’t let her see this side of him. Not yet.

So he smiled instead. A cold, calculating smile that sent a chill down Varro’s spine.

“Lieutenant,” Caleb said, his tone deceptively calm. “A word.”

Later that night, Varro didn’t return to his quarters. Whispers spread through the fleet about an "incident" during a routine maintenance check. Caleb made sure it looked like an accident—a malfunction in Varro's own bionic enhancements. No one questioned it, least of all her.

She remained blissfully unaware of the lengths Caleb went to for her.

As the days turned into weeks, Caleb’s obsession deepened. He found himself lingering in her workshop longer than necessary, watching her every move. She would smile at him, her eyes warm and kind, and Caleb would feel something he hadn’t felt since he left home for the DAA. A strange, aching need to keep her close.

“You know,” she said one day, her voice light, “you don’t always have to come here for repairs. You can just... visit, if you want.”

Caleb froze, his gaze locking onto hers. Did she know? Had she figured out how much he craved her presence? But her smile was so genuine, so innocent, that he realized she didn’t suspect a thing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice steady.

He told her about his family one evening, when the workshop was quiet and the rest of the fleet was asleep. He spoke of the girl he had grown up with, her fiery spirit, and the way she had  carved a place for herself in Linkon.

“She is strong…” Caleb said, his voice low. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

She listened intently, her expression soft. “You must miss her.” she said gently.

Caleb hesitated. Did he? The memory of that girl felt distant, overshadowed by the woman sitting in front of him.

“I don’t think about her much anymore.” he admitted. “There are... other things on my mind.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press.

But Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about her. He thought about the way her hands moved over his arm, the way her laughter echoed in the workshop, the way she seemed to light up the cold, sterile corridors of the fleet.

And when he saw other officers talking to her, laughing with her, something in him snapped. He didn’t like the way they looked at her. He didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to her.

Caleb began to manipulate things behind the scenes, ensuring that no one spent too much time with her. He assigned officers to tasks that kept them far away from her workshop. He spread subtle rumors, casting doubt on the intentions of anyone who showed too much interest in her.

She never noticed. She never questioned why the workshop seemed quieter, why fewer people came to her for help.

And Caleb made sure it stayed that way. In the privacy of his quarters, Caleb would sit in the dim light, his bionic hand flexing involuntarily as he thought about her. She was his. She didn’t know it yet, but she belonged to him.

And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To keep her close.

Even if it meant destroying anyone who stood in his way.

YOUR POV

Lately, you’d noticed something strange.

The crew didn’t treat you the way they used to. At first, it was subtle—an officer averting his gaze when you greeted him in the corridor, a technician hurriedly ending a conversation when you approached. Then it became more blatant. People gave you a wide berth in the cafeteria, whispers died the moment you entered a room, and the occasional sidelong glances you caught were laced with something unspoken.

Fear.

It didn’t make sense. You’d always prided yourself on being approachable, on treating everyone with the respect they deserved. Sure, your work was demanding, and your position as the fleet’s biomechanical engineer meant you often had to be firm when it came to protocols, but you weren’t cruel. Far from it. You treated the crew like people, not machines.

But now? It was as though you carried some invisible aura that screamed danger.

And then there were the... incidents.

The first time, you brushed it off as coincidence. Lieutenant Gregor had been reassigned to another fleet without warning, just days after he’d mocked you during a team briefing. You’d chalked it up to bad luck or his own poor behavior catching up to him.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Officers and fleet members who dismissed your concerns, who snapped at you during high-stress missions, who made snide comments about your methods—they all disappeared. Some were reassigned to far-off posts, others were suddenly discharged for disciplinary reasons, and a few even suffered freak accidents that left them unfit for duty.

The pattern was impossible to ignore.

The only constant in all of this was the Colonel.

Or just Caleb, as he’d asked you to call him when it was just the two of you.

“Colonel” felt too formal, too distant, he’d said one evening as you adjusted the fine motor controls on his bionic hand. He’d leaned back in the chair, watching you with an intensity that made you feel both self-conscious and oddly comforted.

“Just Caleb,” he’d said, his voice softer than usual. “When we’re alone.”

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Over the past few months, he’d become a steady presence in your life, someone you found yourself looking forward to seeing.

And lately, he seemed to be around you more than ever.

It wasn’t just during maintenance sessions anymore. He’d stop by your workshop for no apparent reason, lingering by your workbench as you tinkered with your tools. He’d accompany you on supply runs, his tall frame a protective shadow at your side. When the fleet docked at Skyhaven for shore leave, he invited you to join him for coffee or walks through the market district. He’d cook for you and bring you meals to your residence in Skyhaven, unprompted.

It felt... nice.

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. Caleb had a dry sense of humor that never failed to catch you off guard, and there was a steadiness to him that you found grounding. Still, there was something about him—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The way he always seemed to know when someone had upset you. The way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, as if he were memorizing every detail. The way his voice dropped when he said your name, like it was a secret only he was allowed to keep.

You tried to push the thoughts aside. Caleb was your superior, your colonel. He’d never given you any reason to distrust him. And yet...

One evening, as you recalibrated the sensory feedback in his arm, you decided to bring it up.

“Have you noticed how people have been acting lately?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you adjusted a tiny screw. “It’s like they think I’m some kind of... I don’t know, threat or something.”

You glanced up at Caleb, expecting him to shrug it off with one of his usual dry remarks. Instead, his body tensed, just for a moment. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you might have missed it.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“It’s just a feeling.” you said, turning back to his arm. “People avoiding me, whispering when they think I can’t hear. And then there are the reassignment orders. It’s like anyone who crosses me is... gone.”

There was a long pause.

“It’s nothing.” Caleb said finally. “Tensions have been high since the last Deepspace tunnel exploration. People are on edge.”

You frowned but didn’t press the issue. Maybe he was right. The fleet had been through a lot recently, and stress had a way of making people act strangely. Still, something about his explanation didn’t sit right with you.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “That makes sense.”

But it didn’t. Not entirely.

Still, you knew better than to poke your nose where it didn’t belong. You’d learned long ago that asking too many questions could lead to trouble, and trouble was the last thing you needed.

So you stayed in your lane, focusing on your work and pretending not to notice the way Caleb’s presence seemed to permeate every aspect of your life. You told yourself it was fine, that his increased attention was nothing to worry about. After all, you trusted Caleb. He’d always been kind to you, always treated you with respect. And if his gaze lingered a little too long, if his touch was a little too gentle when he handed you a tool, if his smile held a hint of something darker—you ignored it.

Because Caleb was the only person who hadn’t changed. The only person who still treated you like... you.

The ship was silent at night, the hum of its engines a low, constant thrum beneath your feet as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. You’d been restless, the bitter taste of Lieutenant Reese’s words still fresh in your mind. The new Lieutenant had been transferred to Caleb’s fleet three weeks ago and was already causing tensions within the hierarchy of how things ran in the fleet.

“Guess even engineers need quotas filled, huh? They really let anyone take up space on this ship these days,” he had sneered during a systems check earlier. “Bet you’ve only kept this position because someone up high likes the way you look.”

His smirk had twisted into something crueler as he leaned closer. “Face it. You’re not here because you’re good—you’re here because you’re convenient.”

The humiliation burned as much now as it had then. You clenched your fists at the memory, your footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor. You’d worked too hard, poured too much of yourself into your work, to have it dismissed so callously. And yet, his words lingered like a stain, refusing to be scrubbed away.

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t hear the sound.

A muffled grunt. A crash.

And then—a sickening crunch.

You froze. Every instinct screamed at you to turn back, to return to your quarters and pretend you hadn’t heard anything. But your curiosity—or perhaps some misplaced sense of duty—compelled you forward. Quietly, you padded down the corridor, following the noise until you reached a maintenance bay.

What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

Caleb stood over Lieutenant Reese, who was slumped against the wall, blood smeared across his face. The lieutenant’s arm hung at an unnatural angle, his body trembling as he let out a pained whimper. Caleb’s hand was clamped tightly around Reese’s throat, his grip firm but not enough to choke.

Not yet.

“You thought you could get away with it?” Caleb said, his voice low and steady, each word laced with venom. “Insulting her. Undermining her. Disrespecting her.”

Reese tried to stammer out a response, but Caleb’s hand tightened, silencing him.

“You signed your life away the moment you opened your mouth.” Caleb continued, his tone almost conversational, as if he were discussing something as mundane as a supply requisition. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever be. Do you even understand that?”

Reese’s legs kicked weakly, his breaths ragged. Caleb tilted his head, his expression shifting from cold fury to mild disappointment.

“Pathetic!” he muttered, releasing the lieutenant’s throat. Reese crumpled to the ground, wheezing and coughing. Caleb watched him for a moment, then raised his foot and brought it down sharply on Reese’s hand. The sound of bones breaking echoed in the bay.

The lieutenant went limp, his body a lifeless heap. Caleb crouched beside him, his expression one of disdain. “Weak,” he said, his voice barely audible.

And then he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the air thick with tension. Caleb’s expression shifted from cold to shocked in the blink of an eye, but his eyes—the ones that had always been so warm towards you—now seemed empty, calculating.

He stood still for a moment, then took a step toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. His voice was a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

“Don’t be scared,” Caleb said softly, though there was an edge to his words. “I’m just protecting you. I would never let anyone hurt you, never.”

Your mind raced, your pulse quickening. You’d seen this side of Caleb before—quiet, intense, protective—but this? This was something else. He was different.

“Protected me?” you repeated, your heart pounding. “From what?”

“From him,” Caleb replied, gesturing to Reese’s motionless form. “He disrespected you. He questioned your worth. He hurt you.”

His gaze softened, and he took another step closer. “I won’t allow that. Not from him. Not from anyone.”

“This—this isn’t right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” Caleb interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “And I will. You may not see it now, but this is what’s necessary.”

You stared at him, searching for any hint of remorse, but there was none. Only conviction.

“I’ll always protect you.” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Even when you think you don’t need it. Even when you don’t understand why.”

You took a step back, your mind racing. But even as you tried to process what you’d seen and heard, a cold realization settled over you.

He closed the distance between you, his steps soft but purposeful, until he was standing right in front of you. His face was close, too close, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been through so much,” he continued, his voice soothing, almost affectionate. “You don’t need to worry about the people who don’t understand you. I’ll always protect you.” He repeats. “Even when you don’t ask for it.”

You swallowed; your throat dry. You should have been afraid, terrified even. But you weren’t. A part of you was frozen, caught in the web of his words, of his gaze. He was so sure of himself, so confident, and it was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like that.

His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“You’re mine,” Caleb whispered, his words not a command but a promise. “No one will ever take you from me. Not ever.”

You should have questioned it, should have asked him what he meant, why he was doing this. But you didn’t. Because in that moment, you realized you couldn’t escape.

Not really.

You knew who Caleb was. You knew what he was capable of. And you knew that the resources of the Farspace Fleet, the professor, and Caleb’s power meant there was no running, no hiding from him. You’d seen what happened to those who crossed you. And now, you didn’t doubt for a second that Caleb was behind it.

But what unnerved you most was the way he looked at you now. Not with malice, not with cruelty, but with something softer. Something almost tender.

“Stay.” he said, his voice coaxing. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there. And yet... you nodded.

Because deep down, you knew he was right about one thing.

Caleb would never hurt you.

As long as you stayed.

He would never let anyone touch you. He would never let anyone harm you.

You were his, and he was yours.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood there, the weight of his gaze heavy on you.

And as Caleb stepped back, his eyes softening, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips, you knew one thing for certain: you were far past the point of no return.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

[jq37]

Aelwyn is sixteen and preparing for midterms at Hudol. Uniform pressed and starched, head full of incantations and spell components. She doesn't mean to bump into Adaine and get orange juice all over her shirt but today isn't the day she's going to start showing weakness.

"You know, you really should watch we're you're going," she says archly, playing off the clumsy mistake as a purposeful jab.

Playing it off a bit too well because, the next thing she knows, Adaine is flipping her off and a bolt of queasy looking, green energy is coming towards her. Ray of Sickness. And she can't spare the spell slot for Counterspell because she needs it for her exams.

"You little bitch!" Aelwyn says once she's emptied the contents of her stomach down the front of her shirt.

"Good luck with your exams," Adaine says sweetly.

Aelwyn is eighteen and the oldest, mangiest cat she's ever seen in her life has just vomited on her shoes.

"My," she says, casting a shield spell around her ankles to stop the cat from clawing at them. "You weren't kidding. He is a little bastard, isn't he?"

The shelter volunteer looks mortified. "Oh, gods! I am so sorry. I tried to warn you--I mean, not that I'm blaming you but--"

"No, it's alright. I did ask you to show me stragglers."

The shelter worker gestures to another pen on the other side of the room. "I can show you the kittens we just got in or there are some very well behaved older cats as well if you'd--"

But Aelwyn cuts her off, scooping up the old cat--though she holds him at arm's length for now, just to be safe. "No need. I haven't changed my mind. I'll take this one." She looks at the tag on his collar. "Hector."

Aelwyn is three and, as of a month ago, no longer the youngest Abernant.

She's had baby dolls in the past but never a baby sister and this is exciting new territory. She's full of questions. When is she going to be able to walk? When is she going to be able to talk? When will she be old enough to have lembas bread instead of formula?

Her parents seem less fascinated by the new addition to the family than she is but her mother is amused when she slaps away the hand of a colleague of her father's who tried to touch Adaine before sanitizing his hands, standing between the much larger man and her sister.

"So defensive. Perhaps she'll be an abjurer."

When Aelwyn asks what that is, her mother says that it's a kind of magical protector and she likes that a lot. That sounds like a good thing to be.

At night, Adaine cries. Except, she doesn't hear it because the mobile above her crib is etched with runes that cast the Silence spell.

"But what if she gets hurt?" Aelwyn asks.

Her father brushes her off. That's what the Unseen Servants are for. But she thinks that's what an abjurer might be for too and even though she isn't one yet, that doesn't mean she can't start practicing.

So, every night, Aelwyn waits until her parents have put Adaine down for bed and then tiptoes into her room. She checks to see if Adaine is silently wailing and if she is (and even sometimes if she isn't) she presses her face between the bars of the crib and sticks her little hand over Adaine's face.

"Don't cry," she says, even though the Silence spell mutes her words as completely as the tears. "Mum said I'm an abjurer. Nothing will get you. Don't cry, baby."

Adaine grabs her hand with impressive grip strength for something so small and, within a few minutes, she's trancing peacefully.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her sister is off to save the world again. This time from a Night Yorb--whatever that is.

It feels cruel that Adaine should have to go risk her life again so soon after she just almost died--not almost died, she did die before being raised by her cleric.

She wants to come with, to help in some way. Surely she could be helpful--last quest they brought Gilear for Helio's sake!

But Adaine doesn't ask her and she can't bring herself to say the words she needs to have the conversation she wants. So, instead, she lightly whaps Adaine on the shoulder with her spellbook as she's packing for the quest.

"I know you haven't done much studying lately what with your grades being based on how many hobgoblins you kill or whatever ridiculous system Aguefort has cooked up," Adaine rolls her eyes at that, "But if you don't mind a little cram session before you leave tomorrow, I can show you how to cast Teleport like I said. Might help you stay a touch less dead on your quest."

Her tone is light but her eyes betray her: Please, please, please don't die again.

Adaine's expression softens but then she scoffs, playing her half of their game. "I don't know what a Hudol dropout who's been in jail for the past year is gonna teach me but do your best."

Aelwyn is seven and her father is cross with her.

"Really Aelwyn," he says and even though they're talking via crystal she can feel the frost of his glare. "You thought it was appropriate to call me at work for no good reason? How many times have I told you and your sister to not bother me while I'm working."

She hates the word bother. She doesn't want to be a bother. She tries very hard not to be. Maybe she just didn't explain herself well enough.

"I know, father. But Addy got really scared and panicky on the playground. She was breathing really hard and--"

Her father makes a noise of disgust. "I don't have time for this. She is in primary school now. Stop coddling her. And her name is Adaine, not Addy. Please speak properly. I'm raising you better than that."

He hangs up before she can say anything else.

Aelwyn is eighteen and most of the claw marks on her arms have healed, which is nice. On her lap asleep is Hector who has apparently decided he likes her enough to use her as a radiator but not enough to submit to medical treatment without using her arms as a scratching post.

"You little heat vampire," she says as she slides her thumb across the screen of her crystal, searching for a video that will help her out. Eventually she finds one that looks promising and she calls it up.

On the screen, a halfling is standing next to a cat who is actively shredding her sweater with its claws. "You're going to be tempted to use some kind of a shield spell when applying the ointment," says the halfling. "But cats can smell abjuration magic and they don't love it. You won't get close enough to do the job. Isn't that right my darling?"

In response, her cat hacks up a hairball.

"Darling indeed," she says under her breath.

But even laced with sarcasm, the word is sweeter against her tongue than she anticipated.

She sinks her hand into Hector's fur and scratches his back for a few moments before tentatively speaking aloud. "Sleeping well, my darling?"

Hector says nothing--he's asleep and a cat. But warmth blooms in Aelwyn's chest--more than enough to make up for what Hector is leeching from her.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her father has just given her the most horrible command she's ever received in her life--and she's counting being made to sink a ship full of people in that calculation.

She knows her father doesn't expect her to delicately extricate the knowledge he needs from Adaine's mind. He expects her to get it at all costs. To ransack and pillage the memories if necessary with no heed of the consequences on her psyche. He'd probably prefer it that way--the more broken Adaine is, the easier it will be to mold her into a version of herself that is more useful to him.

Aelwyn is usually a smooth talker and a convincing liar but now, she stumbles all over her words, babbling out a stream of deflections and pleas as her heart squeezes tighter and tighter in her chest until she can't hold back the truth that she's been suppressing for years anymore.

"Adaine's just…she's a baby."

Aelwyn is eighteen and her apartment is full of cats.

She's always thought that the phrase, "One thing led to another" was a bit of a cop out--clearly there were key steps between point A and point B being glossed over--but in this case, there is truly no better way for her to articulate how she went from zero cats to ten cats in such a short amount of time.

She's sure that if she was still living with Jawbone, he'd have something to say about it but that's exactly why she isn't currently living with Jawbone.

She portions out food for all of the cats, saving Hector for last because he likes to eat curled up next to her.

"My darling baby boy," she says, lifting him onto the couch with her because the jump up is a bit much for him and his old bones. She kisses him on the top of the head and then pulls out her crystal. She scrolls mindlessly for a bit before checking her messages despite the fact that there's conspicuously no notifications.

Not that she has many people to expect texts from but she hasn't heard from Adaine in a few weeks and it's unsettling. When they weren't getting along, they were still living under the same roof. She was able to keep tabs on her, more or less. Now, they're closer than they've been in ages but barely talking.

I'm the older sister, I suppose, Aelwyn thinks. I should take the initiative.

She pets Hector with one hand and drafts a message with another: Are you alive, bitch?

She's about to press send but then she frowns and deletes the draft. After a few moments of thought, she taps out a new message: Can't believe I'm gonna say this. Miss my little sister. Everything all right?

Aelwyn is seventeen--though she doesn't feel like it.

Her mind is telling her that she's sixteen and that she was just been broken out of a jail cell in Solace but Adaine is telling her that she's just been broken out of an entirely different prison after being tortured for months even though she doesn't remember any of that.

But her body feels frail and Adaine says she's been in her mind which means she must have used the hard reset.

She's suddenly feeling very vulnerable--not because of the disorientation or the of the levels of exhaustion she can feel weighing on her like leaden chains. No, it's because of the fact that Adaine using the reset means that she must have read the treacle-y note that she left there for her to find.

It was just an insurance policy, she tells herself. There was wisdom to buttering up your savior to make sure she'd do what you needed her to do.

She manages to mostly believe it. But the small, truthful part of herself that knows how deeply she meant the words is so uncomfortable that she antagonizes Adaine until she's annoyed enough to hit her with a spell, sending her into blissful unconsciousness.

Aelwyn is nineteen and she's going to kill her mother.

Well, not alone of course. Adaine deserves the kill at least as much as she does if not more. It'll be a group effort.

It's a strange mix--the cold fury at her mother mixed with the warmth she feels for her sister, sitting across the table from her. She summons a flame to her palm, a preview of what their mother has waiting for her. She watches Adaine's eyes harden with resolve and she sees the face of her baby sister, left to wail alone silently for hours, soothed by her presence. "Let's get her."

"Yes, my dear," she says, the endearment coming freely as if this has always been their dynamic. "We'll get her."

But there will be time for that later. Right now, it's time for ice cream and seeing Adaine so content in such a simple pleasure causes the warmth in her to surge so suddenly that it would be startling if it wasn't so pleasant. The urge to voice it is so powerful that she doesn't know that would have been able to stop it at any point in life, let alone now.

"I hope we get to eat ice cream and cast magic forever," she says, words that would have been impossible for her to say one short year ago and impossible not to say now.

And, to her delight, Adaine agrees.

[anantaru]

Xiao and aphrodisiacs ? 🙏🙏

cw. aphrodisiacs, dubcon?? (just in case), fem! reader

"xiao... i can feel it work," you slowly let fall from your tongue, fluttering your lashes up to meet the eyes that hover above you, your naked skin smoldering hot as xiao rests his weight on top of you.

your body feels dense above the mattress— and the leaden quivering of your chest fights to match that of your fastened pants, your thighs wet of your slick as you clench and throb around xiao's waist when he keeps you pinned on the bed with his bare strength.

he doesn't believe he will manage to keep himself restraint when he sees you struggle at the way your body was feeling unnaturally hot with your core ablaze, your warm pussy quivering at each round rub against your sensitive folds.

xiao's eyes slowly trace over the soft expression on your face, "i love when you enjoy yourself," he admits as his fingers collect your arousal to smear them across your thudding flesh.

archons, you want him inside of you so badly, you're certain that his fingers surely wouldn't be enough, despite the fact that everything felt a whole lot more intense tonight, your bottom lip quivering at how dirty it felt to be so exposed and oozing of your arousal.  

his body was flush against yours, and yours with his as you want to feel xiao, until your thighs are practically glistening of him, you need him to engrave strong pleasure into your walls and stretch you into his shape before you can rest easy for tonight.

"how long do you think you can last..." xiao breathes while continuing to work his hand on you, "i can feel how you're falling to pieces," he continues, "and i don't want to hurt you," as he breathes hot against your ear before inserting one slender finger into your tight hole.

"no.." you feverishly shake your head, "please— just don't stop," and your words breathe against his skin as you unravel, your honeyed sounds awakening goosebumps on his roughened body.

his lips part when your walls mould to his shape instantly, and after the little pill you took, he finds out that you're extremely reactive tonight, not to mention so sensitive that it drives him insane when he leisurely pumps a finger in and out to test the waters on how much you could take in your current state.

you jolt with a quiet squeal when he nibbles along your jawline— and an interesting, not to mention sexy fact about xiao was that he needs to know if he was doing well and if you're enjoying it— in his mind, there was one element about seeing your pleasure overflow beneath him to the point where you're causing his thighs to tremor as you open yourself up for him.

yet, there's another crucial component when he focuses his sharp senses on your heartbeat, especially on the way your breathing would slowly change and turn quicker, or how impossibly wet you had gotten from a mere finger as he further imprints his trace on your sensitive skin.

"this is u-unfair," you babble out, twisting your brows and sliding one hand down to the obvious tent in his boxers, his thick bulge repeatedly grinding against your thigh to release some steam, "i do-don't think it worked on you," you sigh out defeatedly, stroking his bulge as xiao adds a finger, thrusting his digits through the sticky mess on your cunt.

"do you want me to stop?" xiao asks kindly, nuzzling his nose across your neck to take in your stirring scent.

"no.. no," your palm gently works up his cock as your legs spread wider for him, pushing your hips up to welcome his fingers as xiao lovingly smiles against you, "so hot— you're so hot down there," he says, pumping with adrenaline, xiao just needs to make you feel good, that is all he wants, to make you feel so fucking good.

you throw your head back in ecstasy when he changes the tempo of two fingers and pistols his digits quickly back and forth, pushing between your hole with the squelching noises setting your cheeks aflame, your chest rapidly rising and falling as you practically melt under his tender caress.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[starful-emporium]

that finale made me so emotional. i cried at all of their scenes in Ankarna's realm. anyway, here's some bad kids senior year head canons.

Kristen: Her wish for a sister is filled by Bucky, crying in her room late at night and praying together. After talking to Jawbone they learn that there are grounds to remove Bricker and Cork from their parents' home. Kristen is the only one given the option of emancipation--instead, she asks Jawbone to adopt her as well.

She falls back onto old patterns with Tracker. But they're a little older and wiser, so they see it happening and take a step back. Not a break up, but a readjustment. With her academics finally not reliant on deadlines, Kristen dedicates herself to her pantheon. They work with Lucy to bring Ruvina back to her sister, and Kristen finds herself in awe of the dedication she sees.

Fig: She puts all her time into the Bottomless Pit, something it desperately needs. Often she tells Sandra-Lynn she's sleeping at Gilear's, and vice versa, and stays with Ayda instead. On her 18th birthday her parents sit her down and explain that she can live with Ayda officially, if she wants to. Just as long as she remembers she'll always have a room with both of them.

She brings Sandra-Lynn on Complicated Women, first to interview, and then as a permanent guest host. They talk about womanhood as something living and changing and queer and complicated. It's her mom who encourages her when Lola Embers drops Ruben. They rally all the rock-hating souls and cordon off part of the recording studio. Fig never goes in there, but from what she's heard, his music has gotten better in the absence of Kipperlilly's judgement.

Fabian: Somehow, he ends up being the one to train the new dog. The Hangman is jealous to a ridiculous degree, so he spends a lot of time managing that. He starts looking into a sea-worthy vessel for after graduation, spends hours at the Compass Points Library learning how to navigate. Learning sea shanties is part of all that, of course, and has nothing to do with the way his baby sibling stares at him while he practices.

Mazey teaches dance to kids while he finishes school. She's so kind it almost hurts, and Fabian has no choice but to learn to accept love. He "lets" Gorgug skip Bloodrush under the condition of weekly movie nights, which only sometimes are expanded to the rest of the Bad Kids. The radio in his room crackle to life sometimes, with little messages from Bill when he's close enough to the material plane.

Riz: Appointed as vice president, he quits all but the AV club. He makes a bedtime pact with Sklonda, and for the first time in a very long time, they are both getting enough sleep. Someone mentions ace and aro identities to him, and he's awake enough for it click.

He finds a new scholarship for Aguefort students, and it looks scam-y so he does some investigating. It easily traces right back to Seacaster gold and Fabian. He's thankful for the cover and accepts the money with an understanding that they won't talk about it. He doesn't check, but the scholarship is offered every year after that.

Adaine: She spends the summer with Aelwyn tracking down their mom. She doesn't need revenge, but she needs to know her mom will never hurt anyone ever again. She feels Ankarna in the hot sun and wonders if that's the difference between revenge and justice. They take the long way back to Solace, the Hand-van paddling across the ocean.

When school starts, she works with Kristen to turn her inheritance into resources. Student who can pay for some of their components still do, but everyone gets what they need to learn. On the first day of class, she's asked about her summer prophecies, and tells off Tiberia for relying on her for lessons.

Gorgug: His senior year MCAT is signed on the first day by Lydia, who's teaching barbarian classes for the year. She gives him permission for independent study, and Henry gives him a shop key so he can do classwork whenever he wants. The rest of his time is spent perfecting Barbificer skills and creating a program to run at Aguefort the next year.

Mary Ann offers her quokky pet skills to help remodel his homonculous. The result is much cuter and more functional than before. She still names her highest level pet Cloaca in honor of the original, much to Gorgug's chagrin.

After graduation, the Bad Kids move in trios and pairs, and they always reconvene on the Summer Solstice, the anniversary of Ankarna's resurrection.

Kristen splits her time between Solace and Fallinel and Mountains of Chaos, the places where temples to her pantheon stand. Adaine and Riz rent an apartment in Bastion City, where they both continue school. Gorgug stays in Elmville, teaching at Aguefort and working on the side to start his own school. Fabian takes to the sea, bringing Fig and Ayda and Mazey with him.

They save the world again, a few times, but only when they want to.

[meazalykov]

car girl

jill roord x reader

the dutch needs her car fixed, and luckily she found the perfect person to do it for her

warnings: there might be incorrect information about cars on here, since I am not a mechanic. I had to do some research for this one <3

the air smells of oil and warm rubber, the scent of your garage always lingering on your skin no matter how many showers you take. 

the radio hums in the background, some soft rock playing through the speakers as you apply a smooth layer of tint onto a customer’s car windows, your movements precise and careful. 

your blue levi overalls are already stained with grease from an earlier job, but you do not care. it is part of the work, part of who you are. its come with the job i guess.   

your hair is tied up in a sleek ponytail, keeping it out of your face as you concentrate. your hands, skilled and steady, press the tint firmly onto the glass, smoothing out any bubbles with practiced ease. 

just as you are finishing up, the sound of a car pulling into the lot catches your attention. you glance up, wiping your hands on a rag, and immediately recognize the blue-gray mercedes. 

vivianne.  

she steps out of the driver’s seat, stretching slightly before shutting the door. the footballer’s blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she is dressed in a simple hoodie and jeans. 

it is not vivianne who captures your attention…it is the brunette stepping out of the passenger seat.  

she is tall, with piercing eyes that sweep over your garage like she is taking it all in. the woman’s posture is relaxed but confident, and she carries herself with the kind of ease that tells you she knows she is attractive. this could be a good or a bad thing but you do not know yet.

your eyes briefly drop to her toned arms, the way her fitted top clings to her, before you look away.  

vivianne smirks, immediately picking up on where your attention went.  

“y/n,” she calls, walking over. 

“this is jill.”  

you wipe your hands on your overalls again before offering jill a nod. 

“nice to meet you.”  

jill’s lips curve into a smirk. 

“i’ve heard about you,” she says, voice smooth. 

“didn’t expect you to be this—” she pauses, her eyes dragging over you shamelessly, “—fine.”  

vivianne groans. 

“jill, for fuck’s sake!”  

you let out a small chuckle, raising an eyebrow. 

“this how you always introduce yourself?”  

“only when the person is worth it.” jill grins.  

vivianne rolls her eyes. 

“anyway, we came here to you because jill’s got some issues with her car. i figured i’d bring her to the best.”  

you tilt your head, glancing toward the sleek black audi parked next to vivianne’s car. 

“what’s the issue?”  

“been overheating like crazy,” jill says. 

“i barely made it to training yesterday without it acting up.”  

you nod, already suspecting the problem. 

“bring it into the garage. i’ll take a look.”  

jill drives it in while you grab your tools, pulling on a pair of gloves before popping the hood open. steam hisses out, confirming your suspicions. vivianne and jill stand off to the side, watching as you move with confidence, checking each component. 

jill’s eyes never leave you.  

“it’s your radiator,” you finally say, pulling off your gloves. 

“it’s in bad shape. you’ll need a replacement.”  

jill sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

“great. how long’s that gonna take?”  

“a few hours,” you answer. 

“depends on how cooperative your car wants to be.”  

vivianne groans dramatically. 

“i was hoping we could go somewhere.”  

“you still can,” you tell her. 

“i’ve got this.”  

jill smirks. 

“you sure? wouldn’t want to leave you here all alone.”  

you huff a laugh, shaking your head. 

“i’ll be fine. go grab some food or something.”  

vivianne and jill exchange a look before jill shrugs. 

“guess we’ll be back later, then.”  

as they leave, jill casts one last glance over her shoulder, her smirk widening when she catches you looking. you shake your head, turning back to the car, but you cannot help the small smile that tugs at your lips. 

a few hours later, just as you are tightening the last bolt, the sound of footsteps echoes through the garage. you glance up, expecting to see vivianne and jill together, but it is just jill.  

“viv went home,” the dutch woman says, leaning against the nearby tool bench. 

“said she was tired. figured i’d come pick up my car myself.”  

“convenient,” you muse, wiping your hands again.  

jill grins. 

“very.”  

you pull off your gloves, tossing them onto the workbench. 

“your car’s good to go. radiator’s replaced, and i checked your coolant levels too. shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”  

jill nods, taking out her wallet. she pays without hesitation, but instead of just handing you the money, she also slides a small card across the counter.  

you pick it up, frowning slightly. 

“what’s this?”  

“my number,” jill says simply.  

you blink, glancing at the card, then back at her. 

“you need me to check your car again or…?”  

jill laughs, shaking her head. 

“no. i want you to take me out.”  

your eyebrows shoot up. 

“oh.”  

“yeah,” she continues, crossing her arms. 

“figured since you’re single and all, i should take my chance.”  

you huff a small laugh, shaking your head. 

“oh my days…vivianne told you, huh?”  

“yup.”  

you exhale, staring at the card for a moment before slipping it into your pocket. 

“alright, jill.” you meet her gaze, a smirk playing on your lips. 

“guess i’ll be seeing you soon.”  

jill grins. 

“can’t wait.”  

with that, she gets into her car, starts the engine, and pulls out of the garage.

you let out a breath, running a hand through your hair as you watch her leave. 

maybe working late was not such a bad thing after all.

masterlist

[glossykissies]

scott when babygirl!reader can't come out of her subspace,,,and he needs her to be a "big girl"

it was scott’s fault.

he was the one that fucked you through the morning into the afternoon, broke you down into the finest components of your very being until you were uncontrollably crying after cumming, your fellow ‘coworker’ having to bathe you and baby you back into a mellow subspace where you were a lot more at peace. you take heavy breaths with your head on his chest as you watch your show. you suck his thumb. you wear his tshirt. you don’t want him to move, ever.

but he has to — and he knows it’s gonna be hell. he went to take a call in the hallway which was already a nightmare, hearing your whimper from the living room when he was gone for more than three minutes and eventually the padding of your socks on sleek wooden floors to find him, tugging at his clothes to get him to come back to you. he feels awful when he places both hands on your shoulders after hanging up, staring down at you.

“hey, i need you to focus up okay?” he croons and you blink, lashes still all wet and sticky and clearly not a thought behind those eyes. he sighs, pressing his lips together.

“mad at me.” comes the smallest voice and he shakes his head, pressing more weight into his hands on your shoulders as if in attempts to ground you harder.

“no. not mad at you, just need you to listen.”

you nod, which is good enough for him.

“my boss has called me in. i know it’s a sunday, but he’s — look, he’s fucking pissed. bunch of reporters got ahold of our research before we’ve been able to verify everything and i gotta go down there n’do some damage control. you can stay here, long as you like — okay, but i can’t be here.” he tries to make it as clear as possible, but your eyes are hazy again and you’re pulling him back toward the couch. “baby.” he warns, and once realising that the nickname might be counter productive he clears his throat and calls you by your name.

you stop, turning to him in confusion like it was the first time you’d ever heard him call you by your birth name and he shifts sympathetically albeit uncomfortably impatiently on his heels.

“i have to go.” scott presses his hands together.

“no.” you whimper, shaking your head with a reaching hand, fingers craving his touch. he places a hand over yours and lowers it, raising his eyebrows seriously.

“yes. i will be back later.” his eyes start to look around, and he’s searching for something that’s not you �� shoes, he needs shoes to leave. your breathing picks up, stuttering like you’re going to cry and he marches over to you, taking your face in his hands, visibly stressed but using his last strings of delicacy to practice gentleness with you whilst you’re in such a sensitive state. “i need you… to be a big girl for a little bit. can you?”

the urgency in his tone breaks through something in you and you find yourself nodding, shrinking a little like you were ashamed of your previous behaviour. he senses this, and strokes your cheek before walking you back to the couch, seating you and strewing the blanket over you as if to barricade you.

“you know where the food is. stay until im home if you want. like i said — i’ll be back.” he orders, brushing about as he shoves one shoe on, then another before grabbing his keys as you watch with big watery eyes.

he goes to briskly march off, but stops abruptly at the doorway as if remembering that it’s polite to say goodbye. scott swings his keys around his finger and catches it in thought before pointing at you briefly.

“make me proud. okay? big girl.”

with that, he’s gone — leaving you to melt into the blanket.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Part 4: Worldbuilding Pass

Next up, worldbuilding! We're tackling this before structure, because you don't want to get too far into the weeds, realize a critical component of your story is wrong, and then throw your computer out the window in frustration.

Anyway, when it comes to worldbuilding, there's a lot of moving parts. There is no right or wrong way to worldbuild, but my preferred approach is to worldbuild as the story goes along. Any method works, and you can check out the worldbuilding tag for more. In editing your worldbuilding, you want to think about:

Trimming Front-loading/Info Dumps

When writing fantasy/sci-fi, getting down how the world works can take over the story. In first drafting, this is fine! But when you're trying to clean that draft up, it's better to weave this information in as you go.

Need to explain how the giant mechas guarding the city operate? Maybe your main character is trying to steal some precious alloy from one, giving you opportunity to explain how they work and how society feels about them. Have a magic system that relies on singing tunes? Show that off by having students practicing, or dueling rivals taking it too far.

You probably know by now that the thing you should avoid the most is "as you know" dialogue dumps - characters explaining concepts to each other that they both clearly understand. Another, weaker version of this is the "magic class" trap, where things are explained to the main character and the reader. A classroom environment is fine, but pair worldbuilding with action - demonstrations get out of hand, spells go wrong, etc. Make it fun!

Your World Needs Clear Rules (Sorry)

Listen, this is the part I hate. I have a WIP with the word "Rules" in the title and I'm still figuring out what those rules are. Argh. But the sooner you know the rules, the easier editing will be. The more clear those rules are to the reader, the more impactful breaking them will be.

If the rules of the world (you can't use warp speed too close to a planet's gravitational pull, the same type of magic cancels each other out) and the consequences of breaking them are clear, the pay-off will be satisfying for both you and the reader.

Use Your Environment to Your Full Advantage

You've no doubt heard 'make setting a character' and that's evergreen advice. Some of the best books out there are those where it feels like you could step through the page and into a real place, be it your childhood middle school or Narnia. Getting that feeling, however, is more than just describing a place really well.

Mood - How does the location make you feel? Does a dark, cramped room leave the characters with a feeling of dread? How would that feeling change if it was an overstuffed library with comfortable chairs?

Weather - Beyond the 'dark and stormy night' descriptions, weather impacts our daily lives and is often overlooked. A rain-drenched funeral scenes seems like it's the way to go, but how differently would that scene feel if it was a sunny day with birds singing?

City Versus Countryside - These books are a great reference for description, but also take a step back to compare how different situations would feel both in the setting and to your character. Quiet can mean very different things depending on where you are. A morning fog in the countryside might feel comforting to someone used to it, but to someone new to that environment, it might feel creepy. Think about both your environment and how your character reacts to it based on their backstory.

The Empty Room Problem

This is always a big challenge when moving from the first draft bare bones basics to fleshing things out. How much description is too much? (As a note, it's always okay to overcorrect - you'll have a chance to fix it later!) This post from @novlr has a lot of great questions - but you're still going to narrow it down to the most important details.

Escape the Movie Setting - You cannot describe the room like it's a movie set. Trying to do so is going to be overwhelming, and important details will be lost in the attempt. If you were to describe your room or your favorite coffee shop and could only highlight four or five details, what would you focus on? What gives the reader the essence of the place rather than a list of things that exist there?

Establish the Essentials - Is this your first character's first time in this room? Is it going to be key to several plot-important scenes? Some big, sweeping details when entering - how big it is, what's in it, where the windows are, how it feels, etc - are good to start with. Your character can briefly admire a full bookshelf in the first scene, and then study it in more detail in the second. If you have one scene in this place and spend too much time describing it, you're going to make your reader think it's more important than it is.

Engage the Senses - Does an old room smell musty? Does the coldness of the woods have a sharp taste? Does touching a shelf bring up a lot of dust? How does the lighting in the room make the main character feel?

Getting down the description of a room or setting is not something you'll nail in one shot, but if you approach each scene asking yourself "does this feel like a real place or a white room?" you can narrow down what's missing.

[dalishious]

Alistair vs. Cullen

It really annoys me when people act like Alistair and Cullen are the same character, when they are very different.

Alistair grew up with child neglect. When visiting Denerim, Eamon kept him in the kennels. At Redcliffe, he slept in the stables on a pile of hay. Alistair also recounts a time when he was locked in the dungeons for a day before someone came to get him out. And of course he also talks about how Isolde despised him, and “made sure the castle wasn't a home.” But is still convinced that Eamon is a good person and he deserved all that. Cullen had a very fortunate upbringing with a loving family who supported him and what he wanted in life.

Alistair never wanted to be a Templar; he was forced into joining the Order by Eamon. He is vocal about how much he despised this, and considers Duncan recruiting him for the Wardens as “saving” him from them. The only thing he says he enjoyed about Templar training was the educational component, which he did not receive previously. Alistair was a poor recruit because he frankly did not want to be there, and therefore did not take it very seriously. He saw practices like the Harrowing as horrifying, and deepened his dislike of being a Templar further. And as time goes on, he becomes even less of a supporter of the Order; he outright says Meredith is the biggest threat to Kirkwall in Dragon Age II, if made king of Ferelden. It was always Cullen’s dream to be a Templar, and would even force his younger sister to “play the apostate” for his “training” before being recruited. Cullen was an enthusiastic recruit who considered Templar training “all that he had imagined”, and “did not hesitate” in taking his vows. Even the Harrowing did not waver his devotion to the Order, which by Dragon Age II becomes downright fanatical and tyrannical, practically worshipping Meredith. (Though this was later attempted to be retconned in Dragon Age: Inquisition… just as poorly as all the other retcons in that game, taking the path of “just pretend he never said and did all those things!”)

There is a lot of dialogue from Alistair about how much he dislikes the Chantry. Cullen, on the other hand, is extremely faithful and the only criticism he ever has about the Chantry is that they don’t treat the Templars well enough.

Alistair has a good sense of humour—in fact, it’s one of his biggest coping mechanisms. Cullen wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him in the face.

The player can disagree with Alistair on every turn. He is presented as sometimes being right, and sometimes being wrong, like most people. (Side note: more than that, you can be downright verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive to Alistair. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how bad it can get until reading through the dialogue in the toolset, because I’ve never picked those options in game. I was honest to god flabbergasted and very uncomfortable through much of it.) The player rarely has the chance to even mildly disagree with Cullen. On the rare occasion you do, the dialogue is painted as if the player is being an unreasonable asshole, and he never even addresses what they say. (Example.)

The only reason I think people are capable of mistaking them for another is because fandom likes to donate Alistair’s personality onto Cullen. That and the the ever-frequent whitewashing of Alistair doesn’t help matters. But I’m not even a Cullen fan and I think it’s a disservice to both of them to act like they’re just Alistair and Alistair 2.0, honestly.

[quitealotofsodapop]

So I’ve seen your many wonderful posts on your worldbuilding with demon courtnapping customs (love those), but I do remember you mentioning in the post where Shadowpeach accidentally reverse-courtnaps each other that Macaque prior to then only knew about Celestial courting customs.

I’m curious about how Celestial customs compare/contrast with demon courtnapping. Is it similar to mortal ancient traditional Chinese customs and practices, or are their dissimilar components that have it stand apart?

OG Courtnapping lore post.

Since the Celestial Realm in mythology and Jttw is meant to be a critique/romanticism of Imperial China - I can imagine that their traditional courting practices are very different from demons on Earth/in the Underworld.

When the celestial court became more and more professional (i.e emotionless and human-like), open expressions of affection became less acceptable in public settings. Such expressions can be seen as "lewd" or "bold" in the eyes of the godly bureaucrats and cupbearers.

A typical celestial courting may include:

Requests to go on walks together.

Sharing food, especially fruit.

Serenading/Playing instruments for one another.

Poetry; written or recited.

Asking your respect family for permission to court.

Hot springs/baths (for steamier dates. lots of Chinese mythos art uses bathing as a stand-in for sexual activity between couples). Note: may cause miscommunication between celestials and their demon/dragon companions since chilling in the baths or springs with your homies isn't seen as a big deal in demon or dragon culture.

Not to mention in terms of marriage; Celestials (at least pre-modern times) most likely performed arrange marriages that were more business deals between the parents rather than romantic partnerships between couples.

Arrangements are likely a rarity outside lesser noble families though; considering that the Jade Emperor and Queen Mother themselves are a love pairing without any concubines or mistresses. I hc that Mortal practices sorta seeped into Celestial and Underworld culture over the centuries (possibly due to mortal humans becoming Xian/Demons in their own right), and with the modern day those very same traditional practices have fallen out of favour.

I do remember an adaptation of Lotus Lantern (Prelude to the Lotus Lantern) where Erlang was arrange-married to Ao Cunxin (older sister of Ao Lie), only for them to divorce many years later. And even then there seemed to be romantic attraction on both sides prior to the marriage.

Hilariously this implies that theres a need for a royal arranged marriage between the Celestial and Dragon royal families. Something to keep the peace.

(Nezha/Ao Bing, or Dragonfruit Swan Princess au when?)

For same-sex couples; they may make their attraction/relationship status known through "sworn brotherhood". While normally sworn brotherhood is purely platonic; the term is used in antiquity to describe homosexual relationships in a time before it was more widely accepted. Therefore a prospective couple may declare themselves sworn brethren, while also using the same contract to declare themselves legally married (with a witness or two to confirm). Theres a lot of jokes in Chinese media where Erlang asks Wukong to be his "sworn brother" (as they are in Jttw) which Wukong misreads as a marriage proposal since they're both guys. (Jiankong shippers be using this trope for centuries)

(note to self; make joke in Hib au where Dasheng and Erlang are technically married by way of sworn brotherhood contract.)

Whereas demons could announce their love from the highest mountain and carry their beloved away to a date without much of a wink from their peers - a celestial would feel scandalized for a mere hand-holding!

Macaque, being raised closer to celestials, was quick to assume many of Wukong's gestures towards him were purely platonic - no matter how much every half-bitten peach or warm hug made him blush as if it were a marriage proposal.

Wukong is often seen as a dense guy when it comes to romance, and part of that is because demons are notoriously blunt with their emotions. If Macaque hadn't outright confessed his feelings for Wukong, the Monkey King would have assumed he was just being shy. This ofc causes a lot of arguments between monkeys considering Macaque forgets that not everyone has lie-detecting ears, and Wukong often doesn't understand people's intentions or feelings if they are not made clear to him. Thankfully this gets better later on with a lot of couple's counselling.

So yeah, there can be a lot of funny clashes between the different groups of characters depending on if they were raised with modern human, demonic, or celestial courting cultures. XD

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 10

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19

It was an early morning start for everyone aboard the Polar Tang.

Zoro and Sanji had spent the night together in the bubble ship parked on deck for a much needed quality time, much to Niji's dismay. The helmeted blue-haired commander found them ass naked in their hiding place at first light and woke them up. He was finally able to finish Sanji's claw gauntlet fitting which took no time at all. While he was there, he saw an opportunity to improve the ship's primitive maneuvering system to ensure that the bulky vessel has the capability to take sharper, faster turns in case of any events of unexpected knock up streams.

After getting kicked out of the bubble ship by the demanding Niji, Zoro ran back to their room to dress up and finish packing for the trip. He had nothing but his underwear on him after getting his clothes torn up during his crazy night of passion with the blonde. He received a lot of stares and some light-hearted teasing from the crew during his walk of shame but he wore it with a shameless smirk. In his mind, it was all worth it. Though he makes it a point to try and patch up the garment that his friends worked so hard to make for him later.

Sanji stayed in the ship, also naked after having his clothes somehow lost in the process. He has entrusted the swordsman to fetch him his travel pack that he'd prepared the night before so he sat waiting on one of the passenger seats, snuggling himself in Niji's long cloak to keep warm. As much as he appreciates his brother's thoughtfulness by offering him his cape, and the extra effort he's putting in to improving the ship, he still holds a grudge on him for picking on his beloved Marimo, especially after last night's progression in their relationship. He glares down at the blue-haired commander who is currently in deep concentration, fine-tuning the steering wheel from the pilot seat.

Zoro returns wearing fresh new robes and holding two travel packs over his shoulders. He begins hauling them into the ship while standing outside by the door to respectfully keep his distance from the blonde's brother who is hard at work. He starts arranging bags under the side consoles to ensure that their possessions are secured and out of the way. Sanji gratefully grabs spare clothes from his own bag from where he sat.

Before dressing up, the blonde suddenly realises the perfect opportunity for revenge–in front of the very man his brother had picked on. He leans back against his seat, hugs his knees up to his chest, and strokes a lock of hair, trying to play it casual.

Sanji

So Niji, how's our chef Cosette doing?

Caught completely off guard, Niji yanks the steering wheel off its panel, tearing wires and other components that he'd meticulously been working on for the last hour. His face had suddenly gone scarlet red and blood trickled down his nose.

Sanji smirks at his brother's reaction. He leans his cheek against the palm of his hand and tilts his head innocently, watching the man practically start hyperventilating. He could have sworn he saw tiny sparks of electricity emit at the tip of his blue hair.

Zoro looks shocked and pissed at the commander for breaking Nami's old bubble ship.

Niji

I–hah–why would I…she's a servant. Loyal and… dedicated and… talented and…. How… why would you–hah–what possessed you to think that I would know–?

Niji looks down at the panel where he'd ripped out the steering wheel and then at his hand where he's gripping it. His tight hold around the handles had contorted its shape. Slowly, he realises what he'd done. He drops to his knees and starts repeatedly banging his head against it in frustration.

Sanji

So…I take it she's well then?

Niji pauses his movements to shoot him a furious glare behind his goggles, his cheeks still reddened.

Sanji hears a faint sound of their host captain from a distance talking to his crew while approaching the ship. He sounded excited for a change as they're finally lifting off to Skypiea. When Law hopped up onboard, he froze at the sight of seeing the Pirate King practically naked in his seat and the commander holding onto the broken steering wheel.

Law

What the hell is this? Why are you tearing apart my bubble ship?

I don't even know what's going on with you, Mr. Prince-ya.

Niji

I can explain–!

Zoro and Sanji 

Niji broke the ship.

Law practically had smoke coming out of his ears. He rolls up his sleeves.

—

Sanji

That's not… where I thought that was going to go….

Niji

Really now?

Zoro, Sanji and Niji all had bumps on their heads from the fuming captain. They all stood in pain behind Law who is making a final speech to the Heart Pirates crew before separating from them until they return from Skypiea. He wanted to make sure that everyone is fully aware of their plan to meet back near Jaya, and told them to stay under the radar by not staying in one place too long. They're to keep a constant eye on their long distant transponder snail in case there are any emergencies.

Niji had repaired the damage he’d done and replaced the disfigured steering wheel for a makeshift one. He still managed to do the maneuver upgrade that he wanted right on schedule so Law's punishment on him wasn't as harsh.

Sanji soothes his painful bump with a hand, wondering if he should have done his act of revenge another day. At least he has clothes now and his claw gauntlet fitted properly with its blades retracted.

Zoro had no idea what exactly just happened but given how much he'd been getting punished by Law recently, he just accepted his fate.

They sail the Polar Tang until it reaches a good distance away from Jaya to avoid any unwanted attention during take off. Niji launches himself in the air to scout ahead, hoping to travel high enough to potentially find the floating island by eye and watch out for any unwelcoming shifts in weather. They're to keep tabs with him through transponder snails. Bepo reported that there may be a storm later in the day but if they reach the sky island before late afternoon, they should be safe.

Zoro, Sanji and Law follow by bubble ship shortly, waving farewell to the rest of the Heart Pirates from inside as they lift off. The blonde volunteered to pilot as he claimed to have done it before. This proved evident when he started up the engines, inflated the float bubble and launched the vessel without a fuss. Before they know it, they reach their desired altitude just under the stratosphere where they reconvened with the commander as planned.

Zoro and Law watched the two siblings, surprised at how quickly their dynamic switched as they expertly navigated the skies together. Past all their snide jabbing and teasing, Sanji and Niji operated like two veteran mercenaries who clearly had years of experience in their arsenal. Niji flew ahead and continuously sent advice through his den-den mushi, and Sanji made executive decisions based on his brother's reports and piloted the ship expertly. They managed to avoid troublesome cloud formations without a navigator, thanks to their collaborative teamwork.

Law

How do you know how to fly so well, Mr. Prince-ya?

Sanji

Err…I'm the only one who doesn't fly in the family so I tend to take a bubble ship for myself when I need to.

Niji interrupts through the transponder snail.

Niji 

Correction–he chooses not to. He can, if he just wears his–

Sanji

Commander, we talked about this.

Niji

Tch.

Zoro was looking at Sanji curiously, clearly wanting to hear more about the whole subject of flying but the blonde wants to avoid the uncomfortable topic so he quickly shifts the conversation. He clears his throat.

Sanji

Marimo-kun, can you please remind us what we're on a lookout for?

Zoro

We're trying to find South Birds or one of its variants. They're native to Skypiea and a lot bigger up here. They should help us find the island.

Otherwise we should see thick solid clouds with houses or a jungle on them. It's pretty big so it's hard to miss.

Sanji

Did you get that, Commander?

Niji

Got it.

There is a painful stretch of silence as the ship floats aimlessly in the sky. This part of the troposphere should be thinning out of clouds but today seems to be an odd exception as it's more fogged up than usual. Zoro notices Sanji gradually getting worried after an hour with no news. He starts impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while his feet twitch restlessly, his hand almost reaching out for the den-den mushi several times but ultimately acts against it.

Zoro

Hey…is everything okay?

Sanji

Y–yeah…. I just… don't worry about it.

Law

If you’re that concerned, we should call him.

Sanji

Maybe…. Give him more time. He might be in the middle of something.

After several more tense minutes, they hear a long squawk from a distance behind them. Zoro, Sanji and Law turn their heads to find a large bird, more than twice the size of their bubble ship, writhing mid-air. Around its body, a familiar blue-haired man gripped around its neck, trying to force its wings closed with his legs. He carries it with difficulty towards the bubble ship, his boots kicking off pulses in different directions to try and gain some semblance of stability.

Law

What the hell–?

Sanji starts laughing out loud as the bird throws its head wildly in every which way. It relentlessly flaps its wings and kicks its sharp talons out madly, desperate to free itself from the commander's death grip.

Niji stops just in front of the ship while still wrestling with the bird.

Niji

Is this–?? OWW!!!

The commander only just manages to dodge the bird’s attempt to eat his face, but the side of his face gets whacked with its powerful beak with a loud crack.

Niji

IS THIS IT, SWORDSMAN?!?

Zoro

Err…

Zoro looks back and forth between Niji and the giant bird dumbfoundedly, still trying to take in the comical scene before them.

The blonde shuffles through his pack calmly.

Sanji

Does anyone else have a camera?

Niji

Fuck–! Answer already!! Is this a South Bird or what?!

Zoro

Yes…?

Niji

Why do you sound so unsure?!

Zoro

It's been a while, okay?! And I can't see the crest properly! Can’t you hold it still?

Niji

FUCK YOU, YOU BROCCOLI HEAD! You come out here and do it then!

Zoro

It's MARIMO!!!

Sanji

Yonji’s going to love this.

Sanji finally pulls out a photo camera and snaps a couple of shots of the action, cheerfully kicking his legs from his seat in delight.

Sanji

And for the fridge….

He turns his seat around and takes a nice photo of Zoro laughing at Niji. He also manages to catch one of Law who can't help but bear a small entertained smile on his face under the shade of his cap.

Law

Oi! Watch the talons! Back off, Commander or it will pop the bubble!

Niji briefly dips out of sight but manages to recover. Zoro takes his time thinking, his hand massaging his jaw as he digs through his memory banks while watching the commander wrestle the giant bird.

Sanji

You know, I've seen them in a book.

Niji

So what?! Is this it??

Sanji

…It was a black and white print. I don't know if the colour matters.

Niji

Oh, for fuck's sake! Don't give me useless information!

Law

Zoro-ya, just say something already!

Zoro

Curls made a good point…. Was it more blue or more pink…? Is the face really that long? I can't remember.

Law slowly pulls out the feather from his pocket that Corazon had left behind for him, very carefully taking his time to avoid damaging it. He holds it up in his hand for everyone to look at.

Sanji

It's a little more pale than the one Niji’s holding.

Law

Maybe it was younger?

Niji

I hate all of you.

Zoro

I think… I think it is a South Bird.

Niji finally releases the furious bird from his grip. He dodges its angry pecks and swooping before it flies away from them. His clothing had suffered huge scratches throughout his body.

Sanji

Great job, Commander! Need a break?

The blue-haired man flops over the side of the ship, half hanging off the edge as he catches his breath.

Sanji turns the vessel to follow the bird. Thanks to his brother's earlier modifications, they're able to keep up with it without an issue.

After a few moments, Niji pulls himself up to sit on the side of the ship with his feet dangling over the edge, all the while keeping a close eye at the pursuit. He clenches his fist over his chest, still feeling breathless and the altitude isn’t doing him any favours.

Sanji notices the commander’s state and he narrows his eyes at his damaged helmet. A large piece at the front is cracked so badly that it’s just about ready to fall off at any moment.

Zoro offers the blue-haired man his flask of water. Reluctantly, Niji accepts and drinks from it, too tired to say no.

Sanji

I need you to go home, Commander.

Niji

No, I can make it. I promised I'd get you to Skypiea–

Sanji

No, Niji. Not this time.

After another swill, the commander wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and glares at Sanji.

Sanji

We'll be fine, alright?

And…you still have that other mission. You can't dally.

Niji doesn't turn his head but behind his goggles, Zoro notices that he shifts his eyes between him and the blonde. Ultimately, the blue-haired man sighs exasperatedly and throws the half empty flask back to him.

Niji

Fine. But I'm not happy about it.

Sanji gives him a weak smile to try and reassure him.

Sanji

I know.

The blonde turns his attention back towards the South Bird. When he notices that Law gazes away from him as well, Niji takes the opportunity to quickly grab Zoro's arm and shoves something metallic and cold in his robe’s long sleeve, out of everyone else's sight.

The swordsman was initially freaked out but picked up on his discretion. He raises a brow curiously at him.

Niji releases him and gives a thankful nod. He turns his attention back to the blonde.

Niji

Later, Your Highness.

Sanji

Thank you for all your assistance, Commander.

And…get home safe. That's an order.

Niji

Ugh… don't be gross.

He angles himself on the bubble ship, facing the opposite direction where the group is heading. With a kick of his Raid Boots, he sends a strong pulse of force against the surface of the vessel, giving them a rapid boost forward towards the bird. The passengers onboard see him take off into the distance the other way.

Sanji melts in his seat from relief.

Law

What was that other mission, Mr. Prince-ya? …Or is this one of those on the “need-to-know basis” things that you mentioned?

Sanji purses his lips, seriously considering Law's question. After a while, he answers.

Sanji

I sent him to infiltrate Doffy’s ranks…discreetly.

I don't know if I should have done it earlier but…Doffy’s just been too quiet and I don't like it.

Law has a surprised look on his face but decides against arguing about it, detecting the man's genuine concern about the situation and risking his own brother to investigate. In his head, he weighs all the things that the blonde had done to help him during their quest so far. He hated him a little for not following through on any one of his plans, but he can't ignore the fact how effective Sanji has been. He decides to do the unthinkable and put his faith on him.

Law

Do you think there's a possibility that we're in danger?

Sanji

I always think that we’re in danger. How much exactly…is hard to say…. I don't like working blind, doctor. That's why I'm taking the risk. But this means that I have to trust my brother to do the right thing. You've seen him prove himself in the short time he's with us. I hope that's enough to give you comfort.

The doctor eyes the man up and down, considering his words and trying to get a better read on him. He crosses his arms and looks away silently. To him, it sounded like the blonde was trying to convince himself more than anything that he's made the right call.

Zoro felt that cold texture in his sleeve. When he peeks under his robe, he sees a dark canister with the number “3” on it. Confused but thinking it might be important for later, he shifts it somewhere more securely in his haramaki.

—

As they travel, the sky becomes too hazy to see through. After what seemed like hours of obscured vision similar to that of a whiteout during a blizzard, the South Bird descends just as the passengers in the bubble ship start to lose their patience. The fog parts before them and, up ahead, they see a vast sea of clouds stretching far beyond what the eye could see. 

Zoro

THERE! The White Sea!

Sanji

Holy shit.

Law

How is this possible…?

The South Bird that they’ve been following disappears somewhere in the horizon as Skypiea finally comes to their full view. As they near, they see a small settlement that consists of tented dwellings, various totems of cultural significance and a tall structure that looks like a wooden watchtower poking out near the edge of the dense jungle.

Zoro 

Odd…we should have seen someone by now. The last time I was here, someone was collecting tolls.

Sanji

Hmm…what do you think, doctor? Where should we land?

Law lays the map on the console in front of the blonde and points near the edge of the island.

Law

Let's dock at this shoreline near that village. If that's what I think it is, they would have seen us by now from that watchtower. I want to make sure that we’re not intruding on anyone's territory before we can properly introduce ourselves. I don't know what they're like but I'd like to avoid any political dramas if we can help it.

Also, we need to check our fuel before we get too far. We need to have enough to go back with.

Sanji follows his direction, and lands the ship near a sturdy tree, not bothering to deflate the bubble in case they need to take off soon again.

When they disembark, Zoro immediately secures the bubble boat using its mooring line, then sets to work to check on the state of the ship while Law walks off to investigate the nearby houses for any locals. 

—

After a loo break and doing some warm up exercises, Sanji is feeling excited for the new adventure. All his worrying about his brother had overshadowed the fact that he hadn't gone out to properly stretch his legs in a mission for a long time. But now, after seeing a few of the local flora and fauna that he'd never seen before, the blonde is positively enthusiastic for whatever is in store ahead. He approaches the tired-looking captain who is hunched over with the swordsman on the side of the bubble ship, trying to read the map in their possession.

Sanji

Alright, Traffy!

The blonde claps and rubs his hands together in excitement, practically bouncing on his step as he closes in on his companions.

Sanji

I am at your disposal, ready for anything! Just say the word! So what's the plan? I'm assuming you have a well thought through plan? Let's hear it!

Zoro walks to stand behind Sanji with a bright smile on his face, supporting the blonde's statement. He puts his hands on his hips, looking like he's also ready for anything the doctor throws at them.

Law kept still, remaining hunched over the piece of paper, his expression hidden behind the shade of his cap.

Zoro

I uh… feel bad for pretty much wrecking every part of your plans leading up to today so…I'm with Curls. We'll do everything you say. By the book.

Without moving his body, Law turns his head slightly towards them, still hesitating to show his face.

Sanji

Traffy? You okay?

Law

I…

Law finally straightens up to look at his companions eye to eye. He has a morbid look on his face.

Law

I…I don't have any plans.

Zoro and Sanji's jaws drop in disbelief as the doctor rubs the back of his neck shyly. They see his ears redden from embarrassment.

Law

I usually just…wing this part somehow. But I'm stuck without my guys…. I don't actually know how we've come this far….

There was an awkward pause then Sanji suddenly bursts into a fit of laughter and Zoro grins widely at the doctor. Between difficult breaths, the blonde speaks.

Sanji

I was–so, so prepared to do everything right by you!!!

I thought–the doctor is alright–he's great–he saved my life. I need to make up for it–show how much I appreciate him–

He falls to his knees, tears flowing freely from his face. His laughter has become so unhinged that even Zoro's shoulders start twitching from the contagion.

Sanji

And now–now we ask for it and you DON'T have anything?! BWAHAHAHA–!!

Law’s expression darkens just as gradually as Sanji's laughter gets more out of hand. When the doctor finally snaps, Sanji receives well-deserved smacks on his head and the bumps that come with them.

—

After Law tells him that the settlement is weirdly deserted, Zoro suggests that they make their way to Upper Yard, remembering the treaty between Skypiea’s citizens and the tribe of Shandia. They had the joint intention of reclaiming the land that the former God, Enel, once took control of. He thinks that maybe they had all moved there as their new home.

Law supported this as they simply just need more information at this point to see if anyone remembers any Marines or someone of Corazon’s description visiting. He makes an executive decision that they walk to the place, not wanting to miss out on any opportunities that might come their way and use up any more fuel than they already have.

They each carry their own packs and walk towards the general direction where the swordsman pointed to on the map, though Law doesn't have high hopes given the man's directional skills. The bubble ship was left behind after being relocated in the jungle, covered in leaves and other floor debris to keep it out of sight.

Eventually, they come across their first obstacle–a wide river of clouds that separates their side of the land and where they need to be. The moving puffs of cloud before them makes it look like water flowing between solid ground.

Zoro

You can swim in it but from what I remember, there are these things called err… hmm….

Law kicks a pebble into the river. It creates a ripple that spreads right through to the middle, causing a disturbance under the surface. A giant length of scales erupt through the puffs of white then the creature slithers away as quickly as it came.

Sanji

Woah! It's like…what–a Seaking in the sky or something?

Zoro

Sort of. There’s a lot of Sky Fishes. But there’s also Sky Sharks and these giant worms with teeth.

Law

So…no swimming then. That's not a problem.

Zoro

We passed by a big tree with vines. We can swing across–

Law

Don't bother.

The doctor brings up his hand and conjures his Room ability. With a couple of flicks, he teleports Zoro and Sanji to the other side, swapping places with jungle debris in the area. He follows them himself shortly after.

Sanji

Give us a warning next time!

The swordsman and the blonde struggle to stand from the ground, feeling woozy from the sudden vertigo.

They continue their journey forward, stopping often whenever they find an interesting specimen that they each want to look at. They felt like children with short attention spans, getting distracted at everything new everywhere they go. Sanji having a camera also meant more delays whenever he wanted to stop and take pictures. When Law told him to put it away, the blonde snarled and said it was the gift from his Heart Pirates crew. They had made him promise to snap shots of their adventure on their behalf. Law didn't bother him about it since then.

They come across two more gaps to hurdle. Each time, Zoro insists that they swing on a vine but they get teleported before they could say anything about it. Sanji's starting to get sick of being moved from one place to the next so carelessly. After the third time, he finally snaps.

He grabs Law's wrist just as he was about to use his Shambles ability again. The doctor glares at him angrily for the interruption.

Sanji

NO! NO MORE. I'M SICK OF THIS! I almost threw up last time!

Law

What the hell, Mr. Prince-ya?! Get your hands off me!

Sanji pushes Law on the chest childishly.

Sanji

You're taking the fun out of it!!!

Law

The…fun?

Sanji

We're adventuring pirates! We're supposed to go through struggles and find ways to overcome them! Not just…whatever the hell you're doing!

Law

You're complaining about…lack of struggle.

Sanji

You're making it too easy!

Zoro

Traffy, I know I said I'd do everything you say but…I kinda agree with Curly.

Law

…You just want to swing.

Sanji

Let the man swing!

Zoro crosses his arms and nods his head in agreement. Law slaps his forehead in frustration at the whole notion.

Law

It would be faster if–

Zoro and Sanji 

NO!!!

Law

Oh, for the love of–FINE!!! How do you propose we cross–

Flailing his arms forwards, Law gestures at the wide river separating them from the next piece of land. The distance is almost twice as long as the length of the Polar Tang.

Law

This?!

Sanji places his arms on his own hips and smirks.

Sanji

I propose a game.

Law

A game?

Sanji

Something that I like to play with my siblings when we're out on joint ventures. It'll be fun, I promise!

Slightly intrigued, Law crosses his arms and listens intently.

Law

Alright…. Let's hear it.

Happy with Law's willingness to listen, Sanji claps his hands together enthusiastically and begins to make hand gestures as he talks.

Sanji

We each hurdle obstacles however we want BUT we have to make it as cool as possible!

Law

…“As cool as possible”.

Sanji

Yes!

Law rolls his eyes looking unimpressed but the blonde continues.

Sanji

There's three of us, so we'll each take a turn playing judge on who gets from point A to point B the coolest way possible. When we reach our final destination, the one with the most points wins!

I’m talking flair–the badassery–even the underappreciated, underrated skills–the whole thing! It's the time to show off what you got and be creative!!!

There's about a million things Law wants to say about the silly game–how unnecessary it is and how many faults there are in the rules. Before he can say anything, the swordsman interrupts.

Zoro

Do I get to swing?

Sanji gives him a wink.

Sanji

To your heart’s content, baby.

Zoro

Let's do it.

Sanji

YES!

Law

Seriously, Zoro-ya?!

Zoro

It sounds more interesting than… “shambles” all day.

Uhm…no offense.

Law groans but waves his hand in dismissal.

Law

Do whatever you want.

Sanji squeals in excitement.

Sanji

That’s the whole point of it!

Zoro

So what’s the prize?

Sanji plays with his goatee thoughtfully. Then his expression darkens as his lips thin into a devilish smile.

Sanji

How about…a favour?

Zoro furrows his brow at that.

Law tips his head at the idea. He takes a step forward towards the blonde.

Law

Go on…

Sanji

Any time, anywhere in the world, no questions asked. The winner gains the favour from the other two contenders so that he may call on them at a time of his choosing–together or separately.

Zoro

Oh… Curls… I don't know…

The doctor unexpectedly chuckles, his tone just as dark as the blonde’s smile. He holds out a hand, which Sanji takes without hesitation. The swordsman looks between the two of them nervously.

Law

You’re on, Pirate King.

[teawitch]

Witchcraft and Fire

In honor of Witchblr's Fire Safety Wheel of the Year season, I've decided to share a few stories - with the underlying message - GET A FIRE EXTINGUISHER!

Blessed be thy ARRRRGGHHH

This one goes back to the 90s or so. I wasn't present and didn't know the individual involved, but the story still circulates through witchcraft circles, though I can't find the original video.

Imagine if you will a male witch, skyclad, demonstrating his relationship with the element of fire (A naked man showing off) when the fire gets a little too close to his "blessed be thy loins." Yeah, a lot of frantic swatting at the loins followed.

Anyway, did you know your hair is flammable? Even the hair down there.

But it says Water!

Knowing the person involved, I wasn't that surprised by this one. So, in an attempt to find a way out of ongoing "can you blow out the candle" debate, the person involved decided to pour Florida water on it.

For those who haven't encountered it, Florida water is a cologne often used for cleansing and purification in various traditions. Since Florida has hefty Cuban and Puerto Rican populations, we can buy Florida water at Walmart. So having it on hand isn't unusual. But one main component of Florida Water is alcohol.

Fortunately the resulting flare up didn't set anything on fire. But I will suggest investing in a candle snuffer for the altar.

We summoned the quarters. I thought they'd keep us safe.

I was at a ritual where at one point we needed to leave the inside ritual space to conduct part of the ritual outdoors. I was early out the door because it takes me a little longer to navigate stairs and assumed the candles were extinguished before everyone left. I was wrong.

As we were coming back in after magic and meditation, I heard a rush ahead of me. Apparently the candles, taper and in not really the sturdiest of holders, had burned nearly down, were flaring up since herbs had been included in the wax, and were about to catch the altar cloth on fire.

"I thought they'd be safe because we were in ritual and had cast a circle" was the response from the person leading ritual.

(I do have to admit, the candles only almost burned the house down. Anyway - don't leave candles unattended.)

In my defense, it was a long, intense ritual

So, I can't leave myself out of the stories. As part of my practice, we do a year of shadow work. This includes keeping a specific journal which is burned as part of an intense ritual at the end of the year.

Now I'm in Florida which is often humid and damp, so the only way to successfully burn a lot of paper is either set up a fire pit or, well, nestle a tealight candle at the bottom of a large fire-safe cauldron. Which I'll admit, has its drawbacks. But it was raining that night and I wanted to complete the ritual. So I set the cauldron on a tile floor on the edge of the back door.

It's a long ritual, feeding paper to the flame, chanting and meditating. It's also tiring. Eventually, I decided to end the ritual and needed to put out the bits of paper smouldering at the bottom of the cauldron. Keep in mind, there was no flame. Just charred paper with bits still glowing around the edges.

So I poured in some of the tea for ritual.

Flame shot a good foot out of the cauldron.

Fortunately, the space was clear enough that there was nothing nearby to set on fire.

I'd forgotten about the tea light. Most modern candles are made of paraffin, or a similar oil. You can't put out an oil fire with water.

Now the candle wasn't burning. It was like the paper - just sitting at the bottom, smouldering a bit. I'd forgotten it was there. When the tea hit it, it woke up with a vengeance. I grabbed the lid I should have been using and slammed it down on the cauldron and everything was fine.

Get a fire extinguisher!

[ddejavvu]

What would it be like to do the break bite bang chocolate trend with rooster?? Hmmmm I wonder 😏

Break, Bite, Bang - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley decide to try the viral tiktok sex chocolates, and you follow their instructions to the letter.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), dirty talk, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), afab!reader, fem!reader, handjob, thigh riding, use of aphrodisiacs, teasing, lots of messy makeouts

WC: 4.9K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Considering Bradley's sex drive is already remarkably high, you're not sure why you bought the chocolates. But the countless videos of sweaty, fucked out couples that you saw on your for you page never failed to intrigue you, and when the little box comes in the mail, you're more than ready to put it to good use.

Bradley's just returned home from a run when you slit the box open, raising a curious eyebrow as he pants, "What'd you order, babe?"

"Chocolate," You hold up the package for him to see.

He frowns, too far away to read the words on the front, "I could have bought you a hershey bar at the gas station."

"This is not a hershey bar," You grin wickedly, "Have you heard of tabs chocolate?"

"Are they that fancy ass Australian company that charges, like, $50 per bar?" Bradley takes his workout towel, swiping at the sweat over his brow.

"No," You laugh, "They put aphrodisiacs in their chocolate."

"Aphrodisiacs," Bradley hums with a furrowed brow, "Isn't that-?"

"It's sex chocolate," You reveal, "You up for a bit more exercise today?"

"Sex-ercise," Bradley rushes for you with a shit-eating grin, far too proud of his shitty joke. He's grabbing for the chocolates but you snatch them away, lips wrinkled in a grimace.

"Hey, what-?"

"Not after that." You glare at him, "That was awful."

"Oh, come on!" He laughs, tugging the box out of your hands, and scanning the cover, "Come on, have some chocolate, honey, it'll make you feel better."

"Whatever," You grumble, snatching the little foil squares from their places, "Okay, break," You snap the square in two, "Bite," You hold Bradley's portion out for him, letting him take it from your hand. His mustache prickles against your skin and you bite back a giggle, stuffing your mouth with chocolate instead.

The sweet is savory and bitter on your tongue, with just the right amount of sugar. It's primarily dark, the aphrodisiac component, and you'd buy it for the taste even if it wasn't going to make you fuck like rabbits.

You don't get to swallow the chocolate and finish their signature slogan before Bradley's wolfed down his bar, tossing the package on the table and surging for your lips, "Bang."

The kiss he drags you into nearly buckles your knees. It's intense, it's made sweeter by the chocolate coating his tongue, and his fingers dig into your waist as he tugs you close.

"Mmf- Bradley!" You gasp, dragging in a lungful of air that he'd practically stolen from you with the kiss. He's eager to touch you, to feel you, to taste you as his lips never part from your skin, dragging from your own to the spot just under your jaw that makes your stomach tingly.

"You're- Ah, you're supposed to wait for the chocolate to kick in," You pant, hands slowly, subconsciously curling into his shirt as he sucks at your neck, "We're supposed to, like, see how long we can hold off."

"No fun in that," Bradley shrugs, "I already wanted to fuck when I got home from my run."

"You-" You laugh, breath hitched when his tongue comes out to lick over the skin that his teeth had just nipped at, "You're insatiable, Brad."

"How'm I supposed to keep my hands off of you, hm?" He hums, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He sucks a patch of skin just to the left of your throat, one that makes your fist clench hard in his sweat soaked running shirt, "So fuckin' sexy, don't need a chocolate to think that."

"But- but we should wait!" You urge, wishing his hair was just the tiniest bit longer so you could tug on it to separate his lips from your neck, "Just to see how- ah!" He nips at your skin again, and a fire burns through your veins that's hard to ignore. It pulls you in, burns from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head, and makes you want to melt into his arms. But the taste of chocolate on your tongue makes you reconsider, and you wrestle yourself out of Bradley's arms.

"No," You pant, eyeing him warily as he watches you, "No, we have to see how long we can wait. Trust me, Brad, it'll make it so much better."

"I want you now," He whines, reminiscent of a kid denied a cookie before dinner. His tone helps tamp down some of the arousal that had risen briefly in your belly, and you take his hand. It's rough from work, calloused and strong. It curls around yours and you lead him to your bedroom, letting him perch on the bed while you unbutton your jean shorts.

Bradley's mouth falls open and he scoffs, "Babe! Don't tease me, how am I supposed to hold out now?"

"You'll be fine," You wave off his concerns, stripping out of your shirt next. It leaves you in a bra and panties you’d specifically chosen for their sex appeal, powder pink and lacy. They’re Bradley’s second favorite, behind only the navy blue set on the drying rack. But you’d used it last night, and you don’t want things to get boring.

“Fuck,” he huffs, flopping back onto the bed. His tanned skin is a stark contrast from the crisp, white bedsheets, only fresh and clean because you’d changed them last night. He watches as you strip yourself of the sheer chain he'd bought you three months ago, for your second anniversary, your initials and his dangling from the silver. The first night you'd had it, he'd torn it off of you during sex, and it had ruined the mood completely. One trip to the garage for some pliers had seen it back on your neck good as new, but you're not taking any chances this time.

"Good idea," He grins lazily, eyes meeting your own for only a split second before they trace your exposed body. He reaches out for your hip when you make for the bed but you jolt out of his reach, hands firmly placed on your hips.

"Bradley Bradshaw," You huff, "No touching! Not yet, you have to really wait until you can't take it anymore."

"I can't! I can't take it anymore," He insists, groaning low and raspy in his throat, "Babe, on a normal day, seeing you in that would get me going. But now you've just given me sex-drugged chocolate? How much longer am I supposed to wait?"

"As long as you can," You grin, something evil in the expression as you flop down onto your stomach beside him with a novel, "'Then we'll jump each other."

Bradley muffles another groan, this time with an arm over his face. When he removes it he reaches for the hemline of his own shirt, "Fine. But I'm stripping too, see how long you can resist me."

"Perfect," You hum, already cracking the spine to resume your place on page 235. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, even if you're having an incredibly hard time focusing on your book right now instead of looking over when you hear the zipper of his jeans.

He eases back into the mattress with yet another groan, the sound bordering on pornographic enough to stir something beneath your stomach. It's the sound he makes when you snake a hand south and squeeze at his half-hard bulge, whether it be an invitation to the bar bathroom or a suggestion after movie night. You think about the way he feels against your hand, thick and straining against his pants, and-

"You're bending that book," Bradley drawls, peering sideways at you, "Thinking about anything in particular?"

It's true, your hand is crumpling the spine and pages up like scrap paper. You quickly smooth it out, lamenting the wrinkles forever etched into the story. Maybe they'll become fond memories, depending on how explosive the sex is tonight.

'No." You grumble, refusing to glance at his sprawled out, near-naked form, "Mind your business."

“Testy,” he laughs, no doubt teasing you, knowing exactly what you’re thinking of, “Alright, babe, enjoy your book.”

Bradley sticks to the agreement and leaves you well enough alone, choosing to scroll on his phone rather than stare at you. You get into the zone of reading, but part of your mind is always on the slight buzz you feel between your thighs. It’s been there since the first kiss Bradley had trapped you in back at the table, and it hasn’t gone away since.

Your reading material isn’t helping. The characters, a soon-to-be-couple currently rivals on the swim team, are currently having a late night jacuzzi rendezvous. It's hot, steamy, and everything you want from Bradley.

You pray that he doesn't notice the clench of your thighs as you read on, trying to envision yourself in their current position. He's got her backed up against the wall of the jacuzzi, and every description of the noises he's making has you wanting to squirm in place for some sort of friction. He tilts her chin upwards with one thumb until she's looking back at him, reaches for her lips, and-

Bradley's hand smooths over the back of your thigh.

"Bradley," You warn, but he's two steps ahead of you.

"Relax, angel." He croons, the natural rasp in his voice sending heat straight south, "You just look a little tense. I was gonna give you a massage."

It's a game of chicken, a word Rooster doesn't like hearing because of the way Hangman uses it as a nickname for him. But you're not losing, so when his rough, large hands slide up your thighs, smoothing over the fabric of your panties, you breathe deeply before turning back to your book.

He gives you a few moments of silence, and they're anything but comfortable. Tension is thrumming through every vein in your body, concentrated in handprint shapes wherever Bradley's palms press to your skin. He stays true to his word and massages your thighs, but his thumbs edge up the curve of your ass, closer to their target than he knows they should be.

His fingers knead and squeeze at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, paying special attention to the hypersensitive skin between your cunt and your thighs. When he ghosts his fingernail over the crease there and you clench your thighs together, he knows he's got you.

"What'cha reading?" He plays dumb, leaning over your shoulders while holding your ass steady, "Woah."

"Shut up," You huff, "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing!" He insists, with a squeeze to your ass that proves the opposite, "I'm just curious, and then I look over your shoulder and see that."

"What," You scoff, "What's so shocking to you?"

"His broad form looms over her own smaller one," Bradley reads, voice deep and raspy where he's leaning over you. His voice is just beside your ear, and you feel his breath against your skin as he continues, "-muscles in his arms on full display despite the near-scalding water lapping over them. He cages her in his embrace, no escape possible even if she wanted one. But she doesn't, not as his large, rough thumb comes down to nudge at her puffy, sensitive clit beneath the water. The fabric of her bathing suit presents a delicious friction, and her hips jolt into his hand with a shockwave of ecstasy."

He comes to an abrupt stop, satisfied that your cheeks are burning hot, and your core is probably similar. He waits for your reply, and when it comes in a shaky, ‘so what?’, he tightens his grip on your hip ever so slightly.

“You think that would feel nice?” He asks, and if he purposefully strains the muscles in his arm where he plants his hand by your head, he hopes you don’t notice. His other hand snakes beneath your front, pinned between your waist and the mattress as he finds your clit with experienced ease.

“Like this?” He thumbs at the sensitive bundle of nerves, and your hips buck like they’re scripted to, “That feels good?”

“Bradley,” You’re barely able to whimper, chocolate definitely taking its toll as your insides writhe with flames.

He takes your whine as an admission, shutting your book carelessly and nipping at your earlobe as he pulls his hands back to your hips, “Roll over.”

“Brad,” You start, but he flips you himself.

“Roll over,” He gushes, and the second your lips are in his line of sight, he’s on them. His own press enthusiastically to yours, a heavy pant released into your mouth as he braces his knees on the mattress.

“I cant fucking take it anymore,” He groans, choking out his words between kiss after kiss pressed to your mouth. His tongue is sloppy, licking up your own like he's trying to swallow it.

He's tasting chocolate on your tongue and you're tasting some on his, a sweet flavor that only reminds you of the intense burning sensation between your legs.

"Laying there," He rasps, dragging in breath after breath that he later spends sucking your lips between his own, "Ass up in those pretty panties. You know I've got a thing for your ass. Mmf- and," He breathes, hand trailing up your waist, "-your stomach. And your tits," He squeezes them through the sheer pads of your bra, "Fuckin' love your tits."

His knees are holding up up on the mattress, and he's plants one of his hands beside your head, just in the dip between your neck and shoulder. He stretches it, nudges his thumb against your jaw and prompts you to open your mouth. When you do, he leans down, capturing your lips in another steamy kiss. You're having trouble focusing on one thing at a time, what with his tongue lapping sensually at your own in smooth, eager strokes. Then his hand, fingers rough and heavy as they pinch unforgivingly at your stiff nipple beneath the fabric of your bra. When you jolt into his touch, your hips buck with the motion, and you feel the hard press of his arousal against your eager core.

Bradley hums approvingly into the kiss, parting with a sloppy trail of saliva and speaking hotly against your lips. "Needy, hm? Gonna grind your sweet pussy all over me?

"Yeah," You breathe, and without the press of his lips to yours, your head tips back, exposing your neck for Bradley to fixate on next, "I need- Oh, Bradley, I need you to fuck me! I need you to fuck me so bad!"

"I thought you wanted to wait," He goads, his mustache grating against the sensitive, thin skin of your neck, "I thought you wanted to see how long you could take it."

"I did! And I can't-" You choke on your words, the sound coming out more of a moan as he sucks harshly, wetly at the skin of your neck, "I can't take it anymore! Fuck me!"

You accentuate your words with another desperate roll of your hips, grinding your clothed cunt over Bradley's bulge. He's straining in the loose fabric of his boxers, a fact that makes your mouth water, and Bradley tears himself away from your neck to wrestle with his undergarments.

"Hang on, sweet thing," He hums, in response to a disgruntled whimper of yours. He knows you're aching, burning with desire, because he is, too. His cock bounces free of his boxers and stands hard, angled towards his stomach and oozing pre. It's the most mouth-watering sight you've ever taken in, and your tingling cunt drools a gush of slick against the fabric of your panties.

It's a struggle to get his boxers off, and it almost looks silly as he wrestles them off from around his ankles. But it keeps you waiting, lets that desire burn just a little longer in your stomach before it's extinguished, and as much as you're yearning for relief, it feels good to prolong your pleasure.

"Okay, I- oh, fuck," Bradley hisses, his thumb against the pad of your panties as his fingers slip beneath the hemline. He feels slick soak through the fabric at the slightest pressure from his single finger, reveling in just how wet you've gotten while waiting for him.

"You're- god, you're dripping," Bradley groans, the sound thick and lustful as his face screws up in concentration, "I just- I- I want to-" He gives into his urges without even explaining them, dipping down to stick his face in your cunt like a man starved. He pants into your pussy, conflicted on whether he should suck more slick out of your eager sex or take a breath. He does a healthy balance of both, if maybe a little lacking in the oxygen department. He doesn't seem to care that he's being suffocated, though, and he tucks his face further into your cunt than seems humanly possible.

His tongue writhes skillfully through you, in and out of your needy hole, against the underside of your clit, against the rarely-caressed skin between your thighs and cunt. He's a messy eater, slick smeared over the lower half of his face, even glistening in his mustache.

"Aah, baby," You gasp, face pinched in half ecstasy, half apprehension as he sucks at your clit, "No, don't- I'm gonna cum!"

"Do it," He urges, tongue licking a long, wet, slick stripe up your cunt before delving back between your folds, "I want to, mmf- feel you cum on my face, baby. Do it, give it to me, I wanna feel your cunt suck me the fuck in."

"No, but-" You reach for his face, sitting up in your pleasured haze, "I want- I want you inside of me when I cum! Please, Brad, I need your- ah! -need your dick!"

"You can have it," He promises, fingers coming to bully your puffy clit while he focuses his tongue on your sopping cunt, "Later. Cum, baby, give it to me."

He's speaking harshly, and his tongue reflects that in the sturdy, rough way that he licks you out. It's akin to the way he kisses, and you suppose he's making out with your sloppy pussy the way that he's tonguing it now. And it works, his insistence, the sting of his mustache on the most sensitive parts of your body, the ever-present pressure against your clit, you feel white hot, blinding pleasure roll over your lower half like a wave of fire.

"Ah- oh god, Bradley," You grunt, voice tapering off into a whine, "-BradleyBradleyBradleyBradley-!"

"Come on," He mumbles, lips barely able to form words around your slick-soaked cunt. He talks you through your orgasm, perhaps less gentle than a reassuring 'good, you're doing so well for me,', but arousing just the same in its gruff demand.

Bradley might be making more noise than you. While you're cumming with various whimpers, moans, groans, and everything in between, he's licking it out of you with lust-filled songs of praise. Every vibration of his vocal chords flows straight south, humming through your trembling cunt as you cum onto his tongue.

He's eager to continue even when you're finished, licking and sucking desperately at your sensitive pussy. It feels good, but you're almost too sensitive already, and you're not waiting another second for his cock.

"No, no-" You reach for his hair, using gentle handfuls of the stuff to guide his face out of your cunt, "No, Brad, I want- mmf!"

He doesn't let you tell him what you want; he doesn't have to, he already knows. He knows what you really want is between his legs, so rather than give you the breath to explain it to him, he surges forwards, knocking his lips into yours and using the momentum to lay you back down onto the mattress.

"Shit," You breathe, feeling his cock nudge at your sensitive cunt immediately, "I- Bradley, I- oh!"

He slams into you with no hesitation, hips on a mission to fuse with your own as he rams his cock into you. It's relentless, more desperate than you've ever felt him before, and you clutch at his broad shoulders as he buries his face in your shoulder.

"Holy shit!" He huffs, a grunting, groaning mess, "I- Jesus, angel, you feel so good, I can't- nngh! I can't get enough. Oh god," He pants, mouth falling open and tongue flattening against your neck, swiping up over your jaw. His mouth latches there, sucking harshly just beneath your ear at the curve of your jaw. His hips drive the same steady pace into you, filling you up impossibly deep with each pump of his cock. It's mind-numbingly hard, probably achingly painful to Bradley, and he buries it inside of you to get relief. The more he thrusts the deeper he goes, until he's slamming into your sweet spot with superhuman fervor. It's like he's chasing something, balls landing heavy against the curve of your ass as he fucks into you.

"Bradley," You moan, nails scraping against the tan, toned skin of his back, "Baby, ah-! Oh my god, keep- keep going!"

"I'm close," He grunts, voice muffled slightly in what you suspect is shame. His libido is strong, and he doesn't usually finish out this fast. But the chocolate counts for something, and he'd spent who knows how many minutes with his face buried inside your cunt with no relief down south. You're not surprised he's cumming quickly, nor are you put off by it.

In fact, you're aroused by it. The feeling of Bradley fucking into you so eagerly, so roughly, so needy; it gets you going. You feel another wave of pleasure begin lapping at your underbelly, maybe easier to rise this time because of the swell of the last one. The constant motion of Bradley's thick cock can't be doing any harm, either, and with every flex of his tongue over your neck as he sucks bruises into your skin, you feel your orgasm approaching.

Apparently, the way that your nails dig into Bradley's skin is encouragement for him, as well. Your thighs tremble from the weight of your previous orgasm, and the impending pressure of your next one, and Bradley's dick twitches like it's painful for him to keep it together.

"S'okay, Brad," You pant, scraping a hand up his back to cradle the back of his neck. He's still suckling on your neck, tongue and teeth working in tandem to mar your skin with marks, "S'okay, cum, honey. Feels so good, you- ooh, you feel so fucking good!"

Your encouragement helps, and his dick twitches again. You tug on his hair, and his thighs tense. But what really does it is the way you yank his head back with your fistful or his hair, pulling him out of your neck to kiss him and inviting him to occupy his tongue with your own instead of your throat.

The second your tongue brushes against his own, he cums. It's like a dam bursting, every ounce of arousal he'd tried holding in and prolonging bursting forth from his cockhead straight into your leaking cunt. You're already slick enough from all of your own release, but his gushes from the seam between his cock and your cunt, stretched and fucked dumb.

"Oh, oh my god," Bradley pants, the words flowing directly between your lips as he mouths at your tongue. He's desperate to do something with his mouth, he always has been, and it's no surprise that he'd taken time to appreciate your cunt earlier. He licks over your tongue, his own tucking to the inside of your cheek for a brief second before he sucks at yours again. It only makes your own arousal more intense, and before you know it, your second, possibly more intense orgasm is seizing you, tensing your muscles and spasming through you.

He cums for a long time, dick twitching and spurting cum the more he makes out with you, and the more your cunt convulses around him in your own orgasm. Your kiss is sloppy, it's messy, there's drool leaking down the corners of your mouth, and that's what makes it so effective to stretch out his orgasm. When you're both sure you couldn't cum more if you tried, he slumps over your chest, his full weight on you as he lays panting on your sweaty skin.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, voice broken and raspy with strain, "That- that was- fuck, the best sex we've ever had."

"Mm-hm," You nod lazily, enjoying a rare moment of breathing freely, "Yeah, we- we need to use those chocolates again."

"Yeah," He agrees emphatically, his mustache prickling against the skin at the slope of your breast, "I didn't think it would work. Not like that, Christ."

"I'm glad it did," You muse, and you feel Bradley shift against your thigh, his cock already half-stiff again. He grinds it into you, what you think is accidentally, but his groan lets you know it felt nice.

"Baby," You start, but he's already rubbing up against you once more, humping his hardening cock against your thigh.

"I need- I just need a little more," He almost whimpers, tightening his hold on your upper half, "Babe, I need- more, please!"

"Okay," You soothe, kissing his sweaty forehead, "Okay, here."

You reach down, hand at your side to feel for his cock. It's not hard to find, hot and heavy where he's bucking it against your thigh. You wrap your palm around the shaft, your thumb nudging up against the tip. You flatten your finger against his slit, pumping your hand up the length when it makes him jolt. He keeps his face buried in your chest, drool seeping from his lips and dripping down your breast. You feel it trickle over your nipple, sending a chill up your spine as it cools on your skin.

"Oh my god," He moans, lips desperately roving your skin until they find your nipple. He latches onto it, lips pursed and tongue relentlessly swirling over the stiffened bud. He keeps bucking his hips into your hand, though you're moving your fist to meet him. Remnants of his first orgasm and your second are slicked all up his shaft, and it's adequate lube as you stroke him towards another release.

Bradley's teeth pinch momentarily at your nipple, a sensation that makes you jolt. In doing so, you squeeze his cock slightly, your thumb pressing hard into his slit.

"Fuck!" He gasps, lips parting only to get the word out before wrapping around your nipple once more. Now that he knows what you're sensitive to at the moment he's merciless, nipping and biting and tugging at your tit with his teeth.

You're fucked out beyond belief, but Bradley's dick is practically pulsing in your grip, and the more tense his thighs get, the more restless he is on your tit.

Finally, he breaks away with a breath, "Wait! Wait, I wanna cum on your- in your mouth, babe."

"Okay." You pant, instantly on board, "Here, sit up, and I'll-"

You make to do the same, trying to struggle off of the pillow to prop yourself up against the headboard. But he holds you down with one strong hand, straddling your face instead. His cock hangs thick and heavy between his thighs, an easy reach for you. All you have to do is stick your tongue out and you can lick over half of it, something that makes him buck forwards into your mouth.

You gag slightly as the tip of his cock hits your throat, and he lets out a strangled grunt that tries turning into a whimper at the end. It's a flattering sound, encouraging you to wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down as best you can while laying down.

it takes only a few sloppy strokes to the base of his cock and a gentle massage to his balls to get him to cum a second time, and you wish you had more time to appreciate the way his thick, toned thighs frame your head. They're nearly suffocating you, tan hunks of flesh and muscle, and want to bite them. You refrain, focusing on tonguing the slit of his cock so that he cums into your mouth.

"Holy shit!" He breathes, tone incredulous as he fucks down your throat, "Yeah, yeah- oh my god, babe, keep sucking, mmf- yeah!"

His cum spurts warm and plentiful over your tongue, something you're grateful for even if you almost choke on it. He pulls himself out of you to give you room to swallow, stroking himself through his orgasm, and he doesn't comment on the weak cough you give when struggling to swallow the cum pooling in your mouth. A drop lands on your lower lip, and you're eager to lick it away once you've finished your mouthful.

Bradley's looming over you now, breathing heavy and still straddling your face. You can't help but turn your head to kiss at his thigh, nipping softly at the muscle there and eliciting a gentle yelp from him.

"Easy," He laughs breathlessly, stroking your cheek, "I can't take any more. Jesus, I'm- I'm fucked out, babe."

"Me too," You agree, breathing equally heavily, "Brad, gimme my phone, I wanna do the- the trend thing."

He might not understand, but he complies. He dismounts from the mattress, thighs sadly no longer caging your head between them, and hands you your phone that's charging on the nightstand.

You cover yourself with the bedsheets while Bradley slips his boxers back on, and he comes when you beckon him to get in frame of the camera beside you. You're both the picture of fucked out, sweaty, panting, swollen lips and glazed-over eyes. You hit record, voice raspy when you speak: "Those chocolate things, they- they work good."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[winter-wise]

How good are they at drag? - Baldur's Gate Characters

Gale: Waterdeep canonically has its own drag subculture, so he'd know the most about it, and his time working on the somatic components of spells means he can vogue at the speed of lightning. But while the spirit and the hands may be willing, the knees are weak. A single death drop would kill this man. I feel that he'd play to his strengths because he knows his bad back and creaky knees can't keep up with anything too vigorous, so while he'd put together something fun and visually impressive, it isn't a very athletic routine.

Karlach: Oh, she'd have so much fun. She likes dancing and Samantha Beart played her as a little Gender, so you'd end up with a fun and happy drag king persona who's having such a good time.

Astarion: He's dexterous, theatrical, and a dab hand with a needle. The costume is flawless. The routine is daring. Not much makeup because he can't see himself in a mirror, but honestly he doesn't need it. He'd act like it's all just a pointless excercise, but he'd get competitive with it. After the performance he gets a lot of compliments and realises that he enjoyed it a lot more than he thought he would.

Lae'zel: Gith genders work differently, so I don't think she'd 'get' it. That being said, she'd make a very hot drag king, so she'd have a successful routine if she just got up on stage and threw knives at things, and not even in time to the music.

Wyll: Canonically a dancer - and a dancer with excellent stamina. Routine practiced to perfection. He could perform it in his sleep. Having so much fun. I think he'd pick out a great song to do the performance to, as well.

Shadowheart: I'm open to having my mind changed about this, but I don't think she'd be good at it. She'd have some fun though. Support bad drag!

Halsin: I'm sorry king but I've seen your dance moves at the afterparty.

Minthara: At first, she flat-out refuses. Why would she ever want to pretend to be a man? Minthara thinks men suck. But if you could talk her into it you'd actually end up with a very funny routine as she puts on the persona of a weak and scared drow man, fluttering about the stage.

Jaheira: I have no evidence for this, but I think she'd be good at it. Gets up on stage, acts like a grade A DILF for the duration of one song, gets off the stage, says it was fun later in a very matter-of-fact way. Embarrases her kids.

Minsc and Boo: Minsc tears off his wig midway through the performance, revealing Boo underneath.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

(Jerrod clearly very happy to be reunited with first round housemate Delphine.)

But where are we going in our brand new duds? Why, we are helping out a local business!

Sara Scott needed some more hands on deck, and so to determine who gets a solo date with Lilac, we will be making nectar. And while there is a nectar maker out the front of the house, no sim has autonomously used it, so everyone starts with zilch in the art.

(And who’s this well-turned out fellow? It’s our security personnel Lou Howell, who took Lee’s drama llama behaviour from Round One personally and is even wearing a suit or something like it.)

Avery was the first to get stomping. And as the skill building component of this day, maxed out HANDINESS Lou mentored each contestant. His first student of the day - Pauline - discovers that she actually likes the task.

While he may not have the best vintage of the group, Avery however has acquired something more precious - Araminta’s friendship.

Random townies are not only being especially annoying today, but stealing Sage’s cc hair, so we summon her to deal with it.

Oof - Jerrod does not like handiness, and by the looks of things, even RANCHER Delphine is not exactly enjoying her turn with the nectar maker.

Alongside a hot date (err, some dirty dishes) Sage orders a well earned brew - and continues to send unwanted townies on their way.

I think Sara rather likes her new security cadaver.

Just when I think that Sage has a potential employment opportunity after this show, I spy her hiding in a stall, check her moodlets and yup - she had attempted to swipe something.

In spite of Lou’s alarm, CLUMSY Delphine is taking rather well to handiness, and even manages to level up under his guidance.

Jerrod continues to have a no good day, and by those cc slippers, has not quite grasped the finer points of nectar making either.

I realise that as well as HANDINESS, he dislikes NECTAR MAKING, and thus that expression he had on his face as he arrived was him staring into the void while trying to show no fear.

Pauline’s own bottle of nectar is of NORMAL quality, but being a RANCHER, she gets an embarrassed moodlet over it anyway. However also being a RANCHER, she has an energized moodlet from making it in the first place, so… all things neutral, I guess?

As it’s now Sage’s turn to shine (or something), COMPASSIONATE traited Araminta manages to persuade her out of the toilet stall. In spite of having her spirits bolstered, Sage (like Jerrod) only manages a POOR quality nectar.

Lou suggested to Delphine that they get to know each other a little better, which I refused according to her permissions, so awkward.

(See, this is why I was so insistent on you lot filling out those - otherwise your Sim may have slipped and fallen on some werewolf eggplant 😏. Admittedly there are worse fates.)

However Lou’s a fairly chill sim when not overwhelmed by Fury and quickly got over it.

While Delphine, Avery and Pauline all had NORMAL quality nectar that was worth the same price, Pauline made the highest skill gain - so she gets a date with Lilac!

And look who autonomously shows up after sportsball practice? COOKING non enjoyer Araminta persuades him to tag along to the farm afterwards. So Dodo makes dinner while she tends to the animals.

After dinner friendships continue to bloom - but I think it’s time to send these two back to their own household, don’t you?

dodo harper by @akitasimblr

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